Bllod and Gold Page 59

With incalculable power she rose from the depths of the house, sending its walls, its ceilings, and its surrounding ice down upon me.

  I found myself buried, calling for help.

  And the reign of the Queen of the Damned had commenced, though she had never taken that name for herself.

  You saw her as she moved through the world. You saw her as she slew blood drinkers all around her, you saw her as she slew blood drinkers who would not serve her purpose.

  Did you see her as she took Lestat as her lover? Did you see her as she sought to frighten mortals with her petty displays of old-fashioned power?

  And all the while I lay crushed beneath the ice—spared for what purpose I could not imagine—sending out my warning to Lestat that he was in danger, sending out my warning to all that they were in danger. And pleading as well with any Child of the Millennia who might come to help me rise from the crevasse in which I'd been buried.

  Even as I called in my powerful voice I healed. I began to move the ice around me.

  But at last two blood drinkers came to assist me. I caught the image of one in the mind of the other. And it seemed impossible to me, but the one whom I saw so radiantly in the other's vision was none other than my Pandora.

  At last, with their help, I broke the ice that kept me from the surface,

  and I climbed free under the arctic sky, taking Pandora's hand, and then gathering her in my arms, refusing for a moment to think of anything, even of my savage Queen and her deadly rampage.

  There were no words now, no vows, no denials. I held Pandora in love and she knew it, and when I looked up, when I cleared my eyes of pain and love and fear, I realized that the blood drinker who had come North with her, he who had answered my summons, was none other than Santino.

  For a moment, I was filled with such hatred I meant to destroy him completely.

  "No," Pandora said, "Marius, you can't. All of us are needed now. And why do you think he has come if not to repay you?"

  He stood there in the snow in his fine black garments, the wind whipping his black hair and I could see he was consumed with fear, but he would not confess it.

  "This is no repayment for what you did to me," I said to him. "But I know Pandora is right, we're all needed, and for that reason, I spare you."

  I looked at my beloved Pandora.

  "There is a council forming now," I said. "It's in a great house in the coastal forest, a place of glass walls. We'll go there together."

  You know of what happened then. We gathered at our great table in the redwood trees—as if we were a new and passionate Faithful of the Forest—and when the Queen came to us with her plan to bring harm to the great world, we all sought to reason with her.

  It was her dream to be the Queen of Heaven to humankind, to slay male children by the billions, and make the world a "garden" of tender-spirited women. It was a horrific and impossible conception.

  No one sought more diligently than your red-haired Maker Maharet to turn her from her goals, condemning her that she would dare to change the course of human history.

  I myself, thinking bitterly of the beautiful gardens I'd seen when I had drunk her blood, risked her deadly power over and over by

  pleading with her to give the world time to follow its own destiny.

  Oh, it was a chilling thing to see this living statue now speaking to me so coldly yet with such strong will and contemptuous temper. How grand and evil were her schemes, to slay male children, to gather women in a superstitious worship.

  What gave us courage to fight her? I don't know except that we knew that we had to do it. And all along, as she threatened us repeatedly with death, I thought: I could have prevented this, I could have stopped it from ever happening had I put an end to her and to all of us.

  As it is, she will destroy us and go on; and who will prevent her?

  At one point she knocked me backwards with her arm, so quick was her rage at my words. And it was Santino who came to my assistance. I hated him for this but there was no time for hating him or anyone.

  At last she laid her condemnation down on all of us. As we would not side with her, we would be destroyed, one after another. She would begin with Lestat, for she took his insult to her to be the greatest. And he had resisted her. Bravely he had sided with us, pleading with her for reason.

  At this dreadful moment, the elders rose, the ones of the First Brood who had been made blood drinkers within her very lifetime, and those Children of the Millennia such as Pandora and myself and Mael and others.

  But before the murderous little struggle could begin, there came another into our midst, approaching loudly up the iron steps of the forest compound where we met, until in the doorway we beheld the twin of Maharet: her mute sister, the sister from whom Akasha had torn the tongue: Mekare.

  It was she who, snatching the long black hair of the Queen, bashed her head against the glass wall, breaking it, and severing the head from the body. It was she and her sister who dropped down on their knees, to retrieve from the decapitated Queen, the Sacred Core of all the vampires.

  Whether that Sacred Core—that fatal root—was imbibed from heart or brain, I know not. I know only that the mute Mekare became its new tabernacle.

  And after a few moments of sputtering darkness in which we all of us wondered whether or not death should take us now, we regained our strength and looked up to see the twins standing before us.

  Maharet put her arm around Mekare's waist, and Mekare, come from brutal isolation I know not where, merely stared into space as though she knew some quiet peace but no more than that. And from Maharet's lips there came the words:

  "Behold. The Queen of the Damned."

