The City of Ice Page 14

  The front garden was divided from the street only by a wrought iron fence, and she lingered there as long as she dared, watching the coaches and the wagons clatter past and the pedestrians hurry along, coat collars turned up against the chilly mist. She felt cold herself, but only returned indoors when she could stand it no more. While indoors she read in the duke’s library. She slept too much. She spent time dressing up in the glorious clothes laid out for her. Every second lasted an age, ticked out leadenly into the moist air by solemn clocks.

  All that changed on the morning of the third day. She awoke to another chill dawn to see the duke by the dresser close to her door. He leaned casually against the wall, rolling a porcelain figurine of a female goatherd back and forth in his enormous hands. She let out a small yelp when she saw him and shuffled back into the bed, the sheets clutched to her chest. The night gowns provided her were variously lacy, sheer, or clingy. All of them accentuated more than concealed. That morning she was dressed in a chiffon nightgown. Despite covering her modesty, it did not conceal it.

  “I did not mean to startle you,” he said mildly.

  “I think you did,” she said. “You are smiling. You enjoy my reaction.”

  “You know what I am.” The duke shrugged. “I am sorry I have not been to see you. I have been away on business, and it is my custom to allow my companions to acclimatise themselves to the house. How do you like your new home?”

  “Very well, thank you,” she said. She was strangely embarrassed, as if caught up to no good.

  “But?” said the duke. He toyed with the porcelain goatherd. Looking at it she felt his hands on her own body, as if it were representative of herself. She tore her eyes away and looked at his face.

  “I have no reason for complaint,” she insisted.

  He raised his eyebrows and set the figurine down onto the light wood of her dresser, then turned his full attention back on her. She drew the covers further up her neck, ashamed, and feeling faintly ridiculous for being so.

  “If we are to explore each other properly, Medame, we must be truly honest with one another, do you not think?”

  She nodded mutely.

  “You are not being honest,” said the duke. “We shall strike our first bargain. I shall offer you the same courtesy that I offer any of my lady guests—you may ask me what you will, and I will answer as truthfully as I am able.”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything at all.” He chuckled. Away from Verralt’s hideous cellar his laugh lacked its darkness, and seemed avuncular. “I have seen that look before. I am afraid I am no oracle. In return I expect absolute honesty from you. Absolute.” His horns shadowed his face, stern with quiet authority. “Now. We shall begin again. How are you enjoying your stay?”

  Madelyne rested one hand palm up in her lap and looked down at her fingers. The fog leached the colour from her skin, everything was grey. “Your house is glorious, but it is like a cage,” she said. “This splendour chokes me. To escape I walk the gardens, but they are fenced. I wish to go beyond, and see the city again.” She paused. “Might I, your grace?”

  The duke’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You may leave whenever you wish,” said the duke.

  “I do not wish to. I made up my mind to come here. What would I be if I failed you at the first test?”

  The duke smiled, pleased by her anguish. “I meant that you are free to come and go as you will. You are not a prisoner. If you were to go out to shop or to take afternoon tea I would not take it as a rejection.”

  “Truly?”

  “Are you surprised? As long as you inform Markos where you are going, and you return at the appointed time, all will be fine. And I ask only that you tell him of a time so that we might know should something amiss occur, not to control you. Not yet. You must treat this house as your own.” He paused. “Does the mist bother you?”

  “Yes,” she replied honestly.

  “You are in the company of the entire city in your discomfort then,” said he. “These are the mists of the Morfaan. They fall before they come to this sphere. They are not natural. I assure you the house is of an altogether more pleasant aspect when the sun shines. The Godhome catches the light just so. From my turrets there are views across all the city, right over the Foirree. It is quite beautiful, although we cannot see it today. I apologise for the timing, this is a most unusual confluence of events. Wait, and you shall see. After their arrival the mist gathers about the Morfaan and follows them closely, freeing us of the murk. We shall be spared its dreariness soon enough.”

  “It is not only the mist.”

  “Oh?”

  She said nothing.

  “Madelyne?” he said.

  “The room!” she blurted.

  “The room is not to your liking?”

  “It is exactly to my liking, and that is the problem. It is too perfect, a precise recreation of the room I would have in my own home if I...”

  “If you had the money?” he finished for her. “No need to worry about money now, not while you are here.”

  “I feel that you knew that I was coming, that you are toying with me.”

  The duke laughed. “I am toying with you, but only a little. I will toy with you a lot, should matters proceed to our liking. Those shall be games we shall both enjoy, and I wish you no discomfort now. Come with me, dear Medame.” He unhooked a dressing gown from the back of the door and held it out for her. She stared at him until he looked aside. He found this amusing. Flushing scarlet, she covered her breasts. Her blush went deeper as her nipples stiffened against the touch of the nightdress. Madelyne slid out from the sheets and crossed the room to put on the gown.

  “Come with me,” he said, when she was done. He offered his hand. She took it, her fingers not closing around two of his. She was reminded of holding the hand of her father as a small girl. “I will not hurt you,” he said.

  “I... I know it,” she said, bemused. She did know it.

