16 The Conference
Melchiah is less than pleased, to be informed that a visit from his sire is imminent, though the possibility of seeing his brothers, and Dumah's pretty lady as well, sweetens the prospect a little.
In truth, he has been in a state of high irritation all evening. Kain has requested something from him, and through no fault of his own, he has been unable to comply with his sire's request.
He has been trying to get a transcript of the interrogation of the Sarafan priest that the Turelim had captured, but the witness Turel has sent to aid him, is proving less than forthcoming. Most irritating of all, this unhelpful attitude does not appear to come from any desire to conceal the truth, a motive that Melchiah could at least respect, but apparently, from blank stupidity.
The young Turelim is sitting in a chair somewhere in the depths of Melchiah's stronghold and Melchiah is standing before him, at this moment, completely out of patience. The youth is beginning to realise just how the unfortunates who have ended up in Turel's interrogation chambers must have felt during their own questioning. He wishes fervently that he had never set eyes on the human that he helped torture to death, and he would do anything to be able to leave, but no matter how he tries, he is unable to provide the clan leader with answers that satisfy him.
Melchiah leans forward once more and puts a claw to his throat.
"I do not need you to tell me the words." He hisses. "You have done that already, don't waste my time repeating yourself. Words are only one of the ways these vermin communicate. What I desire, is knowledge of the entire interrogation. How your subject spoke, how he looked, every sob, every whimper, each minute shift in his posture, his facial expression, from the start, right down to the very end." He explodes in exasperated fury, his claw ripping an ugly tear from the base of the fledgling's neck right across his chest. "You kept him alive four hours! A mere four hours! How hard can this be?"
The fledgling is completely terrified now, he stares at his tormentor, dumbly.
Melchiah throws up his hands in disgust and turns to a second figure in the room, a young female scribe, bald, as are all but the very youngest of the Melchiahim, but still possessed of fingers. She is sitting quietly in the corner, a pen held in her hand and poised above the sheet she has been writing on. She raises her eyes to her sire but since he has not addressed her directly, she does not make so bold as to speak to him.
"Amateurs!" Melchiah exclaims. "Rank amateurs! Why, oh why, did that damn fool of a human have to wander into Turel's territory? Why not Zephon's? Zephon would have kept him alive, for days probably. He knows how to extract information, and he knows the value of taking one's time. Not that he's always willing to share what he learns…" Melchiah chuckles, a deep throaty gurgle, "…but there are ways of getting around that! Zephon always cracks eventually, and when you do prise something out of him, it's invariably worth the effort!" He wheels back to the Turelim fledgling. "When you return to your dungeons, boy, inform your masters that interrogation is a delicate operation, especially when conducted on such a frail thing as a human. It must be approached carefully, like a courtship. To get to the truth, one must prolong the agony, and to prolong the agony, one must first prolong the life!" He draws a deep breath, closing his eyes as he warms to his subject. "Inflicting pain is an art, my young friend, practise it well and it can provide such exquisite pleasures. Personally, I've found nothing equal. Butchery, like this…" his claw snapping into the papers in the female's lap, "is such a waste of opportunity! Now, once more, try to remember exactly what happened. To someone of my experience, every nuance can speak volumes."
The fledgling does not reply, in truth, much of Melchiah's speech has gone above his head. He has no idea what is required of him.
Realising, at last, that he is going to get no satisfaction from the unfortunate youth, Melchiah seizes him by the throat. He lifts him from the chair, and holds him up at arm's length, his feet dangling above the ground. The youth flinches as Melchiah looks straight into his eyes and Melchiah's lips curl into a snarl. He shakes the fledgling violently, before hurling him with all the force he can muster, right across the room. The young scribe watches as the fledgling lands and he goes sliding across the stone flags in front of her, his head colliding with the stout planks of the door. There is a sickening crunch as his skull meets timber, and a dark pool of blood starts to spread out beneath his head.
The scribe raises her eyes.
"Perhaps, Sire," she suggests, "the word 'nuance' is not in his vocabulary."
Melchiah wheels towards her, his eyes two glowing, red points in the darkness. The scribe holds her breath; it was not her place to speak, and with her lord in this mood, the price of such a mistake could prove high. Melchiah looks at her and then at the fledgling, his lips starting to curl upwards again. Is he amused, or simply contemplating an interesting punishment for her? The scribe is unsure. Eventually, a low, bubbling rumble starts deep in his chest, turning into a full chuckle as he walks towards her. He slaps her across the back, rather too heartily for comfort, but she does not complain, she is simply relieved her suffering is so slight.
