The
Grand Laboratory of the House: as impressive as the one in
Therendanar, or even more. It was the first time that Caradhar
crossed those doors that he had furtively watched more than one
night. From the entrance he could make out the inside of a big hall
where several alchemists and apprentices toiled among the tables,
shelves and racks covered with dozens of instruments. Some of them
peeked at him with curiosity and then continued their jobs. Soon, the
sound of hasty steps announced Darial's arrival; the alchemist, a bit
worked up, took the young elf by his arm and guided him to a side
room, safe from prying eyes.
Caradhar
didn't expect as much as actually stepping into the laboratory, so he
welcomed the situation with interest. Darial committed a violation of
protocol by allowing a stranger to enter, but right then he seemed to
be quite irritated and didn't care at all.
'Where
have you been these last three days?' he demanded to know, still
holding his companion's arm.
'I
have been busy,' answered the questioned elf, though it wasn't true:
he had kept his distance for the last days on purpose.
'I
made very clear that I don't want you to disappear from my sight
without a warning.' His fingers cruelly squeezed his prey's wrist,
sinking into his flesh.
'But
I am here now. I came just to see you,' Caradhar softly replied,
despite the pain. 'I though you'd be pleased.'
Darial
was divided between the annoyance and, yes, the pleasure caused by
that visit. He reduced the pressure and draw the young elf towards
him.
'You
shouldn't be in this place... But I will forgive you this time, if
you are very obedient, go to my chambers and wait for me. You'll have
to make up for the last three days,' he added, with a half smile.
'Aren't
you going to show me the laboratory?'
'You
would like that, wouldn't you? But, as I said, only alchemists can be
here; in fact, I'm going to get myself into trouble if I allow you to
be seen. No: do as I say.' And when he saw the expression of slight
disillusionment on his face, he added: 'I'll see what I can do
another time. And now, go.'
Caradhar
obeyed and left, but not without a last look at the place over his
shoulder. As for Darial, he stared for a while at the doors the
gifted had just crossed and felt seized with agitation. He rushed
back to the hall. He wanted to deal with his issues of the day as
fast as possible; he wanted to be done right away and back to his
room, and lock himself with him.
His
toy had become his addiction.
***
'Adhar,
where the blazes are you looking at?'
Caradhar
looked up, startled. On top of him, Darial watched with a wrinkled
frown.
Of
course, the young elf couldn't confess that he was searching the
corners of the room thoroughly, trying to locate a more solid
kind of shadow,
or at least a hint that betrayed the Darshi'nai's possible presence.
He opted to keep quiet and Darial, exasperated, got up, helped
himself to a glass of wine and emptied it in one gulp. Twice.
He
turned his glance back to the boy, who hadn't moved; he couldn't even
if he had tried, because his left arm was tied up to the wooden
headboard of the bed with a long leather strap: it was the game
of that day. The leather visibly bit into his flesh, but Caradhar
wasn't complaining. Ne never did; he just stayed under him, giving up
to his desires with silent submissiveness. At first, the alchemist
had disdained that attitude with a complacent smile: as long as he
could get his satisfaction, he couldn't care less. But as time went
by he became ambitious. Possessing a will-less body wasn't enough; he
wanted to arouse feelings.
He wanted to be sure that there was something stirring in Caradhar's
insides, as in his own. Anything, but those cold eyes, always looking
impassive. And that night, furthermore, he seemed distracted, as if
his attention were somewhere else. As if he were mocking him.
Darial
felt a bubble of anger growing inside. He strode towards his
companion and immobilised him with his own body, trapping his free
arm against the bed while his fingers, turned into claws, sank into
the young elf's white neck. Caradhar, giving a start, suppressed a
moan of pain, and remained silent. That was more than Darial could
stand.
'Am
I hurting you? Do you want me to stop? he asked, clenching his teeth.
'Then beg me! Look at me, for once, and say something! I know I hurt
you many times in these past years; you had no choice before... but
now you have! If you are so displeased, why do you willingly come to
me? You must... You must
feel something...' he added, almost as a plea. 'If you hate me... Why
the hell don't you tell me?'
Since
Caradhar, frowning, just looked at him in silence, the blond elf
released his grip and beat him up with the back of his clenched fist.
The gifted's lower lip started to bleed and swell; with the reflexes
acquired after years of practice, the boy prevented the wound from
healing, letting the blood pour down his chin.
