The Vampire Armand - Anne Rice [86]
I nodded, staring spellbound at the flames. I had never seen such colors in simple fire before, and I felt no aversion to it, though I knew that it was the one thing that could destroy me. He had said so, had he not?
He made a gesture. I should regard the room.
What a splendid chamber it was. It was paved in gold! Even its ceiling was of gold. Two stone sarcophagi stood in the middle of it, each graced with a carved figure in the old style, that is, severe and more solemn than natural; and as I drew closer, I saw that these figures were helmeted knights, in long tunics, with heavy broadswords carved close to their flanks, their gloved hands clasped in prayer, their eyes closed in eternal sleep. Each had been gilded, and plated with silver, and set with countless tiny gems. The belts of the knights were set with amethyst. Sapphires adorned the necks of their tunics. Topaz gleamed in the scabbards of their swords.
“Is this not a fortune to tempt a thief?” I asked. “Lying as it does here beneath this ruined house?”
He laughed outright.
“You’re teaching me to be cautious already?” he asked, smiling. “What back talk! No thief can gain access here. You didn’t measure your own strength when you opened the doors. Look at the bolt I’ve closed behind us, since you are so concerned. Now see if you can lift the lid of that coffin. Go ahead. See if your strength meets your nerve.”
“I didn’t mean it to be back talk,” I protested. “Thank God you’re smiling.” I lifted the lid and then moved the lower part of it to one side. It was nothing to me, yet I knew this was heavy stone. “Ah, I see,” I said meekly. I gave him a radiant and innocent smile. The inside was cushioned in damask of royal purple.
“Get into this crib, my child,” he said. “Don’t be afraid as you wait for the rise of the sun. When it comes you’ll sleep soundly enough.”
“Can I not sleep with you?”
“No, here in this bed which I have long ago prepared for you, this is where you belong. I have my own narrow place there next to you, which is not big enough for two. But you are mine now, mine, Amadeo. Vouchsafe me one last bevy of kisses, ah, sweet, yes, sweet—.”
“Master, don’t let me ever make you angry. Don’t let me ever—.”
“No, Amadeo, be my challenger, be my questioner, be my bold and ungrateful pupil.” He looked faintly sad. He pushed me gently. He gestured to the coffin. The purple satin damask shimmered.
“And so I he in it,” I whispered, “so young.”
I saw the shadow of pain in his face after I’d said this. I regretted it. I wanted to say something to undo it, but he gestured that I must go on.
Oh, how cold this was, cushions be damned, and how hard. I moved the lid into place above me and lay still, listening, listening to the sound of the torch snuffed, and to the grinding of stone on stone as he opened his own grave.
I heard his voice:
“Good night, my young love, my child love, my son,” he said.
I let my body go limp. How delicious was this simple relaxation. How new were all things.
Far away in the land of my birth, the monks chanted in the Monastery of the Caves.
Sleepily, I reflected on all I’d remembered. I had gone home to Kiev. I had made of my memories a tableau to teach me all that I might know. And in the last moments of nighttime consciousness, I said farewell to them forever, farewell to their beliefs and their restraints.
I envisaged The Procession of the Magi splendidly glowing on the Master’s wall, the procession which would be mine to study when the sun set again. It seemed to me in my wild and passionate soul, in my newborn vampiric heart, that the Magi had come not only for Christ’s birth but for my rebirth as well.
9
IF I HAD THOUGHT my transformation into a vampire meant the end of my tutelage or apprenticeship to Marius, I was quite wrong. I wasn’t immediately set free to wallow in the joys of my new powers.
The night after my metamorphosis, my education began in earnest. I was to be prepared now not for a temporal life but for eternity.
My Master gave me to know that he had been created