"'Not in his vocabulary.' Eh?" Melchiah rumbles, shaking her shoulder affectionately. "I like that! Probably true, worse luck! We're done here. I can afford no more time on this idiot! Write up what you have and bring it to me."
He walks over to the door and kicks the unfortunate Turelim out of his path, a groan signifying that the youth is still alive, for now. Melchiah doesn't even spare a glance in his direction. With exaggerated courtesy, he holds the door open for the scribe and then he follows her out of the room.
Melchiah is waiting to greet Kain, Dumah and Jas when they arrive at the entrance to his stronghold. He immediately slips an arm around Jas' waist as he leads them inside, leaving Kain, and a rather annoyed-looking Dumah, to follow behind.
"We are in the conference room," he calls over his shoulder to them. "Everything is ready." He leans in closer to Jas. "Now tell me," he asks in a confidential whisper, "how have you been keeping, dear Lady? Have you had any success in civilizing the wild Dumahim?"
Despite the grim prospect looming before her, Jas finds herself smiling. "I haven't tried," she tells him.
Melchiah looks over his shoulder, favouring his brother with a particularly smug grin as he tightens his arm about her.
"I see what you mean," he says loudly, "civilizing them, probably is a lost cause. You should have made a stronger protest." He adds.
"A protest?"
"About being consigned to the frozen wastes of the north and left with that oaf behind us. Sometimes, the Master is too harsh."
Jas giggles, "But I like it there," she says, "and I like the 'oaf', too."
Melchiah groans. "You poor, deluded creature, that is so sad."
He takes her hand and pats it with his own, slightly pudgy, paw. Jas can't help noticing that a flap of skin is coming loose from his palm; she tries hard not to focus on the wet, slightly sticky sensation as it dabs against her hand. "What you need, my dear," Melchiah continues, "is a stay in more civilized surroundings. At least until the balance of your mind is restored."
"Have you anywhere in mind?" she asks casually. She is enjoying the flirtation, probably as much as he is at this stage, even though she finds him, physically, far from attractive.
"Enough!" Growls Dumah, suddenly breaking in between them, and removing Melchiah's arm from her waist. "There are serious matters afoot, and your prattle, brother, is not improving my temper."
Melchiah gives him a wide smile, its edges laced with fangs.
"What an unexpected show of feeling!" He chortles. "We've gotten very possessive about this one, haven't we?"
"Yes! If it pleases you to think so. Now, lead on and let us get this over with."
Melchiah opens the door to the conference room. He winks at Jas as he ushers her in before him.
"Nice to be wanted, isn't it?" He says, avoiding a rather vicious jab from Dumah's claw. "And it's so entertaining to watch, as well!"
Raziel, Rahab and Zephon are already seated at the table. Kain pulls out a chair for Jas next to Raziel, and Dumah takes his seat beside her. One chair is left vacant. Jas turns to Dumah, with a puzzled frown.
"No Turel?" She asks, in a whisper.
Dumah smiles. "The Master has had him on a very short leash since his attempt on your life; I don't think it extends quite this far."
Raziel leans towards her, as Dumah speaks, the gesture causing his dark hair to fall forwards, creating the perfect frame for those flawless features. He looks into her eyes, with a smile.
So very beautiful, Jas thinks, but still, he leaves her cold.
"The general consensus is, that you did us all a favour there." He says. "Meetings drag on so, when Turel's present; he is uncommonly fond of the sound of his own voice."
It is the first time he has favoured her with anything approaching normal conversation and Jas can't help wondering if this apparent change of attitude is merely pretence, and if it is, whose benefit it is for, hers, Kain's or Dumah's? When she looks at Raziel again, she can see him regarding her with quiet amusement, aware that she is trying to fathom his motives. One thing, she will not miss about this place, is the interminable game playing.
Melchiah had left the room again as soon as they were seated and now he returns, depositing a heap of books and papers onto the table. As soon as he has done this, Kain calls the meeting to order.
The prospect of the expedition intrigues the brethren. It is a long time since Kain has spoken to any of them of his time in the Hylden city, nearly as long as when he left the records of those events in Melchiah's care.
Melchiah hands Jas a large book covered in soft, scarlet leather, one of the companions to the volume in Dumah's study. Kain's own symbol is embossed on the front and the spine in gold.
"This contains is a full account of the Master's time in the lands that once belonged to the Hylden." He tells her. "It includes maps, pictures, everything. Borrow it for as long as you wish."
