by White, Gwynn
Yadikira broke in with a naughty smile. “And they do enjoy it.”
Girard felt himself flush. “Yes, they do. But what I mean is that evolution has made us need to use our minds more to survive, while Thalia’s older form used brute strength and force. It’s simply a different approach. And that makes her behavior more understandable now.” He thought back to that strange outburst of Thalia’s when he first visited. “When I came here the first time, she changed and said something about a ‘she’ promising she would live forever. Is that related to what you just said?”
Yadikira’s brow creased and she nodded. “Yes, I think so. That wasn’t the only time it happened. She shifted personality when a song came on the radio and she danced in a way not at all Thalia-like. Another time it happened during a meal. She threw down her utensils and yelled something like, ‘You never said I had to eat salad.’ There was more, something about pesticides.”
“So, she meant you?”
“No, I mean, I never said anything of the sort. Why would I? I asked her if she meant me and she just got up from the table and left. Honestly, I think she was talking to herself.”
Girard was getting that itch again, the one that said there were pieces meant to fit together here. The obvious one was that somehow Christina was still alive inside Thalia, but that couldn’t possibly be true. A more logical answer was that Thalia was crazy and projecting the personality of Christina as if it were another person.
He examined Yadikira’s face. How far should he press this? Was she strong enough for more? She looked a little better than when he’d come in, but that didn’t mean much. Whatever reserves she had left were needed to keep her alive long enough for her to change her mind about living.
But, Girard also needed to know more.
“Yadikira, I’ve got just one more question. Is Thalia simply unable to tell the difference anymore between her body’s memories and her own, or is there something of Christina left?”
She seemed to think about her answer for a long while, as if she weren’t quite sure herself. Instead of an answer, she said, “It reminds me of a story I heard when I was little. Can I share it with you?”
Girard smiled. “If you like.”
“I was raised by the Handmaidens, as I said, but that wasn’t so unusual back then. Rulers didn’t raise their own children whether vampire or not. I mostly saw her in passing when she happened to be at the Children’s Palace, which was rare enough. But that didn’t mean there weren’t stories. There was one that the Handmaidens told us that comes to mind.”
“Now, I’d really like to hear it.”
She smiled a tired smile and squeezed his fingers again. “Good. You see, not all Handmaidens stayed Handmaidens. Many were rejected along the path of their training. That was always hard for us children, because we didn’t understand why they should be gone. We loved them. They were the only mothers we had. To explain it, I was told a story about a Handmaiden who had seemed perfect. She was beautiful, polite, understood her lessons better than any other, and had the kind of perfect composure only the very best Handmaidens had. This Handmaiden had made sure she was the perfect choice when the goddess needed a new form and she was chosen. But inside she was not perfect. She had become the best by tricking other Handmaidens into doing things wrong, by upsetting them when they most needed to appear calm, by twisting the words of others to make them appear lesser.
“After she was chosen, the goddess became dark and mean, cruel in her attentions and unwise in her decisions. She grew to love power so much that she used it improperly and from that, came a war with another group of humans on another island. The Handmaidens knew that the girl was a trickster and had achieved her status through deceit, but they were the only ones who understood. Together, they drowned the Goddess when she returned to the palace and forced her to leave that body and take another. Even though they knew that they would all be killed for doing such a thing, they did it. Are you still with me, Girard?”
He shook his head a little and said, “Absolutely. I’m just imagining it. Keep going.”
“Of course. Well, they did this except for two Handmaidens, the one they considered the best of them, the most kind, the most learned, the most beautiful. One of them became the new form of the goddess and the other was sent away so that she could not be blamed for what the other Handmaidens did. You see, they wanted to be sure there would be a Handmaiden to carry forward the tale, because it was important. It was a lesson that they lived by until the last Handmaiden.
“All Handmaidens knew it was their duty to ensure that any Handmaiden who had darkness in her was ejected from their number, so that the dark goddess would never return. And that’s what they did. When a Handmaiden disappeared, it was almost always because of some darkness inside. So you see why I’m reminded of this story. It’s like Thalia has been given that dark Handmaiden again.”
Girard nodded, amazed by the story and equally amazed that there was nothing in the Council records of this time. How could they have been so paranoid that they lost their entire history? That would change, Girard would ensure that.
If they survived, of course.
“I think I do understand, though only Thalia could tell us how far this influence goes. When you said you think her kind are emotionally or mentally weaker than us, you meant that they are more like the person they take than even we are, as if the vampire inside were merely an echo, rather than the dominant force.”
“Just so. I simply don’t know how far that goes. Whoever Thalia is right now, she is not the Thalia of those days when I was in my first life. That Thalia was a little cold, but she was a good ruler to her people. She built an entire civilization. Vampires—though they were called gods or the children of gods—lived side by side with humans. All prospered under her rule. I see no evidence of that Thalia now.”
Leaning forward, he lifted her cool hand and wrapped it in both of his, wanting to push some of his warmth and life into her. “I understand much better than I did before. You’ve helped far more than you can possibly know.”
