by Anne Rice
"What more. There is no more. Only that the woman was powerful and no easy enemy. You know Eudoxia always spoke of such things. The woman could not be destroyed, nor would she tell the origin of her great strength. To Eudoxia it was a mystery—until you came to Constantinople, and she saw you, Marius, the Roman, in your brilliant red robes, moving through the square at evening, pale as marble, yet with all the conviction of a mortal man."
She paused. She put her hand up to touch the side of my face.
"Don't cry. Those were her words: 'with all the conviction of a mortal man.' "
"How then did you learn of the Mother and the Father?" I asked, "and what do such words mean to you?"
"She spoke of them in amazement," she said. "She said you were rash if not mad. But you see, she would go one way and then the other, that was always in her nature. She cursed you that the Mother and the Father were in this very city, and yet she wanted to bring you here to her house. On account of this, I had to be hidden. Yet she kept the boys for whom she cared so little. And I was put away."
"And the Mother and the Father?" I asked. "Do you know what they are?"
She shook her head. "Only that you have them, or had them when she spoke of it. Are they the First of us?"
I didn't answer her. But I believed her, that this was all she knew, extreme as it was.
And now I did penetrate her mind, calling on my power to know her past and present, to know her most secret and casual thoughts.
She looked at me with clear unquestioning eyes, as if she felt what I was doing to her, or trying to do, and it seemed that she would not hold anything back.
But what did I learn? Only that she had told me the truth. / know no more of your beautiful blood drinker. She was patient with me, and then there came a wave of true grief. / loved Eudoxia. You destroyed her. And now you cannot leave me alone.
I stood up and went again to walking about the room. Its sumptuous
Byzantine furnishings stifled me. The thick patterned hangings seemed to fill the air with dust. And nowhere could I glimpse the night sky from this chamber, for we were too far from the inner garden court.
But what did I want just now? Only to be free of this creature, no, free of the whole knowledge of her, of the whole awareness of her, free of ever having seen her, and that was quite impossible, was it not?
Suddenly a sound interrupted me and I realized that at last Avicus and Mael had come.
They found their way through the many rooms to the bedchamber, and as both of them entered, they were astonished to see the gorgeous young woman seated on the side of the immense heavily draped bed.
I stood silent while the two of them absorbed the shock. Immediately
Avicus was drawn to Zenobia, as drawn to her as he had been to Eudoxia, and this creature had yet to speak a single word.
In Mael I saw suspicion and a bit of concern. He looked to me searchingly. He was not spellbound by the young woman's beauty. His feelings were under his command.
Avicus drew near to Zenobia, and as I watched him, as I watched his eyes fire with a passion for her, I saw my way out. I saw it plainly, and when I did, I felt a terrible regret. I felt my solemn vow to be alone weigh heavily upon me, as if I had taken it in the name of a god, and perhaps I had. I had taken it in the name of Those Who Must Be Kept. But there must be no more thoughts of them now, not in Zenobia's presence.
As for the child woman herself, she was far more drawn to Avicus, perhaps because of his immediate and obvious devotion, than she was to the distant and somewhat suspicious Mael.
"Thank you for coming," I said. "I know it was not your choice to set foot in this house."
"What's happened?" Mael asked. "Who is this creature?"
"The companion of Eudoxia, sent away for her own protection until the battle with us could be finished, and now that it is finished, here is the child."
"Child?" asked Zenobia gently. "I am no child."
Avicus and Mael both smiled indulgently at her, though her look was grave and disapproving.
"I was as old as Eudoxia," she said, "when the Blood was given to her. 'Never make a blood drinker of a greater age,' said Eudoxia. 'For a greater mortal age can only lead to misery later on from habits learned in mortal life.' All of Eudoxia's slaves received the Blood at my age, and were therefore no longer children, but blood drinkers prepared for eternal life within the Blood."
I said nothing to this, but I never forgot it. Mark me. I never forgot it. Indeed, there came a time a thousand years after, when these words meant a great deal to me, and they came to haunt my nights and to torture me. But we will come soon enough to that, for I mean to pass over that thousand years very quickly. But let me return to my tale.
This little speech from Zenobia was spoken tenderly as all her words had been spoken, and when she finished it I could see that Avicus was charmed. This did not mean that he would love her completely or forever, mind you, I knew that. But I could see that there was no barrier between the child and himself.
He drew closer still and seemed at a loss to express his respect for her beauty, and then, surprising me completely, he spoke to her:
"My name is Avicus," he said. "I am a long-time friend of Marius." Then he looked at me, and then back to Zenobia. He asked: "Are you alone?"
