Blood and Gold - Anne Rice [59]
“But you have drunk her blood,” said Mael.
“You are so very rash,” I answered. “Don’t you see what I’m saying? She may destroy you. I cannot say what she will do. And then there is the question of the King. What is his will? I don’t know. I’ll take you there, as I’ve said.”
I could see that Mael wanted to go. Nothing would stop him from this, and as for Avicus, he was very fearful and very ashamed of his own fear.
“I must go,” said Mael. “I was her priest once. I served her god in the oak. I have no choice but to go.” His eyes were brilliant with his excitement. “I must see her,” he said. “I cannot take your warnings. I must be taken to this place.”
I nodded. I gestured for them to wait. I went to the doors of the banquet room and opened them. My guests were happy. So be it. A couple of them cheered my sudden presence, but quickly forgot me. The drowsy slave poured the fragrant wine.
I turned and went back to Avicus and Mael.
We went out into the night, the three of us, and as we made for the shrine, I learnt immediately that neither Mael nor Avicus moved at the speed which their strength allowed. I told them both to walk faster, especially when there were no mortals to watch, and very soon I had them silently exhilarated that they were more in possession of their true gifts.
When we came to the granite door of the shrine, I showed them how it was quite impossible for a team of mortals to open it and then I lighted the torch and took them down the stone steps.
“Now, this is Holy Ground,” I remarked before opening the bronze doors. “You do not speak irreverently or idly and you don’t speak of them as if they cannot hear.”
The two were enthralled.
I opened the door, lighted the torch within, and then let them enter and stand before the dais. I held the torch high.
All was perfect as I had assumed it would be. The Queen sat with her hands on her thighs as she always did. Enkil took the same posture. Their faces, framed so beautifully in their black plaited hair, were beautifully empty of thought or woe.
Who could have known from the sight of them that life pumped inside them?
“Mother and Father,” I said distinctly, “I have brought two visitors who have begged to see you. They are Mael and Avicus. They’ve come in reverence and respect.”
Mael went down on his knees. He did it as naturally as a Christian. He held out his arms. He began to pray in the language of the Druid priesthood. He told the Queen she was most beautiful. He told tales of the old gods of the oak. And then he begged her for her blood.
Avicus winced, and I suppose, so did I.
But I was sure something quickened in Akasha. Then again perhaps not.
All of us waited in uneasy stillness.
Mael rose and walked towards the dais.
“My Queen,” I said calmly, “Mael asks with all respect and all humility, if he may drink from the primal fount.”
He stepped up, bent over the Queen lovingly and daringly and bent to drink from her throat.
It seemed nothing would happen. She would allow it. Her glassy eyes stared forward as if it were of no import. Her hands remained on her thighs.
But all of sudden, with monstrous speed, the heavy boned Enkil turned sideways, as if he were a wooden machine worked by wheels and cogs, and he reached out with his right hand.
I sprang forward, threw my arms around Mael and drew him backwards just under the descending arm and all the way to the wall. I flung him into the corner.
“Stay there!” I whispered.
I stood up. Enkil remained turned, his eyes empty, as if he could not find the object of his rage, his hand still poised in the air. How many times, when I’d dressed them or cleaned them, had I seen them in the same attitude of sluggish inattention?
Swallowing my terror, I mounted the dais. I spoke to Enkil coaxingly.
“My King, please, it’s finished,” I said. I put my trembling hands on his arm, and I gently returned him to his proper place. His face was hideously blank. Then I put my hands on his shoulders and I turned him until he was staring forward as before. Gently I attended to his heavy golden necklace.