Chapter 15 Perl
PERL
Over the next few days, Perl refuses to speak of what happened between him and Kerik. He tries not to let the truth of it dissuade him from his task.
It should not matter that Kerik knows this truth.
What he was found doing with Seridil. What was done to him as a result.
The foul desires he does his best to ignore.
The entire Ice Court know the truth of it.
Kerik was bound to discover these things sooner or later.
If Vane had not told him someone else would have.
But in truth, Perl knows, it was always going to be Vane.
Kerik seems to deal with this in the same guileless easy manner he deals with everything. Letting things fall back into charm and flirting.
They take turns sleeping either in the thrall bed or in Perl’s bed and every night, Kerik makes some lewd suggestion that they should both share the bed and Perl rolls his eyes at him.
It is as if it never happened.
Except for the way the memory of kneeling on the floor is burned in Perl’s mind. The deep thud of arousal he had felt. Like nothing else. How much he had wanted to agree to the kiss.
But baring his neck for Kerik had been too much.
Reliving his lowering with iron. That heavy reminder of how far he had strayed from what was expected of him.
Even when Kerik had pinned him on the bed, enacted a scene straight from Perl’s most forbidden fantasies, he couldn’t find a way to break free of the weight of his shame.
And now the memory of Kerik throwing him down on the bed with all his bravado and easy mastery on display, haunts him. Perl had been able to smell Kerik’s desire, feel it and hear it in his cracking breath.
The only cure for that is not to think of it.
But Perl does think of it. And he lets himself entertain the most foolish of dreams. Dreams that perhaps one day, when his duty is done, when his old mistakes are forgiven, when Ur-Durik is defeated and they are far from here.
Perhaps then he will kneel before Kerik. He will wear a suppressor and will let Kerik use his strength to subdue him, take him, use him.
As they go about their business in Vylenor — Perl attending court and Kerik walking behind him in hip cloth and collar — Perl can feel a crackle of tension between them.
Kerik is still angry about Perl’s rejection.
He hides it, but it is still there, a low simmer.
Kerik Darekul, Perl thinks, is very good at hiding things.
The fae of the Ice Court delight in seeing Perl in the halls of Vylenor with Kerik behind him. Many of them laugh and make bird-like chirruping sounds.
Perl isn’t sure what it is about the nineteenth or twentieth sniggering fae who makes a bird sound at Kerik, but Perl doesn’t even think when it happens.
He finds himself spinning around and shooting a charge of magic right at her.
It sends her flying backwards, landing heavily against the wall on the other side of the hall.
Kerik looks at Perl in shock. “What was that? You didn’t have to do that, I can defend myself.”
Perl shakes his head. “No you can’t. Not here.”
Kerik looks at Perl cockily. Across the room Perl can see a crowd of fae helping the fallen courtier to her feet. “Teach me that spell then. I’d like to be able to do that.”
“Even if I taught you, you could not do that here. You must allow me to do it on your behalf.”
Kerik puts his hands on his bare hips. Full of proud fury. “Why?”
Perl rolls his eyes. “You know why…” Perl begins, his voice drying as Exeinil glides over. Perl’s heart sinks.
Across the hall the fae courtier is on her feet but she clutches a hand to her face.
Exeinil looks to her then back to Perl. “Oh, Perlash,” she says, all sweet dismay. “Ermai was a pretty one. I’ve been saying I ought to make a law that it’s a crime to use those spells on pretty ones above the neck. “
“She was mocking my thrall,” Perl says. “An insult to me.”
Exeinil sighs. “I suppose it is sweet to see you like this. So devoted. I am happy that you have found someone who is truly able to show you how you can be.” She looks to Kerik. “You must be a very fine thrall indeed. A rarity among mortals.”
Kerik nods and says, sweetly, “Thank you, your majesty.”
Exeinil claps her hands and looks at Kerik as if she finds him quite charming. Perl supposes that he is. Or he can be. Or he knows when to use his charm to bewitch someone.
Exeinil claps her hands. “So, as your blood is up defending your thrall, Perlash, why not let yourself take some pleasure. Let me see the two of you together. Command it to pleasure you on its knees.”
Perl’s heart sinks even lower. “Grand Majesty, I would prefer not to”
Kerik is close to Perl, close enough that Perl can hear him when he murmurs. “Just do it. Tell me to do it.”
“No,” Perl says quietly. Then louder, addressing Exeinil, “What I do with my thrall is my own choice. I prefer not to show him off in public while his obedience is under a test. I would not wish all the fae here to see just how skilled he is with that pretty mouth. They may try to sabotage him in order to get the chance to claim him for themselves.”
This answer clearly pleases Exeinil who smiles indulgently at Perl, then reaches out and strokes his braid.
“My covetous one. You know there were many who thought I should not take you as my ward after your siring was so repellent, but when I see you like this, I am so happy I defied my vile sister to keep you.”
“Yes, Grand Majesty,” Perl says, feeling an old pain twist around his heart. Exeinil has not mentioned the sacrifice she made for him until this moment. He had been hoping she would not, but he knew that was a foolish hope.
He dreads the thought she will say more about his siring, his parentage, what it brought to all of them.
He needs to get away from this hall as soon as he can.
He lifts his chin and says, “But now you have made me think of it, I will take my thrall back to my chambers as I have a thirst for how this mortal sucks me.”
Exeinil laughs “Oh, be off with you then. Go enjoy your mortal thrall. But you have given me my own thirst to see you commanding it. We will set the next test for tomorrow.”
