A/N So much for getting to the computer in a couple of days!
Anyway here is the next instalment, complete with more bad behaviour from our favourite vamps. Enjoy! Review responses to follow soon, I promise.
Edited 25-8-03. I tweaked a couple of sentences which didn't read too smoothly, no major changes though.
5 Aftermath
Jas remains there for some time, sitting alone on the pillar steps. She is still angry with Kain, but on reflection, she is even more angry with herself. To walk into such a situation unprepared!
Fool!
How could she have been so idiotic?
When she can collect her thoughts a little, she tries standing again. She is holding on to one of the pillars, wondering what she should do next, when a female slave comes through one of the side doors. She is a plain, capable looking woman of about forty-five. She is wearing a brooch bearing Kain's own emblem, though Jas is in no state to notice this small detail. The woman walks straight up to her, without the slightest trace of fear, and catches her arm.
"M' Lady, you are to follow me," she says. She goes back through the door, and Jas does follow, too dazed even to question her. "Wait here please, m' Lady," she says and promptly disappears back into the shadows.
Jas finds she has been led outdoors. She is in one of the sanctuary's many courtyards. She can hear the sound of a waterfall in the distance, and looking through the ornate ironwork shutters on the far side, she can see it, plunging down the mountainside and falling into a wide river that flows swiftly past the Sanctuary, ending its course at the Lake of the Dead. She crosses the courtyard and rests her forehead against the cold metal railings in a vain attempt to ease the pains which still wrack her. Frost sparkles along the intricate curves of the iron, the strange, delicate blooms of the ice adding a further dimension to its beauty. She doesn't even see them. She grips the bars for support, crushing the crystals beneath her fingers. The chill in the air is intense, so much so, that she can actually taste it when she draws breath, yet it does little to clear her mind. The interview with Kain has left her drained.
After what seems a long while, the door opens again and this time a younger woman comes out. Jas watches her as she makes her way across the courtyard. The girl limps, taking every step as if it pains her, and there is a peculiar stiffness in the way she holds her shoulders. As she steps into the light, Jas can see her more clearly. Her features are pretty but the face is prematurely lined and she wears no clan insignia. When the girl speaks, her voice is low and husky.
"I am for you."
For a minute, Jas stares at her, unable to comprehend her meaning. Then her hunger takes control, leading her where her reason, at this time, cannot. She places her hands on the girl's shoulders and draws her closer. The girl's eyes widen with fear but she offers no resistance. Jas makes the kill, slicing her throat open with her claws, and feeds, ravenously. Never, in her life, has she fed upon anything quite so docile or so helpless. It is a strange sensation, and not one that she finds particularly pleasant. As soon as she is finished, the first slave reappears. Has she been waiting in the shadows? Watching even? The slave does not even look at the body. Bowing low, she says,
"Are you satisfied m' Lady? Then I will show you to the guest quarters."
Jas follows her in silent contempt. The surreal scene she has just been part of, has left her feeling strangely sickened. How low and degenerate these humans have become!
The accommodation that has been prepared for her this evening is far more comfortable than the cells. In fact, she finds it almost too comfortable. Only the lack of windows indicates that the room is for one of her kind at all. There is a large bed made up with sheets, covers and a pillow, and a fire has been set in the hearth, blazing forth with unnecessary heat. What kind of a place is this, she wonders, where the masters ape the lives of their slaves?
When she lies down, the pain in her head is intense enough to make her reconsider the necessity of the pillow. Even cradled in its unaccustomed softness, she is kept awake long into the day. Sleep, when it finally comes, creeps up on her like a thief and then departs again, just as suddenly, leaving her unrefreshed and disorientated.
*
A feeling of deep gloom settles over her, as she remembers where she is and the events of the previous evening. No matter how luxurious the accommodation, she is still a prisoner here, waiting for Kain to decide her fate, and at this moment, she has no confidence that she will approve his decision.
Jas gets up and dresses quickly, for she can hear movement outside and she has no desire to be caught unawares by either slave or vampire. The pain in her head has thankfully diminished while she slept, but a remnant still lingers, sharpening every time she bends or moves suddenly. Someone, she notices, has placed her wrist guards on a table by the bed; she snaps them on, and continues to look around. Her sword, it appears, has not been returned.
