“There are fifteen children currently part of the household,” Carstairs continued. “Including the Lord’s son Kafele. Most, like your charges, will be away at school until the end of the summer term. When they are here they will be given some supervised activities and of course are forbidden the Underhouse, but are otherwise free to explore. It’s a glorious place for a child. So long as the chaos is limited, play is encouraged. I had endless adventures learning its corridors.”
“You grew up here?” Rian asked.
“My parents are also of the Nomarch’s Bound,” Carstairs said. “After I had my fill of travelling, I returned.” He smiled, perhaps in response to her expression. “It’s the politics that drew me back. Lord Msrah has a finger on the world’s pulse, and I missed knowing so much about what was going on.”
The patio doors rattled violently, and he turned to pull a chased bronze lever. With a subdued whir, metal wings descended. Rian had seen the blue and silver expanses above the windows when she arrived. Ma’at’s Wings: protective blessings in the Egyptian style. She had not realised that they functioned as shutters.
“Are there levers outside?” she asked, picturing herself locked out after some midnight snooping.
“Yes, though they will sound an alert if used,” he said, directing her toward a collection of chairs by the fireplace. “And if the House is under attack the shutters can only be released from inside, either at the central control, or with an override.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Actual attacks, no. More than a few false alarms. See over there—” He indicated a series of labelled bellpulls. “The red is the alarm. That will lock down the entire House. The last time there was any real reason to use it was nearly twenty years ago, during the Automaton Riots. If it’s something less than an invading force, use the Security pull.”
He went on to describe routines of the household: meals, mail, laundry, cleaning. The location of the Nomal House’s Circle, and also arrangements to accommodate visitors who did not bow to the Trifold. And then, at last, the part of Rian’s future that was the price of her investigation.
“You must begin to prepare yourself at least two days before you are due to serve the Lord,” Carstairs said. “Conserve your energy so your ka is at its peak. Avoid alcohol, and foods that affect the potency of your blood—strawberries, peppermint, cinnamon, aniseed—the list is quite long. You’ll find a copy in your room, but we simplify the issue by placing ‘safe’ meals in green serving dishes. It’s no disaster if there is some slip, but of course we aim to be as efficacious as possible. Do not use tobacco or opium at all.”
“The Lord usually rises in the early afternoon. On the day you are to serve, be ready any time from midday. You should not leave the house on the day of your service, and no further than the grounds during the two days before. Ensure that your clothing does not prevent access to your wrists.”
Watered-down, antiseptic domestication. Rian shook the thought away as Carstairs rose and pulled back one sleeve to expose walnut-toned flesh. There were no marks, no scarring.
“Avoid perfumes during the preparation days, and of course wash well. The Lord will send for you soon after rising, and we usually wait here or in our rooms as a matter of convenience. He will lick your wrist, which will numb the physical sensation somewhat, but not enough for your skin to not know it has been pierced. Unless circumstances are unusual, he will take little blood—between a spoonful and half a cup. Only if he has been injured will he need more. The amount of ka he draws from you will vary considerably, particularly if he has weather work to do. Life force recovers more quickly than blood, so there will be times when he draws heavily, and when he does so, the wound will be shallow, merely an access to your ka, rather than your blood. Only on the rarest of occasions will he deeply drink both. You’ve gone very pink.”
Startled, Rian laughed. “It’s…odd to apply to myself,” she said, and saw comprehension in Carstairs’ eyes. It did not help that he was a more than attractive man. Habitually correct, but saved from pomposity by an equal measure of charm.
“There is an inevitable amount of embarrassment,” he said. “But the Lord is very good, and sees no need to underline certain aspects. It’s not the drawing of blood, but the ka that is the challenge to face. First because it hurts—it always hurts, a sensation almost as if your breath is being stolen away, or as if you are being threaded through a needle. During the bonding, the Lord will draw only lightly on your ka, to limit your distress, but he will drink deeply of your blood. Then he will cut his finger and mingle his blood with that at your wrist, before allowing you to drink from him. Not a great deal, and after the first time only a few drops, to keep you at a balance. You will feel his ka transferring to you, and when you have drunk you will stay in the Underhouse while the Lord’s blood reproduces in you. As you were warned, there are risks—there can be very individual physical reactions to colonisation—so you are monitored during the transition. For the first week or so after the bonding you will be sensitive to light, but you will stabilise as the colony matures. You will likely begin to be aware of the presence of living creatures near to you, and notice an increase in physical strength. And, since the Lord is of the Shu line, you will become quite sensitive to changes in the weather.”
Because she would have gone part of the way toward becoming a weather vampire. Not a small change. “That must make days like this—”
“Gales can try the nerves, yes. Though it is useful for avoiding being caught out in the rain. Once the growth of the Lord’s blood has stabilised it will be considerably more beneficial for him to drink from you, and your ka will have become aligned with his so that, while it still hurts when he draws it, it is—” He paused, full lips quirking. “It is a sweet pain.”
Many centuries of literature had dwelled on that ‘sweet pain’, so this was certainly not news, but it was rare to discuss it with someone who had experienced it.
“What are unusual circumstances?”
“Outside of injury? If something has prevented him from feeding for a period. Difficult manipulations of the weather. Or if he journeys somewhere we cannot go, when he may store against future need. It is rare that we wouldn’t travel with him, however.”
“Evie, the Lord wants you.”
The speaker was a freckle-spattered young woman in a blue tea gown of the Continental style. Carstairs stood immediately, with a murmur of apology for Rian, and resumed his coat.
“This is Dama Hackett. Delia, Arianne Seaforth. Dama Hackett will look after you, Dama Seaforth.”
“Been having the speech?” Dama Hackett asked, as Carstairs strode briskly off. “Are you thoroughly mortified?”
“Just squirming.” Rian smiled at the red-headed woman, and added her to her list of possible suspects. “Are you—?”
“One of the Lord’s Bound? Yes and no—I’m technically still bound, but the Lord has begun the process of releasing the bond. Though they say it never leaves you fully. You’re my replacement.”
For some reason this made Rian feel awkward, but the woman patted her arm companionably.
“And so looking forward to it. I’m off to kick up my heels, disport on sun-kissed beaches, dance in the snow and racket about, mad and wild. To…to live a disorderly life.”
“Is it so very structured here?” Rian asked, as they headed back toward her bedroom.
“Your time will be structured. Sheerside itself can be very variable, since so many dignitaries visit to consult Lord Msrah, and new staff are always coming and going. Today everything’s been a hidden hive thanks to the First Minister arriving—or, more to the point, not leaving, and bringing extras. But—” The woman shrugged. “Two weeks from now will be my hundredth birthday, and I’ve seen the world change and change again, but I don’t feel like I’m living in it. And…” Her lips curved. “And, to be frank, Evie was starting to look a little too tempting. After dallying with both his parents over the years, and having wiped his bottom for him when he was a tot, I can’t quite reconcile myself to temptation.”