Chapter 2: Seven of Cups
The theories in this book weren't particularly new or interesting. Dorian had written far more interesting papers that had the Magisterium talking away about his theories, about his ideas, about his potential. But it didn't matter. It was raining out, he had a fire going, he'd made tea, and Lepidus sat behind him, rubbing the tension out of his shoulders. For two years the slave had done this, to the point that, whenever Dorian set water on for tea, Lepidus got out two cups and sat down on the couch, waiting, without being prompted.
Dorian wasn't interested in the reading portion of these times. The book was a prop in case another slave, or Maker forbid another Enchanter walked in. Dorian was capable of doing his studies at any other time. But on these rainy days he just wanted to be held.
Certainly there were any number of mage women he could go see. He'd had many invitations over the last two years, and he realized that relations in the Circle were as common as in a Minrathous brothel, if not more so. And if it had just been about the sex, that would be one thing. But there was the scouting; the bribery and research; the obsequious talk and the forward suggestions of what a marriage could cement…
He would take a rainy day with Lepidus any day.
"Good book?"
Dorian closed it on his lap. "No, actually. But it's kind of you to ask," he said. He closed his eyes as the slave's long fingers worked his neck muscles. "Do you read much, outside of my endless itineraries?"
"No, sir. Reading magic texts is forbidden."
It made sense, and oddly Dorian felt bad for asking. "It's just as well. Most of them are just like this: self-important, sleep-inducing boredom in physical form." He let the book fall to the floor and craned his neck around to get a view of Lepidus's wide, dark eyes.
"Master Dorian?" Lepidus asked in a voice so calm it set Dorian's pulse fluttering. "If you'd like me to attend you, you need only ask."
"Attend… attend me… oh!" Dorian blushed and jumped up. "No, I just…"
Lepidus remained seated, staring up at Dorian with his beautiful eyes, so calm that Dorian couldn't stay anxious forever. "You would not be the first mage," Lepidus said. "Probably not the last, either—male or female. You need not be embarrassed by it. Pleasure is not forbidden here in Vyrantium."
No, that was the problem. It was actively encouraged, because it could help form alliances and create gossip. And as the years had gone by, Dorian realized that he wanted more from the pleasure he sought. And that to get more than mere pleasure was impossible.
Lepidus's confession that there had been others before Dorian stung a bit, but he was foolish to feel jealousy. He was lucky that Lepidus had been by his side for this long. The young man was watching Dorian still, waiting patiently for Dorian's directive. Dorian's stomach felt like it was being pulled out of his body, and his mouth went dry. But when he looked at those immense dark eyes, sweeping over him, he wanted nothing more than to take Lepidus in his arms.
So he did.
He ran his hands all over Lepidus, feeling his muscles and his skin, pale and soft from years serving inside the Circle. He held him close and let the slave do as he pleased. Maker, it had been so long since he'd felt anything like this, and it actually felt good. Touching and feeling were so much better than looking.
At last Lepidus pulled away, his cheeks flushed, and those amazing eyes actually sparkling. "You have a session with Enchanter Livius in a half an hour," he murmured. "I will help you get presentable again. Discussing the difference between death spirits and spirits of those who are dead may require you to look a little less… you know."
Dorian combed his tousled hair and trimmed the mustache he'd grown in recently. It made him look older. He was still easily the youngest person in the Vyrantium Circle, not counting the slaves. While many were charmed by his theories and his abilities, he wasn't sure they took him seriously. He was a novelty to them, a pleasant curiosity, Halward's prodigy on display.
He actually enjoyed the studies; he loved going into the Fade; he loved his dreams and his books, and was quite certain that if he had to stay in Vyrantium for many more years, he would probably be happy here.
Dorian donned his birthright amulet and gave himself a final check before marching to his appointment. Enchanter Livius had made a study of Necromancy earlier in his life, and insisted on regularly reviewing Dorian's studies of the subject. Dorian, however, knew from reading that he'd long since surpassed Livius's abilities and understanding of the subject. Livius was having Dorian teach him what he knew. Only vain pride kept him from admitting this, and it vaguely irritated Dorian.
Still, an appointment was an appointment. Dorian hadn't missed one yet in two years. Everyone had assumed that, because of his age, he would be irresponsible: a spoiled brat who wasted his parents' money, squandering his time with drinking and gaming and missing lessons and meetings.
Dorian did so love to disappoint people.
He paused outside of Livius's conservatory and took a deep breath before putting on his invisible mask. What had happened with Lepidus was the past. But perhaps in the future…
"Dorian. Welcome." Livius opened the door without waiting for Dorian's usual knock. "I invited guests to today's tutorial."
Dorian pasted on a pleasantly blank smile. "I wish you'd have told me; I'd have taken more time to preen before coming," he said.
"No need to preen," his father said, rising from the low sofa on which he sat. "It's wonderful to see you again."
