by Anne Rice
"Who were they?" I demanded.
"I honestly don't know," Jesse said. "Maharet never told me."
"But hadn't you met these young blood drinkers?" I pushed. "Surely you remember something about them."
"I'm sorry, Lestat," she said. "I don't remember them, except to say that I didn't know them by name or appearance. They were young, very young. There were always young ones coming and going. Maharet would bring them there. I don't know who perished. I simply don't know."
David was clearly shocked. He'd seen the ruins just as I'd seen the ruins but hearing about it had a fresh effect.
"What did Khayman have to say about all this?" David asked.
"That's just it. He couldn't remember what had happened. He couldn't remember where he'd been or what he'd done or what he'd seen during my absence. He was complaining of confusion and physical pain, actually physical pain in his head, and worse, he was drifting in and out of consciousness right in front of us, sometimes talking in the ancient tongue, and sometimes talking in other tongues I'd never heard before. He was babbling. And at times he seemed to be talking to someone inside his head."
I noted this and locked my mind like a vault.
"He was obviously suffering," Jesse said. "He asked Maharet what he could do for the pain. He appealed to her as a witch to heal the pain as if they were in ancient Egypt again. He said something was in his head hurting him. He wanted someone to take it out. He asked if that vampire doctor, Fareed, could open up his head and take this thing out. He kept reverting to the ancient tongue. I caught the most unbelievable and vivid cascade of images. And sometimes I think he did think they were back in those times. He was injured, crazy."
"And Mekare?"
"Almost the same as ever. But not quite." Jesse stopped.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
She wiped the images from her mind before I could catch them. She went for words.
"There's always been a demeanor to Mekare," said Jesse. "But when I first entered the compound, when I first saw all the burnt timber and the collapsed roofing, well, I came on Mekare standing in one of the passageways, and she was so altered, so different, that for a moment I felt I was looking at a stranger." Again she paused, looking away and then back to us. "I can't explain it. She was standing there, arms at her sides, and leaning against the wall. And she was looking at me."
Now the image did blaze up. I saw it. Surely David saw it.
"Now I know that doesn't sound remarkable at all," said Jesse, her voice having dropped to a murmur. "But I tell you, I'd never seen her look at me in that way before, as if suddenly she knew me, recognized me, as if some intelligence had flared in her. It was like encountering a stranger."
I could see it, all right. I'm sure David could too. But it was subtle.
"Well, I was afraid of her," said Jesse. "Very afraid. I don't fear other blood drinkers for obvious reasons. But in that moment I feared her. The expression on her face was so uncharacteristic. At the same time she was merely staring at me. I was petrified. I thought, This creature has powers enough to have done this, burned this place, burned those young ones. This creature can burn me. But then of course Khayman had that power too, and I didn't know yet that he couldn't remember anything.
"Maharet appeared, and she put her arm around Mekare, and then it seemed Mekare was Mekare again, drifting, eyes serene, eyes almost blind, standing upright and softening all over, and resuming her old characteristic grace--walking with the old simple movements, her skirts flowing around her, her head slightly bowed, and when she looked at me again her eyes were empty. Empty. But they were her eyes, if you follow me."
I said nothing. The image continued to blaze in my mind. I felt a chill all over.
David wasn't speaking. I wasn't speaking.
"And Maharet dismantled the compound and we left there," said Jesse. "And she never left Mekare alone after that, not for very long. No young ones were ever invited again to visit with us. No one was ever invited. In fact, she told me we must seal ourselves off from the world. And as far as I know she never contacted the Geneva blood drinker, though I can't be too sure of that.
