“Almond?” I asked, hoarse.
“Master,” she said, cuddling closer, her little hand slipping up to rest on my sternum.
“Fine mess,” Kelu muttered on my other side. Her arm rested across my belly, fingers splayed on Almond’s waist. “In an elven manor, all of us drugged drowsy and you the hero of the whole insanity.”
“That’s a bad thing?” I asked, drifting amid the warm ochre light and sepia shadows, cobwebbed with amber opium veils.
“This is nice, Master,” Almond said, her tiny tongue flicking at my skin. I was too heavy to care. Drinking the poppy was an intense experience, but this... this breathing... my chest had grown warm and my breaths so slow, and it didn’t seem to matter. The air caressed me as I drew it in, its every particle limned by the weight of the drug. I thought of seeds carried on delicate feathered hairs, clustering in my lungs until they filled me with soft, brushing warmth.
“Feeling better?”
The bed creased for the human woman, Kemses’s servant. I looked up at her and sensed her only as a haze of shapes, a female smell, a smudge of dark, dark curls against smooth olive skin shading to brown, and a white shift deepening to cream in its shadowed folds. I couldn’t discern her face without my glasses and felt too lethargic to reach for them.
She had asked me a question. “Pardon?”
A laugh, low and mellow. “I see the poppy is working. We found you only the best, the royal golden poppy.”
“Ah,” I said. “Thank you.”
She took my hand in her small plump ones, cushioning my palm. “My name is Basilia. You have met my brother, Galen.”
“Yes,” I said, drowsy. Her smooth skin distracted me.
“Our master tells us you saved him,” she murmured, bringing my hand to her mouth. Her lower lip dragged against my knuckles as she spoke. “That your magic was of such potency he felt almost a god.”
Even nigh insensate on poppy I had to chuckle. “Hyperbole, surely.”
“No,” she murmured. Was she...? Yes. She was kissing my hand, hot breath across the webbing between my fingers, the flick of a tongue much, much different from Almond’s. “I have been with him all my life, have seen him after he has drunk of the gift. Never have I seen him burn the way he burned after embracing you.”
“Ah, well,” I said, flushing. “It was a needful... needful thing.”
“I love my master very much.” She was nibbling the edge of my finger.
“I had noticed,” I said, remembering the look in her eyes when she’d met his.
“And I am grateful, so grateful that you offered,” she whispered. “You did not have to.”
“I couldn’t let him die,” I said. Had Kelu moved? No, Almond. Almond had curled up at my feet. It was Basilia now who filled that space. She was not much taller than the genet, but so, so much more generously curved. Succulent almost, soft, pettable—
No, she was petting me. Or was I? My mind stretched like taffy.
“I would like to thank you,” she whispered, kissing my neck. “So brave, so handsome.”
I was certainly neither of those things. She did not seem interested in my protests. And her arms were sliding up over my chest, tangling the chain from my name, sinking fingers into my hair as her thigh slipped up and over mine.
“Ah—,” I said, eyes closing. I caught her wrist somehow, despite not being able to focus well. “Please. Basilia? No, I pray you.”
She looked up at me and her face was so close I could see the thick lashes clearly, the arch of her heavy brows, the drowsiness of her dark, dark eyes. “Have I offended?” she asked, and even the words caressed me, moist against my jaw.
“No,” I said. “I’m... flattered. Flattered.” So hard to find words through the fog in my mind, but I could still see Ivy’s face, even separated from her by an ocean. Tea-brown eyes. Soft honey-dark curls. “But... there’s another.”
She smiled. “I don’t mind. I know it would be only once. A gift for your courage, for your goodness.”
“I don’t want to... it would...” I trailed off.
She lifted a finger to my lips, traced the lower. “You save yourself for her.”
I nodded mutely. Or at least, that had been the plan before Sedetnet. Did an elven sorcerer count against my purity? I hadn’t quite been in my right mind for that encounter. I wasn’t even sure if he’d been male or female or both... God!
