Valentin investigates Lewellyn.

Length: 3000-7000 words, POV: Valentin, Rating: PG
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Part of: 008 Journey, Contents

Stepping forward, Valentin gave Cassius an oily look and put Llewellyn’s hand in the crook of his arm. “I will get our, er, guest settled, brother,” said Valentin. “You, no doubt, have duties elsewhere.”

Looking severe, Cassius said, “No, I—”

“Don’t be silly.” Valentin swept Llewellyn away before Cassius could reclaim him. He turned as they reached the cabin door and said, “You have other things to do.”

A dubious expression on his face, Cassius turned away to duck over the gangplank to the Jovania. Valentin let Llewellyn into the cabin.

“You are an interesting boy,” he said, leaning against the door. “My brother is very fond of you.”

Llewellyn looked at him, ducked his head so that ashy brown curls fell over his eyes. “I owe him a great debt for his kindness.”

“Owe him?” Valentin wet his lips. “How can a slave owe anyone anything? A debt implies the right to make transactions. You have no rights.”

A stricken look flashed over Llewellyn’s face and then it went as still as a mirror-pond. Gracefully, he dropped to his knees. More hair tumbled over his shoulders. “Forgive my presumption, Lord Valentin.”

“Yes.” Valentin smiled, although Llewellyn couldn’t see it. “I know how a slave should be treated.”

Llewellyn looked up through his hair and inhaled deeply, as if he were trying to get Valentin’s scent.

“Where are you from, Llewellyn?”

“Sha-Pensei.”

“Before that.”

“I don’t know where my mother came from. I only remember the Pleasure Garden.”

“Llewellyn sounds Cambrian.”

“Does it, Lord Valentin?”

The boy kept his head bowed as Valentin slid across the room, crouched in front of him, and tipped his chin up with two fingers.

“What do you want with my brother?”

He had always struck Valentin as a rather dour, humourless boy. Valentin’s kind of person would at least see the ridiculousness of a Prince of Jovan interrogating a slave on his intentions, but Llewellyn briefly captured Valentin in an intent stare, then slid his gaze back to the floorboards. Then he said, softly but nonetheless so Valentin could hear, “I am at my master’s disposal.”

“Does it bother you that he doesn’t know how to treat a slave?”

“If he knew how to treat a slave, he would be harsher,” said Llewellyn. Valentin released his chin and stood, pushing a wry smile aside to one corner of his mouth.

“Still, you were trained for a pleasure slave. Your talents are being wasted.”

“One day my master will make full use of me.” Llewellyn’s tone barely varied.

“Mm, I think not.” Valentin paced over hooked his elbows in the canvas of his bunk. “Slavery is abhorrent to him. No matter how much he might like you, he will never allow himself to take what you are offering.”

Llewellyn didn’t respond, simply studied the floor.

“What will you do when he finally gets you out of his hair?”

“I don’t know.”

“If—if I were to give you some money… enough that you could return to your homeland, would you? I would be generous. Cambria is a journey of several months from Jovan.”

“I would take your money, Lord Valentin, and use it to stay in Monsilys.” He gave Valentin a bland look. “I do not think Prince Cassius would mind me swindling you.”

“Cheeky,” said Valentin.

The door opened, and Cassius entered, carrying a hessian bag over one shoulder. “Yours, I believe,” he said to Llewellyn. “Why are you kneeling?”

“Lord Valentin was reminding me of my place, Prince Cassius,” said Llewellyn, climbing to his feet and giving Valentin a look that was a bit too innocent.

“Thank you, Valentin,” said Cassius, his eyebrows drawing together.

“One way I humbly felt I could assist. As you know, I handled several slaves when I lived in Baetica.” Valentin pulled his sleeves down over his hands and left the cabin.

As he left, he heard Cassius say, “If you were the natural child of a Jovani Emperor, you would be a lord, not a slave.”

Rolling his eyes, he could imagine Llewellyn’s reply: I am happy with my lot, or something like that.

