Chapter 5
PERL
Swiftly, Perl urges Kerik back to his feet and lets him walk behind him as they take the glittering passageways of Vylenor to his old chamber.
His heart sinks at the thought of a formal ball and all that will entail, just the type of event he had hoped to avoid. But he takes a breath. He can manage one night of fae revelry. And overall that went better than he had expected.
For some reason Queen Exeinil is very taken with Kerik.
It may be that she can sense the latent power from his fae blood and finds him enchanting because of it.
He has heard that many fae find mortals with some fae blood strangely attractive.
Which will certainly be helpful. So long as no one realises that is the reason.
When they reach Perl’s own chambers, he is surprised to find himself quite pleased to see them.
They are simple and functional, very much to his taste, the walls are white and unadorned, free of the gilding and jewels that cover most of Vylenor.
The large bed has a frame of glossy black archenwud.
There is a black fur rug on the white floor.
And he will be able to speak with Kerik here in private.
Now they are in Vylenor, he needs to make sure Kerik knows what is required of him.
Kerik walks into the chambers after Perl and looks around, staring wherever he pleases in a manner that is really not acceptable for a thrall.
“What do you require?” Vane asks, lounging in the chamber doorway, making no attempt to hide how much he resents being asked to wait on Perl.
It is heartening, in a way, to see how little he has changed.
His thrall, Seridil, has followed him from the Ice Hall and stands behind him, beautiful as ever with his red-gold curls and a matching copper-coloured collar.
He is well trained, his gaze on the floor. Perl tries not to look at him.
Perl wants to be rid of Vane, and especially Seridil, as soon as possible, but he quite enjoys saying, “Hot water, fresh linens. That should be all.”
Vane waves a hand in the air. Perl feels the soft, easy crackle of Vane’s magic — the lazy power of a fae who spends all his time in Vylenor — as he adjusts the washroom behind the closed door in the corner of the chamber.
“And you will require a thrall bed for that,” Vane says, looking at Kerik with his lip curling in distaste.
Perl feels himself flush. Of course he needs a bed for Kerik. “Oh, yes. I suppose,” he says, trying to sound airy as if he simply hasn’t given a thought to where his thrall might sleep.
Vane waves again. A small pallet appears on the floor beside Perl’s bed, which makes Kerik startle.
When Perl looks at Vane, he notices that he too is amused by Kerik’s shocked reaction to magic.
“You’re spoiling this thing,” Vane says, looking at Kerik but clearly addressing Perl.
“Do you actually permit it just to stand there staring. Shouldn’t it be facing the wall at least if you are not using it? ”
Perl shrugs idly. “He’s rather new. He’s still learning the rules.”
“Learning?” Vane looks Kerik up and down. “I know you think this creature pretty, but I’d give it a taste of the strap for standing gawping like that. It should be in the corner, silenced, or kneeling with its forehead on the floor. Wherever did you find it? Does it even know its positions?”
Perl takes a step closer to Kerik. He touches Kerik’s bare waist protectively. “Don’t tell me how to treat my own thrall, Vane.”
Vane laughs. He steps forward and grabs Kerik’s upper arm. He squeezes it hard enough to hurt. Perl notices the way Kerik swallows a yelp.
“Mortals are so very meaty,” Vane says, still mauling Kerik’s arm, Perl can see Vane’s pale fingers digging into Kerik’s muscle. “Is that what you like? Hot meat? Brute power on its knees?”
“I like what I like,” Perl says tightly.
Vane loosens his grip, but he doesn’t take his hand from Kerik’s skin.
He walks around Kerik, trailing a finger across his back, his other arm and then his chest, skirting round his nipples.
Kerik stands tall for the inspection, chin lifted and shoulders back.
He looks very fine. “Could I have it for the night?” Vane says as he completes his circuit.
Perl shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I do not plan to wild him.”
“No wilding?” Vane smirks. “Still so unconventional. How is your neck? Did it ever heal?”
“I do not wish to discuss those matters. They are in the past,” Perl says with his voice still brittle as ice.
“What happened to your neck?” Kerik says.
Perl’s heart sinks.
Vane and Seridil look at Kerik in shock.
“By The Aeons,” Vane exclaims. “This thing desperately needs a spell in the pit.
How ever can you put up with such behaviour?
It asked you a direct question. I know you refused Exeinil's offer to pit it because you do not wish to be without it, but they have some wonderful ways around that in the pit. It could easily be made so a year of pit training for your mortal creature was only a day and a night for you.”
“I would not be without him,” Perl says. “Even for a day and a night.”
