by Anne Rice
"I can write it myself," I said, "if only you give me the parchment and the pen. I need for you to send it, and establish this place for the receipt of an answer to it. It's the answer which is so important."
He obeyed me at once, and I turned to the task, gladly accepting the quill from him. I knew he was watching me as I wrote but it didn't matter.
Raymond Gallant,
I have suffered a dreadful catastrophe, following upon the very night which I met with you and talked to you. My palazzo in Venice was destroyed by fire, and I myself injured beyond my own imagining. Please be assured that this was not the work of mortal hands, and some night should we meet I shall most willingly explain to you what happened. In fact, it would give me great satisfaction to describe to you in detail the identity of the one who sent his emissaries to destroy me. As for now, I am far too weakened to attempt vengeance either in words or actions.
I am also too weakened to journey to Lorwich in East Anglia, and thanks to forces which I cannot describe I do have shelter similar to that which you offered me.
But I beg you to tell me if you have had any recent intelligence of my Pandora. I beg you to tell me if she has made herself known to you. I beg you to tell me if you can help me to reach her by letter. Marius.
Having finished the letter, I gave it over to the priest who promptly added the proper address of the monastery, folded the parchment and sealed it.
We sat in silence for a long moment.
"How shall I find you," he asked, "when an answer reaches here?"
"I'll know," I said, "as you knew when I took the candles. Forgive me for taking them. I should have gone into a city and bought them from a proper merchant. But I have become such a traveler of the sleepy night. I do things far too much at random."
"So I can see," he answered, "for though you began with me in German, you are now speaking Latin in which you wrote your letter. Oh, don't be angry. I didn't read a single word, but I knew it was Latin. Perfect Latin. A Latin such as no one speaks today."
"Is my gold recompense enough? " I asked. I rose from the bench. It was now time for me to be off.
"Oh, yes, and I look forward to your return. I'll see the letter is sent tomorrow. If the Lord of Lorwich in East Anglia has sworn his allegiance to Henry VIII, you'll no doubt have your answer."
I was off so swiftly that to my new friend, it no doubt seemed that I had disappeared.
And as I returned to the shrine, I observed for the first time the beginnings of a human settlement all too close to us.
Of course we were concealed in a tiny valley high upon an ominous cliff. Nevertheless, a small group of huts had caught my eye far below at the foot of the cliff, and I knew what was going to happen.
When I entered the shrine I found Bianca sleeping. No question came from her as to where I had been, and I realized the lengths I had gone to avoid her knowledge of my letter.
I wondered if I might reach England were I to travel the skies alone. But what would I say to her? I had never left her alone and it seemed wrong ever to do so.
Little less than a year went by during which time I passed nightly within hearing distance of the priest to whom I had entrusted my letter.
By this time, Bianca and I had frequently hunted the streets of small Alpine cities in one guise, while buying from their merchants in another.
Now and then we rented rooms for ourselves so that we might enjoy common things, but we were far too fearful to remain anywhere but in the shrine at morning.
All the while, I continued to approach the Queen at intervals. How I chose my moments, I do not know. Perhaps she spoke to me. All I can avow is that I knew when I might drink from her and I did it, and always there came the rapid healing afterwards, the renewal of vigor, and the desire to share my replenished gifts with Bianca.
At last there came a night, when having left a weary Bianca in the shrine once more, I came near to the Alpine monastery and saw my monk standing in the garden with his arms out to the sky in a gesture of such romance and piety that I almost wept to see it.
Softly, without a sound, I entered the cloister behind him.
At once he turned to face me, as if his powers were as great as mine. The wind swept his full brown robes as he came towards me.
"Marius," he said in a whisper. He gestured to me to be quiet, and led me into the scriptorium.
When I saw the thickness of the letter he drew from his desk I was astonished. That it was open, that the seal was broken, gave me pause.
I looked at him.
"Yes, I read it," he said. "Did you think I would give it to you without doing so?"
I couldn't waste any more time. I had to read what was inside the letter. I sat down and unfolded the pages immediately.
Marius,
Let these words not move you to anger or to hasty decision. What I know of Pandora is as follows. She has been seen by those of us who are knowledgeable in such things in the cities of Nuremberg, Vienna, Prague and Gutenberg. She travels in Poland. She travels in Bavaria.
She and her companion are most clever, seldom disturbing the human population through which they move, but from time to time they set foot in the royal courts of certain kingdoms. It is believed by those who have seen them that they take some delight in danger.
Our archives are filled with accounts of a black carriage that travels by day, comporting within two huge enameled chests in which these creatures are presumed to sleep, protected by a small garrison of pale-skinned human guards who are secretive, ruthless and devoted.
Even the most benign or clever approach to these human guards is followed by certain death as some of our members have learnt for themselves when seeking to penetrate the mystery of these dark travelers.
It is the judgment of some among us here that the guards have received a small portion of the power so generously enjoyed by their master and mistress, thus binding them irrevocably to Pandora and her companion.