The room gives the impression of having been recently vacated by another guest, probably in a hurry too. She finds a silver hair pin of fearsome proportions under the bed, and a garment, composed almost entirely from thin strips of scarlet silk, has been left casually thrown over the back of the chair. She entertains herself by trying to figure out exactly where each minute scrap of fabric is meant to go, until her musings are disturbed by a knock at the door. At her command, a slave enters bearing a huge goblet of blood, still fresh and warm. Jas takes the goblet, sits on the edge of the bed and drinks deeply, feeling her strength return with every draught.
As soon as the slave departs, there is another knock at the door. Her new visitor does not wait to for an invitation to come in. Looking over the rim of the goblet, she sees that it is none other than Dumah. She stands up as he enters the room but she is too surprised to even attempt a greeting. Fortunately, he does not seem to notice this breach of etiquette.
"Up already?" he enquires. "And wearing those old clothes again. Now that really won't do. You are at court, remember."
She looks down at herself, and can see that he does actually have some cause for complaint. Her clothing is far from new and the skirmish in the forest has left it stained and torn.
"These clothes are all I have," she explains patiently, setting the goblet down, "though I admit, they could do with cleaning and repair."
"Couldn't you find anything else?" he asks, looking towards the chair. "Sometimes guests leave things behind that are quite serviceable."
"I didn't look," she lies. "Besides, I am not in the habit of wearing cast-offs."
He shrugs, as if already bored with the conversation.
"Well, get something new made, if that pleases you." He moves closer to her as he speaks, so close, she can feel his breath against her cheek. "Though surely," he says quietly, "you don't have to be in quite such a hurry to dress tonight?"
He extends a claw as he says this, stroking the back of it gently against her neck. It slips under her shirt and continues, cold against her skin, slow and deliberate, down towards her breast. She clamps her hand hard upon his wrist.
"That's far enough!"
He gives a little incredulous snort.
"Lord Dumah, I have no time for this. I have unfinished business with your master, and I doubt he will be tardy in bringing it to a conclusion."
The golden eyes narrow.
"Kain!" he exclaims. "So, that's where your ambitions lie! The lord of the Dumahim is inadequate for your purposes then." He looks her up and down with contempt. "When the Master was finished with you, I had thought to ask that you to be given into my care. You would have been well rewarded, if you had pleased me. What a shame your ambition has led to your becoming completely deluded." He laughs mockingly, "You will be very disappointed, believe me. You do not have what it takes to beguile Kain."
The implications of this speech are so infuriating that for a moment, Jas is almost incapable of answering him.
"Arrogant whelp!"
It is not the most appropriate insult, for there are scant years between them, and he is quite probably her senior. However, the expression on his face is gratifying. She looks at him scornfully as she continues,
"Did you think I contrived our meeting just so that you would bring me here? I knew well which road leads to the Sanctuary; I didn't need you to lead me in like a dog on a leash. And as to the motive you ascribe to this supposed scheme of mine, you insult me! For centuries, I have been mistress of my own affairs. Why would I suddenly wish to demean myself by becoming a mere plaything, for either you or your master?" She shakes her head disbelievingly. "Believe me Lord Dumah, my arrival here is by chance alone. I have no desire to become part of your degenerate court, or to dabble in its petty politics, and though I may be detained here at Kain's pleasure, I do not belong to him! "
Dumah's face hardens, "You're more deluded than I thought! You have always been subject to the will of Kain, whether or not you choose to acknowledge it. You have lived unmolested because he permitted it. You are alive now because he wills it. That is the same as belonging to him, is it not? "
"It's not the same at all," she replies. "Though I don't expect you to understand the difference." She gestures impatiently towards the door, "Why don't you go and amuse yourself with the tame pretties you and your brothers have brought for that purpose? I'm sure that they all know their place. While I, as you have noted, do not. Nor do I wish to occupy the place you have designated for me. I assume you intended to honour me with your proposal. If so, it's an honour I do not want."
While he is still perfectly in control, he is also very angry,
"How dare you to speak to me in this manner! The favour of a clan leader is not something you reject. There is no higher position for a female here, than that which you have so crudely dismissed."
