22. Elric
22
ELRIC
A fter fleeing the fight at The Sparrows’ Hall, Elric walks through the streets of Lunatum, avoiding the busier places, feeling strange to be finally free. Free for the first time in his life of six and twenty years.
But his freedom isn’t a joy. His heart is shredded.
He tries to put that aside. He tries to focus on what to do next.
He has his old plan to fall back upon. He has made it to Lunatum as he intended. If he vanishes now he will certainly be assumed dead, either killed by Mortingale Outlaws along with the rest of his party in the mountains or taken by them for some nefarious purpose.
If anyone ever pieces together his journey enough to come and search for him in Lunatum, no matter. He will be long gone before that happens. He has no wish to remain in this city. He has seen and heard enough of this place’s brutality. Perhaps he ought to try and get board on a ship to Luxoria.
Luxoria, the island in the South Mortingale Sea is notorious. Luxoli is so popular there that the island gave it its name. Perhaps he will find the lost Emperor Markus.
He could do well there, he thinks.
He discovers his first problem when he reaches into his belt pouch to check his coin purse and finds it gone. He checks again, wriggling his fingers into the corners of the pouch. But the purse is not there. He had ten dal. Enough for passage on a ship to Luxoria, or almost anywhere he wished to go.
He tries to remember when he last checked it. He took it out the night before to give two dal to Lukas. After that, he’d been in The Sparrows’ Hall, sitting with Lukas, then laughing, singing and dancing. Merry on ale. It would have been easy for someone in the Sparrows’ Hall to lift his purse.
Lunatum is truly a cruel city for the unaware.
And now his coin is gone. And he is penniless.
But, he tells himself, determined not to panic, he is still free. He is free and unknown on the streets of Lunatum. And he knows a way he can make coin. He always has a way to make coin. He is the finest male concubine in the Rose Palace. He had planned to visit the luxoli house before he left in any case. Just to get the chance to see such a place. Now he has even more of a reason to go there. It will be the easiest place for someone like him to make coin.
Lukas told him the luxoli house was by the docks. And he finds his way easily through the tangled streets. No one pays him any attention. He is glad his fine clothing has been so entirely ruined by his journey across the Fanosti grasslands. His shirt may be silk, but it is so stained and torn that he looks like any other peasant.
He passes through a wide cobbled square close to the docks. One side of it is entirely taken up by an enormous temple to Zai. Its tower stretches up to the cloudy sky. The lower levels are built mostly of a glossy black stone that catches the weak sunlight. He turns away from it and sees the punishment scaffold.
The place where Lukas lost his hand. Elric swallows.
But he should not think of Lukas. He will never see his Bastard Prince again.
Elric walks on through the square and finds himself outside a wooden building with a sign that says The Exiled Emperor underneath a letter L in a circle. Lukas had said it pretended to be a simple tavern. And it does look like one. Although L is common enough slang for luxoli that he is sure this is the place. Along with the name, The Exiled Emperor. That name makes Elric think sadly of Marko. He had looked for her as he fled Sparrows’ Hall, but she was nowhere to be seen. He hopes she is safe. And thinking of Marko makes him think of Red Wolf.
Red Wolf should have cut Elric’s throat as soon as he found him in Lukas’s room. But he didn’t, because he couldn’t. Because Red Wolf had no belly for violence. But if he had done so there would have been no journey to Lunatum. Red Wolf would not be dead. Red Wolf had died at the hands of men Elric commanded, at least in name.
Elric’s heart is heavy with the mistakes he has made.
He never thought there was any harm in working for his father. But only because he had never considered it too deeply. He’d been so happy to find a way to be worthy in his father’s eyes. And he’d seen no harm in working for Vindar. He’d never thought about the cruelty of the Empire Vindar served. He had thrilled to have risen so high in the beds of important men and to be of service to the Chancellor of the Great Azurian Empire.
But what he has done cannot be undone.
Outside the door of the Exiled Emperor is a short bald man. Simple tavern or not, clearly this is not the kind of place one can walk straight into. Elric smiles at the man and he looks Elric up and down. “You sure you’re in the right place, boy?” he says.
