Delerium's Mistress: Tales of the Flat Earth Book 4 (17 page)

But
lighting the candles, Jadrid saw, and felt, the bite in his ankle, and how it
bled.

Three mages were
called to the merchant’s house. The first came with much show, and a retinue of
servants. His own chair was set for him in the merchant’s hall. His page lay
down under his feet to be his footstool. The robes of the first mage were sewn
with orichalc, and he held a wand of gold with which he casually toyed, though
lightnings seeped from its end.

“The
young man,” said the first mage, “is beset by a vampire. She is thirsty not
only for blood but for revenge. She will destroy him if she can.”

“So
much we are aware of,” said the merchant.

“I
am glad to find you educated,” said the mage. He snapped his fingers. A green
toad bounced into his lap and poured for him a sherbet from a flask of emerald.
“The chamber where the young man sleeps,” said the first mage, “must have
branches of the wild thorn tree piled at door and windows. He must be anointed
with blessed oil from a temple given over to the worship of some god who is
reckoned to have arisen, at least on one occasion, from the dead. (There are
several of these.) If the vampire is still able to manifest, he must recite a
mantra, which I will teach him.”

Things
were performed as the first mage directed. Wild thorn brought from the country
and laid at the thresholds, sacred oil smeared on Jadrid’s body. He lay awake
through the first and second hours of darkness, but in the third hour slumbered
exhaustedly. He woke to find the devil-woman seated at his bed foot, biting at
his ankle. Then Jadrid exclaimed at her the mantra the first mage had
instructed him in.

Liliu
raised her head.

“Not
iron nor steel, stone nor bone, water nor fire. Not scratchy thorns not sticky
oil. Not
words
,”
said Liliu. And before he
could stop her, she raked him across the breast with her long and pointed
nails, and thrusting him down began to lap his lifeblood like a famished rat.

At
this Jadrid let out a cry so loud the house seemed shaken, and the merchant’s
armed guards, waiting in the passage, rushed into the room. But Liliu sneered
at their swords and spears. She began to spin, she became smoke, then air. She
was gone.

The
second mage came in black and was cowled in black. He wore a mask of thin wood
that revealed only his eyes, and these not well. He groveled to his gods
constantly, to show them he remembered them. He groveled also to the merchant.

“If
you will allow this wretched person to advise you, exalted sir, the efficacy of
which advice is only valuable in that it was obtained by study of holy lore,
then you will do this . . .” And his treatment was as follows.
The young man must fast that day, and bathe seven times in the coldest water.
An hour before sunfall he must have arrived at the segregated unresting-place
of his late wife, with what helpers he had selected, who must also have fasted
and bathed seven times in cold water. Going into the tomb, they should wait by
the bier until the sun was almost down, then snatch off the grave coverings.
Ignoring the dead woman’s appearance of healthy life, her opening eyes, or any
pleading she might make, her husband must then lop off her head, cut out her
heart and set fire to it, and to the rest of the cadaver, separately.

“But
she has told me,” said Jadrid, “iron, steel, fire—such things cannot harm her.”

“Where
is your faith?” said the mage. “My gods know all.”

Jadrid
was not convinced, but he was desperate, and so obeyed in everything, even to
the seven baths.

Just
before sunset, disguised as priests, he and his band of retainers entered the
small dilapidated tomb where Liliu had been laid.

As
the sun began to sink, they approached the bier and snatched off the coverings
from the body—finding only what they had expected, that she was firm and fresh,
with every appearance of voluptuous life.

If
Jadrid was disposed to hesitate was not recorded. Undoubtedly Liliu opened her
eyes and glowered at him. In that instant, he smote off her head, and next went
on with the rest of the procedure. When a torch was set to the remains, it
seemed a jeering female laugh rang around the tomb.

