Everyone waited, but it was clear I would not go on and neither would Jesse, and finally Marius rose to his feet with his usual commanding air and waited for all eyes to fix on him.

“Look, it’s plain we can’t surprise the being, and we can’t deceive the being,” he said. “And we can’t live without him. So let’s resolve where our strongest defense lies. We will agree to nothing unless Viktor is returned unharmed. And then we will listen to the Voice, to what the Voice has to say about what it wants.”

“It cannot claim Rhoshamandes!” said Allesandra heatedly.

“No, it cannot,” said Notker. “And I can plainly tell you that his most devoted confederate, the one who must be his ally in this, is as peace loving and unprepared for a battle like this as is his master.”

“And who is that ally?” demanded Allesandra.

“It must be Benedict,” said Notker. “It can be no other.”

“Aye, Benedict,” said Sevraine. “Of course. It’s with Benedict that he lives on this island in the northern seas. It’s with Benedict that he’s lived for centuries.”

“Benedict,” whispered Allesandra, “not the poor benighted saintly boy he brought over from the monks!”

“Benedict?” asked Eleni. “Benedict was the one from whom Magnus—your maker, Lestat—stole the Blood. Why he’s barely twice my age in the Blood. He’s never been strong, never. Why, his entire charm is that he’s as fragile as a wisteria blossom, as an orchid. But how do we know that this is Rhoshamandes’s only ally?”

“I wager it is,” said Notker, “because I know of no other. And by the way, this ‘poor benighted saintly boy’ brought me into the Blood and he did a fine job of it.”

There was a soft ripple of laugher in the room, but it died almost immediately.

“But what a mystery we have here,” said Notker. “We have the gentle Rhoshamandes that fed off beauty and poetry and music, and brought over those who pleased him, and never had the strength to fight for any of them against others, and now Benedict, saintly Benedict. And you, Lestat, you say the Voice loves. You say it loves and it has imagination and a soul. Well, we have a puzzle here in that it has picked two remarkable blood drinkers.”

“Perhaps they were the only two,” said Seth coldly, “who would tolerate the Voice’s schemes, who fell prey to his ridiculous fantasies.”

“Why ridiculous?” asked Marius. “What do you mean?”