She looks at him coldly,
"Then I pity them!"
Her speech has proven to be the perfect antidote to desire. It is doubtful that Dumah has ever been quite so thoroughly insulted, and certainly not by one whom he intended to favour. Only his duty to Kain, who wants this creature unharmed, for now, stays his hand. He moves to the door, contenting himself with one final speech,
"You will find the realities of life here are somewhat harsher than you imagine," he says. "I look forward to the day when you realize that you have made a mistake, when you realize that this is no place to be alone and friendless. I look forward to hearing you beg that you might be allowed to reconsider."
Her retort is quick and vehement. "I'd sleep in the swamp before I'd beg you for anything!"
At this particular moment, nothing would give him more pleasure than to arrange just such a sleeping place for her.
He turns to leave, and is not a little surprised to hear the sound of a boot forcibly hitting the door a split second after he has pulled it closed behind him.
*
When the message arrives summoning her to the throne room, Jas is almost grateful for the distraction. Despite her bravado when facing Dumah, she is well aware of the precariousness of her position. She has no intention of staying here any longer than necessary, but it is quite clear that she will only leave when Kain permits it, and maybe he won't allow her to leave at all. Left alone, she cannot but dwell on the distasteful possibility that Dumah may be right; perhaps she has made a mistake in alienating him.
When she arrives at the Throne-room doors, she finds them firmly shut. A council meeting is in session explains a slave, and no one may approach until the doors have been opened from within. The slave ushers her back into one of the courtyards and stands, guarding the exit. Sighing, Jas settles down to wait. This courtyard is not a particularly comfortable place to wait in; a vast pool of water stretches across its entire width, spanned only by a narrow bridge in the centre. Deliberately, she seats herself at the edge of the water on the far side. The water is unnerving, but with the slave present, she is determined to keep her uneasiness hidden. To distract herself, she takes out her dagger and begins, meticulously, to clean and polish the blade. When the task is completed, she is still alone, apart from the slave. She lays the dagger down, leans back against the wall, and closes her eyes.
The tiniest of sounds disturbs her reverie. She looks up to see a female vampire standing beside her. She is stunningly beautiful and elegantly dressed in a gown of emerald silk that accentuates every curve of her body. Her long black hair is swept back from her face and intricately plaited into a knot before it falls loose, down to her waist. The stranger does not speak; instead, she smiles, at the same time flicking Jas' dagger with her toe, into the water beside them.
Jas hesitates for only a second. Willing her hand cold…colder…colder yet… she plunges it straight into the pool. She can feel the water freezing around her flesh as she does so. Colder… colder… she can barely close her fingers around the dagger.
When her hand emerges, it is encased in ice, the dagger fused in her grasp. Rising, she uses this hand to strike her tormentor across the face. The ice around the dagger shatters with the force of the blow and Jas notes with satisfaction that the complacent smile has gone.
The vampire's eyes are open wide with shock. She raises a trembling hand to her shattered nose and cheekbone, and then regards her fingers, dripping scarlet with her own blood. An expression of disbelief comes over her face, swiftly replaced by one of pure fury. Screaming with rage, she unsheathes her claws and lunges at Jas. The blow does not connect. Jas sidesteps neatly, and the claws merely brush against her sleeve, catching her assailant off balance. With one deft movement, Jas pushes her headlong into the pool.
When the waters are calm once more, Jas looks up. The doors to the throne room are evidently now open. Kain stands on the opposite side of the pool. His sons, a respectful two steps behind him, are ranged on either side. Raziel, stands at Kain's right hand. It was he, she realizes, who was absent yesterday. Dumah is not present, but she has no time to ponder the significance of that now.
For a long time, they look at each other. No one speaks. A drop of water slides from her hair down onto her face. She can feel it etching into her cheek like liquid fire. A growing sensation of pain in her left hands tells her that the ice surrounding it is rapidly thawing. Slowly she unrolls her sleeve. She dabs her cheek with the cuff and then dries her hand, before carefully folding it up again.
It is Raziel, who breaks the silence.
"How dare you violate these halls? Fighting is forbidden here." He steps up to his father's side, "I demand justice for the death of my kinswoman!"