It
was extremely difficult for an elf with the Gift to interrupt his
body's natural healing process at will. Most of them didn't even
actively try, and just allowed nature to take its course. For
Caradhar, things had been different. During his childhood, the time
spent with Darial had taught him that, from his mentor's twisted
point of view, there was no point in inflicting corporal punishment
if its traces were going to disappear in mere seconds. Darial
obtained morbid pleasure from the view of marks on the kid's pale
skin; depriving him of it only led to new punishments, and gifted
elves were not insensible to pain... Therefore, that had become a
survival mechanism, and the conditioned reflex remained there, years
later.
Some
knocks interrupted the scene. The alchemist, furious, turned his eyes
to the door, and was about to cry out for being left alone when
somebody opened it wide.
Under
the lintel, a female elf stood still for some seconds, watching the
couple. She was wearing a diaphanous blue silk dress that hugged her
small and slim body, and her long and straight dark hair framed a
slightly angular face, with almond-shaped eyes and thin red lips. She
was good-looking, although not young, and her unpleasant expression
of contempt while staring at Darial intensified her small wrinkles.
For his part the alchemist, pallid, jumped out of the bed, searched
for a tunic to wear and ran to pay his respects to the newcomer, with
a bow. She approached them, tilted her head and examined Caradhar
with a mocking smile.
'So,
Darial, this is the reason why you have been so evasive these days,'
she spoke, with a second look at then red-haired elf, who didn't
bother to cover himself and studied her back with equal curiosity.
Around her neck she was wearing a pendant with a very familiar
emblem, representing a mythological animal... 'In fact, it keeps you
so occupied that your performance at work has decreased
considerably...'
'Your
Ladyship...'
'Darial,'
she interrupted, holding his chin with her hand full of rings, her
long nails varnished in scarlet digging into his flesh. 'Despite your
terrible reputation, you know I always held you in great esteem, and
I thought the feeling was mutual...' Her sharp voice sounded mocking
and disappointed at the same time. The blond elf tried to open his
mouth and complain, but she didn't allow him. 'Now, with this
position of responsibility, it is results that count, and I need a
devoted and loyal assistant who can do his job. If I am not
satisfied, Lord Killien won't be either... Do you know what I mean? I
haven't said a word so far, but I wonder what he would think if he
knew what you do with one of his precious gifted elves...' She
released him and slapped him straight away. One of her flamboyant
rings scratched his cheek, leaving a bloody wound. 'You better stop
taking pleasure in your kid
and start pleasing me.
If you know what's good for you.'
She
turned around and quickly left the room. Darial, too confused to
talk, closed the door behind her, staggered to the bed and sat down.
He brushed his wound with his hand and seemed surprised of staring at
his reddened fingers. Then Caradhar, stretching as much as his bonds
allowed him, knelt besides him, and dampening his index finger with
his own blood, slid it along his companion's cheek. The cut was
closed in a second.
For
the young gifted, closing a wound was almost a reflex; but for
Darial, who had never experienced the healing effects of the Gift,
the warm sensation on his skin and the calm expression of the young
elf's eyes was intoxicating. He felt emptiness in his suddenly
convulse stomach; he pushed Caradhar down on the mattress with
violence and kissed him, savouring the blood that still covered his
lips, knowing there was only one way of filling that emptiness. With
impatience, he cut the leather strap and, placing himself on top of
the young elf, he aimed between his separated legs and penetrated him
eagerly, but more gently than in previous occasions, as if he wanted
to enjoy the sensation of the flesh slowly surrendering to him while
his member opened the path. He started to move, moaning with every
thrust, devouring the crimson irides with his eyes, aspiring to have
the gifted braving them and realising that the pleasure he was
feeling was real, and no-one else could mean the same to him.
Once
he was sated, and for the first time ever, he took his time rewarding
the young elf, burying his head between his thighs. The gifted opened
up his eyes in surprise; slowly closed them back, letting himself go.
Later
that night Caradhar asked:
'Was
she... The Grand Alchemist?'
'Yes.'
'I
didn't expect a female.'
Darial
chuckled, stroking his companion's red hair, planting kisses here and
there on his white skin.
'Didn't
you know? Lord Killien is a master of keeping his subjects under
control; as he deigns to share her bed from time to time, that witch
considers herself very special... But the truth is that she, as the
Grand Alchemist, guards the key to the Maede's power, and nobody, not
even the Maeda, has so many privileges.'
'And
if anything happened to her?'
