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Perl walks into his bathing chamber. A round pool of warm water sits in the centre of an elaborate piece of carved pink marble that is shaped like a rose; the water made to look like dew caught in the centre of its petals. Perl created all of this himself, back when magic had been a joy.

He sits on a low silken chair and takes off his boots. It takes a little time to remove his clothing. Unfastening his complicated, high-necked leather jerkin and unlacing the leather thongs that run through silver hooks up each of the legs of his breeches. He discards them and the silk layer he wears beneath, then takes off his black stockings and jewellery, before slipping naked into the warm water.

Bottles of oil and sweet tinctures sit in a small alcove beside the bathing pool. Perl unfastens his hair from its braid and lets it fall down around his pale shoulders. He selects his favourite washing oils. Sandalwood and oud, the same ones Kerik had used.

He fancies as he touches the bottles that he can still feel the warmth left by Kerik's skin. And for a moment he thinks of it. Kerik, in this room, only a few moments ago. Naked in this same water. Washing himself. It feels strangely intimate to share a bathing chamber with someone.

More intimate than Perl has been with anyone in a long time.

When he has completed his bathing, Perl takes time to dry his skin with linens and redress in every part of his carefully chosen outfit. He twists his hair back into its braid. He could speed this process with magic, but he has so little power left, although he can feel the soft sweet sensation of his reserves of magical power rebuilding simply from being in Vylenor. He enjoys the slow meditative process of wiping the oil and water from his skin and smoothing down the leather. When he finally returns to his bed chamber, Kerik is asleep.

Perl lies down on the thrall bed. He feels a soft warm feeling wash over him. A familiar one. The thrall bed is not uncomfortable. But it is hard and small and nothing like as pleasant as sleeping in his own fine bed.

But he prefers this arrangement. It lights a quiet fire in his soul.

6

KERIK

Kerik lies awake in Perl’s bed as he listens to Perl’s breathing grow soft. When he dares risk rolling over to look down at the thrall bed, lit by the dim glow of the ice light, he is certain Perl is sleeping.

But he knows sleep will not come so easily to him.

Not with his mind whirling with everything Perl has told him. It sounds like pure heresy or the talk of someone who has lost their mind. Perl has claimed, quite solemnly, that he cannot lie. But, Kerik wonders, if perhaps that is the lie.

What he has told Kerik, about the faeries and demons and Zai, simply cannot be the truth.

Perhaps Perl is trying to fill his mind with these outlandish claims and nonsense, to ensnare him in this world. Was it always Perl’s plan to bring him here? Had he somehow used his powers to trick Kerik into thinking this was his idea. Perhaps the tea Perl had him drink affected Kerik’s will somehow. And now Perl has him in Vylenor, he means to make him a bed slave after all? The faeries take mortals for their beds. And Prince Vane requested him for a night.

Perhaps Perl’s real plan is to sell him. There is a luxoli house in Lunatum where men are auctioned for a night with whoever offers the most coin. Kerik has often wished he could visit that place. Buy a man for the night and get to do whatever he wished.

Although, Kerik cannot imagine how what Perl has told him will seduce him into being an obedient faerie thrall that he can sell to advance his place in the faerie court.

Kerik feels queasy. He tries to deduce what he can know for sure is true; to count facts he knows to grasp something solid and real in this swirling, uneasy place. He is on Ulla. In the Ice Court of Vylenor. There can be no doubt that this is any other place. He has seen faerie creatures with his own eyes. He has seen magic. He traveled through a magic door. He is in a palace that feels like it could only exist in dreams. A place he only knew of as a tale. A place no mortal has ever travelled to and returned. He knows things no other man in Azuria knows.

And what will he be able to do with such knowledge?

The fae are not just real. The fae are rich. Wealthy in a manner that even the Jewel of the Empire cannot imagine. And the fae can do magic. Magic is real and Kerik can feel it. It drips from the walls here.

Perl claims Kerik will learn magic. That he is some fated Magician. What if that were actually true? What would the shame of being a luxorite or bastardy mean if Kerik was a wizard? He could perform miracles. What if he offered Selim dark magic to win his wars in return for his title?

He should investigate this place further. Who knows how long they will remain here. Perl claims he will acquire the magic sword he came for at the Silver Ball on the morrow. This night could be his only chance to learn about Vylenor before he is delivered to Doroth Zain.

He slips, silently, from the bed. He moves carefully as he steps around Perl, on the floor, not wanting to wake him. He notices that Perl is sleeping in his full leather outfit. He has not changed into a sleeping shirt as he bid Kerik to do. He wears everything but his boots and jewelry. Still covered from neck to ankles to wrists.

For some reason Perl chooses to sleep as modestly clad as a bride of Zai. Although Kerik has heard that even the Brides do not sleep in their long robes.

Who told him that? Some boisterous man who liked to brag of his knowledge of the ways of women.

Had it been Atticul?

No, it had been his father, one night in his cups. The brides of Zai sleep naked. He had said, as if he knew. Perhaps he did.

Sleeping so dressed cannot be comfortable. Is that something Perl prefers? Does he never undress? He must have removed his clothes to bathe. Is he fully dressed because he is sharing a chamber? Does he worry that Kerik will try and ravage him in the night?

Kerik thinks that if he did intend to ravage Perl that leather outfit would not stop him. He would rip it all away if he so chose. Perl is just lucky Kerik has no intention of doing such a thing.

Kerik looks around the chamber. Other than the black-framed bed heaped with furs and silks and the thrall bed, a marble table and a pair of hard chairs there is little of note in the simple room.