"When we established our new refuge she set up more technical equipment than in the past, and she used the computers regularly for all manner of things. I thought she went into a new level of involvement with the age. But now I wonder. Maybe she simply didn't want to leave again. She had to communicate by computer. I don't know. I can't telepathically read my maker. And Maharet can't read Khayman or Mekare. The First Brood can't read each other. All too close. She told me she couldn't read this Geneva blood drinker either. Queens Blood or First Brood, the really old ones can't read each other's thoughts. I suppose technically that Seth is Queens Blood. Queens Blood were the true heirs of Akasha's blood drinker religion. First Brood remained the rebels, and First Brood gave the Blood without rules or codes to those they enlisted over the centuries. If one could trace the lineage of most of the blood drinkers of this era, I suspect they'd go back to First Brood."
"Probably right," I said.
"What happened with Khayman?" asked David. "How is it with Khayman?"
"Something is very wrong with him," said Jesse. "Wrong with him to this very moment. He disappears for nights on end. He doesn't remember where he goes or what he does. Most of the time he sits silent staring at old movies on the flat screens in the compound. Sometimes he listens to music all night. He says that music helps the pain. He watches your old rock videos, Lestat. He turns them on for Mekare and he watches and I suppose in some way she watches them too. Other times he doesn't do much of anything. But he always comes back to the pain in his head."
"But what about Fareed, what does Fareed say about this pain?" I asked.
"That's just it, Maharet has never invited Fareed again to visit us. She's never invited anyone, as I've said. If she e-mails Fareed, I know nothing of it. Her involvement with the computer is actually part of her withdrawal if you follow me. I've come here to tell you these things because I think you should know, both of you. And you should share this with Marius, and with the others, however you want to do it." She sat back. She gave a long sigh as if to say to herself, Well, now it is done, you've confided and it cannot be undone.
"She's protecting all the others from Mekare now," David said in a soft voice. "That's why she's hidden herself."
"Yes. And there is no connection at all anymore with her human family as I've said. We live from night to night in peace and contentment. She does not ask where I go when I leave, or where I've been when I come back. She advises me in a multitude of small things, just as she's always done. But she doesn't confide in me about the deepest things! To tell the truth, she behaves like someone who's being watched, monitored, spied upon."
Neither David nor I spoke, but I knew perfectly well what she meant. I pondered. I was not prepared to share with them any of my vague and troubling suspicions as to what was happening. Not at all prepared. I was not sharing my suspicions with myself.
"But still," said David, "it might have been Khayman who burnt the archives and destroyed the young ones."
"It might have been, yes," Jesse said.
"If she really thought it was Khayman, she'd do something," I said. "She'd destroy him if she felt she had to. No, it's Mekare."
"But how can she destroy Khayman? Khayman's as strong as she is," David said.
"Nonsense. She could get the jump on him," I said. "Any immortal can be decapitated. We saw that with Akasha. She was decapitated by a heavy jagged piece of glass."
"That's true," Jesse said. "Maharet herself told me this when she first brought me into the Blood. She said I'd grow so strong in the future that fire couldn't destroy me and the sun couldn't destroy me. But the sure way to murder any immortal was to separate the head from the heart and let the head and the body bleed out. She told me that even before Akasha came to the Sonoma compound with you. And then that's just what happened with Akasha, only Mekare took Akasha's brain and devo
ured it before the head or the heart bled out."
We all reflected for a long time in silence.
"Again, there's never been the slightest sign," said David gently, "that Mekare knows her own powers."
"Correct," said Jesse.
"But if she did this, she must know her own powers," David continued. "And Maharet is there to be a check upon her every waking moment."
"Perhaps."
"So where is all this going?" I asked. I tried not to sound exasperated. I loved Maharet.