  “Here in this corridor are many rooms,” he said, leading her down the landing. “Have you looked within?”

  “They are locked,” she said.

  “Ah, you have the freedom of this house, but it has not yet got the measure of you. It will open all its doors soon. Personally, I have nothing to hide save a few rooms, and one of those you will see soon enough. Do you have anything to hide my dear?” His gaze accused her. “Each of these rooms was outfitted to exactly match the tastes of the women at the Jhaydue who were with you that night.” The duke opened each door in turn. “Evanderane’s this would have been.” A childishly decorated place, full of rag dolls. He crossed the landing. “And this would have been Ankalueia’s.” Madelyne looked into an outlandish room, decorated to the tastes of a distant nation. She assumed he meant the others, she had never learned their names.

  “So you see, I did toy with you, but only a little. I knew in advance the particulars of each woman Medame Verralt was to present to me, although I had not seen them before. I like to keep some of the game fresh for myself.”

  “You did not know you would pick me?” she said.

  “No!” he laughed. “I have no powers of foresight. Did you think I did?”

  “You are a god,” she said weakly.

  “I am not that kind of god, Medame. I am of a modest order.” He took both her hands, his swallowing hers completely. “Go and get dressed. My servants lay out your clothes for you, but if you look in the room next to yours you will find it full of dresses of every sort. It will be unlocked from today. I hope they please you.”

  “I thought I was to dress to please you,” she said.

  “It will come to that, if you stay. But not now. The clothes left for you were suggestions, and a test. One you passed well.”

  She had no idea what the nature of the test she had passed was. He lifted her hands up to his lips. She had to stretch so he could kiss them. His lips were hot, almost scalding.

  “We will talk after breakfast,” he said. “Now you have had a few days
to think on your decision, it is time to hear the fullness of my offer, and to determine if you wish to remain here.”

  Madelyne went into the wardrobe. Too much choice was presented her, so she dressed in the clothes left out in her room When she came into the dining room, mountains of food were waiting. Unlike every mealtime before, she had company. The duke sat at the head of the table, halfway through an enormous meal, absorbed by broadsheets in half a dozen languages spread out on the table in front of him. Dirty plates and the other debris of breakfasting dotted his reading matter. As he munched on a piece of toast, hunched over a paper he seemed charmingly human. This window of vulnerability closed as soon as he noticed her. He became large again, standing when she entered, and pulled out a chair for her. “I apologise for starting without you,” he said. “I do not eat upon my trips, and returned famished.”

  “Where did you go?” she asked.

  “Go?” He pulled an odd sort of face. “The gods are gone, I remain. I have duties still. I promised honesty, but these tasks I can speak of with no mortal. You may see me, sometimes, heading to the tower at the tip of the north wing. It is there I do much of my work. You are not to follow me there,” he said sternly. He apologised as soon as he had said it. “I do not mean to be brusque. I had intended to discuss that with you afterwards. I preempt myself. You have not even agreed to remain! It shows, my dear, that I have a good feeling about our arrangement.”

  “There is no need to apologise, your grace,” she said.

  “Please, eat. I shall finish my papers. When you are replete, we shall talk.”

  She did as he asked. Having company was agreeable. She found herself watching the duke while he read. He was in his way very handsome, and exuded a confident masculinity that put the character of every man she had ever known to shame. His horns aside, he was not so bizarre in appearance. The Hundred was full of men of all kinds, sizes and colours, and other creatures besides. She considered if it would be possible for a mortal woman to love such a being, not simply be besotted with him, or be worshipful of him, but to honestly love. She cut the line of thought dead. She was not here for that.

  When she finished, Markos appeared, his grubbiness all the more obvious for the richness of their surroundings, and cleared the crockery away onto a trolley. He gave her a friendly wink as he vanished out of the door. The clink of plates receded down the corridor and they were alone.

  “You will be aware that I seek a companion. A permanent companion.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And that she must be of particular tastes and manner. Very particular.”

  “I am aware of them,” she said. “All of Perus is.”

  “I abhor secrecy,” said the duke. “There is no shame in what I am. But some do not know me, or choose not to believe. Some women come here with entirely the wrong impression. They expect something from a tale, a handsome prince cursed and made whole with a kiss. I am as you see me here. I cannot be changed any more than any other man, though that never stops women from trying. It is a mistake to try, do you understand? You must accept me as I am.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  “Others are repulsed by what they know, believing me a sadist.”

  “Are you not?” she said.

  He paused before answering. “No. I am not. I will hurt you, but not solely for the pleasure of it.”

  “You choose your women, your grace, including those who are ill-informed. Surely the fault in their selection lies with you?”

  Again he smiled at her boldness. “I am not infallible,” he said. “I have not yet been right, after all.”

  “If not a sadist, what are you?”

  “A caller of passion,” he said sincerely. “I see the world from a sensuous perspective. To awaken all parts of your body will enable you to glimpse what I see. Sensuality opens the mortal mind to the possibilities of the numinous. How else can we share a life?” He clutched at a napkin. “And I admit, I enjoy it. I enjoy forcing a woman over boundaries her time and place and being have set up around her. Most of all, I enjoy her shame and pleasure at those boundaries crumbling.”