  It was finished.

  The reign of my beloved Akasha—with all its hopes and dreams— had come abruptly to an end.

  And I carried through the world the burden of Those Who Must Be Kept no longer.

  THE LISTENER

  The End of the Story of Marius

  36

  MARIUS STOOD at the glass window looking out at the snow. Thorne sat by the dying fire, merely looking at Marius.

  "So you have woven for me a long, fine tale," said Thorne, "and I have found myself marvelously caught up in it."

  "Have you?" said Marius quietly. "And perhaps I now find myself woven within my hatred of Santino."

  "But Pandora was with you," said Thorne. "You were reunited with her again. Why is she not with you now? What's happened?"

  "I was united with Pandora and Amadeo," said Marius. "It all came about in those nights. And I have seen them often since. But I am an injured creature. And it was I who left their company. I could go now to Lestat, and those who are with him. But I don't.

  "My soul still aches over the losses I've suffered. I don't know which causes me the greater pain—the loss of my goddess, or my hatred of Santino. She is gone beyond my reach forever. But Santino still lives."

  "Why don't you do away with him?" asked Thorne. "I'll help you find him."

  "I can find him," said Marius. "But without her permission I can't do it."

  "Maharet?" Thorne asked. "But why?"

  "Because she's the eldest of us now, she and her mute twin, and we must have a leader. Mekare cannot speak and might not have wits to speak even if she could. And so it's Maharet. And even if she refuses to allow or judge, I must put the question to her."

  "I understand," said Thorne. "In my time, we gathered to settle such questions, and a man might seek payment from one who had injured him."

  Marius nodded.

  "I think I must seek Santino's death," he whispered. "I am at peace with all others, but to him I would do violence."

  "And very well you should," said Thorne, "from all that you've told me."

  "I've called to Maharet," said Marius. "I've let her know that you are here and that you're seeking her. I've let her know that I must ask her about Santino. I'm hungry for her wise words. Perhaps I want to see her weary mortal eyes gazing on me with compassion.

>   "I remember her brilliant resistance of the Queen. I remember her strength and maybe now I need it. ... Perhaps by now she's found the eyes of a blood drinker for herself, and need not suffer anymore with the eyes of her human victims."

  Thorne sat thinking for a long moment. Then he rose from the couch. He drew close to the glass beside Marius.

  "Can you hear her answer to you?" he asked. He couldn't disguise his emotion. "I want to go to her. I must go to her."

  "Haven't I taught you anything?" Marius asked. He turned to Thorne. "Haven't I taught you to remember these tender complex creatures with love? Perhaps not. I thought that was the lesson of my stories."

  "Oh, yes, you've taught me this," said Thorne, "and love her I do, in so far as she is tender and complex as you so delicately put it, but I'm a warrior, you see, and I was never fit for eternity. And the hatred you harbor for Santino is the same as the passion I harbor for her. And

  passion can be for evil or good. I can't help myself."

  Marius shook his head.

  "If she brings us to herself," he said, "I will only lose you. As I've told you before, you can't possibly harm her."

  "Perhaps, perhaps not," said Thorne. "But whatever the truth, I must see her. And she knows why I've come, and she will have her will in the matter."

  "Come now," Marius said, "it's time for us to go to our rest. I hear strange voices in the morning air. And I feel the need of sleep desperately."

  WHEN THORNE AWOKE he found himself in a smooth wooden coffin.

  Without fear, he easily lifted the lid, and then opened it to one side and sat up so that he might see the room around him.

  It was a cave of sorts, and beyond he heard the loud chorus of a tropical forest.

  All the fragrances of the green jungle assaulted his nostrils. He found it delicious and strange, and he knew it could only mean one thing: that Maharet had brought him to her hiding place.

  He climbed from the coffin as gracefully as he could and he stepped out into a huge room full of scattered stone benches. On the three sides the jungle grew thick and lively against a fine wire mesh and through the mesh above a thin rain came down refreshing him.

  Looking to his right and left, he saw entrances to other such open places. And following the sounds and scents as any blood drinker could do, he moved to his right until he entered a great room where his Maker sat as he had seen her at the very beginning of his long life, in a graceful gown of purple wool, pulling the red hairs from her head and weaving them into thread with her distaff and her spindle.

  For many long moments he merely stared at her, as if he could not believe this vision.

  And she in profile, surely knowing he was there, went on with her work, without speaking a word to him.

  Across the room, he saw Marius seated on a bench and then he realized that a regal and beautiful woman sat beside him. Surely it was Pandora. Indeed, he knew her by her brown hair. And there on the other side of Marius was the auburn-haired boy he had described: Amadeo.