Kain says nothing; he merely inclines his head towards her, indicating that she should speak.
"My Lord, were you witness to the whole event?" she asks, "If you were, you will know what happened was not at my instigation; and ugly though the incident was," she adds, turning to Raziel, "I would hardly have termed it a fight."
"Indeed," says Kain, "we did see all." He turns to his eldest son with a shrug. "It would appear that justice has been served, for the transgressor no longer lives. Though I do hope, Raziel, that the females of your clan are not all so inept in the arts of combat. Doubtless, you valued her for other more aesthetic qualities, but such charms are of little use in the grave."
He dismisses his sons with a wave of his hand. As he passes, Raziel turns to look at her, his eyes blazing. She meets his gaze steadily.
She has seen him before somewhere, a long time ago.
Where?
At the edge of the abyss, his broken body pinned between Turel and Dumah. Turel triumphant, second best no longer, Dumah merely dutiful, following Kain's commands and feeling nothing, apparently, and the others, just watching. Jas herself, just watching, through the cold, dark eye of the orb.
"Come," says Kain, breaking into her thoughts, "you and I have business to conclude."
*
He leads her back towards the throne room but stops at an arched doorway just before it. The doorway is the same as all the others in this hallway, high and richly adorned. The chamber beyond is also of grand proportions. The floor is a mosaic of pale blue, white and golden tiles, the gold forming a delicate interlaced border that encircles the room, the same pattern being repeated in the tiles on the walls. Four slender columns of white marble support a domed ceiling, painted blue and studded with golden stars, and from the dome itself, hangs an enormous gold filigree lamp. For all the richness of the decoration, the room itself is sparsely furnished; a small ornate table, carved from the same marble as the columns, stands in the centre, and on either side of this are two couches, draped in deep blue velvet. They are the only concessions to comfort. As she approaches, Jas notices a chessboard and a small golden box on the table. Kain opens the box and begins to set the pieces on the board.
"Do you play chess?" he enquires.
She looks down for a moment, confused; this is not at all what she had expected. Eventually, she gathers her wits enough to make a reply,
"Poorly, I'm afraid. I never progressed beyond a basic knowledge of the game. I doubt I would provide you with any entertainment."
He continues to set the pieces out. "How might I make this a more interesting proposal? What might we wager on the outcome?"
The alarmed expression that crosses her face is piquant. He is careful not to show that he has seen it. "Well?"
"My Lord, my game is poor for lack of tutoring and practice, not for lack of incentive."
"Very well then, no wagers. Regard this evening's game as a lesson. Indulge me, please." He sprawls easily on one of the couches beside the board and motions her to a place opposite. She sits down carefully, watching him intently as she does so, trying to work out his motives for this unexpected offer. Her wariness amuses him.
It was not false modesty that led Jas to declare herself unworthy as an opponent; it is the truth. The last time she played chess, she was still human. Kain is, of course, an excellent player.
She quickly discerns that his offer to teach her is genuine. He has no interest in victory for its own sake. He is generous with his knowledge, observing her play keenly, suggesting alternative, more effective strategies for achieving her ends. And she responds. She is soon totally immersed in the game. He watches as she leans forwards, her face rapt with attention, feet tucked up on the couch. For the moment at least, the events of yesterday are completely forgotten. She is an apt pupil; the vampire mind is keener than its mortal predecessor and what is learned, is retained. Though her opponent occasionally has to rescue her from the traps he has set, next time Jas will see them, next time she might even try setting them herself.
For one who has lived isolated for so long, this meeting of minds is intoxicating, and the gift of knowledge, which costs him nothing, is more valuable to her than the rarest of treasures. She is only too aware of Kain's formidable mental powers, but at this moment she is not threatened by them, on the contrary, they are a source of pleasure. While he helps her strengthen her defences on the chessboard, Kain disarms her completely, and she is not even aware of it happening.
They reach a point in the game when his victory is certain. She laughs softly as she sees the trap he has finally managed to close around her remaining pieces.
"Oh that's clever!" she says admiringly, "I do believe I am out of options."
"I believe you are. Though there are still several moves that you can make."
