“What is this place?” Babette asked.
“It is ancient,” Iosef said. “It was built, the stories say, at Shashava’s command when he first arrived in this land, although some tales say that these crypts were made by the ones who came before him—whoever they may be.”
“Remarkable,” Babette said.
Iosef finally stopped at the foot of a mural, which depicted in icon-style a man dressed in simple robes. His hair was long and plaited, his hands upraised in a gesture of peace. As Babette gazed into the eyes of the man in the mural, she came to the singular conclusion that they were looking back at her, which was, of course, impossible.
She turned to Iosef.
“This is Great Shashava,” Iosef said, “the founder of our order. The mural was completed after his departure, of course. During his time among us, Shashava forbade images to be made of himself.”
“Departure?” Babette asked.
“I will come to that later,” Iosef said. He turned and continued further along the passage saying, “First, I must speak of Shashava himself. We know very little about him, I fear. And the records are conflicted. Some say that he was a prince in Babylon, others that he was a king in Persia. Still others suggest that he was the sole survivor of a great empire that ruled Asia when China was young. We may never know the certain truth. The more devout among us have even suggested that he was the son of Christ, or even Christ himself. They point to his name as if it were prophecy: Shashava, Shahanshah-va, the King of Kings. But as romantic as that belief is, they are wrong.”
“Why is that?” Babette asked.
“Because I have read the writings of those who were closest to him,” Iosef said. “Shashava predated Christ by centuries, if not millennia. His true age is unknown. Our records of him begin when he first arrived in Svaneti more than a thousand years ago, though they remain fragmented until he issued the first great calling.”
“Why did he come here?” Babette asked. “I do not mean to offend your homeland, but surely…”
“We believe that he had been searching the world for something,” Iosef said. “Something that he found in Svaneti, in this valley, in these very caves. The secret to our kind.”
He paused before continuing:
“You must understand that, while Shashava first gave us the cup of life, he never partook of it. Shashava was immortal long before the first Shashavani. I—and others—believe that he was searching for a means to bring immortality to others.”
“So that he would not be alone?” Babette asked.
“No one can say,” Iosef told her. “But that answer seems as good as any. Regardless of his reasons, when he came to Svaneti, he was met as an outsider. The local people held him in suspicion, but he soon impressed many of them with his piety, wisdom, and skill at arms. He eventually discovered this valley and settled it, claiming it as his own. Many people from throughout the region came to follow his banner. He even drew them from beyond Georgia, as you shall see. There were those who complained about his great authority. Kings and chieftains resisted their people seeking to join him, and many at first tried to wage war upon Shashava and his community. But each time, they were met and defeated. And through it all, Shashava was wise and magnanimous, never seeking to control anything but this valley.”
Iosef stopped her again in front of another mural, this one depicting three men, all richly dressed. One bore the appearance of a scholar, another a king, and the third seemed to Babette to be a holy man.
“These are The Three as we have come to call them,” he said. “They were among the first to join Shashava and to take the cup of life, and they became his closest companions until his departure. You will find many references to them when you study the history of our order. But in brief, here they are.”
He pointed toward the scholar and said:
“This is Konstantine, sometimes called Michael. He was a Georgian, possibly a Svan, who spent time among the Byzantines and the Arabs studying the writings of the ancient world. He was noted as a scientist of sorts and as a healer. I think you would find much in common with him.”
Iosef next pointed to the king.
“This is Valdemar called Vladimir, also known as Oleg, whom the Greeks called the Well-Born. That may well be the greatest testament to his quality, for he was born a chieftain among the pagan Rus, and yet he is remembered as a wise and cultured king. It is said that he devoted his life to the study of rulership and good governance.”
Iosef pointed toward the final image, the one of the holy man, saying:
“Lastly, my favorite. Marduk we call him, or sometimes Mordacai, though I am certain neither of those was his name. We know little about him. Like Shashava, he came ‘from the south’, but whether that means Persia or Arabia or India, no one can say. We know that he was a holy man, but we know nothing of his faith. He was a mystic, a magus perhaps, but even his own writings are cryptic when they speak of his origins.”
Iosef turned and continued down the passage.
“The Three represent the tripartite aspects of our order: science, leadership, and philosophy. There were others, of course, but The Three were closest to Shashava.”
He led her to another mural on a wall only a few feet away. The man depicted here looked different from the others. He was girded for war, much like Valdemar, but his face lacked the serenity of Shashava or The Three. They had all been as sainted and calm in their expressions as could be conveyed by the medium and the wear of age. This new man was neither saintly nor peaceful. His was the face of a warrior, a killer, and Babette shuddered to look upon the image.
“This is Basileios the Accursed,” Iosef said. “Accursed for reasons that I shall soon describe. He was a Byzantine general brought from Constantinople by Shashava for his knowledge of war. By all accounts, he was a great warrior and a natural leader, though Marduk writes often of Basileios’s great pride as well.
