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“That’s exactly the kind of direct question you are not meant to ask me. Thralls do not question their Masters about such matters.”
Kerik rolls his eyes. “There’s no one else here. What’s the pit?”
“It’s a place thralls are trained. It is usual for mortal thralls to spend some time there when they first come to Vylenor. But you really don’t want to go there.”
“It can’t be much worse than here.”
“It is much worse than here.”
“Would Vane’s thrall really have cut off his finger?”
Perl shakes his head, thinking that he understands why there are such stringent rules about mortal thralls speaking to their Masters. “I really don’t know. Perhaps.”
Kerik looks a little pale, his skin stark against his dark hair. “But only you can send me to the pit. Vane can’t.”
“Only I can send you to the pit, correct.”
“And you won’t.”
“Of course I won’t. We will leave this place as soon as I get what I came for.”
Kerik seems happy with this. “So Vane is a prince? He is the Queen’s son?”
“He is, but not the son of the Queen here in Vylenor, Exeinil the Queen of the ice Court, but the son of Exeinil’s sister. Queen of the Timeless Court on Oria. Sefi the Perpetual, the forever Queen. Oria is far larger and far more powerful than Ulla. And as Sefi’s son, Vane is perfectly entitled to style himself Prince Vane.”
“His mother is Queen of another court? So why is he here?”
Perl wonders how much he should say. Vane’s presence in Vylenor and the reasons for it are no secret, but this is the kind of information he knows the fae would not want finding its way back to the mortal realm. Perl did not think he cared about such things very much, but he still finds himself hesitating before he says. “Vane is Exeinil’s ward. He has been here since he was only forty turns. A babe in the eyes of the fae. It is a long story.”
Kerik looks at the door and says, “He seems quite unhappy with you.”
“He’s angry Exeinil sent him to prepare my chambers.”
“But he didn’t do anything himself. He just used magic.” Kerik looks at the thrall bed again. His eyes are wide with fascination.
“But it's symbolic. Vane is not my servant and Exeinil is being typically provocative by asking him to behave as one.”
“Even though you could have done that yourself.” Kerik tips his head on one side and smiles. “Could you?”
“Turned the water on and refreshed bed linen? Yes, I could have done that myself.”
“And produced my bed out of the air?”
“Yes.”
Kerik crouches down beside the pallet on the floor and touches it, as if checking it is real. “You can just make things appear?”
“It is possible. But I would imagine Vane just moved that from elsewhere to here as that is simpler and there is no shortage of thrall beds in Vylenor.”
Kerik sits down on the pallet. “Magic is confusing.” he waves an arm in the air. “Everything about this place is confusing.”
“The mortal realm is also confusing. One can get used to either.”
Kerik says, “And the faerie kneeling on the cushion? The dark-haired one with the Queen? Is he the king?”
“He is not. I don't know his name. He’s new, but his position on the dais suggests he is Exeinil’s latest thrall. She does take consorts from time to time, but even then they would not be styled as king or anything like it.”
Kerik looks down at the thrall bed. “I assume I am allowed to sit here?”
