III. Darkness deep as Hell

Two long lines of braziers, filled with glowing coals, had been put up along the underground hall's length, giving off a soft, flickering light not wholly able to dissipate the gloom. In the corners and towards the farther end, deep shadows still lingered. The side containing the entrance, however, was illumined by a lantern's eerie red glow, seemingly bathing the cherub worked into the stone wall to either side of the doorway in dark, glistening blood.

Many shapes crouched along the lines of braziers, most of them men, but also a few women, some of them busy with chores which could be done in the twilight, like tending the fires, pouring drinks from large, crude pottery jugs or, in some cases, whisking blades over whetstones. The area between the two lines was left bare, though – except for one tall, dark shape, looming up in the very middle of the hall, not moving, his presence a quiet threat.

Something stirred at the entrance, and then the ghastly red sheen swept over Adhemar's scarred features for a moment as he strode along the aisle between the lines of braziers, another man following in his wake. This man was less tall, and the visible left side of his face was lined with age. A black hood hung over the other, hiding it from sight.

Stopping sharp in front of the towering shadow in the middle of the hall, Adhemar bowed, his right fist pressed to his chest in salute. "Master." The other at his heels repeated the gesture, though he did not speak.

Slowly the one thus addressed turned, the folds of a flowing black robe rippling and billowing gently around him. The braziers' weak glow made the shadows dance across sharp features and a high brow, framed with long dark hair. One eye glittered in the twilight. From the middle of his forehead to the end of his right cheekbone ran a deep, broad scar, like cloven with a sword, crossing the right eye, which was covered by a dark piece of cloth, slung lopsided around his head.

Adhemar bowed once more before he spoke again. "Master, we have searched the lair once again. We must assume that he has dwelled down here for some time, though it is impossible to say for how long. There is no evidence that he has returned since last night."

The man in front of him nodded, acknowledging Adhemar's report. "You have done well", he said, his voice rich and deep, and very cold. "Your task is fulfilled. When he comes, he will answer all the remaining questions himself."

"Lionel still has not returned." The voice was soft, but sharp, and all three men turned to regard the speaker. From among the sitting figures, Aeternus had risen, flanked by a pair of fair-haired men, disapproval written clearly on his plain face.

"Lionel departed on my orders, and you would do well not to question them."

There was the briefest moment of hesitation, then Aeternus bowed his head. "Yes, Master."

"He is right, though." A tall, slender woman stepped between the men gracefully, in a clinging dress of black silk, glossy dark hair falling down her back in waves. Her features were of a rare beauty, yet her expression was hard and determined, as were her dark eyes. "Lionel is a fool. Do you really think he is up to the task set for him?"

If the tall man in the middle was angered by the absence of his title, he did not show it. "Lionel will serve my purpose well enough."

"A hidden purpose beside the obvious one, I'll wager", Aeternus muttered, stroking his short, square-cut beard with thumb and index of his gloved right hand.

"Do not try my patience, Aeternus." If possible, the cold in the Master's voice had increased. "You may have a sub-dominant mind, and a very subtle one, but your tongue runs far too loose."

Again there was a very brief moment of hesitation, then Aeternus murmured, "Forgive me, Master."

"Either way, we will have him."

There was a murmur of agreement from Adhemar and the hooded man at his shoulder, and Aeternus nodded slightly.

"I saw him", the woman said. "Aeternus and I. That night at the Opera. It seems he is a pretty one. Let me have him, Master, and break him for you."

But he waved her away with a simple gesture of his hand. "I am not yet making any promises." His gaze shifted to another figure standing in the shadows. "What is it you have found out, then? Have you yet determined his age?"

Thus addressed, the man stepped up closer into the light. He was tall, lean and completely white-haired, yet his brows were black, and his narrow, noble face bore the lines of many a decade he had seen come and pass. Still he moved with grace, though, as if those years had only very barely touched him. "Master", he answered, his voice equally full and deep, yet lacking the cold of the other's, "my men do not seem to agree on his exact age. Kalo's information is the most reliable, and he insists on dating him above forty-eight. If he truly belongs to your kind, Master, he will appear younger. It corresponds with Lord Aeternus's estimation, then." Although he used a title when he referred to the man with the one black glove, there was no reverence in his voice, and it seemed he was speaking of an equal. The pair of blond men at Aeternus's side both shifted their position and exchanged an angered glance, yet Aeternus calmed them down with a lazy wave of his gloved hand, his expression remaining unchanged.

"Very well. What of his powers?"

"Hypnotic powers, as it seems, Master. And only when he looks into someone's eyes."

"We do not know how his powers have developed over the years", the woman pointed out. "But I will have no difficulties in finding out once I have him."

"Are you not content with what you have, then?" Adhemar suddenly growled.

The woman smiled. "No, my sweet", she replied mockingly. "I never am."

The man they called their Master nodded curtly, and the white-haired one withdrew once more into the shadows. "I can feel him. He is coming to me."

"To us", the woman corrected, one eyebrow raised.

He turned to her, then, and at once she winced as if struck by an invisible hand. "Do not overestimate your position, Niobe." His voice was as sharp as a stab with an icicle. "You can have his body when I'm through with him, but his mind will still be mine."

This time, the woman lowered her proud gaze. "Yes, Master."