It felt like the whole of the Hissing Waste desert was in his mouth. "Father." He hesitated a moment and then bowed deeply, years of etiquette lessons kicking in when his brain could not calculate quickly enough what was happening. "It's been a long time. I hope you and mother are well," he said, because what did you say when you were dropped off at a Circle of Mages at the age of fifteen, and didn't see your either of your parents for the last two years?
The three men stood in a triangle, the silence so absolute that Dorian could almost hear the constant deep thrumming of magic that was always around, but that he'd learned to block out. "Enchanter Livius tells me you've excelled in your field," Halward said at last, and that seemed to break the spell of awkwardness that had descended over the room.
"I wasn't aware you'd spoken," Dorian said, glancing at Livius.
"He writes me letters on a regular basis. Since my son can't be bothered to," Halward said. He smiled, but his eyes were hard. Challenging. Able to reduce Dorian from seventeen to seven in a matter of seconds.
"My studies keep me occupied," Dorian said with a shrug.
"I am keen to see what you've been preparing," Halward said after a long stare at his son. "And there is to be a soiree this evening, at the estate of Magister Stephanos."
"How lovely, but how unexpected," Dorian said, trying desperately not to show how the news had shaken him. "My assistant is usually so on top of these things; I'm surprised he did not alert me." He glanced at Livius; the old man would likely not be on the guest list, since he'd outlived his usefulness. The First Enchanter would be present, and likely some of the top ranking Magister families.
Another show. Another performance.
The hour passed so slowly, with Livius droning on and on, that Dorian thought he would have to resurrect himself after dying from boredom. This was the usual way of things, but with his father in the room, he had to take extra care to appear interested and amenable to suggestions, even if Livius was full of hot air.
When he bowed to take his leave, his father followed him out into the hallway and silently accompanied him to his rooms. "I've missed you, Dorian," Halward said at last. "The house is quiet without you casting unsupervised spells."
"All the better for mother to finally get that beauty sleep I supposedly deprived her of," Dorian said. "Will she be gracing the soiree with her presence?" He waved his hand and the complex warding runes he'd placed on the door dissipated.
"Yes. She asked me to bring you this." He pointed to the box on Dorian's bed, which must have been laid out while he was in the conservatory.
Dorian pulled the cover off the box and stared at the set of robes in the Pavus family colors inside. His throat clenched up from panic. Tonight he would not be representing Vyrantium; he would be representing the Pavus household. "The occasion?" he choked out, blinking and keeping his smile pasted on. He sounded so calm. He just wanted to scream; to run outside and conjure a ball of fire and hurl it at anything that moved, to call down a lightning bolt to zap him out of existence before Halward could say what he was thinking.
"Stephanos's daughter Lavinia has been accepted for a position in Minrathous," Halward said. "He wishes to celebrate."
"And marry her off," Dorian said, clenching his hands.
"You will be of age next year," his father pointed out. "I know how fascinating your studies are, and I'm pleased you've found your talents as a Necromancer. It was a surprise to everyone, and not an unpleasant one at that. But the Enchanters with whom I speak from time to time, they say you've not yet shown much interest in the ladies here."
Dorian absently touched one end of his mustache. "So tonight isn't about Lavinia; it's about parading your son like a piece of meat in the market," he said.
"Dorian, there are obligations…"
"Father. I'm the youngest one here! Besides, I thought you shipped me to Vyrantium to serve the Imperium."
"Marriage will serve the Imperium as well as your studies."
Dorian sighed. "I'll go to this party this evening," he said. "But if I look like I'm asleep, it's probably because I find the death spirits in the Fade more palatable companionship."
Halward shook his head in disgust, but Dorian kept staring at his father until at last he left. Dorian stared at the robes and at the closed door, then sighed once more before replacing the privacy wards and calling softly for Lepidus.
"Magister Halward and Lady Desdemona Pavus," the announcer said, and Dorian's parents entered the hall of Magister Stephanos. "Lord Dorian Pavus of the Circle of Vyrantium," the man said next, and Dorian entered. He carried himself tall and proud, the only child and heir of the Pavus legacy. He knew he was dashing in the dark green brocade robe set, with the gold amulet on his chest. He knew they all looked at him with envy, maybe a little bit of bitterness. He knew that as much as he fit in, he was out of place.
"Dorian. So wonderful of you to leave the Circle," Magister Stephanos said in greeting. "We were beginning to believe Halward had locked you up for good," he said with a chuckle that made Dorian feel cold.
"My forays into Necromancy have proven demanding," he said. Good. When at a loss for words, impress them. "It's rewarding study, but demanding." And he grabbed a glass of wine from the first slave who passed him.
"I do hope you've not forgotten how to enjoy yourself," Stephanos's wife, Lady Perdia, said. "We did so enjoy seeing you dance with Magister Faustus's daughter at your mother's summer salon two years ago."