“Is this…?” Elric pauses. He isn’t quite sure what to say. Eventually, he says, “Is this the place to come if you are sly?” It sounds odd to say such a thing aloud.
The man looks over Elric’s shoulder, clearly checking for enforcers. Then, he nods and steps aside, allowing Elric through the door into a narrow, musty-smelling hallway.
“Through there,” the man says, pointing to a tatty red curtain.
Elric pushes through the curtain, down a couple of small steps and emerges into… a new world.
Something he had previously heard whispered about. Something he hadn’t truly ever believed could be real until this moment. He is truly in a luxoli house.
Whatever Lukas said about the Exiled Emperor’s pretence at respectability, this place is like nothing he has ever seen in Attar. The room is not particularly large and it has a distinct shabbiness. There are windows, but they are covered by large wooden shutters with small heart-shaped holes in them. Those holes let in small shafts of daylight, but the room is otherwise dim, lit by candles set on round tables and the mantles above two fireplaces. Along one wall is a scuffed wooden counter. A woman stands behind it, serving ale. She is the only woman in the room. The other staff and all the patrons of the luxoli house, who sit at the tables in couples or small groups, are all men. Some of them are entwined with each other. Others are watching a man in a female gown, who is sitting on a table in the corner, singing a song in Juran.
Elric knows Juran. The song is a famously filthy one about a demon thrusting his tongue into a fae maid’s asshole before taking her roughly and making her scream for more as he planted a demon seed in her belly.
In another corner, a man sprawls on another man’s lap, legs spread wide and shirt open, he tips his head back and his companion kisses his neck. At another table, three men toy with a fourth, draped over all of them, six hands working under his clothes. Luxoli. In a public room. What Elric and Lukas did in Sparrows’ Hall, merry and reckless on ale, is nothing compared to what surrounds Elric here. He stands entranced, just inside the curtained entrance for a long moment, looking at everything, until someone else coming through the curtain almost walks into him and he has to move.
Elric strolls over to a small collection of tables he’s spotted in one corner. Sitting at the tables are an assortment of pretty young men in brief clothing and one or two larger hairier men in sleeveless leather vests and other outfits that show their muscles and strength. It’s obvious what these men are here for. This corner, Elric knows, is where he needs to be to earn passage on a ship to Luxoria.
Elric nods to one of the men as he takes a chair at his round table. The man is a sweet-faced blond, younger than Elric. He nods back, but he doesn’t attempt conversation and nor does Elric. There is a mutual understanding that they are both here to do business. Elric unfastens the rope that holds his torn silk shirt closed and lets it hang open. He doesn’t let himself think about the fact Lukas tied that rope. That chapter of his life is over. A new one is ready to begin. He tries to arrange himself on the chair in the most appealing way possible.
As he’s doing that, an older man, stocky and bearded, approaches the table. Without a word, he takes the blond’s hand. The blond gives Elric a glance, before letting the man lead him towards the corner of the room, behind the tables, where another red curtain is draped. The older man draws back the curtain to reveal a dark corridor and leads the young man through. That must be the way to the pillow rooms.
Elric wonders if beyond that is the secret part of the luxoli house Lukas spoke of. The Underground. He cannot imagine what could be happening in there if this room is the respectable part of the Exiled Emperor.
As Elric watches them go, another pair of men come out from behind the same curtain. A refined-looking man in very rich clothing, silk breeches and an embroidered jacket like the ones that are popular among the ruling nobles of Attar. He’s with an older, stronger-looking man. This man is tall and well-built with muscular arms. He’s bluntly handsome. His leather breeches are cut very short, showing off the fact that his legs are similarly powerful. He looks a little like Damon Darekul. A look that probably earns him good coin. What sly man in Azuria doesn’t have a little lust in his heart for the One Man Army?
The finely dressed man kisses the other man on the cheek before he walks away. The big man takes a seat at the tables near Elric and a moment later another man comes over and speaks to him before the big man draws out a leather pouch and counts out some coin.
So, Elric thinks, the luxoli house takes a cut. But he notes that the big man keeps a weighty purse.
