Taltos (Lives of the Mayfair Witches #3)(149)
Author: Anne Rice

Not in Ash’s nature.

“Not in my nature to be alone, either,” he thought. There was a leather portmanteau beside Samuel’s glass. Leaving.

Ash pushed very gently past those entering and exiting, giving a little nod and a point of the finger to Samuel to let the harried doorman know he was expected.

The cold died away at once, and with the loud crash of voices and pots and pans, dishes and shuffling feet, there came the warm air like a fluid oozing around him. Inevitably heads turned, but the marvelous thing about any restaurant crowd in New York was that table partners were twice as animated as anywhere else, and always so seriously focused on each other. All meetings seemed crucial; courses devoured in a rush; faces evincing infatuation, if not with one’s partner, then certainly with the evening’s ever-quickening momentum.

Surely they saw the tall man in the outrageous violet silk take the chair opposite the smallest man in the place, a chunky little fellow in heavy clothes, but they saw it out of the corner of the eye, or with a movement of the neck swift enough to injure the spinal cord, and they did not miss a beat of their own conversations. The table was right before the front glass, but then people on the streets were even more skilled at secret observation than the people in the warm safety zone of the restaurant.

“Go ahead and say it,” said Ash under his breath. “You are leaving, you are going back to England.”

“You knew I would, I don’t want to be over here. I always think it’s going to be wonderful and then I get tired, and I have, to go home. I have to go back to the glen, before those fools from the Talamasca start invading it.”

“They won’t do that,” Ash said. “I hoped you’d stay for a little while.” He marveled at the control he managed to maintain over his own voice. “That we’d talk about things …”

“You cried when you said goodbye to your human friends, didn’t you?”

“Now, why do you ask me that?” said Ash. “You are determined that we part with cross words?”

“Why did you trust them, the two witches? Here, the waiter’s talking to you. Eat something.”

Ash pointed to something on the menu, the standard pasta he always ordered in such places, and waited for the man to disappear before resuming.

“If you hadn’t been drunk, Samuel, if you hadn’t seen everything through a tiresome haze, you would know the answer to that question.”

“Mayfair witches. I know what they are. Yuri told me all about them. Yuri talked in a fever a lot of the time. Ash, don’t be stupid again. Don’t expect these people to love you.”

“Your words don’t make sense,” said Ash. “They never did. They’re just a sort of noise I’ve grown used to hearing when I’m in your presence.”

The waiter set down the mineral water, the milk, the glasses.

“You’re out of sorts, Ash,” said Samuel, gesturing for another glass of whiskey, and it was pure whiskey, Ash could tell by the smell. “And it’s not my fault.” Samuel slumped back in the chair. “Look, my friend, I’m only trying to warn you. Let me put it this way, if you prefer. Don’t love those two.”

“You know, if you insist upon this lecture, I just may lose my temper.”

The little man laughed outright. It was a low, nimbly laugh, but the folds over his eyes even showed his sudden bemusement.

“Now that might keep me in New York another hour or two,” he said, “if I thought I was really going to see that.”

Ash didn’t respond. It was too terribly important not to say anything he didn’t mean, not now, not to Samuel, not to anyone. He had believed that all his long life, but periodically he was brutally reminded of it.

After a moment, he said:

“And who should I love?” It was said with only the softest note of reproach. “I’ll be glad when you’re gone. I mean … I mean I’ll be glad when this unpleasant conversation is over.”

“Ash, you should never have drawn so close to them, never told them all you did. And then the gypsy, letting him just go back to the Talamasca.”

“Yuri? And what did you want me to do? How could I stop Yuri from going back to the Talamasca?”

“You could have lured him to New York, put him to work for you some way. He was a man with a broken life; but you sent him home to write volumes on what happened. Hell, he could have been your companion.”

“That was not right for him. He had to go home.”

“Of course it was right. And he was right for you—an outcast, a gypsy, the son of a whore.”

“Please don’t make your speech as offensive and vulgar as you possibly can. You frighten me. Look, it was Yuri’s choice. If he had not wanted to go back, he would have said so. His life was the Order. He had to go back, at least to heal all the wounds. And after that? He wouldn’t have been happy here in my world. Dolls are pure magic to those who love them and understand them. To others they are less than toys. Yuri is a man of coarse spiritual distinctions, not subtle ones.”

“That sounds good,” said Samuel, “but it’s stupid.” He watched the waiter set the fresh drink before him. “Your world is full of things that Yuri might have done. You could have turned him loose to build more parks, plant more trees, all these grandiose schemes of yours. What were you telling your witches, that you were going to build parks in the sky so that everyone could see what you see from your marble chambers? You could have kept that kid busy all his life, and you would have had his companionship—”

“I wish you would stop. This didn’t happen. It simply did not happen.”

“But what happened is that you want the friendship of those witches, a man and woman married to each other with a great clan around them, people who are a priori committed to a family way of living that is intensely human—”

“What can I do to make you stop?”

“Nothing. Drink the milk. I know you want it. You’re ashamed to drink it in front of me, afraid I might say something like ‘Ashlar, drink your milk!’ ”

“Which you now have, even though I have not touched the milk, you realize.”

“Ahh, this is the point. You love those two, the witches. And it is incumbent upon those two—as I see it—to forget all this, this nightmare of Taltos, and the glen, and murdering little fools who infiltrated the Talamasca. It is essential to the sanity of that man and woman that they go home and build the life the Mayfair family expects them to build. And I hate it when you love those who will only turn their backs on you, and those two have to do it.”