The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) (8 page)

Claude looked shocked. “You're serious?” he said, “I can’t believe it! You must let me show you the city when you come. There are things there that you can’t imagine! No other place in the world compares to it. Certainly not…” he flicked a glance at Garrett. “Well, I’m sure the embassy is comfortable enough, and Wythr is certainly… intriguing, in its way, but
Thrinaar
… It is
home
.”

He was still holding Marla’s hand.

Garrett cleared his throat. “So, uh, what is this play about?” he asked.

Marla smiled and turned to face him, slipping free of the gaunt rider’s grasp. “The
Song of Samhaed
is the story of the first of our kind,” she said, “the first vampire.”

“Oh,” Garrett said, enjoying the look of consternation on Claude’s face, “is it a good play?”

“One of my favorites,” Marla beamed, “I think you’re going to enjoy it. The
Yellow Troupe
has come in honor of the Valfrei’s visit. They are some of the greatest dancers in the world.”

“It’s a dancing play?” Garrett asked.

Marla wrinkled her nose. “It’s not exactly what you think of as…”

“Vampire dancers are similar to what you humans would call actors,” Claude interrupted, “only they are much more skilled.”

“You really just have to see it to understand,” Marla assured him.

Garrett frowned at Claude. “I guess we’d better find our seats then,” he said, “I don’t want to miss the show.”

Marla bid Claude farewell. She took Garrett’s arm then and led him away, toward the doors of some great inner hall at what Garrett guessed to be the center of the vampire embassy. The two of them passed through the doors into the cool shadows of the largest theater that Garrett had ever seen. Hundreds of chairs and tables were arranged neatly upon the multi-leveled red-carpeted terraces overlooking the broad, circular stage below. The stage was formed of polished, blood-red wooden planks. It stood empty, save for six soot-stained braziers that had been arranged around its perimeter. Smoldering coals within these bronze bowls caused the air above to shimmer with heat.

Marla chose a small table with four black leather-cushioned chairs. Only a single rock crystal vase adorned the table. It contained a solitary black rose, and the water in its base gave off a faint, blue-green glow. Garrett pulled out one of the chairs and smiled, waiting for Marla to take a seat before taking the seat next to her.

A flicker of motion from the crystal vase caught his eye, and Garrett leaned close enough to make out the tiny lambent sea creatures that swam and swirled in the little container of water. Like those at the neighboring tables, these miniature aquariums gave off just enough light to illuminate the surface of the black table cloth on which they sat and little else.

“That’s nice,” Garrett said, pointing at the vase.

Marla seemed to notice it for the first time and nodded her agreement. She looked around, surveying the faces of the other vampires as they entered the theater.

“Do you know all these vampires?” Garrett asked.

“Some of them,” Marla said. She lifted her hand to wave at someone across the room, but Garrett saw no sign that she was recognized by any of the pale skinned and somberly-dressed mob that was filing into the room.

“You guys really like black and gray,” Garrett noted.

Marla laughed. “I know it seems a bit gloomy,” she admitted, “but you must understand that we do not see colors the same way that you do.”

“What?” Garrett asked.

Marla gestured toward the dress of a lady who had taken a seat two tables over and slightly below them. “What color would you say she is wearing?” she asked.

“Um… black?” Garrett said.

“And what color am I wearing?” she asked him.

“Looks black to me,” Garrett answered.

“But they are not the same,” she said, “There are subtle variations in the weave and fabric. Mine, for example, contains the faintest trace of violet… one in every hundredth fiber. Hers is woven with a hint of emerald green. That gentleman’s jacket has a blush of red to it. Can you tell the difference?”

Garrett stared at the pair of vampires at the other table until the man turned and gave him a stern look. Garrett waved back, sheepishly, and admitted to Marla that he could discern no difference at all in the various shades of black.

“The effect is subtle, I will admit,” Marla said, “but, to our eyes, it is like a dark rainbow of meaning and expression.”

“What does yours mean?” Garrett asked, “The violet, I mean.”

Marla flushed pink. She lowered her voice and leaned across the table to speak. “It means that I am not seeking… attention,” she said.

“You mean, like, you don’t want people to notice you?” he asked.

Marla wrinkled her nose again. “It means I am not seeking
masculine
attention.”

Garrett stared at her in silence for a moment, trying to work out her meaning. He squinted at her. “Huh?” he said.

Marla sighed and leaned closer still. “It means that I am not looking for a
boyfriend!
” she whispered.

Garrett felt his stomach turn over and his heart felt as if it had missed a beat. After a moment, he managed to rasp out a dry, disappointed, “Oh…”

Marla rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand. “…Because I already
have
one, you goose!” she said and then nodded meaningfully toward him.

“Oh…” he said. Then his mood brightened as the meaning of her words wormed its way into his consciousness, “Oh!”

Marla laughed, and Garrett grinned.

Suddenly, a man’s voice called out above the murmur of conversation throughout the hall, and everyone’s attention turned to the tall vampire who stood in the center of the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the vampire spoke in a voice loud enough to be heard outside the room, “I bid you all good evening!” The man wore a close-fitting tunic of golden silk over tight black leggings and glossy black boots. His bald head showed the slightly elongated ears and lengthened jaw that Garrett had come to associate with elder vampires, and his long fangs glistened, pearly-white in the bright light cast by a reflective mirror turned upon him from somewhere above.

“Please enter this hall with the blessings of the Yellow Troupe,” he said, “but enter quickly, for we grow impatient to begin!”

Scattered laughter sounded throughout the hall.

“I jest, of course!” the man said, “Please take as much time as you need to find your seat… Particularly you, sir.” He indicated a young vampire at the back of the hall who was still chatting with his friends. “Please, do not let us inconvenience you in any way.”

