Chapter 1 #4
A tall, black-haired, dark-skinned elf stood within the doorway.
His complexion was a deep gray—a moon elf.
Luname. Hawk hadn’t ever actually met any other than himself and his mom.
But this elf wasn’t half-luname like Hawk.
His skin carried the rich hue of washed stone and his eyes had black scleras that emphasized the glowing white irises within.
His smile was nearly startlingly white against his sharp-looking black lips. “Good morning.”
Hawk’s fingers moved at his sides, pulled towards the stranger like metal drawn to a magnet.
This elf, tall and lean and so unique, carried a presence that would have been oppressive if it weren’t so fascinating.
He was a storm on the horizon; a mountain breaking apart rays from the sun; a swelling river current that threatened to break across the dock. He was beautiful. He was frightening.
Hawk couldn’t speak. He did manage to keep his hands to himself, though, fastening them against his sides.
“Are you luname?” asked the man.
Hawk felt his nails dig into his palms. He had lost already, hadn’t he? He said, “I am. My mother was. I’m half. Is that…alright?”
The man’s smile waned, brows raised. “Of course it is. I asked because of the hair—such contrast. Such a unique set of features you have.” Hawk reached up before he thought better of it, and placed a hand around the choppy cut across his shoulders.
His hair was golden blond and quite fine; typical of any Elys elf.
His skin, however, was a pale shade of purple; no mistaking his moon elven ancestry there.
His mother’s purplish gray complexion had blended with his father’s warm beige.
Unique was the word most people used. The stranger continued, “I’m March.
I’ll be conducting your intake, since I’m one of the three adame taking on apprentices for the next consort season.
” March raised a pad of paper, bound on one side by leather ties. “If you don’t mind.”
Hawk barely heard him beyond the name. “March. You were a warrior?” He would place March around two-hundred years old and, depending on his birthplace, his name would indicate his family’s status as fighters for the crown. The Spears had been, too, many generations ago.
March said, “I never saw battle, no. I was born in peaceful times in the isles near Allbright. I suppose my mother hoped the name would help me grow strong like an elven soldier of the past.” He brandished a pen and asked, “And your name?”
Hawk bowed his head again. “I’m Hawk of the Spears Coterie. From the River District.” Whereas the name March pointed towards martial work, Hawk indicated his family’s pursuit of hunting or fishing.
March wrote the response. “I see. And you’ve come to Sutaire for work?”
Hawk tried not to grit his teeth at the question, at how blatantly he did not fit the role of adame. He already knew he was no fit for that work. But: “I’ll take any job Sutaire can give me; I would never presume…” Presume what? That someone would hire him as a consort? His face felt hot.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” said March, his smile continuing to glow. Hawk was struck, for a moment, at how symmetrical his features were. “Please, have a seat. We’ve much to discuss.”
Hawk sat back into the chair he picked before, and March chose the seat across from him.
“For Sutaire’s protection and your own, I’d like to cast Truth.”
Hawk narrowed his eyes and said, “That’s not necessary. I’ll respond earnestly.” Did they already think him untrustworthy?
March raised a hand like a flag between them. “It’s simply a technicality. Believe me, it does more good than harm for the both of us.”
“I see.” Hawk wanted to believe him; March kept his gaze steady upon his face, and the way he spoke seemed kind—reassuring. “Fine, then.”
“But if there’s any question you would prefer to not answer, you aren’t required to do so.
And you’re welcome to leave at any time.
That being said…” March reached into the sleeves of the oversized, satin-like black robe he wore, and pulled out a purple bag of coin.
The color indicated twenty gold, if it was full, and it certainly sounded full between March’s fingers.
“We’re offering you this sum of gold to complete the interview with Truth.
And there will be another reward should you advance to the next step of the intake. ”
Hawk stared at the bag. Twenty gold. Simply for answering questions?
He tried to keep his heart from thundering with excitement.
“Yes. Of course.” Elys be, he hadn’t had twenty gold all at once in his entire adult life.
His ex-husband handled all the money—even when Hawk had worked for a baker, then the newspaper, the money never even touched his hands.
March then activated the spell with a hum.