She nodded, apparently satisfied that he understood. “I’m glad I could help. Now, what about the others with you? I can hear them shuffling their feet down there.”
He couldn’t hear it, but then again, Yadikira had just told him her age, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she heard their car all the way down the road. “A Historian, my apprentice—who is also really a technical expert—and someone who knew Thalia in the past.”
That last bit got her interest. “An ancient? From before? Who?”
“Marcus the Roman, but he was best known as Marcus Aurelius.”
A little life suffused her pale face at that and she smiled broadly. “Ha! So, he’s still alive. I never met him, but tales of him went far and wide. I knew one of his wives quite well. After they were separated, though.”
He chuckled. “Please tell me you don’t mean the one he calls ‘that harridan from Germania.’ He talks of little else.”
Her laugh was almost alarming, the way it creaked out of her shrunken body. Her heart was working too hard for such little effort. He reached out to soothe her and she quieted, but said, “It might be the same one. She’s originally from Germania. I can’t speak to the harridan part of that.”
“Shall I bring them up?”
She glanced down at herself, perhaps worried about her appearance. Weakness in vampires wasn’t something they could show for most of their history. It was only now, in the civilized modern age, that they could indulge in such a thing. Eventually, she shrugged a little and said, “You can bring them.”
* * *
Girard couldn’t tell if the visit had tired her more than it had enlivened her or if the reverse was true. Yadikira’s face was alight with pleasure at meeting another ancient, but also greatly concerned when her mother was discussed. Josette clearly thought it the former, because she was giving him pointed looks that made it clear they should wrap things up.
“The only
help I can offer is what I’ve told you. She didn’t mention any others when she came here, but she did use our computer quite a lot, so it’s possible she made contact that way, though I’m not sure how she would have found them. It’s not like vampires advertise their presence. Your expert is more than welcome to search our computer and you can use any other electronic devices as you like.”
Borona looked very eager, so Girard asked Josette to show him where it was. The big man picked up his case of electronic goodies, then said a polite goodbye to Yadikira. When he was gone, she said, “I think I frightened him.”
Marcus laughed, but kept it quieter than normal. “I think he’s just feeling like the baby he is around us old ones.”
“Then it’s good he didn’t meet Thalia.”
Lila asked, “And you really don’t know your own mother’s age?”
Girard had found that bit hard to swallow too, until Yadikira explained. Time was not measured well in the past, and one year was much like any other. It was only when civilization began to stabilize that anyone cared how many years passed. Migrating around the great wilds of prehistoric Europe meant life was wild as well. Time was only important in the near term, not the far one.
Yadikira only knew that she had a sibling who had professed to be ten thousand years old back when she was young. Since no one really knew how to track ten thousand years at that time, she’d thought it exaggeration. In terms of hard facts, Yadikira had few. She did know that her mother was alive when there were no cities in Greece, but only small roving groups.
That pointed to Professor Doran being more correct than not. Thalia was a living fossil, a relic of vampires before evolution weeded out all save the current branch.
Lila was spellbound by the ancient on the bed. Josette had brought up a book for her to look at when Yadikira noted how jumpy Lila was at the mention of her age. It was a simple scrapbook, but in it were photographs of what little remained of Yadikira’s early life. She held the book up and flipped it around to show a page. “And this is you?”
On the page were a series of photographs taken at a Minoan archaeological dig. Josette had visited for Yadikira over the decades and sent her photos of all that the archaeologists found. The stylized figures in the photos, with their dark, elaborately curled and flowing hair were from a fresco unearthed in one of the old palaces. It was stunning.
Yadikira lifted a hand as if to stroke the figures, then smiled. “It could be. We were very fond of painting, but not quite so skilled at individualizing the figures. It was a different time. But I did live there. If we were there right now, I could step with you across that ground and describe every room. I had thought it was gone and buried forever. I’m so very happy that it’s not, that it’s being brought back into the light.”
If Girard didn’t know any better, he might think Lila was going to faint. She must be positively giddy with the possibilities.
“I would love to know more. Why did you refuse a transcription? You have so much to share.”
The smile faded and sadness replaced it. Yadikira said, “Sometimes remembering is harder than forgetting. But before you go, you can go and look at what I’ve kept. Josette will show you there.”
Girard remembered that lovely room filled with mementos he went into that first time he met Yadikira. Lila would love it and he might have a hard time getting her to leave. Then again, with Borona going through the computer, they might well be here a while.
Marcus was unusually quiet and he was examining Yadikira with a thoughtful gaze every so often, only to turn away and look out the window again. Eventually, Yadikira addressed him directly. “Marcus, I will do as you ask.”
He turned away from the window with an expression close to glee. “You will? You’ll tell her?”
Girard had been shocked to discover that not only was Marcus’s homicidal wife still alive, but that she lived in Rome, mingling with the world in the way she must have for two millennia. It was only now, when waking into a modern world that was far more connected, that Marcus had the opportunity to find his lost love.
