Over the course of the first week, Gareth came once to check on Adele's comfort and haunted the chambers, inspecting her accoutrements, seemingly eager for gratitude or conversation. She refused to acknowledge him when he asked about her welfare. He contented himself to stare at her in a fashion that unnerved her, neither aggressive nor angry, but instead unnaturally attentive and curious. There was an attempt at personal connection in his gaze that frightened Adele and threatened not her person, but her personality. Even though he never asked for any sort of political information, he wanted something from her. She stared hard into the corner until Gareth sighed and departed.
Adele had seen no one since Gareth's visit until the day she spotted the figure walking across the yard in the direction of her rooms. She froze in amazement at the window. He was clearly human, a free human. There were differences in how vampires and humans moved and carried themselves. Bloodmen usually had a soulless slump, but this man strode with head up, alert, quick on his feet. He wore his sandy, grey-streaked hair long and tied in a ponytail behind him and had a beard that was heavy and unkempt. He was clad in the fashion of an outdoorsman, but looked more like a scholar forced into the wilderness than a true Ranger like Greyfriar. All he carried was a rucksack over one shoulder and some peculiar device dangling from his belt that looked like a combination sextant and astrolabe.
Vampires crouched along the crumbling slates of the Tower complex and flitted through the air. Surely they could see the man; he was in plain view. Yet they didn't react. The presence of the dark fiends crouching around him concerned the man, because he glanced toward them frequently as he trod across the yard, but he came all the same, with his face tense and lined with effort. He was concentrating to the point of being in pain.
A geomancer. Mamoru had told her that it was possible for people to master certain arcane arts that let them go unnoticed by vampires. Even Greyfriar had dismissed them as myths. Incredibly, this man appeared to be the very thing. So there were spies roaming Britain, just as Cesare feared. That thought made Adele smile.
When the man looked up at the window and saw Adele, he placed a finger to his lips to beg her silence before he began to climb the pile of rubble that crowded the wall. His foot dislodged a stone and it clattered loudly. Several vampires turned, with heads tilted like alert dogs. Their eyes locked on Adele at the window rather than on the man. He stayed perfectly still, and the princess felt it was important not to look at him. The vampires soon turned away with disinterest, and the man began to climb again, slower and more carefully, testing handholds and footing before putting his weight behind them.
When he reached a point only a few feet below Adele's window, he whispered in a smooth Alexandrian accent, "Your Highness, don't speak. Forgive my impertinence, but I can't afford for you to attract attention to me. My name is Selkirk. Look here quickly and then look away."
Adele glanced down furtively. Selkirk held up one hand to reveal a tattoo of a sinuous dragon on his palm. Mamoru had a similar tattoo on his left palm, along with a tiger on his right. Adele felt a great thrill at the familiar and comforting sight so far from home.
The man said, "Mamoru is my teacher. I am his geomancer here in Britain."
Adele was confused. Geomancer or not, Mamoru had no students other than Adele. He was an imperial tutor, exclusively employed by the court. Maybe this man Selkirk had been Mamoru's geomancy student in Java. She knew Mamoru took an inordinate interest in that topic. He had instructed her in some of its rudiments even though she hadn't really taken to the subject; it seemed a bit vast and distant, sometimes even silly. Adele always preferred subjects that had a more human dimension, such as martial arts and ethics.
Selkirk's whisper shook her from her thoughts. "Don't despair. I will send word to Mamoru that you are alive and well. We will bring you-"
"Princess?" A voice came from behind her.
Adele spun to see Prince Gareth standing in the doorway with raised eyebrows.
"Is someone out there?" The vampire moved quickly toward the window.
Adele met Gareth halfway and blocked his path. "No. I talk to myself because there is no one here I deign to speak to."
The vampire slipped around her and leaned out the window. Adele froze.
Gareth drew back inside and asked, "Was Cesare or Flay here?"
Adele paused. Had Prince Gareth not seen Selkirk? Was that possible? Her head shook slowly in response to Gareth's question.