Hawk spoke out of surprise. “You’re a bard. ”
March winked. “I’m an adame.” And then he exhaled, eyes growing distant, like he peered into his memories. “But I got my start as a bard in Abblesbet, when I moved here, yes. Peaceful times and all; I didn’t need to learn the lance. So I learned the lute.”
Well, that confirmed Hawk’s suspicions, but it also opened up a great number of other questions. Was March part of management? Was March coming off a shift overnight and having to conduct this intake, too?
Did he like his job?
March said, “How are you feeling?”
And Hawk would have said fine, thank you, but Truth had taken shape within their room, and he replied honestly. “I’m hungry.” The bathhouse had only tea.
“We’ll certainly serve you breakfast after this,” said March. “Sutaire has meals prepared every three hours without fail. You’ll be welcome to join us at nine for the next one.”
Twenty gold and food? The rumors were not only true that this was a premier workplace, the girls had undersold the brothel’s capabilities. Hawk tried not to let his mouth water. “Fine. That’d be fine.”
March marked a note on his pad and asked, “And why have you come to our open call this day?”
The spell didn’t make Hawk respond the way he did; he wanted them to know. He squared his shoulders, like it may make him seem more capable than he was. “I’ll take on any role that pays. I’ve got a number of skills—” he choked, nervous.
March chuckled. He crossed one leg over the other and said, “Well, our lowest paid adame doesn’t make as much as our highest paid cook, but our highest paid adame makes more money than is really necessary for even an elven lifetime.
” He added, “But I suppose you may beat the record, should you take to the work really well.”
“Beat the record…” Hawk said slowly, “Of the highest paid cook?”
March blinked. “Of the highest paid adame.” He looked Hawk up and down and said, “It would depend on your patrons, of course, and the rapport you build.”
The rain storm broke; the mountain exploded into a volcano; the river swept Hawk away. He sputtered. “Patrons?”
“Anyone who hires you as a consort; we’ve a number of names they can be called. If you have sex with them—not a requirement, as I’m sure you know—you may even refer to them as ‘lovers.’”
Could Hawk actually earn money in exchange for sex? It had seemed so far-fetched as he walked up this morning, but there was no mistaking the way March considered him from head to toe. March was considering him for an apprenticeship. He choked again as he said, “I’m not qualified to be an adame.”
March wrote another note in his pad and said, “None are until the apprenticeship has completed. Worry not, Hawk. We—I—would never throw you to the wolves in such a way.” March tilted his head. “You do understand that not all adame conduct intimate favors for their patrons?”
Hawk was an ignorant country bumpkin, but he knew this much. “Yes, of course. A kiss completes the exchange. Or—if necessary, they may give blood instead.”
March said, “Indeed. Are you familiar with how the process works?”
Hawk almost said yes, because he’d heard of it in passing, the same as any other.
Adame were commonplace in Nightveil; almost all nobility had at least one elf under their employ.
However: “I don’t know the details.” The closest to a nobleman he’d ever encountered had been his own spouse, and that man was no prince.
March leaned back in his chair and gestured midair with his hands.
“The god Elys has made it so any non-elven lover of an elf sustains a longer life. The magic works through exchange. You kiss someone with a mortal lifespan. In turn, they must give you something that belongs to them; gold, in our line of work. Culturally, many adame choose to perform sexually.” March’s eyes dropped down Hawk’s body in consideration for a second time, then back up to his face.
“In these peaceful times, the lengths you go to are yours to decide.”
“But I’ve heard blood is common now.”
“Quite right; we’ve a painless spell that allows you to fill a small vial with your blood.
You simply hand that to a patron and they hand you a coin.
Once they drink it, it gives them longer life.
” March grinned. “Not precisely the way Elys intended for his gift to humanity to work, but humans are nothing if not enterprising.”
Hawk couldn’t help his snort, but then straightened his spine; he didn’t want to seem dismissive. Because this was an opportunity he never saw for himself. “You really are considering me for this?”
March was unbothered by the question and continued on. “Of course. Are you willing to have sex with a patron?”
The Truth spell had him replying before he thought better of it. “Yes.”
“Have you had sex before?”
Hawk could feel the color darkening his face. “Yes, but with only one man.”
March’s eyes scanned his hair. “Would you prefer a position within the agency that doesn’t require sex? Many of those within Sutaire do not perform sexually.”