He passed Captain Ennius, about to move his belongings into the cabin. “Ah, I did think you’d be coming over to the Lady Kyria now, Ennius,” he said. “I hope you find your bunk comfortable.”

“Can’t be worse than a leaky tent on a wet night.”

“Yes, well you’ll be sharing with an odd mix. My brother and I, the Empress’ councillors, and that odd boy Cassius picked up in Sha-Pensei. He’s hoping to strike off the slave brand if we pass through Baetica.”

Ennius’ silence had a hesitant air. Valentin raised one eyebrow and waited.

“My lord, forgive me, but the Commander—I was given to understand you were against the idea of the Commander voiding the boy’s slave brand.”

“I may be for it or against it,” said Valentin, leaning against the bulwark and resting his chin on one hand. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Even in the cabin, the bunks were strung two-high. The man underneath Valentin—one of Adrienne’s personal guards—snored. Llewellyn slept beneath Cassius’ bunk. Valentin heard him get up to relieve himself, but other than that, he stayed still and quiet. Cassius was a messy sleeper, constantly rolling over and sticking limbs out in odd directions. On Valentin’s other side, Ennius slept with military precision.

Reaching behind his head and beating his pillow with one hand, Valentin concentrated on the sound of the ocean slapping against the sides of the ship. After a moment, he succeeded in turning the rolling waves into the soothing rocking of a well-sprung carriage and four. He had enjoyed some of the best sleep of his life in the back of a carriage travelling between Tyresine and Whitefields. Then the body servant sleeping on the bunk beneath him rolled onto his back, shaking the entire structure. A moment later, he started snoring again.

In the absence of sleep, Valentin decided to get up and investigate the happenings on deck. His egress disturbed his bunkmate, but only for a moment. The mumbled, “Lord Valentin, can I get you anything?” seemed to be pulled from the depths of a dream.

On the deck he found a circle of huddled men in their nightrobes. There were six of them in all, crouched in a semicircle around a lantern hanging on the mast. Valentin made out Adrienne’s glossy black hair, braided over her shoulder. She too was bent over something laid out on the ground.

“Couldn’t sleep, Empress?”

She looked up. “Uncle Valentin. Is Uncle Cassius awake?”

Valentin shook his head.

“Oh, then never mind. My councillors are just taking me through Caithese protocol.”

“Again,” muttered one of the men in the circle.

“Would you like me to go and wake Cassius up?”

“No, thank you. Really, he knows as little about Caith’il Deran as I do.”

As they all turned their head back to the ground, Valentin sidled over. “Do you mind if I join you?”

He received a distracted head-shake, which he took as assent. They were studying a family tree, spread out and weighed down with a scrap of rope on one side, and a bucket on the other. Thrown to the side was a crumpled piece of vellum with what looked like a map on it.

Valentin half-listened as Adrienne went through the Caithese monarchy, starting with the Prince Regnant, Prince Varen Blanc. Cassius, by virtue of his mother, was actually fifth in line for the throne, which put him one major disaster away from power. Valentin suspected that if Cassius ever thought of that, it would probably give him night terrors.

There were few other people on deck. In contrast to the previous night, when many of the crew had been needed to guide her through the storm, tonight there seemed to be only a skeleton staff shuffling around the deck, hiding their yawns behind their hands.

He happened to be looking towards the cabin, wondering if he might be able to get to sleep now. When the door opened and Llewellyn slipped out. Valentin watched suspiciously as he padded across the deck and disappeared down the ladder into the hold.

What in the world was the boy doing down there? The officers’ quarters occupied the back of the first level, while the galley occupied the front. Every available space between the two was slung with bunks for the sailors. The lower deck had only the port-holes and benches for the sweeps.

Keeping one ear tuned to the conversation, which had moved to the question of resources and trade items, Valentin watched the hatch. There was no sound coming from belowdecks. Eventually, a pale hand emerged into the moonlight. It set something on the deck, and Valentin snorted, causing Adrienne to pause and look at him expectantly.

