The third day brought along a few surprises. For starters, Alva number two tried to hang himself. He wasn't hurt though, being under magical protection. That meant a sharp blade wouldn't nick his skin, and if he would have jumped from the top of the tower, he wouldn't be even bruised.
"How else can I prove that I am the real one?" he wept, hiding his face on Ithildin's shoulder, who kind-heartedly comforted him.
Kintaro watched the scene with visible displeasure, leaning on the wall, thumbs hooked on his belt.
"This one I won't take," he said in a low voice, with barely contained disgust.
"Are you choosing pups from a litter?" Khattal chastised him, also in a low voice. "By the way, only this one wants to go with you."
"I don't give a damn who wants what."
"You should. At least about what your redhead wants. He could want something altogether different than you. Has it ever crossed your mind?"
"If he could come out and send us both to hell, your mistress wouldn't need this entire charade."
"Attaboy, there is some brain inside that thick skull of yours. But what if... What if he wants to test you? To know whether you love the real him or just your idea of him?"
Kintaro opened his mouth to argue and realised he had nothing to say. The Arislani, though, seemed to have said way more he was intending to. He changed the subject immediately, slipping in casually, "I slept with him a couple of times, right after he came here."
"Only a couple of times?" Kintaro echoed in a dull voice and turned away.
"And here I thought once you'd learned about that, you would try and rip me apart."
"Why would I? It was clearly his idea. He had to sleep with someone while we weren't around."
It wasn't easy to discourage Khattal. He went on, "He is really good in bed. I understand why you'd want him back."
Kintaro turned around and looked at Khattal point-blank.
"Do you think I've dragged myself over half the world only because the redhead is good in bed?"
"Why then?"
"Because I love him."
"Have you ever told him that? I bet you haven't. The likes of you always play the silent dangerous macho type."
"The likes of me are called superstitious savages by the civilized people," the nomad said curtly. "But the so-called civilized people have even more superstitions. For example, that you should always declare your love. For us, savages, love is like the sun, the wind, the running water. It just is." Kintaro paused and added, "Come to think of it, Alva had never said he loved me either. But I know it in my heart. That's why I won't give up."
Now it was Khattal who had nothing to say.
The white throne room was empty, but a brief search uncovered two other Chevaliers in a hidden alcove. They were caught in a position which left very little to the imagination.
"So what? I always wanted to sleep with myself!" the one on top said pertly. Since they both were almost naked, it was impossible to say which one it was, the one in scarlet velvet or the one in blue uniform.
Ithildin's eyes were glued to the scene, but the nomad shouldered him aside and drew the curtain shut. He didn't like to be an idle onlooker.
"I wonder how those illusions are cast," the elf said pensively. "Does the spell affect our sight and other senses, and there is really no one behind the curtain? Or is it the spell of disguise?"
"It's the spell of likeness," Khattal chimed in, as Ithildin expected him to. It's easy to avoid a direct question, but much more difficult to refrain from speaking when you can show off how clever you are. "All you need is a normal, flesh and blood person. The more he is alike, in appearance and in character, the better root the illusion will take. He behaves exactly like his likeness. Doesn't remember anything afterwards."
"How does he know how to behave?"
"He doesn't. He just does what is expected of him. Like reading minds."
"Why then the three of them behave differently?"
"It's likeness, not sameness. Some take this character trait, and some the other."
"And could a man under the spell of likeness keep his own personality and memories?" Ithildin asked in a flash of inspiration.
"Why, he could. Of course if the one who had cast the spell would let him. But the man in question would still be bound to play his role."
The elf locked himself with the nomad in their room and screwed his brains out passionately and vigorously on the fluffy rug before the fireplace, in a heated monologue.
"Khattal gave us the clue!" Ithildin went on and on, his eyes sparkling. "I thought before that every one of the three represents different parts of Alva's personality. There are so many different desires and urges coexisting inside him. Some part of him wants to leave with us, another − to stay with Dame Tallian, and so on. I thought we can choose any one or all three at once. But that's not true, I realise it now. I started to suspect the truth when I heard you speaking with Khattal, there by the window, when you said you loved Alva. You see, Taro, those fakes are constrained by our minds, they can't get outside the limits of our expectations, of our idea of Alva! We have a certain picture of him in our minds. But someone's personality is much more than a set of facial features and character traits. Everyone changes, even someone of the Ancient Race, and you humans do it in a flash compared to the elves. We have to find someone who had changed during the past year, who had ceased to be the Alva we knew. Only the real Alva can surprise us, be different, unusual, unexpected. Not at all like he was before."
"Then it's the first one or the second. The third is so much like Alva, it gives me the chills," Kintaro summed up. "But the problem is that I don't particularly like those two. They are too... strange."
"Maybe the right answer is that we should let Alva choose? He most likely knew beforehand what Dame Tallian was going to do. He would have found a way to get our attention."
"If he wanted to," Kintaro finished cheerlessly. "Maybe Khattal is right, and he doubts us and wants to make sure... Damn, talk of the devil!"
"Still racking your brains? Aren't you afraid they gonna explode?" Khattal said merrily, popping his head from behind the door. "Flip a coin and call it a day."
"A coin with three sides hasn't been invented yet." Ithildin looked at the Arislani from under his long lashes, thinking of a way to work him out for another clue.
"Two is enough. Heads − forget it, tails − to hell with it."
"Don't you have chores to do?" Kintaro asked good-naturedly. "Why are you always hanging with us?"
"As if you mind." Not waiting for an invitation, Khattal went inside and sat cross-legged on the rug beside them. "I have an agreement with Dame Tallian, and it concerns you two."
