Chapter 16 Kerik
KERIK
Kerik wakes in Perl’s bed. It is so much more comfortable than the small pallet on the floor. It had been Perl’s turn to take the bed. But Perl had insisted Kerik sleep in comfort as he is going to face another test of devotion.
It’s ridiculous. The bed is easily enough for them both with Perl’s slight birdlike body. They needn’t couple, or anything like that. Perl could remain as chaste as he wishes to be. They’d just get a better night’s rest.
Kerik rolls over and looks down at Perl on the thrall bed. He is awake, blinking up at Kerik. Kerik does not think Perl sleeps well. Or perhaps he does not sleep well in this place.
He is planning to voice his opinions, once more about the sleeping arrangements,
but before he can begin a bell rings, its sweet chimes dancing through the air.
“Is that for us?” Kerik says. “The next test?”
Perl sits up. “It is the audience bell. It may not be for your test, but I think it very likely. Bathe and dress, quickly.”
Kerik climbs from the bed. “Anything you would have me wear, Master?” he says with a sweet bow.
“Just get on with it,” Perl says, turning away to his dressing chamber.
Vylenor always feels cool to Kerik, but that could be because he is always half-naked, although the faeries do not seem to be any more warmly dressed than he.
But when they step into the Pink Parlour, the air feels colder than ever.
And the reason for this is very clear. Right in the centre of the room, where the platform Kerik had sat upon for the last test had been, is what appears to be a huge piece of ice, sparkling in the strange ethereal light of Vylenor like a fine jewel.
When he sees it, Perl halts. “Ah.”
Behind him Kerik says, “What? What is it?”
Perl nods at the ice. “Endurance.”
“What do I have to endure?”
“Cold,” Perl nods at the ice again. “That.”
“Cold. Just cold?" Kerik really was expecting something far worse. “I’ve been cold the entire time I’ve been here.”
But Perl does not reply. He begins marching quickly towards the dais. Kerik increases his pace to keep up. The Queen looks at them. “Ah, Perlash, you are here, finally.”
Perl shakes his head at her. “Your Majesty, please. It is only the second test. If this is about what I did to Ermai?”
The Queen tips her head to one side. Her mouth forms a neat moue as she says, “Who?”
Perl gestures to the block of ice. “Please. Not endurance. It’s too much.”
Diamanda leans forward on the dais, “It is a cruel test for a mortal thrall, mother.”
The Queen laughs. “Oh, I know it's intense, but your thrall is so virile and devoted. It will be so erotic to see it suffering this. And I’m sure it will be delighted to do this for you. Now, my dear Perlash, you have kept us waiting long enough. You will instruct your thrall that it is to strip itself and enter the ice cell. It is to resist all offers of warmth until you are satisfied.”
Kerik listens to this with interest. He has no idea why Perl is so concerned. It seems simple enough. What is so difficult about simply being cold?
When Perl turns to Kerik, he has his chest puffed out, as if he is doing his best to play the part of Kerik’s Master, although Kerik can see a distinct light of dread in his eyes. “Strip, thrall,” he commands. “Display your body before you offer it to me.”
Kerik follows Perl’s lead, bowing with a murmur of, “Yes, Master,” before removing his hip cloth.
Baring himself completely to the hall. He has not been fully naked in front of the faeries like this before, although he has been close enough that this should not be as mortifying as it feels.
But he does not let himself think on it for too long.
He takes a breath, before dropping to his knees at Perl’s feet, entirely naked.
He kisses each of Perl’s boots before sitting back on his heels and saying.
“Yes, Master. I hope you enjoy watching me freeze for your pleasure, Master. As you command.”
He sees Perl swallow, before he says coolly, “Your wrists, thrall.”
Kerik lifts his arms to offer his wrists to Perl. Perl takes them and removes Kerik’s silver cuffs.
Kerik looks at Perl in puzzlement. He is not sure why Perl has removed the cuffs. He thought they would be part of every test. But he knows better than to ask a question.
Kerik’s thoughts are broken when the Queen claps and commands, “Take it to the ice.”
Kerik allows two fae guards to lift him from the floor before Perl’s feet and march him over to the giant block of ice in the centre of the parlour.
Close up, he can see that it is indeed a cell.
There is an entranceway carved into it, leading to a small inner chamber inside the block of ice.
Kerik is taken inside and placed in a sitting position on the floor and he realises why his cuffs were removed when the guards manacle his wrists.
The manacles inside the cell are also made of ice, cuffs on long ice chains that give Kerik enough freedom that he can lift his arms to inspect the way he is held.
The ice bracelets glitter, they are freezing cold, biting into his skin. Kerik’s breath mists the air.
The guards withdraw and Kerik sees that Perl stands behind them. As ever his face is drawn with concern. Kerik is bound with ice. He sits on ice. He is surrounded by ice. And there is Perl before him, simply more ice. Impenetrable and cold.
“This is a fae torture method,” Perl says.
Kerik nods. “Did they do this to you?”
“No. I told you what they did to me. There is more than one fae torture method.” Perl pauses before he says, “You must refuse anything that is offered to you before I end the test. I will use the words, ‘Thrall, you have pleased me.’ Do you understand?”
It doesn’t seem hard to understand. But Kerik cannot resist saying, “What if I don’t please you?”
“If you do not,” Perl says calmly. “Then Exeinil will declare that you have failed the test and you will be sent to the pit.”
He turns and leaves. Kerik can see shapes moving outside the cell as the fae guards slide another piece of ice over the doorway, sealing him inside. He is trapped. Chained and imprisoned in ice.
So, this will be simply something he must endure, not a test of his obedience. He is simply to be left, freezing in an ice prison. It is not pleasant, but he cannot see how he could fail.
And the ice cell is pretty. It is quite a wonder to be inside. If he was not naked it could be pleasant. If he was wrapped in furs with a cup of spicewine and had a lover beside him, this would be an exotic delight.
But it is not long before he feels the cold start to pain him. He blows in his frozen hands. His feet are numb.
As more time passes he simply grows colder and colder. It feels as if ice is seeping into his bones.
This is a method of fae torture, Perl had said. Kerik can only hope it is only that and not a method of execution.
He wonders then if he can keep himself warm by magic.
That would be a useful trick. He tries to remember all Perl has taught him.
He can move objects. But all he has managed to do is use a spelled ring that Perl had already crafted, and make an apple jump in the air.
He cannot see how any of that could help him keep warm.
But hadn’t Perl said it was all simply a matter of will.
He tries to imagine something warm, being warm.
Attar in high summer. Attar during the moon of Gi, when the sun bakes the ground hard as iron. When he was a boy he had spent every day of the moon of Gi on the banks of the Gleam swimming and playing with Endrew and the sons of other courtiers, letting sun bake his skin.
But he cannot seem to hold that feeling in his mind. He cannot remember what it felt like to be so warm. So hot he would run into the Gleam for the sweet relief of its cool waters.
Where else? When else had he been warm? During long summer afternoons in the dusty practice courtyard, being drilled for his martial training.
Kerik enjoyed such training. He’d been good at it.
But sometimes, on hot days, the Master at Arms had wanted him to practice his form over and over again, without a break ,until the sweat dripped from his body.
It had been a torment. But he hadn’t ever given up or asked for a break to rest or even drink water.
He wanted to be as good as Damon, the One Man Army.
He had drilled and drilled until he thought he might collapse.
It all seems so long ago. Has he really been gone five years? Five years in an enchanted dreamless sleep. Gone so long his old life and all he had been promised is lost.