Chapter 5 #4
Perl is still lying on his bed thinking when the bathing chamber door opens.
Kerik strolls through. He wears only a piece of linen wrapped around his waist. Although he is no less clothed than he was before, there is an intimacy to the sight of him like this — fresh bathed with damp hair and oiled skin — that makes Perl’s breath catch.
He is infuriating but he is such a fine looking mortal.
And he looks far more beautiful without the collar. As he thinks of the collar, Perl realises he is holding it in his hand. He must have picked it up from the floor where Kerik dropped it when he took it off.
Kerik is looking at the collar too. “Why do you even have that?” he says.
Perl looks at him. Is he asking why Perl is holding the collar now? Or why he would own such a thing at all. “What do you mean?”
Kerik moves closer, he sits down beside Perl and takes the collar from his hands.
His fingers brush Perl’s for a moment. Perl feels the heat from them.
Kerik is so close Perl can smell his skin.
Smell the oil he’s used in the bathing chamber.
Sandalwood and oud, rich decadent scents.
Perl wonders if he looked through all the oils and chose those ones, or if he just picked up a bottle carelessly.
Kerik looks at the collar and says, “You had a collar for a man. In the Starlight Tower. You didn’t use magic to create this. You already had it. I was just wondering why you had such a thing to hand.”
“It's old. I’ve had it a long time.”
Kerik turns the collar around in his hands and says, “Do you want to put it back on me? Should I kneel before you?” He flashes Perl a cocky grin.
“We don’t have to do anything like that in here.”
“But do you?”
“No, I do not.”
Kerik thinks for a moment, still turning the collar over and over. “Perhaps I should wear it though. In case someone comes to the door. We ought to be ready to present ourselves as they would expect to find us without undue pause.”
Perl makes a dismissive gesture. “If you wish to wear it, wear it.”
Kerik lifts the collar and wraps it around his own neck. He fumbles with the fastening at the back. He makes a small exasperated sound as he cannot get the latch to close without sight of it.
Perl sighs and reaches over, slotting the fastening into place. “Is that comfortable?” he says as he draws his hands away. “Not too tight?”
Kerik flashes Perl a smirk, an expression that is becoming far too familiar. “No, Master.”
Perl rolls his eyes.
Kerik twists his head from side to side, showing off the collar, “If I am to be your thrall in this faerie palace I ought to at least have some fun playing the part.”
“You ought to take this situation seriously. This is not the world you are used to. There are some things you will need to know about being here. Important things.”
“Things about how I must kneel and call you Master like an obedient thrall?”
“No. These are practical concerns. For instance, time moves differently here. We are no longer part of the Timeless Court on Oria, but we are still influenced by it. You will have noticed there are few windows in Vylenor. We do not mark days by the sun rising and setting. The halls are lit with ice light that can be brightened or dimmed as wished.” Perl raises a hand to demonstrate.
The ice light in the room fades to a comfortable level for sleeping.
“There is a midnight bell to mark a day’s turning.
But often, it can be difficult to keep track of how much time has passed.
An eye blinking in Faerie can mean a hundred years in your realm. ”
Kerik frowns. He looks, again, quite disbelieving. But he says, “So, when you told me you had been gone a hundred years?”
“I did not know if it would have also been a hundred years here. But it seems perhaps so. One can never be sure however, how time is passing when one is in the fae realm. The other thing that you will notice is that the fae do not eat.”
“You don’t…” Kerik trails off. “What do you mean you don’t eat?”
“We can eat. But we do not require food to sustain our bodies. We can use energy from the air itself. And you may find that is true for you too. It varies for mortals. If you feel that you require food, tell me and I can create it for you, but do not expect any grand banquets.”
“Tell you if I require food? I assure you I am quite certain I require food.”
“Do you require it now?”
Kerik looks as if he is thinking about this, trying to examine the insides of his body for signs of hunger. “I don’t think…I don’t think I do.”
“No, you may find that you do not.” Perl stands from the bed. “I should wash too. There is a sleeping shirt on your bed.”
“A sleeping shirt? Would that not be an impediment to you if you wish to use me in the night?”
Perl ignores this and walks over to the bathing chamber door.
He turns before he steps inside. “You can take the bed,” he says.
“You wish me to sleep with you in your bed, Master?”
“I will sleep on the floor. On the thrall bed. If someone comes by we can reposition before they enter.”
“What if they rush in without knocking?”
“Rush into my private chamber without knocking? I have told you I have wards.”
“Nevertheless, all have magic here and there are people who seem to wish to catch you doing things you should not be doing.” He pauses. “Like sleeping on a thrall bed.”
“If you have concerns I can take additional precautions and strengthen my wards.”
Perl mutters some soft words and waves a hand. A slight heat and glitter of light dances in the air for a moment. Perl rolls his shoulders. His body aches. He should not perform any more magic before he sleeps. “The door is sealed. Take the bed,” he says, leaving the room without looking back.
Perl walks into his bathing chamber. A round pool of warm water sits in the centre of an elaborate piece of carved pink marble that is shaped like a rose; the water made to look like dew caught in the centre of its petals. Perl created all of this himself, back when magic had been a joy.
He sits on a low silken chair and takes off his boots.
It takes a little time to remove his clothing.
Unfastening his complicated, high-necked leather jerkin and unlacing the leather thongs that run through silver hooks up each of the legs of his breeches.
He discards them and the silk layer he wears beneath, then takes off his black stockings and jewellery, before slipping naked into the warm water.
Bottles of oil and sweet tinctures sit in a small alcove beside the bathing pool. Perl unfastens his hair from its braid and lets it fall down around his pale shoulders. He selects his favourite washing oils. Sandalwood and oud, the same ones Kerik had used.
He fancies as he touches the bottles that he can still feel the warmth left by Kerik's skin. And for a moment he thinks of it. Kerik, in this room, only a few moments ago. Naked in this same water. Washing himself. It feels strangely intimate to share a bathing chamber with someone.
More intimate than Perl has been with anyone in a long time.
When he has completed his bathing, Perl takes time to dry his skin with linens and redress in every part of his carefully chosen outfit.
He twists his hair back into its braid. He could speed this process with magic, but he has so little power left, although he can feel the soft sweet sensation of his reserves of magical power rebuilding simply from being in Vylenor.
He enjoys the slow meditative process of wiping the oil and water from his skin and smoothing down the leather.
When he finally returns to his bed chamber, Kerik is asleep.
Perl lies down on the thrall bed. He feels a soft warm feeling wash over him. A familiar one. The thrall bed is not uncomfortable. But it is hard and small and nothing like as pleasant as sleeping in his own fine bed.
But he prefers this arrangement. It lights a quiet fire in his soul.