Darial
seemed to meditate on the question for a moment.
'Then
one of her assistants would have to take her place...'
A
long silence came over them.
'What
will you do now? Will you stop seeing me?' said Caradhar finally. 'I
don't think you have a choice.'
'Would
you like that?' The mature elf's fingers sank into the younger one's
flesh. 'Do you think I will give up so easily?' No; I may have to be
humble and bow my head and play along with that bitch for some time,
but I will think of something.'
Caradhar
closed his eyes; soon his breath became slow and regular. Instead,
Darial stayed awake all night, his mind bubbling with ideas and
feelings.
***
Back
in his room, the red-haired elf found a familiar hooded figure,
lying without shame on his bed.
'Hello,
Adhar. Can I call you Adhar? I heard your friends use to call you
that.' The questioned one frowned, but didn't reply. 'You see, am
back and keeping my head on my shoulders. That means I wasn't busted,
eh?' The spy sniggered and sat up. 'It's been tough, but I did my
sniffing around Lord Killien's chambers. Oh, no praising, the Maede
is a tad careless when coming to safety and I've seen worse. Let's
say he relies on his personal abilities.'
'What
did you discover?'
'Well...
The rooms are fairly inaccessible from the exterior. You'd have to be
a bird to sneak in through there. At the entrance, the guards'
shifts are strict, even when he's not there. The doors are very
sturdy and (this is good for us) nicely muffle the sound. There's an
antechamber that leads to the bedroom itself through a narrow
corridor. The cunning bastard doesn't keep much furniture to serve as
hiding place, but he does own a brutally big bed, and it seems he
likes to fill it every night.' New snigger. 'And, this is the best, a
little bed to its feet where his gifted twins spend the night. The
things those kids must have seen or heard...! I don't even think he
bothers to send them outside when he's screwing his whores; rather,
since one of the twins is a girl, you could expect the little bed to
be half-empty every night.' Caradhar fidgeted, a bit uncomfortable,
and the Shadow made fun of him upon noticing it. 'Don't tell me I am
hurting your sensibility... Ah well, in short, the bloke covered his
back against a ranged attack. The rooms are designed without nooks
nor big spaces. When he goes out, he's always escorted, and always
keeps his gifted elves at hand.'
'If
you're able to slip in his bedroom, what keeps you from trying a
close attack on him?'
The
Shadow looked at the younger elf out of the corner of his eye;
sarcastically, as if he was explaining something to a child, he said:
'Kid,
no-one can close attack the Maede! At this point, you should know
better. You tried his power.' Caradhar averted his gaze without
saying a word. 'Fuck, I am good, but if it were so easy... In this
game, if he didn't know how to take care of himself, an elf of his
standing wouldn't last squat. To be in the First Circle is like
living surrounded by vultures, waiting for you to stumble and take
your place.'
'Would
you manage to provide me the means to gain access to his chambers?'
'You...
Didn't you hear me? What the hell do you think you could do? I got
into this business to help you reach the Maede openly, not like a
common thief in the night. Am not paving your way to commit suicide.'
'That
doesn't depend on me only. But if the need arises, I have to know my
options.'
'I
see you're up to something... And it involves the alchemist as
well... Tonight I could enjoy an interesting show; and you were big
fun, looking everywhere to see if you could spot me. I almost peed my
trousers, laughing to myself.'
'Where
the heck...?' Caradhar sighed, giving a very unkind glance to the
spy. 'Then, since you didn't miss any detail, I can't see the need of
telling you anything.'
'You've
got that alchemist eating out of your hand, hmmm? I'm almost scared
to imagine what crosses that swine's mind.' The hooded elf stopped
speaking all of a sudden and pricked up his ears, signalling to his
companion to do the same. After some seconds he stood up spryly and
silently.' I'm off.'
While
he was passing next to Caradhar, the Shadow stared at his face, and
took his wrist, searching for the marks that the leather ties should
have left: they were both intact. His gloved eyes lingered longer
than necessary along the pale skin, but the gifted didn't complain.
The had never been so close, and he made an effort to make out more
details of that face, darkened by the black fabric. But then the
Shadow spoke.
'If
I ever have the chance to tie you up, I won't be feeling guilty for
marking you,' he commented as a joke.
'You
will not
have the chance.'
The
gifted moved his hand away; his red eyes were so cold and determined
that the spy, feeling uncomfortable, gave up his joke and simply
vanished.
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