This will be easy money for the finest sly concubine in the Rose Palace, Elric thinks. And then his mind wanders, yet again, to Lukas. Lukas sold his body in this place. Did he sit right here? Did he take men through that curtain to sell his mouth or his hole?
He did. Elric knows he did. Elric feels strange at the thought. He thinks he feels jealous. He pushes the thoughts away. Lukas is gone. He can never be with Lukas. And he always knew that.
A sudden, soft voice cuts through his thoughts. “You’re new.”
Elric turns. A tall man is sitting down at his table. He is the most striking-looking man Elric thinks he has ever seen. Along with his height, he has long hair, almost silver-white and perfectly straight, in a long braid that snakes over his shoulder almost to his waist. His clothes seem to be entirely made of black leather. Long sleeves cover his arms to the wrist, laced tight with thongs threaded through fine silver hooks. His breeches are similarly laced along each slim thigh, before vanishing into tight boots, high to his knees. His skin is as pale as Elric’s, but the only skin he shows is his face and his elegant, long-fingered hands. His eyes are also pale, a clear ice-blue. He peers at Elric, thin, pale-pink mouth unsmiling. His face is quite astoundingly handsome with a strong jaw and high, wide cheekbones. For half a moment, Elric thinks there is something a little strange about him, but he thinks that is probably down to the strangeness of the situation. He shakes the thought away. If this stunning man is his potential client this will be the easiest money he has ever earned.
“Good day,” Elric says, brightly. “Would you like to take me through that curtain? My mouth, I promise, is the best in the Empire.”
The man tips his head to one side, his severe face thoughtful. “Let’s see. I am in no rush to proceed to the base level. First, can I buy you a drink?”
“If that’s your pleasure,” Elric says sweetly.
The man snaps his long fingers in the air and a tavern boy with short black hair and tight black breeches hurries over. “Another flower cup, Varam,” the man says to the boy before looking to Elric, “And what about you?”
“I’d love some peach wine.” Elric looks at the tavern boy. “If you have it.”
The boy nods smartly. “Fanosti Peach. Yes. Of course, Sire. A bottle?”
“Please,” says Elric.
“Thank you, Varam,” the man says, sharply.
As the boy leaves at a trot, Elric leans close to the man. “I love peach wine,” he says.
“Really?” says the man. “Do you?” He looks Elric up and down. “So where do you come from?” He holds up a finger to stop Elric from answering. “No, let me guess. Those clothes, though they have seen some hard times, are quite fine. Did someone rip them off you at some point? It looks like it. Was that something you wanted?”
Elric blushes, “It was,” he says, feeling his throat grow tight.
The man makes a huffing, half-amused noise. “And you have a taste for peach wine. But you’re not a Fanosti. A Fanosti would never wonder if peach wine was available or not. And there’s that accent. Your vowels. That’s very Azurian. But perhaps of the merchant class. If I’m not mistaken, you are from Attar, the Jewel of the Empire. A whore far from home.”
“Perhaps I am,” Elric says with a studied flutter of his eyelashes.
Varam reappears with a tray holding the tall flared glass of flower cup and a bottle of peach wine with a small brass beaker. He places the flower cup in front of the man who thanks him curtly. In front of Elric, he sets the beaker, filling it generously from the bottle. Elric watches the gold liquid with delight. “Thank you,” he says, before lifting the beaker and drinking almost half the contents. It is delicious. Cold and sweet.
“You were very eager for that,” the man says, passing the boy a coin.
“I suppose so,” says Elric as the boy nods and leaves. “It’s my favourite and it has been a while since I had any.”
“In that case,” says the man, raising his tall glass, “to appetites satiated.”
Elric raises his beaker and taps it to the man’s glass. “Indeed,” he says, taking another small sip.
The man takes a drink of his flower cup. “Do you have a name, whore?”
Elric pauses. He needs a fake name if he is to conduct this kind of business. He glances at the man with muscular arms who is now talking to another potential client at his table. “Damon,” Elric says.
