Egypt? Did you seek there the Good Mother?”
I cloaked my mind as best I could. I made my face severe, and I tried to figure how much I should confess and why.
“Yes, I went to Egypt,” I said. “I went to find the cause of the fire that had burnt the gods all through the North lands.”
“And what did you find?” he demanded.
I glanced from him to Avicus and I saw that he too waited upon my answer.
“I found nothing,” I responded. “Nothing but burnt ones who pondered the same mystery. The old legend of the Good Mother. Nothing further. It is finished. There is no more to tell.”
Did they believe me? I couldn’t tell. Both seemed to harbor their own secrets, their own choices made long ago.
Avicus looked ever so slightly alarmed for his companion.
Mael looked up slowly and said with anger,
“Oh, that I had never laid eyes upon you. You wicked Roman, you rich Roman with all your splendor and fine words.” He looked about the house, at its wall paintings, at its couches and tables, at the marble floors.
“Why do you say this?” I asked.
I tried not to despise him but to see him, and understand him, but my hatred was too great.
“When I took you prisoner,” he said, “when I sought to teach you our poetry and our songs, do you remember how you tried to bribe me? You spoke of your beautiful villa on the Bay of Naples. You said that you would take me there if only I would help you escape. Do you remember these awful things?”
“Yes, I remember,” I said coldly. “I was your prisoner! You had taken me deep into the forest against my will. What did you expect of me? And had you let me escape, I would have taken you to my house on the Bay of Naples. I would have paid my own ransom. My family would have paid it. Oh, it’s too foolish to speak of these things.”
I shook my head. I grew too agitated. My old loneliness beckoned to me. I wanted silence in these rooms again. What need had I of these two?
But the one called Avicus appealed to me silently with his expression. And I wondered who he might be.
“Please, keep your temper,” said Avicus. “I’m the cause of his suffering.”
“No,” said Mael quickly. He glanced at his companion. “That can’t be.”
“Oh, but it is,” declared Avicus, “and always has been, ever since I gave you the Dark Blood. Gain the strength either to remain with me or to leave me. Things cannot remain as they are.”
He reached out and put his hand on his companion’s arm.
“You’ve found this strange being, Marius,” he said, “and you’ve told Marius of the last years of your strong belief. You’ve relived that awful misery. But don’t be so foolish as to hate him for what happened. He was right to seek his freedom. As for us, the old faith died. The Terrible Fire destroyed it, and nothing more could be done.”
Mael looked as dejected as any creature I’ve ever seen.
Meantime my heart was fast catching up with my mind. I was thinking: Here are two immortals but we cannot solace one another; we cannot have friendship. We can only part after bitter words. And then I’ll be alone again. I’ll be proud Marius who left Pandora. I shall have my beautiful house and all my fine possessions to myself.
I realized Avicus was staring at me, trying to probe my mind, but failing though his Mind Gift was quite terrifically strong.
“Why do you live as vagabonds?” I asked.
“We don’t know how to live as anything else,” said Avicus. “We’ve never tried. We shy away from mortals, except when we hunt. We fear discovery. We fear fire.”
I nodded.
“What do you seek other than blood?”
A miserable expression passed over his face. He was in pain. He tried to hide it. Or perhaps he tried to make the pain go away.
“I’m not sure that we seek anything,” he said. “We don’t know how.”
“Do you want to stay with me,” I asked, “and learn?”
I felt the boldness, the presumptuousness of this question, but the words had already
I cloaked my mind as best I could. I made my face severe, and I tried to figure how much I should confess and why.
“Yes, I went to Egypt,” I said. “I went to find the cause of the fire that had burnt the gods all through the North lands.”
“And what did you find?” he demanded.
I glanced from him to Avicus and I saw that he too waited upon my answer.
“I found nothing,” I responded. “Nothing but burnt ones who pondered the same mystery. The old legend of the Good Mother. Nothing further. It is finished. There is no more to tell.”
Did they believe me? I couldn’t tell. Both seemed to harbor their own secrets, their own choices made long ago.
Avicus looked ever so slightly alarmed for his companion.
Mael looked up slowly and said with anger,
“Oh, that I had never laid eyes upon you. You wicked Roman, you rich Roman with all your splendor and fine words.” He looked about the house, at its wall paintings, at its couches and tables, at the marble floors.
“Why do you say this?” I asked.
I tried not to despise him but to see him, and understand him, but my hatred was too great.
“When I took you prisoner,” he said, “when I sought to teach you our poetry and our songs, do you remember how you tried to bribe me? You spoke of your beautiful villa on the Bay of Naples. You said that you would take me there if only I would help you escape. Do you remember these awful things?”
“Yes, I remember,” I said coldly. “I was your prisoner! You had taken me deep into the forest against my will. What did you expect of me? And had you let me escape, I would have taken you to my house on the Bay of Naples. I would have paid my own ransom. My family would have paid it. Oh, it’s too foolish to speak of these things.”
I shook my head. I grew too agitated. My old loneliness beckoned to me. I wanted silence in these rooms again. What need had I of these two?
But the one called Avicus appealed to me silently with his expression. And I wondered who he might be.
“Please, keep your temper,” said Avicus. “I’m the cause of his suffering.”
“No,” said Mael quickly. He glanced at his companion. “That can’t be.”
“Oh, but it is,” declared Avicus, “and always has been, ever since I gave you the Dark Blood. Gain the strength either to remain with me or to leave me. Things cannot remain as they are.”
He reached out and put his hand on his companion’s arm.
“You’ve found this strange being, Marius,” he said, “and you’ve told Marius of the last years of your strong belief. You’ve relived that awful misery. But don’t be so foolish as to hate him for what happened. He was right to seek his freedom. As for us, the old faith died. The Terrible Fire destroyed it, and nothing more could be done.”
Mael looked as dejected as any creature I’ve ever seen.
Meantime my heart was fast catching up with my mind. I was thinking: Here are two immortals but we cannot solace one another; we cannot have friendship. We can only part after bitter words. And then I’ll be alone again. I’ll be proud Marius who left Pandora. I shall have my beautiful house and all my fine possessions to myself.
I realized Avicus was staring at me, trying to probe my mind, but failing though his Mind Gift was quite terrifically strong.
“Why do you live as vagabonds?” I asked.
“We don’t know how to live as anything else,” said Avicus. “We’ve never tried. We shy away from mortals, except when we hunt. We fear discovery. We fear fire.”
I nodded.
“What do you seek other than blood?”
A miserable expression passed over his face. He was in pain. He tried to hide it. Or perhaps he tried to make the pain go away.
“I’m not sure that we seek anything,” he said. “We don’t know how.”
“Do you want to stay with me,” I asked, “and learn?”
I felt the boldness, the presumptuousness of this question, but the words had already
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