Nightlord: Orb (32 page)

“Blood relations.  I like that one.  But, really, I don’t know anything about you.  Mary told me what she could, of course, and I did some checking, but you’re something of an enigma.”

“Not a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma?” I joked.  He and Mary both shot searching gazes in my direction.

“I was told you hadn’t been up and about all that long,” he half-asked, glancing at Mary.  “Is that from the last time you were ‘around’?”

“I read it somewhere,” I told him, which was the truth, although not all of it.  “A man named Churchill, I believe.”

“Yes,” Antonio agreed.  “I never met him, but I respected him as a statesman.”

“I would have liked to meet him,” I said, honestly.  “One moment, please.”

A tallish fellow in a black suit arrived at the table.

“I am Georges, the assistant manager in the Gold Dome.  Miss Lambert, Mister Corbano.  It’s a pleasure to have you with us again.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here, Georges,” Tony replied.

“I understand there’s a special request?”

“That would be me,” I offered.  “Halar Smith.”

“Mister Smith,” he said, inclining his head.  “How may the Gold Dome be of service?”

“Are you familiar with the elderly couple over there?” I nodded toward them.  He glanced over.

“I am, sir.”

“The gentleman seems to be under the impression he ordered flowers for his wife of forty years on their anniversary.  He seemed a bit confused to me—maybe he’s having a bad night.  I doubt they would be out in public if he was always in such a state.  I think it would help him greatly if he saw his wife receive flowers—on his behalf.  Could you please arrange for an emergency delivery of an anniversary arrangement before their dinner is over?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“My tab,” I added.

“You may leave it in my hands,” Georges assured me.  He bowed slightly to us and vanished to wherever waiters go.

“That was exceptionally kind of you,” Antonio observed.

“It’s only money.”

“No,” Mary denied, “it isn’t.”

“What I meant was that money is useful, but it’s not really all that important.”

“That’s not what I meant, either,” Mary replied.

“Oh.  Good.  I think.”

“It was still kind of you,” Antonio affirmed.  “So, tell me a bit about yourself.  Where are you from?”

“My people lived in caves,” I told him.  “I doubt anyone alive could find them.  My tribe, if you want to call it that, were the Karvalens.”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“But your tribe… do you mean your mortal tribe?”

“In the sense the tribe was composed of mortals, yes; I was their leader… chieftain… their king, yes; that’s it.”

“But what tribe of blood do you claim?”

“I don’t.  All that is news to me. I’ve never heard of it.  As far as I know, we didn’t have tribes when I was… well, you know.”

Antonio frowned.  I obviously added to his troubles.  He and Mary exchanged glances again.  They didn’t like it.  Rather, Antonio didn’t like it in any way.  Mary seemed to find it more exciting than disturbing.

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” Antonio assured me.  “Or, rather, only for me.”

“If I’m being inconvenient, I’ll help however I can.”

“It’s not your fault; it’s you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Antonio sighed, a purely theatrical gesture for a creature that does not need to breathe.  Then again, sometimes I sigh, too; I also sometimes pause to take a few deep breaths.  It may not be necessary, but I feel better afterward.  Reflex?  No, not reflex.  Maybe it’s a learned behavior.  But there it is.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else to talk,” he suggested, finally.  “This is fine for a… an interview, but I’d rather not discuss
everything
here.”

“Sure.  I didn’t see anything on the menu for me, anyway.”

I paid at the bar and we left the Gold Dome.  He led us past the cabs sitting out front and around to the parking lot.  Several private vehicles, mostly electric, stood in ranks.  His was a practical-looking cross between a land rover and a van—sporty-looking, but mostly a comfortable people-carrier.  The interior was more like a cozy room than a car.

He took the driver’s seat while I held the door for Mary and handed her in. He touched icons on the guidance system while I took my seat.  As the thing hummed out of the parking lot, I saw a drone land with a florist box slung underneath it.  Excellent.

“Now,” he began, swiveling his seat to face me.  We all faced each other while the vehicle did the driving.  “Let me try and explain our problem.  You’re obviously unreasonably old.  That means some noses are going to get out of joint if I’m the one who welcomes you to the city.”

“I’m sorry, both for your difficulties and for the fact I don’t understand them.  Why would it matter who welcomes me?  As long as there’s room for me, that is.  Is population pressure the problem?”

“Oh, I’d say there’s room.  Oh-kay-cee could handle dozens more if they observed proper feeding protocols.  That’s always the troublesome part.  We try to stay out of the light, as I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.”

“My problem isn’t the fatalities.  It’s the politics,” he sighed.  He had my instant sympathy.  I hate politics, too.  It’s one of the many reasons I’m such a lousy king.

“There are three tribes, and you’re the sort-of leader of yours, right?”

“Yes.  See, you don’t belong in any tribe.  If I welcome you to the city, then, by default—and I hate to bring this up, but you do understand we have some rules?”

“I had a vague notion, but Mary and I didn’t get into it.  She’s the only person I’ve discussed this with.”  Mary nodded at that.

“We didn’t have a long talk about that,” she pointed out.  “I would have explained the requirements, but…”

“I quite understand,” Antonio empathized.  “You had every reason to be frightened.”

“With reminds me,” I interrupted.  “Mary, I’m sorry.  I apologize for frightening you.  I shouldn’t have.  It wasn’t nice, nor was it polite.  I don’t want to frighten you, and I’ll do what I can to make you feel at ease.  Please forgive me.”

The two of them stared at me for a number of seconds.  A light rain started, pattering on the windshield and roof; the wipers came on automatically.

“Do you really mean that?” Mary asked.

“Of course.”

“Then I accept your apology.”