He notices her fingers stroking the cover of the book, as she takes it from his hands; it is exceptionally fine. "Human skin," he explains. "It makes the loveliest binding. The Master said you might appreciate it."
"He was right, I had many books in my own library," she says. "Mostly Sarafan in origin, but few were of a quality like this."
"I'd be interested in seeing them some day, if you wouldn't mind?"
Jas sighs, "Alas, my library is no more, the vampire hunters burnt everything."
Melchiah's face contracts into a frown. "I am sorry to hear that, I hate to think of knowledge being so wantonly destroyed. Over the years, I have devised many punishments for those who burn books, but somehow, nothing seems quite sufficient." He pauses for a moment, thinking sadly of the ruined library and the books it once contained, books that he will now, never get to read. "Strange," he says when he turns back to Jas, "that we never ran into one another as we plundered the Sarafan strongholds."
Jas quirks an eyebrow at him. "But we nearly did," she says, "once or twice."
*
Melchiah starts to unroll mariner's charts across the table. He turns to Kain. "My Lord, how do you propose the party will make the journey to the Hylden City?"
"In a boat!" Mutters Zephon acerbically.
"Obviously." Melchiah retorts. "But a boat is something we do not have. There is little need in the territories, unless you have taken up a new pastime."
Zephon glares at him.
"A boat has been commissioned." Says Kain, cutting across them. "It will be manned by the followers of our priestess. They will ensure the occupant arrives safely and well nourished."
"Occupant?" Interrupts Dumah. "Just how many are you proposing to send on this trip, my Lord?"
"Only one," replies Kain.
There is a stunned silence. All the brothers look at Kain and then at Jas and then back to Kain again.
"We have no idea what awaits on the other side." Kain explains. "One will be able to slip in unnoticed, a larger force would not. If the place should be well-defended, you would need an army to prevail."
"But even so…"
Kain turns to Dumah. "When I went there, I went alone." He says, and clearly, he intends that to be the end of the debate.
"And when she returns, with the information she has gathered, then will we plan our campaign?" Asks Zephon.
Kain turns to him. "Returning will not be so simple, if the boat remains at anchor it will attract attention. It will need to be scuttled as soon as Jaslinde is safely ashore."
"So, how will she get back here?" Asks Raziel.
"That will be up to her. If she manages it, she will bring us the information we have requested."
"If…?" Dumah mutters under his breath.
Raziel turns to Jas.
"The outcome of this venture seems very uncertain," he says. "Why do you want to go at all?"
Jas smiles, "I have good reasons for going there, and they outweigh the risks. Any information I can give you at a later date, will be a return for the aid you give me now."
Dumah is frowning, "I still think it too risky for you to go alone." He says. "A small force, even one more person, could raise your chances of survival."
"But who could you spare?" She asks him. "You have a major campaign planned against the humans as we speak. Who could you afford to lose, for months, years even, maybe forever?"
Dumah glares at the table in front of him. She is right, the obvious choice would be Berrin, but he needs him here, with him. The same applies to anyone else who would be truly useful to her.
*
Rahab and Melchiah have been plotting a course on the charts while this debate has been going on. They show it to Kain, who nods approval and then rolls the charts up.
Next Kain unrolls a large map of the Hylden city and the surrounding coastline.
"I think it best you land somewhere east of the city," he says. "The coastline there seems to have a few natural harbours and you should be able to slip ashore unnoticed. My own explorations were only carried out inside the city itself, the ship I was on travelled directly there, so I have no idea what hazards you might meet beyond its boundaries.
The city was not well guarded at the time, though of course, that might have changed by now. If indeed, it is inhabited at all. If it is any comfort to you, I encountered few enemies there, besides the Hylden themselves. There were spiders, as I recall, large brutes that tended to lurk in the places a vampire might seek to shelter from the sun. They will be dangerous to you, if you meet several at once, but if you do kill any, you will be able to feed from them."
He notes the astonished stares from the others, "As experiences go, I would class it as interesting rather than pleasant," he says with a smile. "But one never knows what one is prepared to do, until survival depends upon it." He turns his attention back to Jas. "The only other creatures I would warn you of, are the demons. I believe the Hylden brought them from another dimension, possibly their own, though I don't know to what purpose. I set a few of them free, and they caused a pleasing amount of havoc and destruction, but it is possible some still roam the city. If you should encounter one, remember, they lack the ability to climb, so getting to safety should be fairly simple. I had no problems evading them." He pauses. "Anything else?" He asks himself, leaning back as he thinks for a minute. "Oh yes! The indigenous humans. I actually spoke to a couple of them once. They seemed to think they were somehow stronger than the slaves the Hylden were bringing over from Meridian, but I saw no difference. They died just as easily."