Giving her a bland look, Valentin returned his attention to her. The boy had been going to get a cup of water from the galley. Standing, Valentin said, “I thank you Empress, my lords. I believe I will be able to sleep now, knowing the delegation is so well prepared for our arrival in Caith’il Deran.”

“I am glad we could ease your qualms, Lord Valentin,” said Adrienne, rubbing her hands across her eyes. “Perhaps it is time we all went to sleep.”

The southern approach of Caith’il Deran was, Valentin had to admit, impressive. Tall white cliffs were tipped with sparse greyish-green grass. Every now and then, this bleak landscape was punctuated by the tall white standing stones which held an obscure position in Caithese dogma.

They had to circle the island to the west, tracking close to the coast until they reached the port of Derano. Cassius pulled Llewellyn out onto the deck to watch the cliffs as they went by. Llewellyn seemed taken by the sight, and, looking around he tugged Cassius to a corner between the bulwark and the foredeck, and there they stood, pointing out the standing stones and other landmarks.

Although neither of them were looking at him, Valentin rolled his eyes in disgust and retreated to stand by Adrienne. “It is quite a sight,” said Adrienne.

“It is,” said Valentin, “although I have seen far more sublime scenery in Jovan.”

“How patriotic,” said the Empress with a twinkling smile. “Valentin, do try not to seduce the White Prince.”

“I assume you are alluding again to my late connection with Queen Sekhmede of Merot,” said Valentin with dignity.

“It does seem to me that you have only two settings when it comes to foreign dignitaries, Uncle. Either you try to turn their heads, or you pick fights.” She bestowed upon him a wry smile. “No, don’t poker up. Given our continued close relationship with Baetica, and, I suppose, the fact that we are not at war with Merot, I must say your methods appear to work.”

“I have refined them over my long years of public service,” Valentin murmured. He saw that Cassius and the captain were coming over and excused himself. Foolish Cassius, leaving his pet unguarded. Valentin slithered up to Llewellyn where he still stood, absorbed by the scenery.

“We will be in Derano by dusk,” said Valentin.

He didn’t startle, but Llewellyn was quite wide-eyed as he turned to Valentin. Seeing who it was, he immediately dropped to his knees and bowed his head. Valentin watched with amusement. “Now stand up. Did you tell Cassius of my offer to pay your way out of Jovan?”

Llewellyn stood, pressed back against the wall. “No, Lord Valentin. You weren’t serious.”

“And if I had been?” Valentin leaned one elbow on the bulwark.

“Then I would have told him.”

“Good boy.” This time Valentin didn’t disguise his pleasure at this answer. If Cassius was going to have someone this close to him, far better it was someone with an ounce of political instinct. “Tell me, do you want Cassius to break your bondage?”

“I want to serve my master,” Llewellyn said in a stifled voice.

“My slave-speak is a little rusty. Remind me: does that mean yes or no in this instance?”

“I don’t want to leave him.” He stopped, and then made a visible decision to continue. “One day, yes. Of course I want my freedom. For now, I want to help Prince Cassius. The only way I know how to help him is to serve. And…” He trailed off and bit his lip. A practiced shake of his head brought the shielding curls in front of his eyes again.

Valentin nodded. “Cassius won’t be turned from his course easily.” He turned and glanced at his brother, and received a deeply distrustful glare in return. Cassius was perched on the balls of his feet, clearly itching to escape from his council with the captain and the Empress and rescue Llewellyn before Valentin said anything else inappropriate.

“If my master wishes to release me, I am grateful for his kindness,” said Llewellyn.

“Yes, yes,” Valentin waved his hand. “Sometimes the direct route is not the best.” He stroked his chin with one hand. “I must throw some trees across the path.”

“Lord Valentin?”

With a vague handwave, Valentin strode away.

“Lord Valentin!” Llewellyn called. There was an audible cringe in his voice at having to raise it above a stifled murmur.

Turning, Valentin said, “Don’t worry, Llewellyn. I have decided that I like you.”

Llewellyn didn’t look entirely reassured.