As Perl drags Kerik down the corridor back to his chamber, Kerik says, “You don’t have to come up with so many schemes and excuses. Surely it's easier if I simply suck you. I am perfectly capable of getting on my knees and letting you use me.”
As they reach the chamber and Perl opens the door, he says, “It’s not what I want.” He bundles Kerik inside.
“No. It isn’t.” Kerik smirks as he sits himself on Perl’s bed. “You’d rather be on your knees. I remember your face when you knelt. You think you can hide what you are. What you want. You can’t.”
Perl swallows. Kerik has not brought up that shameful event before now and he was hoping he would not do so. Another foolish hope. There are too many shameful things in Vylenor he tries to ignore. “You wanted to learn magic,” he says. Diverting Kerik in the simplest way he knows.
“Now?” Kerik’s face lights with pure excitement. It’s really too delightful. “Will you teach me what you did to that faerie in the Ice Hall?”
“In time, perhaps. But first we need to start with something simpler.”
Teaching Kerik to do magic is necessary, he knows that.
He also knows it would be better not to do such a thing in Vylenor, where the mere thought of mortals learning to use magic is a great transgression.
Nevertheless, of all Perl’s many crimes against faekind, at least teaching mortals magic does not make him burn with a confusing mixture of shame and wanting.
Perl has Kerik sit opposite him, cross-legged on the bed. He remembers the old lessons he was taught as a fae youngling, as he says, “The most basic magic is a simple act of moving an object, just as one would move it in the mortal realm. For example.” He reaches into the air and produces an apple.
Kerik blinks.
Perl says, “I did not create this apple. I moved it. It was, a moment ago, hanging on a tree in an orchard in Ismagaar. I moved it here just as you would move it by taking it up and carrying it.”
“But it appeared,” Kerik says. He reaches out and takes it from Perl, turning it around in his hand to marvel at it. He takes a bite from it, as if checking it is real. “Oh,” he says, a little surprised. “That tastes so good.”
“It is nothing more than an ordinary apple. But it tastes good because you have not been eating in Vylenor.”
“And you can just do that? Bring anything you want to your hand? Anything at all?”
“It simply needs a little concentration. See?” Perl blinks and the bitten apple vanishes from Kerik’s hand, reappearing in Perl’s.
“Once you can move objects you can do most magic you would ever wish. It is simply a matter of what you move and how. Practice and you will be able to master larger objects and greater distances, but the real skill is not in moving large things a great distance, but in moving small things tiny distances.”
Kerik looks at Perl puzzled. But before he can say anything, Perl continues.
“It may sound strange but that is the true power of magic to change matter, or even create it from the air. It can be done because everything you know in the world is actually made of tiny pieces. Like grains of sand or salt, but smaller than that. So small they cannot be seen. And even those small pieces are made of yet smaller ones.”
Again Kerik frowns, but he says, “I think I have heard such a notion. In lessons. There were some philosophers who claimed such.”
“Indeed there are. Some mortals have considered these ideas.
While the fae know they are the truth, because with magic we can sense such things.
Although it takes great concentration. But when you can move those tiny things, shifting them just a little, you can do anything you wish.
Create anything you wish. Even change a person's feelings or thoughts. Or end their life.”
Kerik is still frowning. “But how can you move things if they are too small to see?”
“Concentration and will,” Perl says simply, although he knows it is far more complex than that.
“So you could move me?” Kerik says. He looks at the apple.
“In theory, yes. In reality, that would take a lot of power. A thing that is living is far more complex to move, as every part must remain in its correct place. But in simple terms, moving things with magic needs power. Just as moving things by mortal means needs power. The reason it is easier to do it here is that there is so much wild magic in the air. In other places, you can pull magic from yourself. Your own body, but that will deplete you very quickly.”
“Well then let me try,” Kerik says as he moves his own hand, placing it between Perl’s and the floating apple. Perl lets him take control of it. The apple wobbles and drops but before it hits the bed, it rises again, floating under Kerik’s control.
Perl makes a soft gasping sound. The magic seems to come to Kerik as easily as breathing. These spells took Perl years to master. But for Kerik they seem to just flow into him.
“Is this me?” Kerik says in a soft whisper. “Is it me doing this?”
“Yes,” Perl says, voice equally soft.
Kerik moves his hands and makes the apple bounce in the air. “If the fae have such powers I am surprised you do not use them to take the world back from mortals.”
“Because the Bellator wiped out the reserves of magical power in the mortal realm. That is how they won their war against us. We were powerless, forced to flee to the only corners of the world where the power is still retained. We cannot do magic in the mortal realm now without great costs to ourselves or complex methods of storing magical energy inside mortal vessels.”
Perl looks at Kerik. He seems unconcerned by this and more concerned with making the apple dance in the air, captivated by what he can do.
Here he is with another mortal who is connected to the story of Ur-Durik. And here he is once more teaching that mortal magic.
Will he regret this as much as he regrets her?
Kerik laughs and breaks his concentration. The apple falls to the bed. He picks it up.
“Zai’s eye,” he says, “Why do I feel so tired. I feel like I could lie down and sleep for a thousand years.”
“You feel like that,” says Perl, taking the apple from Kerik and tossing it into the air before blinking, sending it back to the orchard it came from.
“Because you did that using your own strength not the power in the air. There is enough power here you should not need to use an ounce of your own, you just need to harness it.”
“Then teach me.”
“I will,” Perl says, “in time. We have another test to prepare for and you should not exhaust yourself.”
“Always in time.” Kerik shakes his head. He leans back and lies down on the bed, stretching out, folding his hands behind his head as he looks up at the canopy, marvelling at the secrets he now possesses.