As
they paced back to the merchant’s house, it occurred to each of the men, and to
Jadrid, that something walked behind. They entered the house and barred its
doors. Jadrid and his father then kept vigil, with all the guards and the male
servants standing by with drawn sword or heavy stave. The black-robed priest
knelt in a corner, praying and scourging himself.

Presently
there was a dreadful crash—it was the outer door being flung wide. After this
the door of the chamber flew open and in came a smother of swirling ashes which
spun and roiled and
laughed.
And became
Liliu. She was entirely whole, not bearing any mark to show where she had been
so frequently and mortally smitten.

“Not
iron or steel, stone or bone, thorn or oil or words, not the sword, not the
torch, not aesthetics, rituals, traditions, faith,
prayer
can rid you of me, dear husband,” said Liliu. “I love you so well I will drain
you dry. Not tonight, for you are not private enough, but tomorrow I will come
to you. No man set to guard you shall I spare. One scratch of my nails shall be
fatal to them. Defend yourself as you will, you cannot deny me. I will have
your blood, I will have the marrow of your bones. Look forward to our meeting,
sweet lord. For now, a token—only this—” And suddenly she flew at Jadrid and
bit from his hand the first finger, and vanished with it into nothingness.

“The
gods help me, I am damned!” cried Jadrid. And taking his own sword would have
slain himself at once, had his father and the servants not prevented it by
force.

Soon
afterward, the second mage was thrown from the house, and, at dawn, the third
mage invited in.

This
third mage was plainly dressed, neither flamboyant nor obscure in his bearing.
He looked at Jadrid and said to him, “Do not yet despair.” Then he sat down
with father and son and discussed matters as though debating on the price of
grain. Finally the mage spoke to them, in this way.

“I
regret yours is not the only house in the city to be plagued by this
confederacy of devilkind. Nevertheless, in this fashion, something has been
learned of them. It is true they are an old and, in their own lights, estimable
race. They despise man, but must now and then have recourse to him. In the
beginning, they believe, their race and man’s were one, and man still carries
certain of their tastes which he has suppressed from an egomaniacal
squeamishness, and refuses to eat, in certain parts, even the flesh of pigs,
since it is said to resemble that of men. And so he has lost, they say, his
strength, but remains fatally attracted to their kind, which, when necessary,
they exploit. He has, too, abilities which they, for all their superior
talents, have not. She who named herself to you
Liliu
is, like all her clan, impervious to violence. Her body being always partially
etheric, it can never properly be dissipated by any physical means. To strike
her with blade, even to burn her—these strategies only strengthen her, for it
is
practice
in reintegration which makes such
a creature perfect in the art of rebirth.”

“Then
I am lost,” said Jadrid.

“Not
so,” said the mage. “If you will be resolute but one further time, you may gain
such power over her she will cease to annoy you.”

“By
what means?” cried Jadrid with understandable urgency.

“Listen
well to me,” said the third mage. “There is on the earth no mortal thing that
does not have a shadow. The making of such a shadow is only this, that a solid
object impedes the path of light. Now, there are some beings, too, which may
pass as mortal, until it is seen that, as they are discorporate, light shines quite
through them and they have no shadow at all.”

“Liliu?”

“Not
Liliu, for would you not have been wary from the first if she had had no
shadow? Shadows Liliu’s kind do have, but they are not of the nature of the
human shadow. The human body is flesh, but the body of one of Liliu’s kind is
partly nonfleshly. Just so the shadow, which in the human is no more than
darkened air, in the vampire is partly corporate. Where light strikes them, it
does somewhat pass through, and so forces various particles also through into
the substance of the shadow. Why else, do you imagine, does this race so fear
the blast of the sun, who is the king of all lights?”

“Then?”
asked Jadrid.