“Seridil was sent to the pit,” Vane says, pointing at his thrall. “But of course, you know that. You didn’t like the pit, did you, thrall?”
“No, Master,” Seridil says. His voice is as Perl remembers. Low and sweet.
“Let me show you, Perlash, how a properly trained thrall ought to behave.”
Vane produces a knife from a small sheath on his belt. He hands it to Seridil. “Take this, thrall,” he says.
Seridil takes the knife, lifting his eyes only enough to see what he is doing and whispers a shaky, “Thank you, Master.”
Vane smiles at Perl and says, “Seridil, cut off your finger.”
Seridil looks up at Vane. He looks pale, but his voice is even when he says, “Which finger, Master?”
“Stop it, Vane,” Perl snaps, voice sharp. His measured even tone gone. Vane has succeeded in riling him. Of course he has.
“Very well,” Vane says, clearly delighted, “give me my blade, thrall.”
Seridil hands the knife back to Vane who resheathes it smoothly. “So,” he says, turning to Perl, “do you still have feelings for this one?”
Perl looks at Seridil, who still has his eyes down, then at Vane. He takes a heavy breath. “Not at all, I simply do not care for your ridiculous posturing.” He sits down heavily on the bed behind him.
Vane smirks. “Well, then,” he says, before bowing and asking, “Anything else?”
“No. Thank you, Prince Vane.”
“And you are not staying here long?”
Perl shakes his head.
“You think she will let you simply leave?”
“I am not bound to Vylenor.”.
Vane’s sour expression seems to turn even darker. “I hear travelling through the salt door can be exhausting. But perhaps Exeinil will want me to wait on you further at your delightful welcoming ball on the morrow.”
Perl sighs. He does not wish to make an enemy of Vane. Or more of an enemy than he is already. That would definitely make things more difficult. “I didn’t ask her for your service.”
“No, I am aware,” Vane says, turning and leaving with Seridil trailing behind him.
Perl waves a hand to close the chamber door and releases a long breath. He looks at Kerik. “In future,” he says, “Do not look at Vane. Or at me. And if you must speak, do not ask direct questions.”
Kerik looks back at him. “What’s the pit?” he says.
“That’s exactly the kind of direct question you are not meant to ask me. Thralls do not question their Masters about such matters.”
Kerik rolls his eyes. “There’s no one else here. What’s the pit?”
“It’s a place thralls are trained. It is usual for mortal thralls to spend some time there when they first come to Vylenor. But you really don’t want to go there.”
“It can’t be much worse than here.”
“It is much worse than here.”
“Would Vane’s thrall really have cut off his finger?”
Perl shakes his head, thinking that he understands why there are such stringent rules about mortal thralls speaking to their Masters. “I really don’t know. Perhaps.”
Kerik looks a little pale, his skin stark against his dark hair. “But only you can send me to the pit. Vane can’t.”
“Only I can send you to the pit, correct.”
“And you won’t.”
“Of course I won’t. We will leave this place as soon as I get what I came for.”
Kerik seems happy with this. “So Vane is a prince? He is the Queen’s son?”
“He is, but not the son of the Queen here in Vylenor, Exeinil the Queen of the ice Court, but the son of Exeinil’s sister.
Queen of the Timeless Court on Oria. Sefi the Perpetual, the forever Queen.
Oria is far larger and far more powerful than Ulla.
And as Sefi’s son, Vane is perfectly entitled to style himself Prince Vane. ”
“His mother is Queen of another court? So why is he here?”
Perl wonders how much he should say. Vane’s presence in Vylenor and the reasons for it are no secret, but this is the kind of information he knows the fae would not want finding its way back to the mortal realm.
Perl did not think he cared about such things very much, but he still finds himself hesitating before he says.
“Vane is Exeinil’s ward. He has been here since he was only forty turns.
A babe in the eyes of the fae. It is a long story. ”
Kerik looks at the door and says, “He seems quite unhappy with you.”
“He’s angry Exeinil sent him to prepare my chambers.”
“But he didn’t do anything himself. He just used magic.” Kerik looks at the thrall bed again. His eyes are wide with fascination.
“But it's symbolic. Vane is not my servant and Exeinil is being typically provocative by asking him to behave as one.”
“Even though you could have done that yourself.” Kerik tips his head on one side and smiles. “Could you?”
“Turned the water on and refreshed bed linen? Yes, I could have done that myself.”
“And produced my bed out of the air?”
“Yes.”
Kerik crouches down beside the pallet on the floor and touches it, as if checking it is real. “You can just make things appear?”