  Madelyne bit her lip.

  “So,” he said. “Now you are aware. It does not worry you?”

  She shrugged slightly. “A little.”

  “You will also know that should I find the right woman, who can endure my attentions and learn to find ecstasy in them, and who is also perfect in demeanour, intellect, obedience, independence... then I shall bind myself to her, and she shall be raised up by me, to live forever by my side. I have found many women who enjoy the... activity I offer. It is not an uncommon trait.” He smiled a smile halfway between shy and sly. “But they have not possessed all the other characteristics I desire.”

  “Medame Verralt?”

  “She was among them. Those that fail enjoy their stay, however long it lasts, and they are well compensated when they go.”

  “I am no whore.”

  “Any money I give you is a gift, not payment,” he insisted. “We contract between two free souls.”

  This was a surprise to her. For all the talk of the lovelorn Duke Infernal, she had not expected complexity to the arrangement, only a brutish lust fulfilled by scandalous women. Having steeled herself to masquerade as one, she found herself wrong-footed. “Is companionship so important to you?”

  “Another surprise for you? First no claws, and now a heart?” He waggled his fingers. Three of them bore rings the size of pocket watches. “All men must find a wife, one that suits their temperament. A mortal might compromise a little, but for those who live forever, perfection is essential. Any flaw can fracture under the weight of eternity.”

  “But you are not a man.”

  “I am not truly a god either,” he said. “Though they all say I am. I was messenger to the Dark Lady, not a god in my own right. I am a functionary, my dear! Who really knows who or what he is? Not I. We all wear masks—some for others, some for ourselves. Some are placed upon us without our knowing.”

  “You were worshipped.”

  “I was, wasn’t I?” He grinned. “I am a lowly sort. But even were I of a higher order of being, I should still be a man, and still crave a companion. Even gods desire love, else what is the point?”

  “Children,” said Madelyne firmly. “They are the point for a mortal, and children are the product of love. Children are our immortality, so what does an immortal need love for?”

  “Very well put Medame!” he said delightedly. “The current breed of philosoph, and I have been unfortunate enough to see many schools of thought bud out from the tree of knowledge and wither again, have it that love is the body’s way of securing children, a manner of passing on characteristics of the parent down through time. A trick, as it were, of the flesh on the soul. They are wrong, to a degree. There is a drive to heredity in all living things, but children are not only born of love, they are vehicles of love. They carry love with them into your life. There are easier ways of ensuring the perpetuation of a bloodline. Besides,” he said, “nothing is immortal, not even an immortal.” He paused and regarded her gravely. “This is a particular role. There are many things I will ask you to do I expect you will not like, and there are things I will make you do that I know you will not, not at first.”

  “I understand. As I said, your appetites are well known.”

  “Rumour of an appetite and the sating of it are very different things,” he said.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Choice?” He sat back. “You can go free. Your debts are paid, neither Verralt or the state have any hold on you. You will leave with nothing, but that is more than you had. There is a choice. Here is another—stay. But know this now, all of this, everything we are to embark on, it is and must be of your own volition. The moment it ceases to be so, the contract will end.”

  “My options are loaded in your favour. Where would I go?”

  “It is still your choice.” He leaned close and took her hands in
one of his. “There is always a choice Madelyne!” he said urgently. “How else did you come to be here? When Verralt offered to buy your debt, you could have remained in the Debtor’s Gaol. When you first saw me, you could have chosen to stay in her house.”

  “I was desperate.”

  “There was still a choice.”

  “You are making me a whore.”

  He shrugged. “You would have been had you remained in that brothel. You will be well treated here, well fed. You will suffer no disease and experience only sensual violence, nothing that will kill or permanently harm you.”

  “I would have made the money eventually to be free.”

  “You would have sickened. Here you might live forever.”

  “An eternity of servitude,” she countered, “rather than three or four years on my back?”

  “An eternity of love, as opposed to the whore’s early death.”

  “A brutal love.”

  “I am enjoying this already,” exclaimed the Duke Infernal. “Let us cease these verbal feints. You have an idea of what I expect. Do you accept? Will you know the rest of my terms? I am impatient, eager to begin.”

  “Tell me, before I decide. Have you been searching long?”

  “Forever,” he whispered.

  “Have any ever come close to success?”

  Sombrely, the duke reached around his neck and pulled out a necklace of blue beads and laid it on the front of his shirt. Spaced evenly between the beads at the front were seven skulls of jade, exquisitely carved with the highest degree of realism, each unique as real skulls are unique. They were so realistic Madelyne could imagine the faces that had once clothed them.

  “Seven. I wear these to remember them. They were all dear to me.” He touched them tenderly.

  “And did you love them?”

  “Every one.” Profound pain dimmed the light in his eyes.

  “What happened to them?”

  “They dissolved our contract, and left me without their companionship,” he said.

  She took a deep breath. “As you wish, I am ready. Tell me the details of your terms.”

  “You may read them.”