The man lifts an eyebrow. “Damon? Very well. I suppose you can be Damon if you wish. My name is Perl.”
“Perl?” says Elric. He does not mean to be surprised. Of course, this elegant man would give a fake name just as he would. But he expected something more than just Perl. Lord or Duke or something. From his manner, Elric wouldn’t have been surprised if the man had declared himself a prince.
The man looks at Elric’s face as if watching for something. On his left hand, he wears an elegant piece of jewellery. Silver rings encircle each of his fingers and his thumb. Fine chains run from the rings to a delicate silver medallion on the back of his hand, fashioned from slender strands to look like a cobweb. From the cobweb, more chains run to a bracelet on the man’s wrist, which sits at the tight leather cuff of his tunic. “You’re wondering if I have a more impressive name,” the man says. He picks up his glass. “Not for you, I don’t.”
“Very well, Sire,” says Elric.
Perl takes a drink and leans a little closer. Elric catches an odd scent as he moves. He smells like the cold. He has an ornate silver dagger strapped to his slender thigh as elegant as the jewellery on his hand. “So tell me young and pretty Damon with your merchant’s accent and your hair like rubies, what do you know of Ur-Durik?
“Ur-Durik? I am sorry to say I have never heard of it. Is it something you like to do? I am sure if you explain I can be very accommodating.”
“Ur-Durik is not a thing one can do, and certainly not the kind of thing you are thinking of, with your wanton little mind. Ur-Durik is a he. The Demon King?” He pauses.
Elric shakes his head, “I am sorry, I don’t understand.”
“The Demon King, my silly little whore, is the last of the Bellator. Have you never heard this tale? The Bellator once had dominion over this whole world. From Ismagaar to Vashti. Earned through great cunning. The Bellator demons once shared this world with the fae, but when men arrived here from The Cradle, the Bellator persuaded them to join their forces to drive the fae into the far north, the isles beyond Ismagaar, where they dwell to this day, but then the Bellator turned on the men. For a thousand years, the men of this world were little more than slaves to the cruel and savage Bellator.”
Elric nods, the tale is familiar, “I have heard it. They ruled this world until the old Gods could stand no more of their cruelty and they sent five fae princes with five magical swords with the power to imprison the Bellator in a vault under the Amber Forest,” says Elric. Then pauses. He frowns. “I don’t know how I know that. I remember it from somewhere, but I…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know where I heard that story.”
“Perhaps Lukas Darekul told it to you?” says Perl.
“Lukas?” Elric replies. He is taken aback to hear Lukas’s name. He has to work fast to swallow his shock and feign confusion. “I might be from Attar, Sire, but that does not mean I am an associate of the Dareks.”
Perl leans in close and murmurs, “Don’t lie to me, whore. I can smell that Darek bastard on you.”
That statement shocks Elric further. Has this man been following him? Perhaps he was in Sparrows’ Hall and saw him with Lukas. He covers it the only way he can think of, by tossing his head back, laughing flirtatiously, replying lightly as if this is nothing. “Since you are so eager to insist. Yes, I have met a Darek bastard recently. But I can wash that away.” The statement comes out fast. He knows he sounds nervous.
But Perl’s expression doesn’t change. “You can’t wash your heart.”
“Surely you do not wish to talk to me of that,” he says. “I assure you, my time with Darek bastards is done.”
“He used to work here, you know, Lukas Darekul. The Rebel Prince. Selling his body at these very tables. Of course, he used some fake identity. Paper thin, but I suppose no one expects the whore at their table is secretly a runaway prince.”
“But you knew?” says Elric. Wondering what else this unnerving man knows. Does he truly know these things or is he just repeating rumours? That rumour Elric had heard himself, that Lukas Darekul was a whore in Lunatum. People had whispered it with wide eyes. But no one thought it any truer than the one about Selim riding into the mountains to take Lukas’s head. But of course, it turned out that one was the truth.
“Yes, I knew,” says Perl. he leans even closer across the table. “I take great interest in Rafus Darek’s bastards. Lukas Darekul. Wandering this room with no thought of his destiny. Imagine what it could have been if he hadn’t pretended. The prices he could have commanded if he had offered himself as a prince of the Empire.”