“That is so sweet,” she said, smiling. “Now I am sad three times over not to have been accepted.”
“Three times?” I asked, trying to ignore her fingers on my face.
“Once because you are such a gentleman,” she murmured. “Twice because you are so gaunt and thin and sad, and it would be a joy to give you some happiness. And thrice because I would have liked to bear your children.”
That pierced the poppy fog better than anything yet. “Good God!”
“You would not be expected to care for the baby, of course,” she said. “But to waste your power... ah. I know my lord would approve. He was due to choose a man for me soon as it was... surely you would have met his standard.”
I reeled, and not just from the laughable thought that I was no human to be bedding her for procreative purposes. “Kemses... would choose your mate for you?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I have a mate already, closer to me than any husband. But my lord will choose someone to get me with child, a child who will be of help to him when I am dead.” Dreamily but with regret, “For I will die one day, and my brother with me, and then it will be our children who serve him, and our children’s children. Such is the way of Serala. Such is the way of elves and men.”
I shuddered. “Forgive me if I find it repugnant.”
She lifted herself from my side, leaned forward to kiss my brow with her pendulous breasts grazing my chest. “You are not yet resigned to it, but you will be one day. The peace will come to you. We live swiftly... the genets swifter yet. And pacing us with the grace of ancient trees, the elves watch over us all.”
She left me there in the poppy-shrouded dark. Almond crawled back into the hollow she’d left at my side, though the dimple was much deeper than when the genet had originally created it.
“God,” I whispered.
“Lovely world, isn’t it,” Kelu said. “Where I have to sit here and watch humans fornicate in bed with me as if I wasn’t even there.”
“We didn’t fornicate,” I said.
“You would have, if you hadn’t been such a prude,” Kelu replied.
“You could have left.”
“And gone where?” Kelu asked. “My place is by your side, Master.”
“It’s good to be near love,” Almond whispered, nuzzling me. “Don’t listen to her only, Master. To be allowed to remain during that is a great honor.”
“A great honor,” Kelu said, ears flicking back. “While they sweat and pant and grapple for better positions and creak and make their ugly noises? Please.”
I blushed. “I am not planning on fornicating in your presence any time soon, never fear.”
“Don’t listen,” Almond whispered, hugging me. “The act is beautiful.”
“The act is meaningless,” Kelu said. “It can be hideously ugly, believe me.”
How did I enter into these discussions? I sighed and lifted my eyes to the smoke wafting through the air. “We have to go.”
“Master?” Almond asked.
I was sick of the elves, of humans, of the Archipelago, of the genets with their unsettling thoughts. Had I had any possibility at all of cultivating a normal life on my return to the mainland I would have asked Kemses for passage back to Far Horizon that very instant. But between me and that livable life was a sorcerer addled with caprice, a meaningless quest, and a magical king. I did not want to waste time.
“Tomorrow,” I said, closing my eyes. “Tomorrow we leave for Kesína.”
“Good,” Kelu said. “I’ll tell e Sadar first thing.”
The following mor
ning the household’s human servants brought a modest breakfast before showing me to a bathing chamber out of a fantasy, a pool sunk into the middle of clean ivory pavers in an open chamber surrounded in windowed doors, all slightly ajar to allow a breeze to disturb the steam that rose from the hot water. It was magical in more ways than one, for the water never grew cloudy or cool... and oh, what a wonder to soak. I almost thought twice about leaving, so great was the allure of that pool. But presently I allowed myself to be summoned from that chamber and there I balked.
“Your old clothes are completely unsuitable for the weather,” Kelu said. “Besides, they mark you as a foreigner. You need to look like a native.”
I stared at the generously cut pants and stole... or more accurately, at the flimsy material from which they’d been fashioned. “I refuse.”
“Try it, Master?” Almond said softly.
“You might as well,” Kelu said. “In case you failed to notice, your old clothes aren’t here.”