Our last sighting of the pair was in Poland. However these beings travel very fast and remain in no one place for any given length of time, and indeed seem more than content to move back and forth across the length and breadth of Europe ceaselessly.
They have been known to go back and forth in Spain and to travel throughout France, but never to linger in Paris. As regards this last city, I wonder if you know why they do not stay there long, or if I must be the one to enlighten you.
I shall tell you what I know. In Paris, now, there exists a great dedicated group of the species which we both understand, indeed, so large a group that one must doubt that even Paris can content them. And having received into our arms one desperate infidel from this group we have learnt much of how these unusual Parisian creatures characterize themselves.
I cannot commit to parchment what I know of them. Let me only say that they are possessed of a surprising zeal, believing themselves to serve God Himself with their strenuous appetite. And should others of the same ilk venture into their domain they do not hesitate to destroy them, declaring them to be blasphemers.
This infidel of which I speak has averred more than once that his brothers and sisters were among those who participated in your great loss and injury. Only you can confirm this for me, as I do not know what is madness here or boasting, or perhaps a blending of the two, and you can well imagine how confounded we are to have one so loquacious and hostile beneath our roof, so eager to answer questions and so frightened to be left unguarded.
Let me also add that piece of intelligence which may matter to you as much now as any which I have pertaining to your lost Pandora.
He who guides this voracious and mysterious band of Paris creatures is none other than your young companion from Venice.
Won over by discipline, fasting, penance and the loss of his former Master—so says this young infidel—your old companion has proved to be a leader of immeasurable strength and well capable of driving out any of his kind who seek to gain a foothold in Paris.
Would that I
could tell you more of these creatures. Allow me to repeat what I have suggested above. They believe themselves to be in the service of Almighty God. And from this principle, a considerable number of rules follow.
Marius, I cannot imagine how this information will affect you. I write here only that of which I am most certain.
Now, allow me to play an unusual role, given our respective ages.
Whatever your response to my revelations here, under no circumstances travel overland North to see me. Under no circumstances travel overland North to find Pandora. Under no circumstances travel overland North to find your young companion.
I caution you on all these accounts for two reasons. There are at this time, as you must surely know, wars all over Europe. Martin Luther has fomented much unrest. And in England, our sovereign Henry VIII has declared himself independent of Rome, in spite of much resistance.
Of course we at Lorwich are loyal to our King and his decisions earn only our respect and honor. But it is no time to be traveling in Europe.
And allow me to warn you on another account which may surprise you. Throughout Europe now there are those who are willing to persecute others for witchcraft on slender reasons; that is, a superstition regarding witches reigns in villages and towns, which even one hundred years ago would have been dismissed as ridiculous.
You cannot allow yourself to travel overland through such places. Writings as to wizards, Sabbats and Devil worship cloud human philosophy.
And yes, I do fear for Pandora that she and her companion take no seeming notice of these dangers, but it has been communicated to us many times that though she travels overland, she travels very swiftly. Her servants have been known to purchase fresh horses twice or three times within a day, demanding only that the animals be of the finest quality.
Marius, I send you my deepest good wishes. Please write to me again as soon as possible. There are so many questions I wish to ask you. I dare not do so in this letter. I do not know if I dare at all. Let me only express the wish and hope for your invitation.
I must confess to you that I am the envy of my brothers and sisters that I have received your communication. I shall not let my head be turned by this. I am in awe of you and with justification. Yours in the Talamasca,
Raymond Gallant.
At last I sat back on the bench, the many sheaves of parchment trembling in my left hand, and I shook my head, hardly knowing what I might say to myself, for my thoughts were all a brew.
Indeed, since the night of the disaster in Venice, I had frequently been at a loss for private words, and never did I know it as keenly as now.
I looked down at the pages. My right fingers touched various words, and then I drew back, shaking my head again.
Pandora, circling Europe, within my grasp but perhaps eternally beyond it.
And Amadeo, won over to the creed of Santino and sent to establish it in Paris! Oh, yes, I could envision it.
There came back to me once more the vivid image of Santino that night in Rome, in his black robes, his hair so vainly clean as he approached me and pressed me to come with him to his wretched catacomb.
And here lay the proof now that he had not destroyed my beautiful child, rather he had made of him a victim. He had won him over; he had taken Amadeo to himself! He had more utterly defeated me than ever I had dreamt.
And Amadeo, my blessed and beautiful pupil, had gone from my uncertain tutelage to that perpetual gloom. And yes, oh, yes, I could imagine it. Ashes. I tasted ashes.
A cold shudder ran through me.
I crushed the pages to myself.
Then quite suddenly I became aware that, beside me sat the gray-haired priest, looking at me, very calm as he leaned on his left elbow.
Again I shook my head. I folded the pages of the letter to make of them a packet that I might carry with me.
I looked into his gray eyes.
"Why don't you run from me?" I asked. I was bitter and wanted to weep but this was no place for it.
"You're in my debt," he said softly. "Tell me what you are, if only so that I may know if I've lost my soul by serving you."