“Thank you.”  I turned to Antonio.  “Please excuse me.  You were saying about the rules?”

“Yes… yes, I was.  If I invite you in, then you follow the rules of our Elders, and you’re under the authority of the Thessaloniki.  Normally, if I was counseling someone about whether or not to make a new Thessaloniki, the Elders would wave a hand and tell me to deal with it.  In the rare event a Constantine or a Phrygian wanted to be adopted into the tribe—once in a while, we do find someone who seems to be misplaced—the Elders would want to meet the supplicant and have an interview.  Regardless of the verdict, they probably wouldn’t do much more than that.

“Your case, on the other hand, would have repercussions.  You’re obviously not a member of any tribe.  One could argue that you should be the Eldest, possibly over even the three Elders of the tribes.  But if I welcome you to the city on behalf of the Thessaloniki, then you’re effectively making yourself a part of my tribe—quite possibly the Eldest of the Thessaloniki.  Do you see the problem?”

“Not really.  I’m not sure why anyone would care.  All I want to do is have a quiet little estate with a few guards, some ugly dogs, and big library.  And the occasional dinner guest.  I can’t imagine how that would bother anybody, aside from the dinner guest.”

“That wouldn’t,” Antonio agreed.  “The problem is a number of our brothers and sisters and cousins don’t particularly care for the way the Elders do things.”

“Oh, I see.  Well, no, I don’t, but I’m trying.  What’s that got to do with me?”

“Remember how I said you could be regarded as the Eldest?”

“Ah.  They might try to use me as an excuse to ignore the Elders?  I don’t answer to you, I answer to him.  That sort of thing?”

“Possibly.  On another level, it’s also possible someone might decide it would be worth the risk to consume your power.”

“You mean someone might try to eat
me?
”

“Effectively, yes.  There is power in your blood.  Every mouthful would give the drinker a fraction of your power.”

“I did not know that,” I said, slowly.  Vampires around here are obviously different.  Sasha and I fed on each other as a—hmm.  We never fed on each other without the other doing so at the same time.  For all I know, maybe I can eat another vampire.  Interesting.  I don’t think I want to try it.

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“I’ve never had cause to try.”

“Please don’t,” he advised.  “The elders of the city—including me—would have to investigate it and try to either bring you before the Elders, or bring them sufficient proof of guilt and proof of destruction.  Nobody likes a cannibal.  I’d have to do the same thing if you crumbled to powder or otherwise vanished—someone would have to be held responsible.”

“Fair enough.”

“And that’s the other thing.  I may be required to bring you before the Elders anyway.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For being what you are.  They might want to see you.  And maybe to test you.  You’re not in the nominal pecking order; you simply don’t fit in and they’ll
hate
that.  Everyone has their place in the great tree of our ancestors, either above or below someone else.  They’ll want to put you somewhere.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could put me at the bottom of the Thessaloniki and not mention me to anyone,” I told him.  “It would suit me to be the youngest—well, the newest—and the least interesting.”

“Yes, I agree.  I think you’d find it reasonably quiet.  That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“I hate politics and love quiet.”

“Then my tribe is what you want.  The Phrygians would involve you in spreading their web of control over human society.  The Constantines would expect you to join in with their gang activities and bloody rituals.  Thessaloniki tend to be more artistic and reclusive than either of those.”

“Great.  Let’s do that.”

“But, as I mentioned, the Elders will want to examine you.”

“If all I want is to be left alone, what’s the big deal?” I asked.  “I’m not bothering them. I don’t want to bother them.  I don’t want to bother anyone, aside from the occasional dinner guest, like I said.  I don’t understand the problem.”

“Politics.”

“Crap.”

“Same thing,” he agreed, and explained.

The short form is this: somewhere around the Roman Republic period in this world, vampires of various sorts existed.  Most of the really powerful sort were public with their identities, thinking themselves invincible.  Such creatures were independent monsters, living and feeding on human society without challenging each other.  It was actually rather easy; dinner was readily available.  They could have a criminal, barbarian, or slave brought in. Some had their own mystery cults and, presumably, nights of non-stop blood feasts. The lesser breeds of night-dwellers were more circumspect.

Eventually, when the Republic moved on to Empire and then into the fall, the majority of those public vampires either died or went underground—literally, underground.  During the latter days of Rome, humans began to regard these creatures as predators, as monsters, and began devising ways to kill them.  There were theories about how the fires of Nero weren’t intended to clear space in Rome, but to burn out the blood-drinking monsters.

Thus, it was no longer safe for the so-called “invincible” breeds of bloodsuckers to be so open with their identities.  Some chose to enter a great sleep, hidden away in deep caves or remote locations.  It was said some even took ship into the Atlantic and sank themselves in the ocean deeps, returning to the continent where they were born.  Archaeologists exploring the underground areas of Rome are still under close scrutiny by the vampires or their servants, lest they unearth something better left buried.

Of the so-called invincible vampires, three of them chose not only to continue to live as men, but to start bloodlines, or tribes.  They were the Elders, and all the three tribes are descended from them.  Since they formed an alliance, they survived.  Add in their strict rules about keeping out of the public eye, as well as their policy of discrediting or destroying evidence of the existence of vampires in general, and it was no wonder people didn’t believe in them.

Mythology.  That’s all we are, now.

Some of the younger vampires don’t like their elders’ restrictions.  The Constantines, in particular, enjoy the occasional night out on the town.  This usually gets passed off as drug-fueled gang members; the Constantines are impressively strong and hard to hurt.  For example, they think it’s a thrill to lie down on the highway, grab the undercarriage of an automated truck as it passes over them, and climb aboard.  The younger ones chafe under the Elders’ restraint.  Their powers don’t lend themselves well to subtlety.