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Perl shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I do not plan to wild him.”

“No wilding?” Vane smirks. “Still so unconventional. How is your neck? Did it ever heal?”

“I do not wish to discuss those matters. They are in the past,” Perl says with his voice still brittle as ice.

“What happened to your neck?” Kerik says.

Perl’s heart sinks.

Vane and Seridil look at Kerik in shock.

“By The Aeons,” Vane exclaims. “This thing desperately needs a spell in the pit. How ever can you put up with such behaviour? It asked you a direct question. I know you refused Exeinil's offer to pit it because you do not wish to be without it, but they have some wonderful ways around that in the pit. It could easily be made so a year of pit training for your mortal creature was only a day and a night for you.”

“I would not be without him,” Perl says. “Even for a day and a night.”

“Seridil was sent to the pit,” Vane says, pointing at his thrall. “But of course, you know that. You didn’t like the pit, did you, thrall?”

“No, Master,” Seridil says. His voice is as Perl remembers. Low and sweet.

“Let me show you, Perlash, how a properly trained thrall ought to behave.”

Vane produces a knife from a small sheath on his belt. He hands it to Seridil. “Take this, thrall,” he says.

Seridil takes the knife, lifting his eyes only enough to see what he is doing and whispers a shaky, “Thank you, Master.”

Vane smiles at Perl and says, “Seridil, cut off your finger.”

Seridil looks up at Vane. He looks pale, but his voice is even when he says, “Which finger, Master?”

“Stop it, Vane,” Perl snaps, voice sharp. His measured even tone gone. Vane has succeeded in riling him. Of course he has.

“Very well,” Vane says, clearly delighted, “give me my blade, thrall.”

Seridil hands the knife back to Vane who resheathes it smoothly. “So,” he says, turning to Perl, “do you still have feelings for this one?”

Perl looks at Seridil, who still has his eyes down, then at Vane. He takes a heavy breath. “Not at all, I simply do not care for your ridiculous posturing.” He sits down heavily on the bed behind him.

Vane smirks. “Well, then,” he says, before bowing and asking, “Anything else?”

“No. Thank you, Prince Vane.”

“And you are not staying here long?”

Perl shakes his head.

“You think she will let you simply leave?”

“I am not bound to Vylenor.”.

Vane’s sour expression seems to turn even darker. “I hear travelling through the salt door can be exhausting. But perhaps Exeinil will want me to wait on you further at your delightful welcoming ball on the morrow.”

Perl sighs. He does not wish to make an enemy of Vane. Or more of an enemy than he is already. That would definitely make things more difficult. “I didn’t ask her for your service.”

“No, I am aware,” Vane says, turning and leaving with Seridil trailing behind him.

Perl waves a hand to close the chamber door and releases a long breath. He looks at Kerik. “In future,” he says, “Do not look at Vane. Or at me. And if you must speak, do not ask direct questions.”

Kerik looks back at him. “What’s the pit?” he says.