"Quite alone," said Zenobia, though she did glance at me first to see if I meant to silence her, "and if you — all of you or perhaps one of you — do not take me with you out of here, or remain with me in this house, I'm lost."
I nodded to both my long-time companions.
Mael gave me a withering look and shook his head in negation. He glanced at Avicus. But Avicus was still looking at our child.
"You won't be left here unprotected," said Avicus, "that's unthinkable.
But you must leave us alone now, so that we may talk. No, you remain where you are. There are many rooms in this house. Marius, where can we gather? "
"The library," I said at once. "Come, both of you. Zenobia, don't be afraid, and don't try to listen, for you may hear only parts of what we say, and all is what matters. All is what will contain the true sentiments of the heart."
I led the way, and we quickly seated ourselves in Eudoxia's fine library just as we had only a short time before.
"You must take her," I said. "I can't do it. I'm leaving here and I'm taking the Mother and the Father, just as I've told you. Take her under your wing."
"This is impossible," Mael declared, "she's far too weak. And I don't want her! I tell you that plainly, I don't want her!"
Avicus reached out and covered Mael's hand with his own.
"Marius can't take her," said Avicus. "He's speaking the simple truth. It's not a choice. He cannot have such a little creature with him."
"Little creature," said Mael disgustedly. "Say what's really the truth. She is a frail creature, an unknowing creature, and she will bring us harm."
"I beg you both, take her," I said. "Teach her all that you know. Teach her what she needs to be on her own."
"But she's a woman," said Mael disgustedly. "How could she ever be on her own?"
"Mael, when one is a blood drinker such a thing doesn't matter," I said. "Once she is strong, once she truly knows everything, she can live like Eudoxia once lived if she chooses. She can live any way that she likes."
"No, I don't want her," said Mael. "I will not take her. Not for any price or on any terms."
I was about to speak but when I saw the look on his face, I realized he was telling the truth more completely than he knew himself. He would never be reconciled to Zenobia, and if I did leave her with him, I would be leaving her in danger. For he would abandon her or desert her, or even worse. It would only be a matter of time.
I looked to Avicus only to see that he was miserably at the mercy of Mael's words. As always he was in Mael's power. As always he could not break free of Mael's anger.
Avicus pleaded with him. Surely it would not change their lives so very much. They could teach
her to hunt, could they not? Why, surely she knew already how to hunt. She wasn't so very human, this lovely little girl. It wasn't hopeless, and shouldn't they do what I had asked?
"I want her to be with us," said Avicus warmly. "I find her lovely. And I see in her a sweetness that touches my heart."
"Yes, there is that," I said. "It's very true, this sweetness."
"And why is such a thing of use in a blood drinker?" asked Mael. "A blood drinker should be sweet?"
I couldn't speak. I thought of Pandora. The pain in me was simply too intense for me to form words. But I saw Pandora. I saw her, and I knew that she had always combined both passion and sweetness, and that both men and women can have such traits, and this child,
Zenobia, might grow in both.
I looked off, unable to speak to either of them as they argued, but I realized suddenly that Avicus had grown angry, and that Mael was
boiling to a rage.
When I looked back to them, they fell silent. Then Avicus looked at me as if for some authority which I knew that I did not possess.
"I can't command your future," I said. "I'm leaving you as you know."
"Stay and keep her with us," said Avicus.
"Unthinkable!" I said.
"You're stubborn, Marius," said Avicus softly. "Your own strongest passions frighten you. We could be the four of us in this house."
"I've brought about the death of the owner of this house," I said, "I cannot live in it. It is blasphemy against the old gods that I linger this long. The old gods will bring about vengeance not so much because they exist but because I once honored them. As for this city, I've told you, I must leave it, and I must take Those Who Must Be Kept to where they are truly secret and safe."
"The house is yours by right," said Avicus. "And you know this. You've offered it to us."
"You didn't destroy her," I said. "Now let us return to the question at hand. Will you take this girl? "
"We will not," said Mael.
Avicus could say nothing. He had no choice.
I looked away once more. My thoughts were purely and completely with Pandora on the isle of Crete, something which I could not even envision. Pandora, the wanderer. I said nothing for the longest while.
Then I rose without addressing either one of them, for they had disappointed me, and I went back into the bedchamber where the lovely young creature lay on the bed.
Her eyes were closed. The lamplight was soft. What a lush and passive being she seemed to be, her hair cascading over the pillow, her skin flawless, her mouth half closed.
I sat down beside her.
"Besides your beauty, why did Eudoxia choose you?" I asked. "Did she ever say?"