With great reluctance I changed into the pants. They fell past my insteps, covering my feet, but hung low on my hips as if in compensation for that modesty. What kind of a society found feet objectionable but would leave a man bare almost to his unmentionables? I tried shaking my hair in front of my chest but even as long as it’d gotten it didn’t do more than cover my ribs. I wondered if Kemses had grown his mane just for such cause.
“I absolutely can’t,” I said. “It’s obscene.”
Kelu flipped her ears back, unimpressed. “It’s practical.”
“It may be practical for elves and humans,” I said with asperity, “but you will recall that I have a habit of falling down and convulsing, and when I’m not engaged in that pleasant pastime my skin is so sensitive that the air across its bare surface would probably send me into a fugue. So how is this a good idea again?”
“Be reasonable,” Kelu said.
I started to explain exactly what I thought of her “reasonable” suggestion when Kemses said from the door, “Let him be. There are alternatives.” He shucked the coat from his shoulders offered it. “This is acceptable. Considered by some to be an eccentricity, but not enough to be of note.”
I took the coat, a sleeveless thing of lined silk and elegant frog closures. But the embroidery alone... “Surely this is too rich to pass for a servant’s garb.”
“From a distance it may help you pass for an elf.”
I stared at him, at his mandorla of light and life and magic. I could see him crimping the world around him... I couldn’t imagine missing it from any distance. “Forgive me, but surely you jest.”
“An elf who hasn’t fed for a long time can become dull and colorless,” he said. “If you dress as one of us, ride a drake accompanied by genets and are armed, you may pass unmolested on your errand.”
I drew the coat on and fastened the closures from collarbone to waist. From there it flared to the hem at my knee, leaving the voluminous pants exposed. Almond removed the stole and looped it several times around my waist, knotting it like a sash.
“Your genet tells me you wanted to leave today,” Kemses said.
I sat on the edge of the bed, conserving strength. “I am grateful for your hospitality, but the sooner I free the king the sooner I can go home.”
“And home is the mainland,” Kemses said.
I nodded.
“Are elves welcome there, then?”
I laughed. “God in the firmament. Almost no one knows elves exist there. And magic is certainly a myth.”
“Then how will they accept you?” Kemses asked. “You will be revealed as one of us.”
The absurdity of the situation struck me then. I prided myself on having something of an incisive mind and yet it had not yet occurred to me that being cured of my ailment would transform me into another race entirely, one with no place in the society I’d left behind.
“Master Locke?” Kemses asked.
“Ah,” I said, struggling for equilibrium and finding not even a scrap of earth to stand on. “Do I have an elven name, then?”
“Not that I know of,” he said. “Are you well? You look... pale.”
I waved a hand. “A passing spell. As to the rest... a conundrum I’ll concern myself with when it arrives.”
Kemses nodded. “You can leave whenever you’re ready. The papers I’ve prepared will take you on any of my outgoing ships.”
“I’m grateful,” I said. “There are some matters, though... such as... well.” I sighed. “The poppy is helpful.”
“Basilia told me. I have set a supply in your packs, though I would not make it known you have so much of it.”
“Noted,” I said. “Do you have genets, sir?”
He glanced at Almond and Kelu. “I do not, no. I find the industry repugnant and have no wish to support it.”
“You are not alone,” I said with a sigh. “Nevertheless, I appear to have two and they need... feeding. And reward. I would appreciate a healer’s attendance.”
“I could take care of them,” Kemses said.
I looked up at him, drawn from my reverie. He was leaning against the door jamb, arms folded over his chest and head slightly bowed. I had never seen him without one of the coats, come to that... he was far broader in the shoulder than I’d thought and very narrow in the torso. My eyes caught on his navel and I wondered what woman had borne him... and how long ago. How many human lifetimes had this man seen?
“Pardon?”
