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Diamanda, still standing beside him, says,“It is. But Exeinil is suspicious of you. For all her protestations of caring for you deeply, she fears she may have made a mistake. It haunts her.”
Perl looks at Diamanda’s sweet, pretty face. “She will kill my thrall to prove me true?” Perl says.
“I do not think she wishes to kill it. Only to test it harshly, prove you a strong Master and herself right.”
“I do not think he can resist the temptations. He will be half frozen to death in there.”
“It looks strong.”
“He is, but I do not know if he is strong enough for this. What mortal would be?”
But he is no simple mortal. He is the Magician.
Diamanda says, “Some years ago I put my own mortal thrall Pamilia through the tests. Cold was the fourth. It failed, accepting the second temptation and Exeinil had it sent to the pit. It never returned. But I have seen how the test of cold will go. If your thrall can resist the first temptation, we can help it with the rest.”
18
KERIK
The door to the ice cell opens. Kerik glimpses the hall outside.
The air hits his face, such warmth, such light. A figure stands before him.
Perl?
But, no, the figure is not Perl. It is Vane, his golden hair glittering like the sun in the ice light from the parlour. He holds a fur cloak in his arms. He steps into the chamber and lets it unfurl. It is beautiful, black and glossy.
Vane smiles, “Her Grand Majesty, Exeinil, Perfection Beyond Comprehension says you are suffering too greatly in the ice and has sent this for you.”
Kerik sighs. He can barely fathom how good it would feel to wrap that fur around his numb, frozen body.
“Would you like it?” Vane says, holding it out.
Kerik takes a moment to consider the question. Perhaps what Vane is saying is the truth. He has grown too cold. They are monitoring him somehow and want to ensure he does not die.
But he was told, clearly, that he must refuse all offers of warmth. And why make such a statement if there were not to be any such offers. Although it pains him to do it. He shakes his head and forces out a laugh. “I’m not going to accept that. I’m not even cold.”
He doesn’t need the cloak, he tells himself sternly. He can do magic. He will learn great magic in Vylenor. He will endure this and return to Azuria, a great wizard.
“You are truly so loyal to Perlash-zeren-ai?” Vane says.
“Yes,” Kerik lifts his chin. “I am his thrall.”
Vane makes a scoffing noise. “You are no thrall. You’re no mortal either.”
“I know you know that. You removed Perl’s glamour. You saw my eyes.”
Vane drops the fur cloak on the floor of the cell. Kerik can hardly drag his eyes away from it. “Like I needed to do that when you’re merrily wandering the halls doing magic. You might not be fully a mortal but you are as careless as one. Didn’t you even think for a moment you ought to hide what you are?”
Kerik swallows. Forcing himself to meet Vane’s eyes. “You haven’t told anyone what I am. Because no one would believe you. They would just think you are jealous of Perl.”
“Do you think so? If I removed your glamour before all and showed those shards of magic in your eyes. Have you any idea how disgusting that is to the fae? We do not mix our blood with mortals. It has never ended well.”
“I know. Because it created a race of demons that drove you out of Azuria and Ismagaar and now you live in this frozen palace?” Kerik says. His mind swims from the cold and he only realises as he speaks that this is Perl’s wild tale.
Vane’s face breaks into a sneer. “Those demons only won that long war because they were aided by mortals. And once we were gone those mortals were enslaved by the demons they fought alongside. Is it any wonder we despise you on Oria? Mortals are traitors and fools.”
Kerik tosses his head. “If you hate us, why did you send the fae princes to defeat the Bellator? I am descended from those fae princes. My fae blood is the blood of the Hevelikar.” He would never normally soil his mouth by claiming an association with the Hevelikar, but he is interested to know if Vane too considers this to be the truth.
