“You’re asking me?” I said a little angrily. “Maybe we should decide that as a council.” I could barely hear my own voice over the Voice. “I swore only to give Rhoshamandes back his severed limbs, but after that?”

“Kill them both,” said the Voice. “They failed me. Kill them cruelly.”

“The others will accept your decision, obviously,” said Seth. “You’re our leader now. Why wait for a council? Give the word.”

“Well, I haven’t really been anointed ruler yet, have I?” I said. “And if I have, well, I will call for a council before they’re sentenced to death. Keep them here alive.”

The Voice railed.

Viktor stood there staring at me as I spoke to Seth as if every little expression or nuance in my tone was of interest to him, absorbed him, transfixed him.

“As you wish,” said Seth. “But I doubt anyone will question you if you terminate them both.”

Terminate. Such a word. “That’s unfortunate, if that’s the case,” I answered. “And it will not happen that way.”

So this was his concept of monarchy, was it? Absolute tyranny. Good to know.

If he’d read my thoughts, he gave no sign. He nodded.

And he and Benedict moved on.

Chapter 26

Lestat

Hostages to Fortune

WE TALKED in the library for hours. At first, I thought the Voice would render it impossible with all his ranting and screaming. But I was wrong.

It was a fine library, one of several in the three-part compound, and nothing innovative, only the same tried-and-true European decor that always warmed my heart. Walls of books to the plastered ceiling, books with fabulous titles including great novels and plays and classical histories and modern geniuses of prose—and the ceiling a work of art with its ornate running cornices and central medallion, and a chandelier of modest size and fine crystal casting a warm light over all. The murals were Italian, and slightly faded as if years of soot or smoke had overlaid them, but I found it better in some ways than the garish brightness of new work.

There was the usual French desk in the corner, the computers and flat screens, and the inevitable oversized leather chairs gathered around an antique mantelpiece of gray marble, with two bowed Grecian figures, heavily muscled and all but nude, supporting the overhanging shelf. And the mirror, the inevitable mirror rising from the mantel shelf to the ceiling, very broad and high, framed in gold with a mass of carved roses at the very top. Very similar all this to the rooms and fireplaces I designed for myself.

The fire was gas but it was beautiful. I’d never seen more artfully made porcelain logs.

And we talked there, Viktor and I together for hours, and then Rose came because she couldn’t stay away, and no one had asked her to, but she’d wanted to give us this time.