Chapter 12 Kerik
KERIK
Kerik spends a little time washing and oiling himself. Doing his best to make himself look as delightful as possible, simply because he enjoyed the way Perl looked at him last time he stepped out of the bathing chamber.
As he washes he thinks about the strange turn of events at the Silver Ball.
Although he is sure he can pass whatever these faerie tests for thralls might be, he is unsure how he feels about being forced to complete them.
He could, he supposes, refuse. But would that mean he ends up in this pit?
He probably ought to avoid that. What it does mean is that he will be spending longer at this faerie court.
That, he thinks, is a good thing. The longer he is here the more magical knowledge he can glean.
So much the better for his triumphant return to Azuria.
He ought to try and discover what these faeries’ weaknesses might be too.
He should think of this as a spying mission. And how delightful it would be to see the looks on those faeries’ faces when the creature they’d dismissed as a mortal thrall returned with a magical army to take their wealth and lands.
He chuckles to himself. Perhaps he will take this other court too. From how it is spoken about, it seems likely it contains even more wealth.
Things have worked out just as he would have wanted.
And when he thinks that, something strange strikes him.
Perl had told him magic was a matter of will.
Could it be that this had all happened the way it had because he had somehow willed it so.
He had wanted to stay here and learn magic. Perhaps he is already so powerful.
When he finally does emerge from the bathing chamber, wrapped in a linen cloth, Perl doesn’t have that half-hidden look of lust on his face, just his more usual wary one, as if, at any moment, they are both about to be attacked by lions.
Kerik picks up the collar from the table and places it around his own neck. “So this test is just called ‘silence’. Sounds easy enough.”
“Does it?” Perl raises an eyebrow. “You do not seem very able to control your desire to tell me any thought in your head.”
Kerik gives Perl a sullen look back and says nothing. He can keep silent. How hard can that be?
“It is usual to start with one of the simpler ones,” Perl says. "But you may find there is more to this than you think.”
The Pink Parlour is a far smaller room than the Ice Hall, but well named. It is decorated in delicate shades of rose and frosted with silver accents that catch the ice light. Incense burns with a thick sweet scent, familiar from Vane’s chambers, curling in the air.
A scattering of faerie courtiers line the walls. A few of them wear wings arching above their head, but many do not, perhaps in consideration of the smaller space.
At the far end is a dais, upon which sits a grand throne carved of pink marble. The Queen sits on it, elegant legs crossed and a sweet smile on her face. Her silver snake is curled around her neck like fine jewellery.
She opens her arms in welcome as Kerik and Perl enter, leaning forward with a rustling of her elaborate tiered gown.
As always, the gown is low cut in the front, skimming over her breasts and exploding at the waist into tiers of lace that froth like a wild sea.
“Come, my dear Perl,” she says in her musical voice.
“Come now and take your place at my side. I am so delighted to see you back and acting like a true high fae.”
Beside Exeinil sits Vane with Seridil at his feet and on the Queen’s other side is Diamanda. But between the Queen and Vane is another chair. Empty.
So that must be for Perl. Perl is to be sitting on the dais.
Part of the inner court. Kerik has still not fathomed Perl’s relationship to the royal line of Vylenor.
Could he be someone the Queen intends to sire a child with?
Diamanda is the Queen’s daughter, Vane is the Queen’s nephew, the son of her powerful sister.
Perl must be something to her if he is being given a seat on the dais.
For a moment Perl simply stands in the centre of the parlour, staring at the chair beside the Queen.
Kerik nudges at Perl’s shoulder and whispers, “I think we need to go sit up there.”
“Majesty,” Perl says, his voice sounds odd, like metal banging on metal. “I have only been back a single night and I am only here to visit.”
“I agree,” Vane says airily.
“Enough from you, Prince Vanel,” The Queen snaps across the dais.
“Please try and control your jealousy.” She turns her attention back to Perl.
“Perlash-zeren-ai, it matters not how short a time you have been here, or how long you plan to stay, I always knew you would return. I have waited a hundred years and I will wait no longer. Come, take your seat as my delight. I will enjoy watching you command your thrall.”
Perl nods as if he has nothing more to say. He goes to take his place on the dais. Kerik follows obediently and kneels on the cushion at Perl’s feet.