They spend the rest of the evening looking over the various sketches and plans Kain had made of the city and his drawings of the Hylden themselves. Jas looks at them in wonder, they seem so alien, but then she reminds herself, they did come from another place entirely. What did Kain call it? Another dimension.
She wonders vaguely what this other dimension would be like, but has to give up, she can't imagine it at all.
As they are preparing to leave, Kain turns to Melchiah.
"What did you learn from that young Turelim about our Sarafan priest?" He asks.
Melchiah hands him the slim sheaf of papers that is the transcript.
"Nothing." He says ruefully. "Nothing we didn't already know. They asked him barely anything. From this, it would appear he blurted out what he wanted to tell them, and then they killed him. Totally lacking in finesse, the Turelim." He shakes his head in disgust at the way the affair has been mishandled.
Kain rolls the papers together and fastens them neatly. He takes Melchiah's arm.
"The fault does not lie with you, Melchiah," he says. "You did your best with what you were sent and I thank you for your efforts. This, is better than nothing."
Raziel is taking his leave of Jas and Dumah.
"You don't know how much I envy you," Raziel says to Jas, his eyes shining as he thinks of the things they have been planning. "Life has been so dull here recently. Imagine, waking up under new skies, facing new enemies, even drinking the blood of creatures unknown in this land."
Jas smiles, "I doubt it will be all pleasant." She replies.
"Pleasant!" He exclaims, "Who needs pleasant? I have had a thousand years of pleasant. What I crave is something sharper!"
"Perhaps," she says gently, "it would be better to appreciate what you already have, my Lord. As Kain's first lieutenant, your position is to be envied, surely?"
Raziel laughs recklessly, throwing his cloak back from his shoulder.
"No," he says. "If this life holds any new experiences for me, I'll embrace them, whatever they are, but I doubt that it does; my duties hold me here, and here, the pattern of life is eternal and unchanging. I shall think of you, when I am subduing the last, pathetic humans of Nosgoth."
"And I shall think of you too." she replies.
*
Dumah has barely looked at her all evening. As soon as they are back in his chambers, he takes her arm, turning her to face him.
"Why, are you suddenly so determined to go?" He asks.
"You know why I'm going. I go in search of the one who made me."
He frowns. "Don't treat me like a fool, please. If that is the truth, it's only a part of it. It looks to me, as though you are running away from something. What, exactly, did Kain say to you in the throne room?"
She shakes her head. "I can't tell you that. I promised Kain I wouldn't discuss it."
"And I promised him, I wouldn't ask." He says. "But I think I deserve an explanation, don't you? What is it you're so afraid of?"
She doesn't answer for a minute, she just shakes her head again and looks down at her feet.
What can she say? If she tells him the truth, he will very possibly ask her to stay and that is something she could never agree to.
"You do deserve an explanation, of course you do," she says, "but I'm not sure you're going to understand. I have to leave this place and I have to leave now. I can't wait. Something is going to happen, something that will change the course of history and if I'm still here at that time, I don't think I will get another chance to leave. This quest is important to me. I have to pursue it."
"You're speaking in riddles!" Dumah cries in exasperation. "Tell me plainly why you have to go, or at least, tell me what it is that's going to happen. What is this momentous event that you've foreseen?"
She shakes her head. "I'm sorry. I can't tell you that."
"Can't or won't?"
"Please understand, it makes no difference, it can't be stopped or altered. I don't have the ability to change the things I see."
She frowns as a sudden spasm cramps the fingers of her right hand, and Dumah looks at her suspiciously, suspecting she might be trying to distract him, but it only takes a moment, for him to see that she really is in pain.
"It's been hurting me all evening," she explains, rubbing her forearm vigorously. "In fact, I've felt stiff all over ever since we left Melchiah." She gasps as the spasm intensifies. "Damnation! I can't straighten my fingers out. My whole arm has gone rigid."
Suddenly she realizes what is happening.
"Dumah, call Kain, please. I think I'm about to enter the state of change."
Wordlessly, Dumah does as she asks.
Kain arrives almost immediately, but already Jas is worse, her limbs stiff and cramped, her eyes unable to stand even candlelight; she does not remember it ever being this bad before.
She does not know where Kain takes her, and by the time they arrive, she is past caring, just accepting that it is dark, dry and she can rest here safely.