"I don't think she will ever destroy herself and Mekare," said Jesse. "But I don't know. I do know she listens all the time to Benji's broadcasts out of New York. She listens to them on her computer. She sits back and listens for hours. She listens to all those young blood drinkers who call Benji. She listens to everything that they have to say. If she were going to bring the tribe to an end, I think she would warn me. I simply don't think she means to do it. But I think she agrees entirely with Benjamin. Things are in a very bad way. Things have changed. It wasn't only your music, Lestat, or Akasha rising. It's the age itself, it's the accelerated rate of technological advancement. She said once, as I believe I told you, that all institutions which depended upon secrecy are now threatened. She said that no system based on arcana or esoteric knowledge would survive this age. No new revealed religion could take hold in it. And no group that depended upon occult purpose could endure. She predicted that there would be changes in the Talamasca. 'Human beings won't fundamentally change,' she said. 'They'll adapt. And as they adapt they'll explore all mysteries relentlessly until they have found the fundamentals behind each and every one.' "
"My thoughts on the matter exactly," I offered.
"Well, she's right," said David. "There have been changes in the Talamasca, and that's what I wanted to tell you. That's why I sent out the call for you. I wouldn't have dared to disturb Maharet when she obviously did not want to be disturbed, but I have to confess I was hoping for news of her when you surfaced, and now I'm a bit stunned. What's been happening with the Talamasca of late doesn't mean so very much."
"Well, what has been happening?" I asked. I wondered if I was becoming a nuisance. But without my goading them, these two would have lapsed into long periods of silence and meaningful stares, and frankly, I wanted information.
Information age. I guess I'm part of it, even if I can't remember how to use my iPhone from week to week, and have to learn how to send e-mails all over again every couple of years, and can't retain any profound technological knowledge about the computers I sometimes use.
"Well, the answer to all that," Jesse said, responding to my thoughts, "is to use the technology regularly. Because we know now that our preternatural minds don't give us any superior gift for all knowledge, only the same kinds of knowledge we understood when we were human."
"Yes, right. That is certainly true," I confessed. "I'd thought it was different, because I'd learned Latin and Greek so easily in the Blood. But you're absolutely right. So on to the Talamasca. I assume they've digitized all their records by now?"
"Yes, they completed that process several years back," said David. "Everything's digitalized; and relics are in museum-quality environments under the Motherhouses in Amsterdam and in London. Every single relic has been photographed, recorded on video, described, studied, classified, etcetera. They had begun all that years ago when I was still Superior General."
"Are you talking to them directly?" asked Jesse. She herself had never wanted to do that. Since she came into the Blood, she'd never sought to contact her old friends there. I'd brought David over. She had not. For a while, I'd harassed the Talamasca, baited them, engaged now and then with their members, but that was now a long time ago.
"No," said David. "I don't disturb them. But I have occasionally visited those old friends of mine on their deathbeds. I have felt an obligation to do that. And it's simple enough for me to get into the Motherhouses and get into those sickrooms. I do that because I want to say goodbye to those old mortal friends, and also I know what they're experiencing. Dying without so many answers. Dying without ever having learned anything through the Talamasca that was transformative or transcendent. What I know now of the present state of the Talamasca I know from those encounters and from watching, simply watching and listening and prowling about, and picking at the thoughts of those who know someone is listening, but not who or what." He sighed. He looked weary suddenly. His dark eyes were puckered and there was a tremor in his lips.
I saw his soul so clearly now in the new youthful body that it was as if the old David and the new David had completely fused for me. And indeed his old persona did shape the expression of his youthful face. A multitude of facial expressions had reshaped the piercing black eyes of this face. Even his old voice sounded now through the newer vocal cords as if he had retuned them and refined them merely by using them for all those softly spoken, unfailingly polite words.
"What's happened," he said, "is that the mystery of the Elders and the origins of the Order have been buried in a new way."
"What do you mean?" asked Jesse.
David looked at me. "You're familiar with this. We never knew our origins really. You know that. We always knew the Order had been founded in the mid-eighth century, and we knew there was unaccountable wealth somewhere which financed our existence and our research. We knew the Elders governed the Order but we didn't know who they were or where they were. We had our hard-and-fast rules: observe but do not interfere, study but do not ever seek to use the power of a witch or a vampire for one's own gain, that sort of thing."
"And this is changing?" I asked.
