Taltos (Lives of the Mayfair Witches #3)(27)
Author: Anne Rice

“Ah, it was like that,” said Ash.

Yuri said nothing. Vaguely he knew that he should have found this body. He should have examined it, taken its identifying papers. But that really had not been feasible, given his wound and the awesome terrain. There seemed something just about the body being lost forever in the wilderness of Donnelaith, and about the Little People letting the body rot.

The Little People.

Even as he had fallen, his eyes had been on the spectacle of the tiny men, down in the little pocket of grass far below him, dancing like many twisted modern Rumplestiltskins. The light of the torches had been the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness.

When he’d opened his eyes to see Samuel, his savior, with the gunbelt and pistol, and a face so haggard and old that it seemed a tangle of tree roots, he had thought, They’ve come to kill me. But I’ve seen them. I wish I could tell Aaron. The Little People. I’ve seen them….

“It’s a group from outside the Talamasca,” said Ash, waking him abruptly from the unwelcome spell, pulling him back into this little circle. “Not from within.”

Taltos, thought Yuri, and now I have seen the Taltos. I am in a room with this creature who is the Taltos.

Had the honor of the Order been unblemished, had the pain in his shoulder not been reminding him every moment of the shabby violence and treachery which had engulfed his life, how momentous it would have been to see the Taltos. But then this was the price of such visions, was it not? They always carried a price, Aaron had told him once. And now he could never, never discuss this with Aaron.

Samuel spoke next, a little caustic. “How do you know it’s not a group from within the Talamasca?”

He looked nothing now like he had that night, in his ragged jerkin and breeches. Sitting by the fire, he had looked like a ghastly toad as he counted his bullets and filled the empty spaces in his belt and drank his whiskey and offered it over and over to Yuri. That was the drunkest Yuri had ever been. But it was medicinal, wasn’t it?

“Rumplestiltskin,” Yuri had said. And the little man had said, “You can call me that if you like. I’ve been called worse. But my name is Samuel.”

“What language are they singing in?” When will they stop with the singing, with the drums!

“Our language. Be quiet now. It’s hard for me to count.”

Now the little man was cradled comfortably by the civilized chair, and swaddled in civilized garments, staring eagerly at the miraculous willowy giant, Ash, who took his time to answer.

“Yes,” said Yuri, more to snap himself out of it than anything else. “What makes you think it’s a group from outside?” Forget the chill and the darkness and the drums—the infuriating pain of the bullet.

“It’s too clumsy,” said Ash. “The bullet from a gun. The car jumping the curb and striking Aaron Lightner. There are many easy ways to kill people so that others hardly notice at all. Scholars always know this; they have learnt from studying witches and wizards and other princes of maleficia. No. They would not go into the glen stalking a man as if he were game. It is not possible.”

“Ash, the gun is now the weapon of the glen,” said Samuel derisively. “Why shouldn’t wizards use guns if Little People use them?”

“It’s the toy of the glen, Samuel,” said Ash calmly. “And you know it. The men of the Talamasca are not monsters who are hunted and spied upon and must retreat from the world into a wilderness and, when sighted, strike fear in men’s hearts.” He went on with his reasoning. “It is not from within the Elders of the Talamasca that this menace has arisen. It is the worst nuisance imaginable—some small group of people from outside, who happened upon certain information and chose to believe it. Books, computer disks. Who knows? Perhaps these secrets were even sold to them by servants….”

“Then we must seem like children to them,” said Yuri. “Like monks and nuns, computerizing all our records, our files, gathering old secrets into computer banks.”

“Who was the witch who fathered the Taltos? Who killed him?” demanded Ash suddenly. “You told me you’d tell me if I were to tell things to you. What more can I give you? I’ve been more than forthcoming. Who is this witch that can father a Taltos?”

“Michael Curry is his name,” said Yuri. “And they’ll probably try to kill him too.”

“No, that wouldn’t do for them, would it?” Ash said. “On the contrary, they will strive to strike the match again. The witch Rowan …”

“She can no longer bear,” said Yuri. “But there are others, a family of others, and there is one so powerful that even—”

Yuri’s head felt heavy. He raised his right hand and pressed it to his forehead, disappointed that his hand was so warm. Leaning forward made him feel sick. Slowly he eased back, trying not to pull or flick his shoulder, and then he closed his eyes. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his little wallet and opened it.

He slipped out of hiding the little school picture of Mona, very vividly colored; his darling with her smile, her even white teeth, her heap of coarse and beautiful red hair. Childwitch, beloved witch, but witch without question.

Yuri wiped his eyes again, and his lips. His hand was trembling so badly that Mona’s lovely face was out of focus.

He saw the long, thin fingers of Ash touch the edges of the photograph. The Taltos was standing over him, one long arm behind him, braced against the back of the sofa, while with the other hand he steadied the picture and studied it in silence.

“From the same line as the Mother?” said Ash softly.

Suddenly Yuri pulled in the photograph and crushed it flat to his chest. He pitched forward, sick again, the pain in his shoulder immediately paralyzing him.

Ash politely withdrew and went to the mantel. The fire had gone down somewhat. Ash stood with his hands on the mantel shelf. His back was very straight, his bearing almost military, his full dark hair curling against his collar, completely covering his neck. From this vantage point, Yuri could see no white in his hair, only the deep dark locks, brownish black.

“So they’ll try to get her,” said Ash, with his back turned still, raising his voice as needed. “Or they will try to get her or some other witch in this family.”

“Yes,” said Yuri. He was dazed, yet maddened. How could he have thought that he did not love her? How could she have been so distant from him so suddenly? “They’ll try to get her. Oh, my God, but we’ve given them an advantage,” he said, only just realizing it, and realizing it completely. “Good God, we have played into their hands. Computers! Records! It’s just what happened with the Order!”