"What kind of agreement?"
The young man looked at Kintaro mischievously. "Kiss me, and I'll tell you."
Kintaro shrugged and half-rose. When he was about to press his lips to Khattal's mouth, the latter specified with a smirk, "Much lower."
Kintaro swore and lay down again. Ithildin couldn't help but snicker.
"All right, I'll tell you for free. I want to leave here too. I've had enough of this service. Dame Tallian promised to let me go, if you take me with you."
"As if we need you," the nomad muttered.
"Why not, if you help us recognize the real Alva," Ithildin said, always practical.
"You don't get it. If you take me instead of Alva."
Kintaro whistled. "The damn sorceress is nuts. No way, mate. Kiss your freedom goodbye."
"That's what I thought," Khattal said lightly, not a care in the world. "Why don't you blow me at least?"
It sounded so much like something the nomad would say that Ithildin started and looked at Khattal.
"Will I do?" he offered on impulse.
"And here I thought you were all chaste and faithful, like an elf."
In lieu of an answer Ithildin started to unfasten the collar of his tunic in a deliberately slow manner. Pulled it off over his head. Put his hand on Khattal's shoulders and touched his mouth with his lips, lightly at first, teasingly, then pressed harder and thrust his tongue into Khattal's mouth. Kintaro watched for a few heartbeats and then lost it and shoved his hands under Khattal's shirt.
"I get it," the Arislani said, catching his breath between kisses. "You want to seduce me and make me spill out Dame Tallian's secrets."
"We just wanna have sex," Kintaro said honestly.
With one hand Khattal untied the waistband of his shalwars and used the other to bend Kintaro's head down. Feeling the nomad's hot and wet mouth on his dick, the Arislani arched and let out a sob. Most likely he really hadn't had a man for a long time. In an instant he was ablaze with desire, even his irises flared up with magical fire. With his inhuman strength, he pushed Kintaro on all fours on the rug, tore off their pants, made some hasty preparations and entered him.
Ithildin, naked, lay down on his back, and Kintaro took him into his mouth.
The Arislani was good, very good. He knew how to please his partner. Kintaro followed his rhythm with his hips and his mouth, pleasing the elf. Khattal pressed his cheek to Kintaro's back and came, whispering in the Arislani tongue, "Ana bahabek, ana bahabek..."
After that they managed to throw some wood into the fireplace, pull off the white bear fur coverlet from the bed and wrap in it, and all that without standing upright and leaving the rug. The dark-skinned Khattal was almost invisible in the dark, only the whites of his eyes showed. But he closed his eyes almost at once and fell asleep, relaxed at last. The elf and the nomad followed his lead.
When they woke up, there were only glowing embers in the fireplace, and no sign of Khattal.
"I hate that tower, and that damn sorceress, and those fake redheads, and that black-faced bastard who had screwed me," Kintaro announced with a dreamy look which was in serious discord with his words. "The thing I hate most is how much I enjoyed it."
It was entirely possible that the said black-faced bastard was eavesdropping at the door, because he entered just a few moments later with a tray, looking very smug, his lips quivering in a suppressed smile.
"By the way, what does ana bahabek mean?" the nomad remembered suddenly.
"Umm, I would say 'nice ass' in polite society," the Arislani answered, with the most obscene look on his face.
Accompanied by Khattal, Ithildin and Kintaro spent half a day loitering about the tower, opening all the doors that weren't locked and peeping into the keyholes of those that were. They had a vague hope that somewhere behind a secret door they would find the fourth Alva, real to the core. If there was indeed a secret door, it was hidden all too well. They hadn't met a living soul, except for a few servants, cooks, a gardener in the winter garden and two gorgeous fluffy snow-white cats.
They spent the other half-day in conversation with the three Chevaliers, painstakingly trying to determine which one attracted them the most, stirred the strongest response in their souls, felt dearest to their hearts. But their feelings were poisoned with mistrust, and their hearts eaten up with suspicions. Ithildin and Kintaro could enjoy neither Chevalier's company.
But they definitely enjoyed Khattal's. They liked him more and more with every passing moment. His rough language was balanced with sincerity, his overfree manner − with cheerful disposition, his obtrusiveness − with the honest desire to help.
"Toady much?" the nomad said grimly when the Arislani started to massage his back.
"Lie down and shut up," Khattal snarled and pressed him into the mattress with his iron hands. He didn't shut up himself, though, and muttered under his breath, kneading the nomad's mighty shoulders, "What an ungrateful bastard, don't you know how to say 'thanks'? I bet your elf and your courtier have never done that."
"I have other use for them."
"Good idea." Khattal's palms got lower.
Kintaro's tense muscles melted under the Arislani's strong, masterful touch. He felt as if he was turning into pliable wax. He caught Khattal's wrist and pulled him on top of himself.
Ithildin was drawn to them like a needle to a magnet. His own desire confused him. He didn't need it to have sex, he could just let Khattal take him. Judging by Kintaro's moans, it would be even enjoyable. He could easily justify it: sex weakened the Arislani's self-control, made him more vulnerable. But Ithildin had a beloved, two of them. The only time he had almost cheated on Alva, ended very badly for all of them. But, according to strict elven principles, yesterday should be considered cheating, when he was taking pleasure so brazenly in Khattal's company.
The problem was he wanted it. He wanted to touch those lips, this dark skin, tight braids, strong hands, feel them on his hips, on his waist. Lecherous creature, how could you desire anyone else beside Lielle and Taro? he said to himself and tore off his gaze of the bed and everything that was happening in it.
Khattal, naked, put his arms around him, and the elf ceased to think coherently.