Even if she did try to kill him rather frequently.
“I’ll telephone her and tell her where you’re at. It will be up to her if she uses that information.”
It seemed Marcus grew another two inches due to sheer happiness and his smile was so broad it showed almost all his teeth. Girard wouldn’t have been surprised if he jumped up and down and squealed. He didn’t, but it looked like he had to force himself not to. Instead, he said, “I thank you. And you can tell her I’m not going into politics ever again. No more wives. I promise.”
Lila rolled her eyes, but kept looking at the scrapbook.
Yadikira hadn’t touched Girard once the others came in, but now she held his hand again and said, “I’d like to talk to Girard alone, if I may.”
21
Without preamble, Yadikira said, “I heard what you said to Josette in the hallway.”
Girard knew she was talking about him ordering a body. There was no use denying it. “You need one.”
“No. You all think I need one. I don’t.”
“You’re going to die. Is that what you really want?” he asked. How could someone mourn so deeply that they wanted to die, even after so many years? If that vampire who died had loved her, then there’s no way he would have wanted her to do this. Why couldn’t she see that?
“Girard, you’re young. I know you think you’re old, but imagine what it would be like to be five times…six times…the age you are now. Imagine living all that you’ve lived over and over. At some point, it becomes repetitious. At some point, one knows that ahead lies only pain.”
“Only pain? I can’t believe that. You smiled and seemed happy to remember other days just a little while ago. Why should those happy memories be less important than the sad ones?”
She seemed to consider his words carefully, pausing a long while before she answered him with a question. “What do each of those times I recounted have in common?”
“They were happy, unique.”
“No,” she said, the word uttered with sad conviction. “They are all gone. All of them dead and gone. What you call Minoa…destroyed. Ancient Greece, a place of strange contradictions and such invention that it was a marvel…conquered and gone. Rome, the Vikings, the Saxons…every single culture that I have loved and lived in is now gone. Should I not join them?”
Girard shook his head and wrapped her hand in both of his, trying to push some of his life and warmth into her fading body just as he had before. He wondered if this was a human instinct, something vampires and humans shared. Shaking his head, he looked into her eyes. “No, you shouldn’t join them, because you already are joined with them. Each of those civilizations and times are still alive inside you. You might be their last personal link with this world and that is a treasure as well as a responsibility. I grew up in a village of herders, a place known amongst vampires as a safe stop in the countryside well beyond the dangers of Paris. Vampires came there to rest, to have a small window of time where they could be themselves. I had never seen a city or silk clothes or any of the wonders beyond that village until I was fifty years old and adult enough to travel. By the time I returned, that village was a different place. The comforts of my youth had been utterly replaced. Yet with me I carry that village to every place I go. I carry the laughter shared around an evening fire, the joy of a good harvest, the sadness of births that went awry, and the celebrations of those that went well. I would not trade that beautiful, brief period for anything in the world. I have lost all those I loved in the centuries since. My parents, my sibling, my mate, my…my only child. Yet for each loss there are a thousand gains. The heart is a miracle organ. It can be utterly broken, only to be filled to overflowing again without ever being repaired. Yours can be refilled too.”
She listened, he could tell. Another tear slipped down to disappear into her gray hair and she gripped his hand tightly. Had he swayed her? How could he sway her
with words? His life seemed like nothing compared to hers. Was it possible that this was the real reason there were so few ancients?
Did life eventually simply grow too long?
“I’ll think about it, but this is my decision to make. It’s not yours or anyone else’s. Do not send a body unless I call. Promise me this. Otherwise, you’re no different from Thalia.”
“I’ll promise, but what do you mean about Thalia?”
“She wanted the same. I thought that was why she left, but who can know with her? She said I was weak and that human weaknesses were for humans, that I should take a body and live. I had a hard time convincing her not to go out and simply bring some poor person here for me. Right before she left, she said I was no use to her like this.”
What an interesting way to phrase that. No use? He had to wonder what use in particular Thalia had meant. Did she mean in general or was it a part of whatever plan she was carrying out right now?
“Did she say anything specific? Anything about why you were of no use?”
Her brow creased as she thought back, but she shrugged and said, “No, not that I can think of. Only that this body was so weak I couldn’t possibly cure it of anything serious anymore. I thought she meant my heart, since that’s the problem.”
Girard thought he knew precisely what Thalia had meant. If she was cooking up a bit of biological warfare—a modern version of her plague rats—then a weak body like this would be vulnerable. And Thalia didn’t appear to be particularly maternal or affectionate. That was probably why Yadikira had not been pulled into whatever Thalia was doing.
Her kind and retiring offspring in a dying body would have been no use to heartless Thalia.
“Oh,” Yadikira said, her eyes widening as something came to her. “There was something else, but I think it might be nonsense. When I said I didn’t want to take a body, she told me that if I didn’t do it soon, I wouldn’t have a chance at all. She said it was the end of this era, but Thalia is fond of making grand—and largely ridiculous—pronouncements of doom. She used to do it all the time in Egypt.”