Dorian smiled and feigned embarrassment. "I hope I've improved since then, my lord and lady," he said. In truth he didn't really care. Lord Faustus's daughter was a self-important lackwit, like most young ladies in Tevinter. She'd stepped on his toes so many times that he'd gone to see a healer the next morning.
"I'm sure you have. The years could not be unkind to someone like you," said Lavinia Stephanos, appearing at her father's elbow. "Shall we test this theory?" she asked, and Dorian could almost hear the collective sigh of every other young lady in the hall as they put their hopes of having the first dance out of their minds. Oh, there were plenty of other eligible young Magisters' sons. But in Tevinter, everything was competition.
"You must explain Necromancy at some point," Lavinia said as she took his hand. "It sounds fascinating. I'll be studying spirits' roles in Creation Magic…" she said and went on and on, listing her tutors' names and her courses of study.
"You are quite qualified, Lady Lavinia," Dorian said, only half listening to her as he surveyed the other couples on the dance floor. It was like watching shadows dance; for some odd reason no one in his social circle seemed to favor color; it was as if they were showing disdain for the lands in the south. "Tell me more," he added, because if she was talking about herself, she wasn't asking him questions.
He barely had time to down a glass of wine before Viola Fabius was giggling and blushing and asking for a dance, and by the time he was dancing with Ursula Timonian it seemed as if all eyes were on him. His father stood up on the dais with Magister Stephanos, watching him as well, and those were the only eyes Dorian could really feel watching his every move.
Dorian excused himself at the end of the set, and apologized profusely to yet another Magister's daughter as he headed to the other side of the room from his father. His sarcastic remark about heading to the Fade was starting to sound better and better, but there was no lyrium present so he settled for sitting on a deep red velvet couch in a corner.
Next thing he knew someone was handing him another glass of wine. "Thank you, but I'm afraid I've quite exhausted my dancing for the time being," he said.
"How about gossip, then?" And before Dorian could respond, the dark-haired young man was sitting next to him, also sipping his own glass of wine and smiling. Even when he tried to look serious his eyes crinkled just slightly at the corners, and Dorian smiled in spite of himself. "Felix Alexius. Son of Gereon Alexius."
"Dorian Pavus. Son of Halward Pavus."
"I know. You're hard to ignore," Felix said. "It seems every Magister from Vyrantium to Minrathous is talking about you."
"I do leave an impression," Dorian said, raising his glass in a mock toast. "What's yours, I wonder?" he asked, feeling a little giddier than he probably should have. It had to be the wine and the dancing and the lack of any substantial food.
Felix stared out over the dance floor, and Dorian followed his gaze to where his father was talking with a Magister he didn't recognize. "You should flirt with the girls more," Felix said. "You don't have to mean any of it, but it will throw him off a bit."
Dorian blinked. "I just finished two full sets of dances with the most vapid young ladies in all of the Imperium."
Felix kept staring ahead. "Not just when dancing, but at other times. In your Circle. At home. People talk about what you don't do as much as the things you do."
"You're quite perceptive, Felix," Dorian said, keeping his tone light, though inside he was certain his intestines had grown legs and were trying to escape.
"I'm here to help," Felix said, finally turning to smile at him. "And I think I can. Your father came here tonight hoping to secure a marriage with Lavinia."
"I figured as much," Dorian said, and the prospect made him suddenly sad, and a little angry. "Do you plan to marry her instead, and save me a lifetime of suffering with your heroic action?" he asked.
Felix shook his head. "That's not as tempting as you make it sound," he said with a smile. "I can't stop a marriage proposal. But I can secure an apprenticeship with a Magister. It can buy you at least a year."
That was the sad truth of things. Felix could help him, but not the way Dorian needed, nor for nearly as long as he needed. One day he would have to bow to his father's wishes. Get married, sire perfect and powerful children, and wear a mask every single day, hating himself for lying to everyone around him. And most of all for lying to himself.
Still. It was better than nothing. One year, and he'd be of age and have more say in the course of his life.
"Several Magisters have expressed interest," Felix told him. "But I have… sway with my father. He rarely denies me anything I ask for," he said, and a flicker of sadness passed over his handsomely chiseled face.
"That's convenient," Dorian said. "So why would you ask for me?" he ventured, and immediately regretted his boldness. He would have to blame the wine later.
"Maybe someday I'll have an answer," Felix said. "Take care and consider what we've spoken of, Dorian." He rose, gave a quick bow, and was gone, leaving Dorian staring across the dance floor to where his father still sat, still watching and waiting, but for what, Dorian was not sure.
It was most disconcerting.
Author's Note: Thank you to those who took a chance and read and reviewed! Karebear, Phyreblade, Anon, and Oratorio, thank you for the kind words. I appreciate your time!