“There were others of course, but none remain. Some were killed over the course of time, others were exiled, and some left on great sojourns from which they never returned. The oldest Shashavani who is still with us is Sophio. She was but a child when Shashava came to these lands, and she is likewise the only member of her generation who remains.”
“Why is that?” Babette asked. “If you are immortal, why are the oldest members of your order missing?”
“A wise question,” Iosef said. “Walk with me further, and I shall explain.”
Babette followed him to the end of the passage. They were now deep in the earth, a place that knew neither day nor night. Iosef led her through a narrow doorway and into a cavern some two dozen feet tall and nearly as wide. The walls were mostly smooth, but they were formed by the very stone of the earth. The hand of man had done little more than wear away at the walls that nature itself had carved.
Iosef closed the lantern and set it aside. In the absence of firelight, the room was illuminated by a weird blue glow, something unnatural and unwholesome that crawled along the walls in spidery veins and clustered in shining masses in the cracks and crevices.
Fungus, Babette realized as she inspected one of the clusters. Glowing fungus.
She felt sick to her stomach and quickly drew away.
In the half-light of the cavern, Iosef spoke again:
“For centuries Great Shashava held court in this very castle, upon the throne now occupied by Sophio. He was part king, part priest, part teacher. Under his rule, this valley became a haven for knowledge. Our brothers and sisters went forth into the world, returning with stories, manuscripts, and artifacts from the furthest reaches of Europe, Asia, and Africa. Had we known of the Americas at that time, our scholars would have journeyed there as well.”
Iosef began walking the length of the chamber with careful steps. Babette quickly followed him, casting an uncertain eye toward the shimmering walls. The fungus intrigued her, but it also made her shiver. She could not understand why.
“We did our best to refrain from mortal affairs,”
Iosef continued, “though I fear our order did become embroiled in some matters. When David the Builder united Georgia at the turn of the twelfth century, our soldiers marched with him. There were other times as well when we worked openly, but for the most part, we kept our involvement confined to the shadows, content to watch and guide while we amassed our coveted storehouses of knowledge.
“Throughout this time, Shashava would periodically depart on sojourns to the far parts of the world. He always went alone and never spoke of where he went or what he had seen. He commonly left for a year or two, and never more than a decade, though his departures became longer and more frequent as time passed. The only time that he remained here consistently was during the reign of Queen Tamar who, the records say, visited Shashava to seek his council whenever she journeyed to Svaneti. Then, after Tamar’s death in 1213, Shashava departed again and did not return. The Three were too busy with their studies and their students to rule, and Basileios became the Vicar of Shashava.
“When the Mongol hordes arrived in 1220, our soldiers rode out with the Georgians to meet them. We recognized the invaders for who they were, and this confused us. Our scholars knew the Mongols as a fractured people. Now they were united in a single great army. Even The Three knew not what to make of it. There was talk of direct intervention, of killing their generals by night and fracturing them again, but we hesitated. And because we hesitated, Georgia burned.”
Iosef stopped midway across the chamber and turned toward Babette.
“We were still undecided when the Mongols returned in 1236, and by then it was too late to save Georgia. But we did what we could in the aftermath. When the Mongols ravaged the lowlands—during the invasion and in retaliation for the revolts and rebellions that followed it—we opened our gates to their victims. The displaced, the orphaned, the landless, all were welcomed into the valley. It was an act of kindness, certainly, and I believe there may have been some plan to train them for a war of liberation. But that task seems to have fallen to Basileios, and he had a different plan for them.
“I must emphasize, Varanus, that for the Shashavani, life is a constant battle against temptation. We know the same appetites as mortals, though they are…changed…in a manner that I cannot describe. And with our greater physical prowess, the ease with which we might indulge ourselves feeds our baser instincts. So it was with Basileios.”
“What happened?” Babette asked breathlessly.
“During his reign, Basileios gathered a cohort around him filled by those Shashavani whose lusts outmatched their discipline. In other days they would have been exiled, but under his reign they were indulged. With The Three distracted by their studies, Basileios and his ilk slaughtered and feasted among the refugees, indulging such gluttony and cruelty as I cannot describe.
“Eventually The Three and their acolytes emerged from their cloistered existence and discovered the perversion that Basileios has wrought. In horror, they ordered him into exile for his crimes. He refused. War followed.
“It was long and it was bloody.” Iosef sighed at the very thought of it, his expression grave. “Though the majority of our order knew that Basileios’s crimes had to be punished, those that followed him were largely men and women skilled in battle. The army that he had trained flocked to his side in great numbers, and The Three and those loyal to Shashava’s laws were forced to flee the castle. They fought from hiding for many years, aided by the mortals in the villages. Basileios dared not leave the safety of the castle. When he dispatched warbands into the wilds of the valley to hunt down the loyalists, the men seldom returned.”
“How was the stalemate broken?” Babette asked.
“Sophio,” Iosef said. “At that time she was the chief librarian of the castle, and when the war broke out, she feigned allegiance to Basileios and remained there. After years of work, she finally lulled him into a state of complacency. One day, while Basileios slept, she entered his chambers and cut his head from his body. Before her act was discovered, she helped The Three enter through a passage in the crypts. After heavy fighting, the castle was finally retaken.