Elric laughs, “Except that the Rose Court would have sent half an army to drag him back to Attar and take off his head for his uncountable treasons.”
“Do you think so?” Perl says with a shrug as he leans back. “I must say I wonder if the Thousand Eyes didn’t know exactly where his Empire’s most wayward son was?”
Elric thinks of Chancellor Vindar. There never seemed to be much he didn’t know. “If Vindar knew where he was, why not arrest him and bring him back to the Rose Palace?”
“I assume because he preferred him being where he was. Safely out of the way and tarnishing himself in the eyes of any who would support him.” Perl traces his finger up his fluted glass. “But you see, Damon, Vindar is not the only person who keeps track of the Darek bastards. There are many people who are interested in them?”
“I suppose you think one of them could be emperor? Many people said they thought Damon ought to be. But of course, not that cannot be.”
“Why not?” says Perl.
“Because he’s dead. Didn’t you know? He was exiled into death by the Rose Court for sins of the body.”
Perl nods. “Oh, that. That story is a little more complicated, I think you will find. But the reason the Darek Bastards are important is not anything to do with the throne of the Empire. It is far more important than that. To certain people.”
Elric picks up his bottle of peach wine and refills his beaker. “What could be more important than being emperor of Azuria?” He realises as he speaks that what he is discussing is treasonous. This is an open room. In a city of the Empire. But he finds it hard to believe Zai’s laws exist here. Not where only feet away from him two men are kissing, one straddling the lap of the other, both their cocks roused under their clothing. He takes a long drink of the sweet wine.
“What could be more important? Is your mind currently in your breeches? What I told you. Defeating the Demon King. Ur-Durik. The five fae princes. The five Darek bastards”
“Really?” Elric frowns into his beaker. “But it’s not… it’s not true. The Bellator. Just an old tale.”
“Old tales can be true.”
“So you think this is true?” Elric wonders exactly what he is getting into here. Is this handsome man a fantasist? Perhaps he is an odd type of Priam with his own wild tale he insists is true. Does he want Elric to listen to some strange ravings to earn his coin? Perhaps this is simply this man’s pleasure. Elric supposes he has done stranger things to earn coin as a whore. “Is Ur-Durik imprisoned in a vault under the forest?” Elric asks, sweetly, before taking another drink of his peach wine.
“Sadly not,” says Perl, sounding quite serious. “That is the issue. He was the only one of the Bellator who survived the first five princes. He was weak when they came, little more than a welp. His mother hid him in a cave deep in the Amber Forest, where he has been ever since. He was long thought too weak to ever rise. But he found a way to gain strength. He has convinced some powerful men that he is a God. And he grows stronger as they worship him.”
Elric waits, thinking Perl will say more. When he doesn’t, Elric says, “So is he going to rise again?”
“He rises now,” Perl says. He speaks in a plain tone, but somehow the proclamation is so ominous that Elric finds himself looking over to the door. As if Ur-Durik is about to walk in. When he looks back to a smiling Perl, he laughs. “You are just telling me a scary tale.”
“Am I?” says Perl.
Elric refills his beaker from the bottle. He takes a breath, leans forward and smiles a smile he knows few men can resist. “Is that your pleasure? To frighten pretty young men with your scary stories? I can be scared for you, Sire.”
“Oh, would that scaring you was all I wanted,” says Perl. “I am afraid I have another use for you.”
“Then,” says Elric. “I would thank you for the story and the wine, Sire. But now, how can I please you further? For coin??”
Perl looks Elric up and down, “Oh, on that count, I will be leaving you wanting.”
Elric sighs, “Then why are you here? At my table. I made it clear that I was offering luxoli for coin.”
Perl lifts a finger in the air as if calling for service. As he does so, he leans across the small table. His voice is low and nasty. He says, “If you want to earn coin here you need to go and speak to the woman at the counter. That’s how it works. You will notice all the men around you wear a white leather cuff on their wrist. That is how you show you are here for whoring. There are rules to this place. Strictly enforced. They have to be cautious as they dance on the very edge of what is permitted. This is not the dockside.”