The vampire in yellow leaned forward, his large, watery eyes seeming to almost bulge from his head as he stared at the rude young vampire in the back. Others took notice and surreptitiously drew the young vampire’s attention to the elder’s mocking gaze. The young man fell silent and nodded back with a thin-lipped smile.

The man on the stage nodded his appreciation. He waved his long arms around and laughed, a high, merry laugh. “Welcome!” he cried out, “Welcome to the
Song of Samhaed!
”

Applause filled the hall as vampires hurried to fill their seats and the house lights grew dimmer still.

Marla looked around, a worried look on her face. “I thought mother would be here by now,” she said.

Garrett only shrugged, hoping that Marla would not bring up the question of Uncle’s gift to her mother again. He was trying to enjoy just holding his girlfriend’s hand.

Then Marla pulled her hand away and rose from her seat.

Garrett’s blood ran cold when he saw why she had done so.

A lady in a black gown swept toward them with a retinue of grim-faced elder vampires a few steps behind her. Long, glossy black hair framed her high forehead, angular cheekbones, and narrow jaw. Thin, unsmiling lips parted slightly to reveal her long, white teeth as she turned her pale, unblinking eyes upon Garrett. He scrambled to his feet, almost knocking his chair over in his haste.

“My Lady!” Marla gasped. She crossed her hands over her chest and quickly bowed.

Garrett did his best imitation of a vampire greeting, but the lady had already turned her attention back to Marla.

“Young lady Veranu,” the woman said, her voice like frost-kissed steel, “I am Senzei, Valfrei of the Seventh House. I welcome your presence.” She bowed then to Marla with an almost reptilian grace. The vampires behind her bowed as well.

“You honor us, Valfrei,” Marla said, obviously flustered.

“May I join you?” Senzei asked, indicating the little table.

Garrett found the overly large irises of the woman’s eyes particularly unnerving.

“Of course,” Marla said, “but we only have four chairs.” She looked to the half dozen vampires standing behind the Valfrei.

“One is all I require,” Senzei said. She dismissed the others with a wave. They nodded in deference and took their leave.

The vampire woman stood motionless, regarding Marla with her unsettling gaze, until Garrett remembered his manners and hastily offered his chair to her. She sat down, smoothing the front of her black dress as Garrett hurried around to help Marla into her own chair.

He hesitated, considering flight for a brief moment as his mind fumbled through what little Uncle had managed to teach him of etiquette. Then again, this was the woman who had tried to have his uncle killed. He took a step forward and then back again, away from the table.

Marla shot him a nervous smile and reached out to take his hand, pulling him close. Garrett choked back his fear for a brief moment, until he glanced over at the Valfrei. She was staring intently at him, and he suddenly noticed that the pupils of her eyes were not exactly round but more elongated vertically, like those of some cold-blooded reptile. He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone quite dry.

“May my friend stay with us?” Marla asked.

Senzei regarded him with those serpent’s eyes for a long moment before she spoke again. “Of course,” she said, “I look forward to learning all about your… friend.”

Garrett felt a little twinge in his gut, but he pulled a tense smile across his face and took the seat on the other side of Marla.

She smiled at him, patting his knee reassuringly under the table before turning her attention back to the elder vampire.

"I've been so looking forward to meeting you, Valfrei," Marla said, "I... I'm afraid I know so little of your work. My mother says you are... are quite accomplished."

"Your mother says this?" Valfrei Senzei asked, her voice cool; her eyes searching Marla's face.

"Yes," Marla said, hesitating only by a breath before adding, "she speaks quite highly of you."

The Valfrei's lips curled upward slightly at the corner, and her eyes narrowed to slits. "Your mother is quite adept as well," she said, "to have not only survived, but even thrived, here... so far from home," Her eyes turned suddenly upon Garrett, and he started slightly and hastily glanced away.

Marla looked at Garrett as well. "We've come to think of
this
place as our home," she said.

A faint hiss of air passed through the Valfrei's nostrils, and she looked away. "It is good that you have experienced something of the outside world in your youth," she said, looking at Marla again, "It will give you a greater appreciation of what we are building at home."

"Building?" Marla asked.

The Valfrei smiled. "A better future for our people," she said.

Marla nodded. "Of course."

The Valfrei turned her gaze upon Garrett once more. "And you must be Tinjin's son," she said, letting the tips of her fangs rest on her lower lip when she smiled.

Garrett flinched. His hopes of remaining anonymous throughout the evening unraveled like a two copper shroud. He worked his jaw, hoping that words might come out, but nothing did.

"He is well, is he not?" the Valfrei asked.

"He... I'm not his son," Garrett finally managed, "He's my uncle."

The Valfrei inclined her head slightly. "Another one of his
nephews
, I see," she said, "He is still trying to fill that hollow with borrowed sons."

"What do you mean?" Garrett asked. A sick, tingly feeling crawled up the back of his neck.

"He never told you what happened to his family... to his real son?" The Valfrei chuckled.

Garrett shook his head.

The vampire woman raised her thin eyebrows. "Oh," she said, "forget I mentioned it then..." She looked past Garrett, over his shoulder, and her eyes sparkled with delight. "Klavicus! Is that you?" she said.

Garrett turned to look at the doorman who was approaching the table with a tray of silver goblets and a sick look on his face.

"Good evening... Valfrei," Klavicus rasped. His lips twitched back over his long yellow fangs. "I bring... refreshment," He carefully sat a silver goblet, filled with blood down in front of Marla first, and then a larger, more ornate goblet, studded with rubies, before the Valfrei.