Blood Canticle - Anne Rice [146]
She took the note, slid it into an envelope and said it would go out with the first package of fudge which they were already cooking for Tommy.
“You know Quinn and Mona won’t be back for a week,” she said. “You and Nash are the only two in this great big house, and you won’t touch a morsel of food we cook, you’re so particular, and if you leave, there’s just going be Nash and I’ll cry my eyes out.”
“What?” I asked. “Where did Mona and Quinn go?”
“Who am I that I should know?” she asked with exaggerated gestures. “They didn’t even tell us good-bye. It was another gentleman came here to tell us they’d be gone for a while. And he was the strangest man I’ve ever seen in my life, skin so white it looked like a mask. Hair jet black and long to his shoulders, and such a smile. It almost gave me a fright. Check in Aunt Queen’s room when you go to bed. He left a note in there on the table for you.”
“That man’s name is Khayman. He’s kindly. I know where they went.” I sighed. “You going to let me stay in Aunt Queen’s room while they’re gone?”
“Oh, bite your tongue,” she said. “It’s where you belong. You think I’m bubbling over with joy that Miss Mona is raiding Aunt Queen’s closets like the Queen of Sheba, just leaving fox furs and rhinestone shoes all over the floor? I am not. Never mind, I straightened it all up. You go on to bed.”
We went back the hallway together. I went into the room, found it softly lighted with only the dressing-table lamps, and stood there for a moment, just breathing in the perfume and wondering how long I could play out this spectacular hand.
The bed was already turned down for me. And a fresh flannel nightshirt was laid out, and sure enough, as they say on Blackwood Farm, there was a letter on the little table.
I sat down, tore open the parchment envelope and discovered the letter printed in a graceful cursive font.
My dearest rebel,
Your darlings want badly to be received by me and so I have granted their request. It is highly unusual, as you know, for me to bring ones so young to my compound. But there are excellent reasons for both Quinn and Mona spending some time here with me, acquainting themselves with the archives, meeting some of the others who go and come, and perhaps gaining some perspective on the gifts which they have been given and the existence which lies before them.
It is my strong feeling that their entrenchment in mortal life is not altogether wise, and this visit with me, this retreat among the immortals, will serve to insulate them against the shocks which may come. You are right in fearing that Mona does not grasp the full sacramental power of the Blood. But Quinn does not either, having been made against his will. Another reason for my bringing them here is simply that I have become quite real to Mona and Quinn, as the result of our communication regarding the Taltos, and I want to dispel any harmful mythmaking which might surround my person in their young minds.
Here they will come to know me as I am. They will perhaps appreciate that at the root of our lineage there exists not a great goddess but a fairly simple personality, honed by time, and linked to her own mortal visions and desires.
Both children seem to be exceptionally gifted, and I am in awe of your accomplishments with them, as well as your patience.
I know what you are suffering at present. Only too well, I understand. But I have every confidence that you will behave according to the highest standards which you have set for yourself. Your moral evolution simply doesn’t allow for anything else.
Let me assure you that you are welcome here. And I could easily have arranged for you to be brought to me with Quinn and Mona. But I know that you don’t want to come.
You are now free to spend weeks in mortal peace, lying in Aunt Queen’s bed, reading the novels of Dickens over again. You are entitled to that rest.
Maharet
There it was, the evidence of my failure with Quinn and Mona, and the revelation of Maharet’s marvelous generosity in bringing them to herself. What finer