"I see three, and they all end in defeat. I concede the match."
"Next time we shall test what you have learned."
"I look forward to it."
He leans back and stretches,
"You still owe me an explanation for your presence here. Perhaps now you would care to tell me what brought you to my door."
She is on her guard immediately. How should she best approach this? After what happened yesterday.
Kain is not even looking at her. She realizes that he is allowing her time. Time to compose herself, time to think, and that in itself, is some comfort. She decides to tell her tale as simply and directly as she can.
"I had a meeting with Moebius, my Lord."
He gives a short bark of laughter and regards her pityingly. Clearly, he is wondering whether his assault yesterday has left her more damaged than he had initially thought.
"Moebius is dead child, I killed him myself."
"I don't dispute that. It is common knowledge. What I also know is, two nights ago, I stood as close to Moebius as I am to you now and he most certainly was not dead."
Now she has his interest.
"Tell me the whole story, from the beginning."
Jas recounts the tale of her meeting with Moebius and Kain listens attentively. When she has finished, he does not speak for some time,
"So," he says at last. "Moebius has travelled beyond the time of his death, to interfere in our affairs. It is possible that he had the foresight to do that, I grant you.
And you tell me he has brought vampire hunters to the edges of our territories, with the sole aim of taking back an article that you had stolen from the Sarafan stronghold. Interesting pastimes you choose to amuse yourself."
He pauses, frowning, "Much of this tale does not make sense."
She leans forward, hastening to explain, "In the heat of the moment, I just accepted his story, but on my way here I had time to think. Moebius wasn't telling the truth, that's obvious. If he simply wanted the orb back, he had plenty of time to take it before my return and no reason to wait for me. I think now that events have happened just as he would have wished, unless I have overestimated his abilities."
Kain laughs ironically, "I know of no one yet, who has made that happy mistake. And what of the vampire hunters?"
"Had Moebius not been there, it is possible they could have slain me while I was sleeping. The orb would either have remained in the tower, or more likely, been returned to the Sarafan stronghold. Now, thanks to his intervention, it is here."
She opens the leather bag that hangs from her belt and takes out the orb. Kain takes it from her outstretched hand, and examines it closely.
"You don't think that the hunters were working with Moebius?"
"I'm not sure Sire, it is possible that he just took advantage of their presence at that particular time. What I do know is that the route to the Sanctuary was the only one left open. I had to come here. There was no where else to go."
As she finishes speaking, Kain leans back and gives her a long hard look.
"An interesting story, and an interesting theory, but I fear your interpretation of events is mistaken." He leans back and looks at her as if considering whether or not he should elaborate on this statement.
After a minute, he continues speaking.
"What you do not know is that there are places here in Nosgoth, where the very fabric of time is made visible. Where the future is revealed, to those with the power to unlock its secrets and I have such powers, as Moebius is well aware. So, what could he hope to gain from sending me your pretty toy?"
"These places you speak of, do they show you what you ask?"
Kain smiles, shaking his head at the naivety of her question.
"There is no way to control what is shown."
To his surprise, she does not seem disappointed, in fact quite the opposite.
"Then that's the answer!" she exclaims. She holds out the orb to him once more. "This is different. This may be directed. If you ask it a question it will answer you."
"How?"
"You just ask. It will show the past, present or apparently the future."
"Apparently?"
"How can one be sure? Moebius told me that foreknowledge of events could enable their prevention, but as something that once belonged to him, I wouldn't trust this artefact without question. Even if it doesn't lie to you, selected truths, shown out of context, could prove deceiving."
"A timely warning from one who admits to having been deceived and used herself."
"I meant no disrespect. I doubt I have any important role to play in Moebius' schemes. Probably he didn't expect me to survive the hunt, or he deemed my survival irrelevant to his plan. Having said that, he clearly intended that this object should come to you, and that can only mean that he hopes to manipulate you somehow through your use of it. Since I am here, how can I put it into your hands and say nothing?"
He gives her a long hard look, "So, you would place your trust in me?" he asks finally.
"I wouldn't place my trust in Moebius."
"Not at all the same thing," he says dryly. "A most prudent answer!"