"You haven't lost your soul," I said quickly, my wretchedness too plain in my voice. "Your soul has nothing to do with me." I took a deep breath. "What did you make of what you read in my letter?"
"You're suffering," he said, "rather like a mortal man, but you aren't mortal. And this one in England, he is mortal, but he isn't afraid of you."
"This is true," I said. "I suffer, and I suffer for one has done me wrong and I have no vengeance nor justice. But let's not speak of such things. I would be alone now."
A silence fell between us. It was time for me to go but I had not the strength quite yet to do it.
Had I given him the usual purse? I must do it now. I reached inside my tunic and brought it out. I laid it down, and spilled the golden coins so that I might see them in the light of the candle.
Some vague and heated thoughts formed in my mind to do with Amadeo and the brilliance of this gold and of how angry I was, and of how I seethed for vengeance against Santino. I saw ikons with their halos of gold; I saw the coin of the Talamasca made of gold. I saw the golden florins of Florence.
I saw the golden bracelets once worn by Pandora on her beautiful naked arms. I saw the golden bracelets which I had put upon the arms of Akasha.
Gold and gold and gold.
And Amadeo had chosen ashes!
Well, I shall find Pandora once more, I thought. I shall find her! And only if she swears against me will I let her go, will I let her remain with this mysterious companion. Oh, I trembled as I thought of it, as I vowed, as I whispered these wordless thoughts.
Pandora, yes! And some night, for Amadeo, there would be the reckoning with Santino!
A long silence ensued.
The priest beside me was not frightened. I wondered if he could possibly guess how grateful I was that he allowed me to remain there in such precious stillness.
At last, I ran my left fingers over the golden coins.
"Is there enough there for flowers?" I asked, "flowers and trees and beautiful plants in your garden?"
"There is enough there to endow our gardens forever," he answered.
"Ah forever!" I said. "I have such a love of that word, forever."
"Yes, it is a timeless word," he said, raising his mossy eyebrows as he looked at me. "Time is ours, but forever belongs to God, don't you think?"
"Yes, I do," I said. I turned to face him. I smiled at him, and I saw the warm impression of this on him just as if I'd spoken kind words to him. He couldn't conceal it.
"You've been good to me," I said.
"Will you write to your friend again?" he asked.
"Not from here," I answered. "It's too dangerous for me. From some other place. And I beg you, forget these things."
He laughed in the most honest and simple way. "Forget!" he said.
I rose to go.
"You shouldn't have read the letter," I said. "It can only cause you worry."
"I had to do it," he answered. "Before I gave it to you."
"I cannot imagine why," I answered. I walked quietly towards the door of the scriptorium.
He came beside me.
"And so you go then, Marius?" he asked.
I turned around. I lifted my hand in farewell.
"Yes, neither angel nor devil, I go," I said, "neither good nor bad. And I thank you."
As I had before, I went from him so swiftly he couldn't see it, and very soon I was alone with the stars, and staring down on that valley all too near to the chapel where a city was forming at the foot of my high cliff which had been neglected by all mankind for over a millennium.
29
I WAITED ALONG TIME before showing the letter to Bianca. I never really concealed it from her, for I thought such a thing was dishonest. But as she did not ask me the meaning of the pages which I kept with my few personal belongings, I did not explain them to her.
It was too pain
ful for me to share my sorrow with regard to Amadeo. And as for the existence of the Talamasca, it was too bizarre a tale, and too fully interwoven with my love for Pandora.
But I did leave Bianca alone in the shrine more and more often. Never of course did I abandon her there in the early part of the evening when she depended upon me totally to reach those places where we might hunt. On the contrary, I always took her with me.
It was later in the night—after we had fed—that I would return her to safety and go off alone, testing the limits of my powers.
All the while a strange thing was happening to me. As I drank from the Mother my vigor increased. But I also learned what all injured blood drinkers learn—that in healing I was becoming stronger than I had been before my injury.
Of course I gave Bianca my own blood, but as I grew ever stronger the gap between us became very great and I saw it widening.
There were times, of course, when I put the question in my prayers as to whether Akasha would receive Bianca. But it seemed that the answer was no, and so in fear I didn't dare to test it.
I remembered only too well the death of Eudoxia, and I also remembered the moment when Enkil had lifted his arm against Mael. I could not subject Bianca to possible injury.
Within a short time, I was easily able to take Bianca with me through the night to the nearby cities of Prague and Geneva, and there we indulged ourselves with some vision of the civilization we had once known in Venice.
As for that beautiful capital, I would not return to it, no matter how much Bianca implored me. Of course she possessed nothing of the Cloud Gift herself, and was dependent upon me in a manner which neither Amadeo nor Pandora had ever been.
"It is too painful to me," I declared. "I will not go there. You've lived here so long as my beautiful nun. What is it you want?"
"I want Italy," she said in a soft crestfallen voice. And I knew only too well what she meant, but I didn't answer her.
"If I cannot have Italy, Marius," she said at last, "I must have somewhere."
She was in the front corner of the shrine when she spoke these all too significant words, and they were in a hushed voice, as if she sensed a danger.