“Tonight,
do not go to your bed. Stand ready in the chamber. Let her appear, as she will,
but be sure there is a bright lamp burning and a knife hidden to hand. Cajole
her, then, and promise her rewards, and beg her on your knees—for her people
love flattery and terror in equal measure. But all this while, manage it that
the light shines upon her and so her shadow is cast out. Then suddenly run to
the shadow and slash through it till as much as may be is separated from her.
For from her it can be ripped, and it will bleed and she will scream and set on
you—but you must resist and tear the shadow free. Now, when you burned her, it
was into the shadow that all her atoms fled, but since her flesh is whole, you
will have divided, at the first stroke, those atoms. And from that first stroke
she will grow weaker, and at the last will fall to entreating you as you had
entreated her, promising you all manner of riches and miracles. You will
naturally pay no heed. But take the shadow, which you will find limp, skinny,
and slimy to the touch, and thrust it in some bag or jar, which you must then
tightly seal. Neither air nor light must get in. Keep it so only a few moments,
away from her proximity, and the shadow will wither to a harmless husk. And as
for she herself, as you will learn, she will have lost all her power.”

“And
may I kill her then?” asked Jadrid, with blazing eyes.

“Her
kind do not die easily,” said the third mage, “but you will find her docile and
much altered, unable to perform against you anything. Imprison her or drive her
out, as you will.”

The
day blossomed, faded, fell. The night returned, and Jadrid stood ready in his
chamber, all alone, one bright lamp burning, and a knife hidden in the cushions
of the bed.

He
paced up and down, up and down, from the last red drop of sunset, until the
windows were black as if the whole city lay inside a tomb. Then there came a
fluttering in the midst of the floor, like feathers, then a spiraling like a
pillar of dust. And then there stood Liliu.

“Beloved,”
said Jadrid instantly, “I know you are here to kill me. Have you not vowed it?”

“Just
so,” said Liliu, and raised her claws.

“Give
me then,” said Jadrid, “a few moments’ grace to make to you some act of
contrition.”

“Your
blood and split bones will satisfy me,” said Liliu, but she had paused.

“Let
me speak; I will be brief,” said Jadrid. “Let me tell you, beloved, that my
fear has gone from me. I am in a sort of ecstasy that makes me glad to die at
your hands. I have loved you with such passion, I would not desire to die in
any other way. That I tried to betray you first, and then to destroy you—these
were foolish childish deeds, to which others bent me. I had a secret faith
besides that you, being of a kingly race, could not succumb. Yet forgive such
transgressions. If my agony will please you, take it. Your beauty is beyond all
beauty in the world. To have drunk such wine, from such a cup, I have been
fortunate as it is given to few men to be. Better to have been your lover a
month and perish, than to lie whole centuries with mortal women who are dross.”

Now
this had its effect. The devil-folk of the ghouls had a further weakness—it
thought itself unsurpassable, and so was swiftly able to credit others might
think so too.

“For
these words,” said Liliu, “I will cause your pain to be a little less.”

“No,”
said Jadrid. “My pain is my last gift of love to you. Take as much of it as you
wish, and spare me nothing. For to serve you, my goddess, is my only longing.”
And then he beckoned her toward the bed, and Liliu came to him, and as she did
so the lamp shone on her and her shadow was flung across the covers, clear and
blue.

Out
then he swept the hidden knife, and with it he slashed at the shadow—and it
frayed and tore like ruptured silk, and glittering transparent ichor fountained
up. And the devil-woman screamed. She shrieked and threw herself upon Jadrid,
and scratched and bit at him, but her strength was not as it had been—

And
then all the clinging threads of the shadow were cut away, and Jadrid seized it
and rolled up the slimy thing, which was no thicker than a roll of seaweed, and
sprang with it from the bed, leaving Liliu sprawled there. And when she lifted
herself, only a few vague wisps of shadow lingered, reflected on the wall.

“Oh
my husband, pity me. Pity me,” said Liliu, “and I will bring you great
treasure—”

“Yes,
you are not so cunning with your enticements as I, it would seem,” said Jadrid
bitterly.

“I
will make you a king,” wailed Liliu. “I will love you always.”