He rolls the orb around his palm in much the same way that she had done herself on that fateful day in the tower. It remains dark, despite the fact that he is watching it closely. "And when you asked it about the future, did you find its answers truthful?"
"I very seldom did. The future tends to come to me unbidden."
He looks intrigued but says nothing. When she does not speak further, he gives her a gentle prompt,
"Meaning?"
"I see things, I always have, even as a human. Generally, they make sense after the event, seldom before. It is not an attribute I have ever found particularly useful."
He laughs at this revelation.
"If only all seers and fortune-tellers were so honest! Perhaps when your mental powers evolve further, you will be able to control and direct this ability, then it will prove to be of use, I am sure." He directs his attention back to the orb. "Are you certain this is the same stone you found in the stronghold? I feel no response from it. Could you have been tricked?"
She takes the orb from him apprehensively. She hasn't looked at it since her arrival. If she has been deceived, and caused Kain to waste two evenings through failing to notice, the consequences are hardly going to be pleasant.
"The only way to check, is for me to ask it something," she says. "What would you have it show you?"
"Something simple to start, something from the present." He considers a moment. "Show me Rahab. Show me what my fourth son is doing at this particular moment."
She holds the orb and forms a picture of Rahab in her mind. Then she asks the question. To her relief, she feels the familiar chill against her palms. When she looks, for she hadn't dared to at first, the stone has already cleared. Rahab is resting, not sitting or lying down, but swimming. He is turning slow, lazy circles in a deep, dark pool of water, the filtered light from above playing gently across his dappled skin. She watches incredulous, as he dives slowly to the bottom. A vampire swimming! Unbelievable! Except that she is seeing it with her own eyes.
Earlier this evening, standing behind Kain, Rahab had kept to the shadows, turning his eyes from the light, as he had on that first night in the throne-room. He had seemed timid, weak even. Now, in this strange environment, the illusion of weakness is dispelled, and the pale turquoise eyes, are alive with perception and intelligence. It is a revelation.
"Ah," says Kain, "the new gift." He takes the stone from her, and instantly the picture fades. He gives her a curious look. "I see. Perhaps those attributes, for which you find no use, are needed after all."
She looks back at him without answering. She is at once relieved that the stone is genuine, and concerned that Kain is apparently unable to use it. The implications of this discovery are somewhat worrying. Suddenly she feels very tired.
Kain hands the orb back to her, "You seem surrounded by mysteries," he remarks, "and I am still very curious about your origins. I have begun an investigation, until it is completed, you may continue to enjoy our hospitality."
"Thank you," she says, trying hard to conceal her dismay.
He rises and looks at her solicitously. "You are tired, we have talked well into the day. Tonight we have the Ceremony of First Flowers; it will be another long evening. Go now and get some rest. We will continue this conversation at a later date."
*
Rest however, is to be denied her, for a little longer at least. When she gets back to her room, a slave is waiting there. The girl jumps up from the chair where she has been sitting, her face riddled with guilt.
"Forgive me please! I was sent to measure you for new clothes for tonight."
"Then do so, and then leave, I am tired."
Relief floods the girl's face. Her transgression is apparently to go unpunished. She is almost desperate to please.
"What is your Ladyship's pleasure? A gown?" She spreads out samples of silks and velvets across the bed.
"What about something similar to the clothes I'm wearing?"
The slave's expression grows dubious.
"Well, of course we could…." she trails off indecisively.
"I take it that would not be the conventional choice for this ceremony. Speak out. If you have something to say, I wish to hear it."
"A gown is more usual, but whatever my Lady chooses will be acceptable. Perhaps if we make both, my Lady can choose whichever she prefers."
Jas inclines her head in agreement. She takes off her shirt so that she can be measured, revealing her scars. For a human, the slave keeps her face under remarkable control.
"Now you see why a gown might be a problem," Jas says. "I will not be stared at like some freak on show. You understand?" The slave nods vigorously. "Nor will I have these markings spoken of. Not to anyone." She unsheathes a claw and catches the girl under the chin with it, forcing her to meet her eyes. "Don't misinterpret my earlier leniency," she tells her. "You don't want to incur my displeasure."
She chooses her fabrics and finally she is left in peace.