"You can tell me without fear of retribution. I will deal with my brother. He has no claim on you now that I'm here."
Adele thought he sounded almost sincere, but that was impossible. Vampires had no emotions except hunger. Still, this one had mastered the mimicry of sympathy. He knew how to incline his head just so and peer at her out of crystal blue eyes, but he was merely hiding cruelty, and she saw the razor edges of his teeth when he spoke. She shook her head again and, to pull his attention from the window, she crossed the room with pantomime frailty.
Adele cleared her throat loudly. "I want to thank you. For your kindness. These rooms. The food." She feigned a near swoon and held herself up on the door frame. "Cesare was so brutal."
Gareth merely watched her curiously.
Adele swallowed the bitterness she tasted in her throat. She toed the stone floor with a dirty boot. The life of an imperial heir had given her very little practice being coquettish.
Gareth seemed unmoved by the tattered young waif. "If you're weak, you should eat more. Don't worry about the meat. It is cow. And some horse. That is acceptable to humans, yes?"
"Horse? No! Civilized people don't eat horses. We ride them. Oh God, have you fed me horse?"
"Cow is fine, then?"
"Yes. Cow. No horse. No dog. No cat. Just cow. Or sheep. Or goat. Do you know the difference between animals?"
"Yes. I know the difference. What about clothes? Do you want new clothes?"
"No. I won't wear rags torn from some cadaver."
Gareth seemed insulted. "As you will."
"Do you intend to release me or keep me as some trophy?" Adele surprised herself by dredging up that hopeless question. But she might as well call this charming monster's bluff now and get back to her sullen self.
"I don't know. Senator Clark's attack on Bordeaux has given Cesare an excuse to raise a furor, as if he needed one. It will be hard for me to free you now." The vampire seemed to be talking more to himself than to her. Then he leaned back against the window embrasure; his elbow couldn't have been more than inches from Selkirk's unseen head.
Adele suddenly threw her hands against her face and began wailing. She fell to her knees and even called up tears from somewhere. After a few moments, she peered through parted fingers to see Gareth still leaning and staring at her like a man watching a play. And not a particularly well performed one.
There was a small sound from outside the window. As Gareth started to turn, Adele sprang forward.
"Listen to me!" the princess shouted desperately. "I can't take it anymore! I will tell you about the spies in Britain!"
Gareth flattened against the wall and held up calming hands. "I don't want to know anything about spies in Britain."
"What?" Adele abandoned her swooning burlesque and glared. "What's wrong with you?"
"Was that Cesare's interest? Spies? Well, my only interest is seeing you safely home. I have no wish to involve myself in Cesare's affairs."
Adele said angrily, "So you're afraid of Cesare too? Is everyone afraid of that little creature?"
"Yes," Gareth replied. "It would be ignorant not to fear him. He's capable of anything. And his packs are numerous compared to mine. Which number exactly one." He laid a hand on his chest and smiled.
"Aren't you the elder brother?"
"Yes. But politics are complicated, as you well know."
"If you release me, it will earn you goodwill in Equatoria."
"That's nice, but to what end? There are no politics between vampires and humans. To us,
you are food. To you, we are parasites. There is no ground where we can meet. You want your territory back. We won't give it back. It's life or death between us."
"It doesn't have to be. You will be a ... king and I'll be empress. Together we can take your brother down...."
Gareth's face fell. "Please stop. If only you truly believed that. But don't worry. I intend to free you, Princess, while Cesare does not. There is no need to sway me. And it won't serve you to catch me in some treacherous utterance, thinking you can gain your freedom by selling me out to Cesare. There are no secrets between me and my brother. When our father the king dies, I will kill Cesare. We both know it; it only has to play out someday."
Adele felt a wave of weariness and misery crowd out her desperate scheming. It all seemed so pointless to argue with a vampire. This was why she had refused to speak to Cesare in the first place. If it weren't for wanting to protect Selkirk, she would never have let herself be drawn into conversation with this one. She thought about going for her stone knife. At least one of the things would die. But that was foolish. It could bring every vampire in the vicinity and doom Selkirk.