  But there was also another creature in the room, and this without doubt was the black-haired Santino. He sat not far from Maharet, and when Thorne entered, he appeared to shrink away from Thorne, and then glancing at Marius to draw back again, and finally towards Maharet as if in desperation.

  Coward, Thorne thought, but he said nothing.

  Slowly Maharet turned her head until she could see Thorne, and so that he could see her eyes—human eyes—sad and full of blood, as always.

  "What can I give you, Thorne?" she asked, "to make your soul quiet again?"

  He shook his head. He motioned for silence, not to compel her but merely to plead with her.

  And in the interval Marius rose to his feet, and at once Pandora and Amadeo on either side of him.

  "I've thought long and hard on it," Marius said, his eyes on Santino.

  "And I can't destroy him if you forbid it. I won't break the peace with such an action. I believe too much that we must live by rules or we shall all perish."

  "Then it is finished," said Maharet, her familiar voice bringing the chills to Thorne, "for I'll never grant you the right to destroy Santino.

  Yes, he injured you and it was a terrible thing, and I have heard you in the night describing your suffering to Thorne. I've listened to your words in sorrow. But you can't destroy him now. I forbid it. And if you go against me, then there is no one who can restrain anyone."

  "That can't be," said Marius. His face was dark and miserable. He glared at Santino. "There must be someone to restrain others. Yet I can't bear it that he lives after what he's done to me."

  To Thorne's amazement the youthful face of Amadeo appeared only puzzled.

  As for Pandora, she seemed sad and anxious, as though she feared that Marius wouldn't keep to his word.

  But Thorne knew otherwise.

  And as he assessed this black-haired creature now, Santino rose from the bench and backed away from Thorne, pointing his finger at Thorne in terror.But it was not quick enough.

  Thorne sent all his strength at Santino and all Santino could do as he fell to his knees was cry out: "Thorne," over and over again, his body exploding, the blood flowing from every orifice, the fire finally erupting from his chest and head as he twisted and collapsed on the stone floor, the flames at last consuming him.

  Maharet had let out a terrible wail of sorrow, and into the large room her twin had come, her blue eyes searching for the source of pain in her sister.

  Maharet rose to her feet. She looked down on the grease and ash that lay before her.

  Thorne looked at Marius. He saw a small bitter smile on Marius's lips, and then Marius looked to him and nodded.

  "I need no thanks from you," Thorne said.

  Then he looked to Maharet who was weeping, her sister now holding tight to her arms, and pleading mutely with her to explain herself.

  " Wergeld, my Maker," said Thorne. "As it was in my time, I exact the wergeld or payment for my own life, which you took when you made me a blood drinker. I take it through Santino's life, which I take beneath your roof."

  "Yes, and against my will," Maharet cried. "You have done this terrible thing! And Marius, your own friend, has told you that I must rule here."

  "If you would rule here, do it on your own," said Thorne. "Don't look to Marius to tell you how to do it. Ah, look at your precious distaff and spindle. How will you protect the Sacred Core if you have no strength to fight those who oppose you?"

  She couldn't answer him, and he could see that Marius was angered, and that Mekare looked at him with menace.

  He came towards Maharet, staring intently at her, at her smooth face which now bore no trace whatever of human life, the florid human eyes seemingly set within a sculpture.

  "Would I had a knife," he said, "would I had a sword, would I had any weapon I could use against you." And then he did the only thing which he could do. He took her by the throat with both his hands and tried to topple her.

  It was like holding fast to marble.

  At once there came a frantic cry from her. He couldn't understand the words, but when her sister drew him back gently he knew it had been a warning for his sake. He reached out still with both hands, struggling to be free, but it was useless.

  These two were unconquerable, either divided or together, it did not matter.

  "Put an end to this, Thorne," cried Marius. "It's enough. She knows what's in your heart. You can't ask for more than this."

  Maharet collapsed to her bench and there she sat crying, her sister at her side, Mekare's eyes fixed on Thorne warily.

  Thorne could see that all of them were afraid of Mekare, but he was not, and when he thought of Santino again, when he looked at the black stain on the stones, he felt a good deep pleasure.

  Then moving swiftly, he accosted the mute twin and whispered something hurried in her ear, meant only for her, wondering if she would get the sense of it.

  Within a second he knew that she had. As Maharet watched in wonder
, Mekare forced him down on his knees. She clasped his face and turned it up. And then he felt her fingers plunge into the sockets of his eyes as she removed them.

  "Yes, yes, this blessed darkness," he said, "and then the chains, I beg you, the chains. Otherwise do away with me."

  Through Marius's mind, he could see the image of himself groping in blindness. He could see the blood flowing down his face. He could see Maharet as Mekare put the eyes into her head. He could see those two tall delicate women with their arms entangled, the one struggling but not enough and the other pressing for the deed to be accomplished.