“I do not recommend that course. Although it is common for a colony to decline and the bond to fade if it is not maintained, there is always some slight chance of a neglected symbiont spontaneously separating from the original colony’s will. In your case, because both your blood and ka had been drained so heavily, the Amon-Re symbiont was able to completely dominate your system. If Heriath does not affirm his control of it—and soon—your colony will achieve independence and finish raising you.”
She would become a vampire. There would be no going back from that after ten years. No strawberries forever.
“And he—I take it he’s no longer here?”
“The attack was two days ago, and the party from London returned the morning after. The key was forwarded when I sent word to the palace that you appeared likely to survive.”
A little cough of laughter escaped Rian. “He’s not going to make this easy for me, is he?”
Her reaction brought an answering smile to Lord Msrah’s boyish face. “Very likely not. But I have a suspicion you are equal to the challenge. You are at least alive to face it, and for that I am very grateful. There is a variety of etiquette involved in dealing with another’s Bound, but do not hesitate to apply to me if you are in need. I will not forget—”
A quiet tap interrupted the Nomarch, and the room’s blue haze brightened by several degrees as the door opened. Evelyn looked in, and Rian realised that she’d felt the approach of another living river before he’d even knocked.
“My Lord? Mayor Desh-aht has arrived.”
Lord Msrah rose. “Thank you, Evelyn. Please assist Dama Seaforth with anything she requires.” The vampire bowed to Rian, repeated his apologies and regrets, and left.
“How are your eyes?” Evelyn asked, as the door closed. He crossed to grip Rian’s hands. “And the rest of you, of course. I am so sorry, Arianne. What a mess this has become.”
“It’s certainly not what I was expecting,” Rian managed to say, struggling with a sudden rush of sensation. Concern mixed with a deep note of grief, and then cutting through it a spike of straightforward desire, reminding her of the thin cloth of her gown and making her almost sorry when he released her. “I feel…unexpectedly good, actually. The candle was a challenge, but I can’t remember the last time I felt so physically well.” She touched her throat again.
“One step toward godhood,” Evelyn murmured, sitting in the chair Lord Msrah had vacated.
Rian gave him a startled glance for his tone. “Don’t tell me you’re a Marculist?” The argument that those who Answered were not gods, merely ‘powers’ feeding on souls, enjoyed an increasing popularity, but Rian hadn’t expected to find a proponent at Sheerside House.
“No. Gods are gods. That our understanding of them is limited and contradictory is far from surprising. Still, I’ve met dozens of vampires, and many more Bound, and though they—we—are certainly god-touched, thanks to whatever strain is living in our blood, there’s no sign that even Hatshepsu was able to use rept as a stepping stone to transcendence. Like all other mortal-born souls in the Egyptian field of influence, vampires become ba, and then ready themselves for the journey to their Otherworld. Vampirism doesn’t even require allegiance.”
He leaned forward then, and brushed fingers to the back of her hand, making Rian realise she’d raised it once again to explore her throat. Notes of sympathy and concern showed her that that first flood of outside emotion had not been imagination—and that a conversation about Marculism did little to ease certain memories.
“I knew another Bound who had come to the role through a near-exsanguincy,” Evelyn told her. “He found much to be pleased about in his position, but it took him years before he did not need to brace himself, just a little, before his Master fed. To train his mind not to expect pain and terror and death come far too early. I truly am sorry, Arianne.”
“Were…were they at least able to kill those sphinx things?” Rian asked, because the idea of being bitten again did seem to be something she was not ready to think about.
“No. Both of them were successfully driven out of the building, where Princess Leodhild could call upon larger triskelion to defend her. A sight not usually seen outside the solstices, and cause enough for any attacker to retreat.” Evelyn chuckled. “Or it could have been the vision of Prince Gustav bounding about naked and waving an axe of prodigious proportions. No-one’s venturing a guess as to where he produced that from.”
Rian shook her head, trying to fit these events into her own personal puzzle. “So it was definitely an attack against the Sulevia Leoth? The sphinx I saw didn’t look like an automaton. Some kind of living statue.”
“Yes. You can imagine how all this is being received. Egypt was already a favoured suspect for the windstorm problem—weather vampires, after all—and while Egypt and her client nations aren’t unique in producing statues resembling our night visitors, the probable link is hard to overlook. The reactions have been—” A grimace competed with a bubble of laughter. “Wrong of me to react with fascinated interest, I know, but the whole world is shifting in response to the possibilities. Is Egypt attempting to annex Prytennia? Will it move on other client nations? Are local vampires to be trusted, or do their pilgrimages, and the jot they’re required to send to Thebes, make them automatically suspect? It’s a tremendous mess right now, and so exhilarating. All of which is beside the point. Are you hungry?”
“A little. Less than I’d expect if it really has been two days.”
“We poured enough diluted honey down your throat to make the difference, I expect,” Evelyn said. “I’ll fetch you a tray. There’s a water closet through that door.”
Honey for the hive, Rian thought, as he departed. Binding her to the line of the pharaoh, and to the Wind’s Dog: someone considered amoral and deadly, and who had sat in a library hurting himself and thinking about photography.
Her infiltration of Sheerside House had lasted less than twelve hours, and she was left not only with the ongoing problem of the children’s maintenance, and the prospect of travelling urgently to London while avoiding light, but a state of thraldom to someone she suspected she would find very annoying. Every plan undone, the destruction neat for its completeness. Lips curving in sour appreciation, Rian shook her head to clear it, then began putting the situation in order.
Lord Msrah had not told her what he knew about the sphinxes, and she had not told him that the Wind’s Dog had made a last-ditch effort to save her life because one sphinx had appeared specifically interested in her. There were few enough reasons such a creature would be determined to kill Arianne Seaforth. She had annoyed the occasional person, but owned little intrinsic significance, and no reputation beyond notable parents. Only her presence at Sheerside House, combined with a connection to a double murder, seemed likely to produce an attempt to remove her from play.
The vampire Heriath had saved Rian so he could question her, because the sphinxes had also targeted Princess Leodhild. If they had—somehow!—been sent by Aedric and Eiliff’s murderers, then she would be able to put the Wind’s Dog to good use. He, presumably, would be less eager to accept the easiest solution than the Caerlleon authorities, who’d shown no interest in looking beyond the surface of the deaths. And, after centuries spent as the Suleviae’s personal agent, Heriath would have both experience and the resources of the Crown at his disposal. So, the wrong vampire might not be such a disaster after all.
By the time Evelyn returned, Rian had settled a rough course of action, and was ready to be interested in food. She looked over the well-appointed tray with rising anticipation, then paused to pick up two thin blue envelopes. Telegrams. She would not put it past her three enterprising charges to be demanding updates.