When Perl is seated the Queen smiles at them both. “What an interesting hip cloth your thrall wears.”
Perl looks a little awkward. “He likes to match me.”
“Does it? How adorable.” The Queen claps her hands. “Begin,” she says.
Kerik blinks. Is he supposed to do something? Start being silent in this moment? But then he realises a small, square platform draped in pink silk is rising from the floor in the centre of the parlour, surrounded by a glittering golden mist.
The mist clears to reveal, on the platform, a small stool of white wood. A simple thing for such grand ceremony.
But there’s no need to ask what Kerik is meant to do now. So that will be the test. Sit on that stool and be silent. Simple.
Perl stands from the chair he has only just sat upon and says evenly, “Thank you, Grand Majesty. I will now demonstrate my command of this thrall and his devotion with a display of silence.”
When he is done he leads Kerik from the dais and up onto the platform where he commands him sit on the stool.
Kerik does his best to look obedient as he follows Perl’s commands. Perl walks behind Kerik, adjusting his position before pulling his arms around and connecting the cuffs.
“Prepare him,” Perl says as he steps down and two fae guards take his place before Kerik on the platform. They remove his collar and hand it to Perl, replacing it with one of the high metal ones that lift his chin.
Kerik grunts as it is locked into place.
Then, one guard parts Kerik’s lips with a gloved hand and the other produces a small silver ball studded with gems, which he places inside Kerik’s mouth.
When the guards draw back, curious, Kerik presses at the ball in his mouth with his tongue.
Although nothing is holding the ball in place and he should be able to simply press it out again, it does not move.
Something tingles on his tongue when he tries.
It’s a little pleasant. The taste of magic in his mouth.
Kerik tries to speak around the ball. He means to say, “How elegant.” But his voice does not come. Not even a garbled noise. Instead the sound he makes is a sweet chirrup, like a strange unfamiliar bird song.
The courtiers lining the walls of the parlour laugh.
Kerik swallows as best he can around the studded ball. He feels a soft heavy feeling in his belly. He cannot speak. His words become birdsong.
As he sits and watches, The Queen stands and comes gliding over in her tumbling silks. She steps up onto the platform. Her snake is slithering, moving around her neck so its silver scales catch the light. She reaches out and touches the ball. Tapping it with a fingernail.
It rattles against Kerik’s teeth. The gems scratch at the inside of his mouth, creating small sparks of pain.
“Stop that,” he says, unthinking. The only sound he emits, once again, is the sweet high chirrup.
A golden numeral appears, floating in the air before Kerik. An elaborately calligraphed number one.
“If that number reaches three, you fail the test, thrall. Do you understand?”
Kerik knows better than to speak in reply. He tries to nod but cannot move his head in the strict collar. So all he can do is stare back at The Queen. She is very beautiful, but up so close the beauty doesn’t look real. Like she is made of magic and mist.
The Queen smiles a slick, slow smile. “I suppose I’ll just have to assume that means you do.
” She claps. “Remain silent until the bell rings to end the test. A simple enough task for even the most untrained thrall. If you cannot manage this we will not need to waste our time on more elaborate tests of your obedience.” She turns and steps down from the platform.
As she reaches Perl she links her arms with his.
“And now, Perlash, you will sit with me on the dais to watch your thrall’s obedience.
” She claps her hands. “Bring the suppressor.”
Almost before she has finished speaking a fae page appears holding a plump red velvet cushion. Upon it is a cuff, similar to the ones Kerik wears although the metal is a dull grey. Iron.
Kerik sees Perl look at it with an expression of apprehension. Even fear.
The Queen waves her hand over the cuff and it vanishes. Perl makes a soft grunt of pain, as the iron cuff reappears, encircling his wrist.
Iron, Kerik thinks, so the tales about iron and faeries are true. When he takes this place, he will use iron weapons.
Perl nods to the Queen, as if thanking her and walks up onto the dais. He takes his seat and makes eye contact with Kerik. Kerik gazes back, hoping that he is communicating to Perl that this is simple. That he will complete this test with very little difficulty.
Beside Perl, Vane is also staring at Kerik. He looks bored, leaning down to pet Seridil.