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Elric turns to her. “Fair morning, Eloidi,” Elric says. Surprisingly brightly although his words are a little slurred.

She blushes as she says, “Fair morning, Master Underlia, Zai hold your heart.”

Elric seems to lighten at this attention. He even seems to smirk, a bare flutter of an expression, crossing his face for a fleeting moment. There and gone, but It is sweet to see it. Ever since he met Elric, only a few days ago, Tobi has only ever seen him sour-faced and drawn, uninterested in discussing anything except Lukas and the fact he has been left behind in Attar, the fact Atticul may execute him at any moment. But Eloidi seems to be able to make him smile. Tobi is glad of it.

While Tobi talks with Harok in Ambolk and Kerik and Perl continue to only have eyes for each other, Eloidi is giggling at the things Elric is saying.

Elric pulls a small flask from inside his shirt and swigs from it. He leans closer to Eloidi and whispers something in her ear that makes her squeak, before clapping her hands over her mouth and staring at Elric, cheeks red.

Kerik looks at her. “What did he say to you?”

For a moment, Eloidi can only shake her head, as if she dare not speak it. Then she manages to gasp out, “He said something about the way men…,” but her voice fades away again, the colour on her cheeks growing darker.

Elric leans forward across the table towards Tobi and nods at Perl and Kerik, his eyes are glassy, “I told her how men make love to men,” he slurs out, clearly quite drunk.

“Elric!” Tobi leans back laughing as he repeats what Elric has just said in Ambolk for Harok.

Kerik, who is staring over grinning, with porridge on his cheek, says, “She is a Bride of Zai.”

Elric puts a slender arm around Eloidi’s shoulders, slumping into her. “She asked,” his voice is strangely loud. “And it is hardly my fault you have filled her Bride House with luxorites. She’s not blind. She sees what is happening here and why shouldn’t she be curious about what she is witnessing at her own breakfast table. And she has noticed all the strange grunting and missing bottles of oil.”

Seeing Elric bright like this is quite infectious, even if it is fuelled by liquor. Tobi laughs. “I should put you in my performances,” he says. “The wanton palace concubine who became the lover of the Traitor Prince.” He only realises what he’s said when the words spill from his mouth.

Elric stiffens, very slightly, but simply says, “Oh, I heard about this when we were looking for you. They told me your performances were tantamount to treason.” Elric nods to Harok and repeats what he’s just said in Ambolk.

Harok shakes his head and says, “Treason? Really. I have seen Suskara’s mimicry. But not what he used to do before he came to the forest.”

Tobi sees Elric frown over the word mimicry and feels a little smug that he understood the Irgorye easily. “I can do it for you,” he says. He runs a hand over Harok’s thigh, “but you won’t understand what I am saying. It is all in Artemian.”

“Underlia,” Harok says, waving to Elric across the table. “Come.”

When Harok wants Elric to translate for him, he addresses him as if he is a servant. Tobi should probably tell him not to, but Elric has never made any complaint.

Elric gets up and walks over, lurching slightly into the table before steadying himself to sit by Harok.

Tobi stands and moves to a space before the fire, standing beside the sprawled Baby. He crouches to give her a gentle fuss, playing his fingers on the top of her head. When he straightens, everyone is staring at him, including Eloidi.

He clears his throat and launches into his old performance. He knows it well. He has performed it so many times. He does his impersonations of Selim, making war in the name of his God.

Elric translates and Harok laughs.

Then Elric says, “Who else can you do?”

Tobi shifts. He isn’t sure if many of his impersonations would be well received. He glances to the door and says, “I did use to do Damon. It, uh, poked fun at the rumours that he was a luxorite.”

“Oh, let’s see it,” says Elric, sounding quite cheery. “I remember hearing those rumours too. I always hoped they were true.”

So, to preserve Elric’s mood if nothing else, Tobi shows them how he performed Damon. He does the voice, strutting across the stage intoning about how he has stabbed many men with his sword hard and deep. And then stops. “I had to mock everyone, you see.” Harok is laughing as Elric tells him what Tobi says. Tobi is amazed he can do it, drunk as he is.

Kerik looks up from his second cream-laden bowl of porridge, “You do sound a lot like Damon when you do that. Do you do me?”

Tobi shakes his head. “I never met you. I would not have known how to begin.”

“Do you do Lukas?” says Elric.

Tobi shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Not, really. I mean. I did, but it didn’t sound like him.”

Elric takes a long drink from his flask, tipping it up to drain it, then says, “Do you think he is dead?”