“You speak of the blood-letting, I presume,” Kemses said. “I have seen how difficult it is for you to give of your magic. It is my talent to make much of what little I have... I can feed them for you.”
I could sense Kelu’s attention, hear Almond’s little gasp. I looked at them. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?” I asked Kelu. “It’s been some time.”
Kelu licked her nose. “You remembered.”
“Of course,” I said, frowning, and added wryly, “It’s hard to forget when your reminders are so pointed.”
“I could use it, yes,” she said, and though she affected nonchalance I could see her ears trembling.
“You also,” I said to Almond. “Didn’t you say once that it was good to you too?”
“I don’t need it, Master,” Almond whispered.
“No, but you have earned it many times over,” I said, touching her chin with a fingertip.
And looking at their eager faces, I sighed. As good as it would be to allow Kemses to take on that duty, they were mine to care-take. I had already missed one opportunity, with the wounds Almond had suffered at Amoret's hands, and that smarted yet. “I appreciate your offer, sir. Having the healer at ready would be sufficient.”
Kemses nodded. “When you are done, then, send for me and I’ll see you off. If you’re sure about leaving today...?”
“I must,” I say.
He inclined his head, then closed the door after him, leaving me with the genets.
“It really would have been better for you if you’d let him,” Kelu said. “He’s not going to be hurt by it the way you are.”
“Maybe so,” I said. I removed the coat and folded it carefully, setting it on the night-stand before spreading my arms to expose their undersides. “But the two of you have guided and cared for me. There is a debt there I cannot delegate to others.”
They slid to me, furry arms gliding over my skin. And then there was blood and sorrow and so, so much pain.
The healer put me back on my feet with black poppy elixir and a few bandages, and accompanied by the two genets I wove my way to the stables where Kemses awaited me.
“I still think you would be served well by a few more days here,” he said. “Rest. Recuperate. Talk with me... certainly there are things I know that might be of use to you.”
How good it would be to tarry, to rest, to allow myself the luxury of languishing amid the poppy haze until my body felt less like a desperate prison… and yet, I knew if I ceased moving now, I would not find the wherewithal to press on, and I very
much wanted to be quit of all of this. I shook my head. “Best begun, sooner done. But I thank you.”
A stablehand led the drake from a stall. Its coat gleamed black with health; someone had trimmed and washed its mane and polished and filed its talons. A new saddle more appropriate to travel had been strapped to its back, complete with bulging panniers. A courier’s bag was slung around the pommel.
And there was a staff tied to the other side.
“Kemses?”
“You need a weapon,” he said.
“I have no familiarity with weapons,” I said. “I hardly know the right end of a sword.”
“Thus a staff, which can be used for other things,” he said. He went to the drake’s side and pulled it free and—flash of metal, blood and fire—I recoiled.
“Ah,” he said, grave. “You recognize it.”
“That is one of the staves from the arena.”
“Yes,” he said, offering it to me.
“You want me to touch it?” I asked, revolted.
“I will dispense with this pretense,” Kemses said. “If you are indeed my prince, and I suspect you are, then you must be armed. It is the duty of the heir to protect the king and merely carrying this particular staff will serve as a deterrent. It is not a casual weapon.”
Bright as a flame behind my eyes I saw him pinning one of his opponents into the bonfire with one of these heinous instruments. “A symbolic weight. A promise that I will destroy anyone completely who crosses me.”
“You understand,” Kemses said.
“For God’s sake,” I said. “I don’t know how to use it! How ominous can it possibly be if I don’t have the first idea how to wield it?”
“You will have to learn,” Kemses said. “And for that, you need a weapon to practice with. So you will take this one.” Again he offered it.
I looked at it: some kind of black metal, with deeply incised channels in arabesque patterns, eye-mazing. It had an afterthought of a grip, black suede wrapped at its center and tied with carmine cords with elaborate braided tassels. Its two ends had been sharpened into cruel, fine points, unornamented.
An Heir to Thorns and Steel Page 23