Gareth continued quietly, "All you need do is wait. Don't do anything foolish like trying to escape. And pray your countrymen don't attempt to rescue you by force." He extended his arm out the window, causing Adele to start. But he was only pointing to the vulturelike sentries perched across the yard. "They are waiting for a signal to kill you. They won't ask questions. They won't wonder about the reason. They'll just kill."
"They can try." Adele gave a sarcastic grin, wondering why those assassins, if they were truly so fearsome, couldn't even see a man hanging right under their noses.
"Indeed. I'm sure you might take a few with you. You're quite extraordinary."
Adele was taken aback by Gareth's praise, faint though it was. He must've heard that she had killed vampires in France. The young princess actually felt pride that Gareth, one of the creatures himself, would recognize her skills. Cesare, on the other hand, had done nothing but harangue and berate her, always reinforcing her role as part of an inferior species.
Wait, Adele thought abruptly. This was just a sham. Gareth was only toying with her. Winning her confidence with gestures of goodwill. She wouldn't be so easily swayed, though.
"Would you go now?" she said as forcefully as she could muster.
Gareth gave a half bow. "I beg you to believe what I say. I am your only chance to get home alive." The tall prince pinned her eyes with a fierce stare.
She dropped her gaze to the floor as Gareth's faint tread passed her and faded from the room.
Adele let out her breath in a rush and hurried to the window. Selkirk was gone. She frantically scanned the grounds and decaying structures. She thought she saw a figure slipping behind a pile of rubble, but couldn't be sure. Adele gripped the damp stone and wondered if he had been there at all. Perhaps she had conjured him out of desperation for freedom.
The princess thought with manic irony how peculiar it was that so many people seemed intent on securing her release from captivity. Cesare claimed it. Now Gareth too. Her Intended was busy slaughtering every vampire in Europe to effect it. Yet the actions of each made it impossible for the others to act. Such was diplomacy. It would've been hilarious except for the fact that she was pondering the joke while standing in a chilled vampire prison wearing filthy clothes and eating horse.
"My only chance to get out alive," Adele muttered scornfully, repeating Gareth's words as she turned away from the window. Maybe Mamoru's uncanny reach, through Selkirk, could pluck her from her prison. And somewhere, she believed, Greyfriar was slipping through shadows in pursuit of her freedom. A brief bubble of hope rose in her. "We'll see."
CHAPTER
OUR IMPERIAL MAJESTY, may I present the ambassador from Dmitri, king of Britain."
Lord Kelvin's unbelievable words rang in the great vault of the Suez Hall of Victoria Palace. His manner was bland and formal to diminish the inconceivable nature of his announcement. The members of the Privy Council, despite the pomp of their dress, looked as hostile as a lynch mob. Lord Aden stood quietly to one side, observing this bit of history with an air of curiosity.
At the far end of the hall was Emperor Constantine II, the Empire in person. His robes of state were adapted from the British pattern with the addition of a tiger skin shoulder throw as a nod to India. His crown was forged from Egyptian gold and weighted with sapphires and rubies from India. The scepter in his grasp was topped with a fist-sized diamond from the Cape. His massive throne was carved with symbols of the Empire, including Indian elephants and lions of Africa. Two golden Egyptian sphinxes crouched malevolently at his feet.
Senator Clark stood like an angry bearded statue at the foot of the throne, arms clasped behind his back. Lord Kelvin had argued vehemently against the American being near the dais during an official state reception. It simply wasn't done. But since Clark's return from Marseilles bearing young Prince Simon on his broad American shoulders, followed closely by his blood-soaked triumph in Bordeaux, the emperor was compelled to show deference to him as he would his own son.
Emperor Constantine motioned for the newly arrived "ambassador" to proceed up the long aisle between row after row of empty seats. This "damnable" reception was advertised and attended by only his closest advisors.