"No," he replied. "The Order's as healthy and virtuous as ever. If anything they're thriving. There are more young scholars coming in today who know Latin and Greek than before, more young archaeologists--like Jesse--who are finding the Order attractive. The secrecy has been preserved, in spite of your charming books, Lestat, and all the publicity you so generously heaped on the Talamasca, and as far as I know there have been few scandals in recent years. In fact none whatsoever."
"So what's the big problem?"
"Well, I wouldn't call it a problem," said David. "I'd call it a deepening of the secrecy in a new and interesting way. Sometime in the last six months newly appointed Elders started introducing themselves to their colleagues and welcoming communication with them."
"You mean Elders actually chosen from the ranks," said Jesse with a bit of an ironic smile.
"Precisely.
"Now in the past," David went on, "we were always told that the Elders came from the ranks, but once they were chosen they became anonymous except to other Elders, and their location was never revealed to anyone. In olden times they communicated by letter, sending their own couriers to deliver and retrieve all correspondence. In the twentieth century, they moved to fax communication and computer communication, but again, they themselves remained anonymous and their location unknown.
"Of course the mystery was this; no one ever knew personally any member called to be an Elder. No one ever encountered personally anyone who claimed to be an Elder. So it was strictly a matter of faith that the Elders were chosen from the ranks, and as early as the Renaissance, as you know, members of the Talamasca had suspicions about the Elders, and were profoundly uncomfortable with not knowing who they really were or how they passed their power on to succeeding generations."
"Yes, I remember all this," I said. "Of course. Marius talked about it in his memoir. Even Raymond Gallant, his friend in the Talamasca, had asked Marius what he knew about the origins of the Talamasca, as if he, Raymond, were uneasy with not knowing more."
"Correct," said Jesse.
"Well, now it seems everybody knows who the new Elders are," said David, "and where their meetings will take place, and all are invited to communicate with these new Elders on a daily basis. But obviously, the mystery of the Elders before this time remains. Who were they? How were they chosen? Where did they reside? And why are they h
anding off power now to known members?"
"Sounds like what Maharet's done with the Great Family," I said.
"Exactly."
"But you never seriously thought they were immortals, did you?" asked Jesse. "I never did. I simply accepted the need for secrecy. I was told the Talamasca was an authoritarian order when I joined. I was told it was like the Church of Rome, in that its authority was absolute. Never expect to know who the Elders are or where they are or how they know what they know."
"I've always thought they were immortals," said David.
Jesse was shocked and a little amused. "David, you're serious?"
"Yes," said David. "I've thought all my life that immortals founded the Order to spy on and record the goings-on of other immortals--spirits, ghosts, werewolves, vampires, whatever. And of course we were to spy on all those mortals who can communicate with immortals."
I was reflecting. "So the Order's collected all this data over the centuries, while the central mystery--the origins--remains unexplored."
"Exactly. And if anything this change moves us farther away from the central mystery," said David. "Within a few generations the entire mystery might well be forgotten. Our shadowy past will be no more intriguing than the shadowy past of any other ancient institution."
"That does seem to be what they want," I said. "They're bowing out before any serious investigation is mounted, either within or without the Order, to find out who they are. Another decision prompted by the information age? Maharet was right."
"What if there's a deeper reason?" David asked. "What if the Order was indeed founded by immortals, and what if these immortals are no longer interested in pursuing the knowledge they wanted so badly? What if they've abandoned their quest? Or what if they've found out what they wanted to know all along?"
"What could that possibly be?" Jesse asked. "Why, we know no more about ghosts, witches, and vampires than we ever did."
"That's not true," David said. "What have we been discussing here? Think."
"Too many unknowns," I said. "Too many suppositions. The Talamasca has an amazing history, no doubt about that, but I don't see why it couldn't have been founded by scholars and maintained by them, and what any of this proves. On the surface of it, the Elders have simply changed their method of interacting with the members."