Dre cast a last glance over his shoulder so that he could pretend to be surprised when Lar came tearing around the corner. Of course Lar would know that he had heard the heels of his boots clapping all the way up the long corridor, but Lar did not know that he was the only elf in these tunnels whose mind was such a turbid fog.
Dre was, however, truly surprised when Lar skittered to a halt before him. He gasped at the impact and turned away to steady himself against the wall. He dragged his two hands down the stone to remind himself where this body ended, how it felt, and how to keep it together.
“What are you doing down here?” Lar growled.
A frightened defiance glowed like embers behind the smoke that veiled Lar’s thoughts, but that was nothing new, and it told Dre nothing.
“Only putting your friend Hel to bed,” Dre said.
His throat was tight and his voice trembling. This would not do. He pushed himself away from the wall and turned to Lar with a smile. Then he understood.
Lar slammed the gate shut. “Are you her nurse now?”
It must have been some old relic, for even taking into account the restored sight of the blinded elf, he did not believe the Abbot was yet powerful enough to lay such a blessing upon a silver medallion that it could wrap the wearer’s entire body in its nimbus. Unless he had help…
But Dre had seen Araphel in Rome, still wearing the same befreckled body he had carried all the way there and probably meant to carry all the way back again, for the most obvious, most ridiculous reason. He could not yet be here to help.
Dre shrugged. “If somebody had tucked the poor girl in more often when she was small, she might have turned out differently. But I recommend you leave her in there for a few months. She had a rough night,” he whispered behind his hand.
“I take it she failed to kill my father.”
“Yes! A pity!” Dre nearly took Lar by the arm to lead him away, but the arm had grown repulsive since they had last met.
Lar paused to spit through the gate before following Dre down the corridor. “A pity,” he muttered.
Dre did not sense as much anger about her failure or her fate as Lar was trying to display. There was even something like relief. Or perhaps it was only returning confidence.
“Now, now,” Dre chuckled, “you needn’t pretend with me. As you know.”
Lar’s fright briefly flared up brighter than his defiance.
“In fact, Lar, out of fondness for you, I believe I shall leave your father live after all.”
“I told you, I don’t care if he lives or dies.”
“No? In that case, I shall let him live… for now. My most recent conversation with dear Hel has reminded me that there are worse things than death.”
Lar snorted with something like satisfaction.
They walked on for a moment in silence. Lar was never talkative with him these days, and Dre was distracted. One definite thought had detached itself from the vague cloud surrounding him and lit on his most sensitive face: his vanity.
Some elf somewhere in these tunnels was desperately hoping to meet him—some elf who was feeling frightened and guilty. This was bound to be amusing. But first Dre would have to detach himself from Lar.
“How did you come by that little trinket?” he asked pointedly, with a slight frown.
Lar’s panic fluttered just behind the veil, but his voice was firm. “How do I ever ‘come by’ anything I get from the men? I stole it.”
Dre realized too late that the frown had been too much. He could not tell whether Lar was lying or was merely alarmed at having unintentionally annoyed him.
“Don’t you know what it is?” Dre chuckled.
“If it’s not a necklace, I must look like an ass.”
Dre laughed delightedly. “But I have always thought you would look good in anything, Lar!”
“Though I must look better in nothing, is that it?”
“I wasn’t about to say so, but since you did…”
Anyone with eyes could have seen how deeply the idea disturbed Lar. Tormenting him with it was one of Dre’s favorite games, but he realized then that if he took the game a little farther he would likely be able to chase Lar off entirely.
“As a matter of fact,” he purred, “it is a necklace.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Dre slipped his hand around to rest lightly on the small of Lar’s back. It seemed a pity he could not even take pleasure in touching him; it was all he could do to preserve the pallor of his skin and prevent the neat fingernails from curving into claws.
“A very pretty necklace,” he murmured. He leaned his head closer to whisper, “I see it now. What you needed was a touch of the feminine.”
Lar twisted away and slammed his back against the wall to escape Dre’s hands.
“I think I should like to see you wearing nothing but this necklace.” Dre leaned closer, driving Lar to slide down the wall to escape his lips and his breath. “You’re very pretty, Lar. Or, no—let me call you Lara.”
Lar shoved him away and slipped around him so that he had only the open corridor at his back.
“You call me Lar! And you touch me again, I’ll take this ‘pretty necklace’ off my neck and strangle you with it! Understood?”
“Lar!” Dre cried mournfully. “My friend! Forgive me—I misunderstood everything. Sometimes… the way you look at me… but never mind…”
“I don’t look at you! I hate you! Is that clear enough so you won’t misunderstand?”
“My friend…”
“Is there anything you wanted to talk to me about this morning?”
“Talk to you?” Dre purred. “Certainly not…”
Lar shoved him again to give himself enough time to turn and walk down the corridor without fear of being groped on the way.
Dre smiled after him in silent amusement until the sound of his heels had faded. Then he turned his mind to the mind that was turned towards his.
It was not difficult to find. Despite its desire to meet him, it had hidden itself away in one of the deepest, most silent tunnels, far from the other elves. Dre had no respect for such cringing indecision, but manipulating a weak mind could be amusing.
It was a long walk down through damp tunnels lit only by fire, but when he arrived at the end of it, he knew his time had not been wasted.
“Pardon me,” he said mildly. “I must have taken a wrong turn. Would you be kind enough to help me find my way?”