Gas lamps flicked dramatic shadows on walls covered with bold murals, painted figures of war, gigantic and vital, with faces fixed in red concentration. Horses reared. Cannons vomited fire and smoke, and forests of lances flashed. All the painted soldiers and weapons seemed to issue forth from the living figure of the emperor poised on his throne. The ceiling hosted a magnificent sweep of the Imperial Navy airships streaming out triumphantly over the heads of all who came into the Presence.
The mousy ambassador appeared suitably awed by the vast chamber. He stopped ten feet from the dais and gave a curt bow. His clothes were mismatched and poorly patched. Lord Kelvin had tried to provide him a proper suit of clothes, but the ambassador refused. The ragged outfit only made the imperial councilors more scornful of this diplomatic mockery. The grandees hated to see their emperor brought so low as to meet with a representative of vampires. It was ridiculous. It was unthinkable. It seemed to many of these political oaks that whenever the honor of Equatoria was damaged, Adele was at the root of it. Fortunately, Senator Clark would make the monsters pay for this terrible indignity.
"Your Majesty," the human ambassador croaked, "I bear a message of greeting and goodwill from King Dmitri, sovereign of Great Britain."
Lord Kelvin squirmed with annoyance from his shadowy place near the great doors. He had expressly forbidden the word sovereign. If these vampires and their lackeys couldn't follow a few pages of simple rules, they shouldn't pretend to be members of the world community.
The emperor's frown deepened into a scowl of hatred. Constantine was a large man, once a stunning physical specimen with a life full of military exploits. But that was years past. A relatively easy reign in the last ten years had softened and enlarged him. He had been handsome when young, but his face had grown jowly, which his bushy mutton chops and his relatively weak chin only exaggerated. His thinning hair was hidden from view by the jeweled crown. His left eye drooped, the souvenir from a Zulu assegai, and the last few weeks living in fear for his children's lives and his Empire's future had left him sallow and with dark, sleepless eyes.
"At least you can speak," the emperor snapped. "We will hear you, Bloodman. What does your master want?"
The ambassador had the gall to silently upbraid the emperor for such undiplomatic directness by raising a bemused eyebrow. "His Majesty Dmitri is regretful of the current state of affairs between our nations."
"How nice." Constantine clamped his scarred hands on the arms of the throne. "We feel that it's simple enough to bring this current state of affairs to an end so he can stop being regretful."
"It isn't as simple as it sounds."
"No?"
The emperor's face reddened. His drooping eye began to twitch. "Vampires are not people. They have no rights. They have no territory. They are animals."
The envoy continued, "Now your forces have made an unprovoked attack on Bordeaux. King Dmitri is wary of being attacked himself."
"He's one smart vampire." Clark rattled his saber.
The wiry ambassador extended a trembling hand in Clark's direction. "There. That is my king's point for all to see. King Dmitri has no desire for war. He desires the goodwill and friendship of Equatoria. And America."
Constantine shouted, "Get to the point, you insufferable toad!"
"King Dmitri wants a peace treaty."
Senator Clark laughed. "I'll write terms on a bullet and you can take it back with you in your skull."
Constantine leaned forward angrily. "Are you insane? Some vampire dresses up its pet as a human and sends it to me? To ask for a peace treaty? A peace treaty with vampires? Would we make a treaty with a mad dog?"
"Perhaps if the dog was holding your daughter captive."
The chamber erupted. Many of the privy councilors shook their fists and shouted scorn. Clark drew his sword with a steely whisper, but Constantine was faster. The emperor bounded off the dais and grabbed up the ambassador by the jacket and neck.
Lord Kelvin raced up the endless aisle shouting, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, please!" as the emperor lifted the squealing envoy off the floor. Kelvin didn't dare lay hands on Constantine, so instead he grabbed the British ambassador. "Your Majesty, this is not proper! Please, I beg you!"
The emperor threw the little man down on the marble floor, where, fortunately, Lord Kelvin cushioned his fall. Constantine towered menacingly over the tangle of diplomats while Senator Clark stepped forward with his sword glinting red-hot in the gaslight.
The Greyfriar (Vampire Empire, Book 1) by Clay & Susan Griffith;Clay Griffith;Susan Griffith Page 12