She opened her eyes as if startled, which could be the case with one so young, and then she reflected before answering, to say finally in a soft voice:
"Because I was quick of wit and knew whole books by memory. She had me recite them to her." Without rising from the pillows, she held her hands as if she had a bound book in them. "I could but glance at a page and remember all of it. And I had no mortals to grieve for. I was but one of a hundred attendants to the Empress. I was a virgin. I was a slave."
"I see. Was there anything more?"
I was aware that Avicus had come to the door, but I said nothing to acknowledge him.
Zenobia thought for a moment, then answered:
"She said my soul was incorruptible, that though I'd seen
wickedness in the Imperial palace, I could still hear music in the rain."
I nodded. "Do you still hear it, this music?"
"Yes," she said. "More than ever, I think. Though if you leave me here, it won't sustain me."
"I'm going to give you something before I leave you," I said.
"What is that? What can it be?" She sat up, pushing herself back against the pillows. "What can you give me that will help me?"
"What do you think?" I asked gently. "My blood."
I heard Avicus gasp at the doorway, but I paid no attention to it. Indeed, I paid no attention to anything but her.
"I'm strong, little one," I said, "very strong. And after you've drunk from me, as long as you wish and however much you wish, you'll be a different creature from the one you are now."
She was mystified and drawn by the notion. Timidly she lifted her hands and placed them on my shoulders.
"And this I should do now?"
"Yes," I said. I was seated firmly there, and I let her take hold of me, and as I felt her teeth go into my neck, I gave out a long sigh. "Drink, precious one," I said. "Pull hard to take as much blood from me as you can."
My mind was flooded with a thousand tripping visions of the Imperial palace, of golden rooms, and banquets, of music and magicians, of the daylight city with its wild chariot races crashing through the Hippodrome, of the crowd screaming with applause, of the Emperor rising in his Imperial box to wave to those who worshiped him, of the huge processions passing into Hagia Sophia, of candles and incense, and once again of palatial splendor, this time beneath this roof.
I grew weak. I grew sick. But it didn't matter. What mattered was she must take all that she could.
And at last, she fell back on the pillows, and I looked down at her, and I saw her cheeks stark white with the Blood.
Scrambling to sit up, to look at me, she stared like a newborn blood drinker as if she'd never had the true vision of the Blood before.
She climbed off the bed and walked about the room. She made a huge circle, her right hand clenching the fabric of her tunic, her face shining with its new whiteness, her eyes wide and swimming and bright.
She stared at me as if she'd never seen me before. Then she stopped, obviously hearing distant sounds to which she'd been deaf. She put her hands to her ears. Her face was full of quiet awe and
sweetness, yes, sweetness, and then her eyes played over me.
I tried to climb to my feet but I was too weak for it. Avicus came to help me but I waved him away.
"What have you done to her!" he said.
"You see what I've done," I answered. "Both of you, you who wouldn't take her. I've given her my blood. I've given her a chance."
I went to Zenobia and made her look at me.
"Pay attention to me," I said. "Did Eudoxia tell you of her early life?" I asked. "Do you know that you can hunt the streets as a man?"
She stared at me with her new eyes, too dazzled, uncomprehending.
"Do you know that your hair, if cut, will grow back in the space of one day, and be as long and full as before?"
She shook her head, her eyes passing over me and over the myriad bronze lamps of the room, and over the mosaics of the walls and the floor.
"Listen to me, lovely creature, I don't have that much time to teach you," I said. "I mean to leave you armed with knowledge as well as strength."
Assuring her again that her hair would grow back, I cut it off for her, watching as it fell to the floor, and then taking her to the rooms of the male blood drinkers, I dressed her in male clothes.
Then ordering Mael and Avicus sternly to leave us, I took her out with me into the city, and tried to show her the manner in which a man would walk, and how fearless he might be, and what was the life of the taverns, which she'd never even dreamt of, and how to hunt on her own.
All the while I found her enchanting as I had before. She seemed now to be her own older, wiser sister. And as she laughed over the usual wasted cup of wine at the table in the tavern, I found myself half resolving that I would urge her to come with me, but then I knew I could not.
"You don't really look like a man, you know," I said to her, smiling, "hair or no hair."
She laughed. "Of course, I don't. I know it. But to be in such a place as this, a place I'd never see if it weren't for you."
"You can do anything now," I told her. "Merely think on it. You can be male. You can be female. You can be neither. Seek the Evil Doer as I do and you will never choke on death. But always, whatever your joys, whatever
your misery, don't put yourself in danger of the judgment of others. Measure your strength and take care."
She nodded, her eyes wide with fascination. Of course the men in the tavern shot glances at her. They thought I had brought my pretty boy out drinking with me. Before things got out of hand, I left with her, but not before she had tested her powers to read the minds of those around her, and to daze the poor slave boy who had brought our wine.