“Oh,” says Elric, feeling a little shamed that he did not know about this. How foolish of him not to realise there was a system in place. “Thank you. Would you like me to get a cuff so you can buy me?”
Perls shakes his head. “I am afraid it is too late for that. This place takes a very dim view of rule-breaking. As they must.”
As Perl finishes, Varam appears at the table, saying, “Can I help you, Sire?”
Perl looks up at Varam with a cold expression. “Varam, this young man here is attempting to gain coin from me for sly favours. He is not one of your whores. I know Roc would want it brought to her attention.”
Elric startles. Varam is looking at him with a stern expression. But he is just one young man. What could he possibly do?
Elric stands up hurriedly. Too hurriedly. His chair tips over in his haste. The loud noise seems to draw the attention of the whole room. “I’m sorry,” he says to Varam. “I’ll leave.”
But before he’s even finished speaking there are two large men at his back. He makes a last, desperate attempt to run towards the curtained doorway, but he is grabbed by two sets of big arms.
Varam steps forward, all his charm gone. “I think you’d better come with me,” he says.
Elric looks back at Perl, who simply smiles. “Goodbye, Damon,” he says. “I’ll be seeing you again.”
Elric is taken — rough and fast — through a small doorway and down a flight of steps into what appears to be a storeroom, dark and windowless. There are spare tables and stacks of chairs. Piles of linens, cushions and tablecloths. Shelves laden with boxes of candles and all kinds of drinking vessels and dusty bottles. Elric is dumped on a chair.
He wonders if he is here for a beating.
“I didn’t know,” he says in a small whine, as a woman comes down the stairs. It’s the woman who was behind the counter. She is stout with glossy dark hair. She comes to stand in front of Elric and crosses her arms over her bosom.
“You are aware,” she says, “that luxoli is a crime against Zai.”
“Of course I am aware,” Elric says. “This is a luxoli house.”
“Yes,” says the woman with a tight, nasty smile. “It is. That doesn’t make luxoli lawful. It means we have to be careful about what we allow here. And one thing I don’t allow is whores like you wandering in from the street and thinking they can behave as they like. There is no whoring in the public room. ” She looks Elric up and down.
Elric wants to protest that there very clearly was whoring in the public room. And if Perl told him the truth there is even a system in place to show which men are available to buy. But he doesn’t think pointing that out will earn him anything.
“I’m sorry,” Elric says, “I didn’t know. All I want is to do business here.” He feels his cheeks colouring as he speaks. Somehow asking to be allowed to whore himself is far more awkward than actually doing it.
“Do you really?”
Elric puts in his most seductive smile, fluttering his lashes. “I promise you I will earn a great deal of coin.”
The woman laughs dryly. “You won’t be earning it from me so save your preening. And I don’t allow unknown whores to work my tables. You should have gone to the dockside.”
Elric shudders. Surely he will not have to stoop to offering his hole in an alley by the docks. He is close to blurting out that he is the finest sly concubine in the Rose Palace, but he checks himself. Instead, he plasters on his sweetest smile and says, “Please. Couldn’t you find me something here? I really need to earn some coin. And I don’t think I am made for dockside work.”
Roc tips her head to one side. ”And what makes a creature like you so desperate for coin?”
Elric sighs. He never expected this to be difficult. “I wish to buy passage on a ship to Luxoria.”
The woman gives Elric a look that makes it clear this is not her problem. “Luxoria,” she says as if this is amusing.
“Please,” Elric says.
“You know, what I usually do when I find some unsanctioned whore like you trying to work my tables without agreeing things with me first, is I hand them over to the enforcers. It’s good for my reputation as a fine upstanding establishment to make it clear I come down hard on luxorite trade.”
“What?” says Elric. “No. You can’t. Isn’t this place for luxorites?”
“Clearly you're new in Lunatum,” the woman says. “So, what’s it to be? I call the enforcers and we see what they are in the mood for doing with sly whores today, or, you find another way to repay me.”
Elric looks at the woman. “What do you want?” he says.