“But in the wake of the civil war, The Three were confronted with grave uncertainty. How could the Shashavani order hold itself free from corruption without Shashava’s guidance? If Basileios had been corrupted, any of them could be. And so The Three set off to search the world for Shashava. Like Shashava, they have yet to return.”
“Is that why there are so few of your kind?” Babette asked. “The civil war?”
“In part,” Iosef said. “Some died, yes. But many others were lost in the time that followed. When The Three left, a council of the eldest was left in charge, instructed to rule by consensus until leadership could be returned. Over the years that followed, new conflicts broke out between these elders. They struggled for supremacy, each claiming the right to be Vicar of Shashava. Camps formed and soon our order had turned upon itself. Many died; many more were sent into exile as their leaders were outmaneuvered. Eventually, Sophio intervened. Once she became the eldest member of the house, she immediately claimed the throne. She called for a return to order and offered amnesty to any who agreed to give up their thirst for power in favor of Shashava’s laws. Most of the survivors agreed. Those few who did not were immediately put down.”
“How grim,” Babette said.
“Indeed,” Iosef said. “Unfortunate as well. Some of the greatest minds the world has ever known were lost because of corruption, greed, and folly. It is a lesson to all of us who remain.”
“Which brings us to the present, I presume,” Babette said.
“Indeed.”
Iosef motioned for her to follow again and led her to the far end of the cavern. As they approached, Babette saw a great pool of iridescent water that covered the floor. It was shallow at first, but it soon sloped downward into a flooded pit that had no visible ending. A large metal chalice sat next to the pool, bound to the shore by a length of steel chain bolted into the rock.
Iosef knelt by the pool and filled the chalice with water.
“Now, Varanus,” he said, “you must make a choice. You must decide whether you truly wish to take the oath to Shashava and join our order.”
“Of course I—” Babette began.
Iosef shook his head and said, “You must listen, Varanus. Hear what I have to tell you first. Haste will not avail you here.”
Babette nodded and bowed her head.
“Of course,” she said. “What must I consider?”
“When you drink this water, one of three things will happen,” Iosef said. “First, you may die.”
“Die?” Babette exclaimed. “What do you mean die?”
“I mean just that, Varanus,” Iosef said. “You may die. The cup of life is not a means to cheat death. Its purpose is far greater than that. To become one of us, you must accept your mortality and confront it.”
Babette slowly nodded. That made sense. And what if she died? She would not know it. Would she?
“Is it painful?” she asked.
“No,” Iosef said. “In all cases, you will fall into slumber. The only question is whether or not you will awaken.”
Babette took a deep breath and said, “Very well, I accept the possibility of death.”
“Second,” Iosef said, “you may become like Luka or Ekaterine. You will be healthier than you are now, fitter, stronger. You will have little to fear from illness, and you will measure your life not in decades but in centuries. But you will still walk in the shadow of death. In time, you will age and die.”
“I understand,” Babette said. “And third, I become like you?”
“Yes,” Iosef said, nodding. “Third, you may become as I am: immortal, unchanging. You will not age from this day forth. You will know power that you cannot yet imagine. But you must never abuse that power for your own ends. You will be tempted as never before, and you must resist it for all eternity. Should you break your oath and indulge the temptation of power, you will be killed. Do you underst
and?”
“I understand,” Babette said.
“Good.”
“Will I drink blood?” Babette asked.
“Yes,” Iosef said. “You do not have to, but it is far more expedient than other meals. And but a little blood will be like a feast to you.”
Babette smiled a little at this thought. Somehow, the idea of blood excited her.
Iosef looked into her eyes and said, “You enjoy the thought of blood.”
“No, I—” Babette said quickly.
“You do,” Iosef said. “Be cautious, Varanus. That is a temptation you must guard against.”
“I understand,” Babette said.
“Good,” Iosef said. “Know also that for a time the touch of the sun will harm you. It may even kill you. It will be like the touch of fire.”
“As it is with you?” Babette asked.
“Worse,” Iosef said. “It will lessen over time, as it has with me, but you must be careful.”
Babette nodded but said nothing.
Iosef raised the chalice and said, “If you are prepared, you will take the oath. Do you, Babette Varanus, swear upon all that you hold in esteem to uphold the laws of Shashava? To resist temptation and corruption with all your strength? And to devote your life from now until the Day of Judgment to the search for knowledge and the betterment of humanity?”
“I swear it,” Babette said.
“And do you swear to preserve our secrets from the uninitiated?” Iosef asked.
“I do.”
“Do you swear to respect those who have come before you for their great wisdom and to guide those who will come after you? To conduct yourself with honor at all times and to seek the honor in others?”
Babette hesitated for a moment before replying, “Yes, I swear it.”
“Very well then.” Iosef pressed the chalice into her hands. “Then drink of the waters of life, Varanus, and may God decide your fate.”
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