The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) Read online

  “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 irise
s 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.

  "I didn't know you were working here," the Valfrei cooed, "It is so good to see you again. How long has it been?"

  "I couldn't say," Klavicus muttered.

  "Since the Trials, I believe," she sighed, "Ah, those were good times, were they not?"

  Klavicus's lips twitched again.

  The Valfrei lifted the jewel-encrusted goblet to her lips and inhaled its scent. "Faun," she said, approvingly, "Thank you, Klavicus."

  He stretched his fragile smile and bowed his head before setting the last goblet, a plain silver one, in front of Garrett.

  Garrett started to protest, but Klavicus tapped the rim with a long fingernail, and Garrett saw that the cup was filled with fruit juice instead of blood. "Thank you," he said, and Klavicus patted him once on the shoulder before going.

  "You know him?" Marla asked.

  The Valfrei took a long sip from her cup and licked her lips. "We studied together in our youth," she said, "I'm happy that he has finally found work more suited to his... abilities."

  Marla's face darkened. "Klavicus is a great help to us here," she said, "Mother and I have always depended on him to..."

  A sudden screech of violin music cut her off. Then the sound of drums and a flute, low and mournful, joined in, and everyone's attention turned to the stage.

  Two vampire women, dressed in yellow silk jerkins and hose and wearing featureless masks of white wood, burst from the red curtains at the back to dance across the stage. Each one held a dark leather bag in one hand, and with her free hand, reached in and drew out a handful of bright green powder that she cast into the fire of each brazier in turn. As soon as the powder hit the hot coals, a thick, yellowish smoke began to rise and swirl above the stage, forming a roiling cloud that seemed to pulse and shift in hue with every beat of the music.

  Garrett watched in fascination, certain that some form of magic was at work in the strange pulsing of the smoke. He stared, wide-eyed, as the smoke billowed and rolled with shapes half-formed and half-seen. Faces of people and images of vast cities and soaring dragons flickered in the shimmering cloud as the weird music swelled to a feverish crescendo. The two dancing girls had left the stage, and the hall lights had dimmed now until only strange flickers of light, like lighting in a night storm, shone above the stage. Then the music stopped, and everything went black.

  Garrett held his breath.

  A single boom of a kettledrum brought the light back, and Garrett looked down to see a small group of men, dressed in red and black robes upon the stage. They wore dark eye makeup and sullen expressions beneath tall headdresses, not dissimilar to the one that Garrett wore. The men carried long staffs and moved their feet as though walking, and, though they did not move forward, the swirling illusion of the smoke around them gave the impression that they were traveling through a vast and wind-swept desert. The violins groaned and the flute gave voice to the desert wind.

  "In the Time of Dying," a voice cried out, "men wandered the earth in search of solace and refuge from the horrors of the outer world."

  Suddenly the robed actors looked up in terror and dropped to their knees on the stage as the smoke roiled in the shape of some vast, winged thing that swept down out of the yellow sky. The smoky shadow passed among them, and, suddenly, one of the men was gone in a swirl of smoke. As the vapors cleared, the remaining men got to their feet again and mimed the steps of their stony-faced trek once more.

  "Those that survived the passing," the narrator said, "came at last to a place forgotten by the race of men."

  The men on stage slowly turned, and the smoke swirled with them to reveal the outline of a great, ruined city of domes and spires at the edge of a foreboding mountain
range. Before its gates rose a single tower, a column of jet-black smoke, featureless and narrow.

  "The men approached boldly, heedless of danger, for they knew that death followed close behind."

  The robed men seemed to draw nearer to the ruined city as they walked, and the black tower rose above them.

  "Perhaps the great guardian slept and dreamed," the narrator said, "or perhaps it saw in them no threat to its ancient masters and ignored the men as it ignored the crawling beetles that scurried in the empty halls of forgotten song. It let them live, and let them pass."

  The actors on the stage continued their pretend march, looking around in marvel as the city's walls enveloped them.

  "Chief among them was one called Samhaed," the narrator said.

  One of the robed men stepped forward and turned to face the others, raising his staff. "Here," he said, "we shall make our camp... Here we shall make our home."

  The lights fell again, and the music stopped.

  The lights rose again on a scene formed of smoke, a great balcony overlooking a gleaming city beneath a troubled, sunset sky. Samhaed stood, looking out over his city, older now, with gray in his beard. He no longer wore the dark traveling robes but was dressed as a king, roped with golden chains and ivory silk. He clasped his hands behind his back and shook his head.

  "Have I not led them to peace and bounty?" Samhaed cried out, "Have I not spared them the reaver's claw and hunger's bite? How can they be so stiff-necked? Do they not understand that I only wish the best for them?" He turned to face the audience as a woman emerged from the shadowy smoke behind him.

  "They are but children, my love," spoke the woman. She was dressed in gossamer robes with a golden coronet in her raven-black hair. "Children have no love of discipline, it is true, but they still love their father. The people are your children, and they love you still, even if they are sometimes... disobedient."

  "Disobedient?" Samhaed scoffed, lifting his hands to his sides, "This is not mere disobedience. They openly defy me! This is treason!"

  The woman crossed the stage to Samhaed's side and kissed him. "Let your rage be cooled," she said. She ran her hand across his brow, smoothing back his gray hair. "Listen to your advisors and proceed cautiously in this matter."