But Thorne knew otherwise.
And as he assessed this black-haired creature now, Santino rose from the bench and backed away from Thorne, pointing his finger at Thorne in terror. But it was not quick enough.
Thorne sent all his strength at Santino and all Santino could do as he fell to his knees was cry out: "Thorne," over and over again, his body exploding, the blood flowing from every orifice, the fire finally erupting from his chest and head as he twisted and collapsed on the stone floor, the flames at last consuming him.
Maharet had let out a terrible wail of sorrow, and into the large room her twin had come, her blue eyes searching for the source of pain in her sister.
Maharet rose to her feet. She looked down on the grease and ash that lay before her.
Thorne looked at Marius. He saw a small bitter smile on Marius's lips, and then Marius looked to him and nodded.
"I need no thanks from you," Thorne said.
Then he looked to Maharet who was weeping, her sister now holding tight to her arms, and pleading mutely with her to explain herself.
" Wergeld, my Maker,
" said Thorne. "As it was in my time, I exact the wergeld or payment for my own life, which you took when you made me a blood drinker. I take it through Santino's life, which I take beneath your roof. "
"Yes, and against my will," Maharet cried. "You have done this terrible thing! And Marius, your own friend, has told you that I must rule here. "
"If you would rule here, do it on your own," said Thorne. "Don't look to Marius to tell you how to do it. Ah, look at your precious distaff and spindle. How will you protect the Sacred Core if you have no strength to fight those who oppose you?"
She couldn't answer him, and he could see that Marius was angered, and that Mekare looked at him with menace.
He came towards Maharet, staring intently at her, at her smooth face which now bore no trace whatever of human life, the florid human eyes seemingly set within a sculpture.
"Would I had a knife," he said, "would I had a sword, would I had any weapon I could use against you. " And then he did the only thing which he could do. He took her by the throat with both his hands and tried to topple her.
It was like holding fast to marble.
At once there came a frantic cry from her. He couldn't understand the words, but when her sister drew him back gently he knew it had been a warning for his sake. He reached out still with both hands, struggling to be free, but it was useless.
These two were unconquerable, either divided or together, it did not matter.
"Put an end to this, Thorne," cried Marius. "It's enough. She knows what's in your heart. You can't ask for more than this. "
Maharet collapsed to her bench and there she sat crying, her sister at her side, Mekare's eyes fixed on Thorne warily.
Thorne could see that all of them were afraid of Mekare, but he was not, and when he thought of Santino again, when he looked at the black stain on the stones, he felt a good deep pleasure.
Then moving swiftly, he accosted the mute twin and whispered something hurried in her ear, meant only for her, wondering if she would get the sense of it.
Within a second he knew that she had. As Maharet watched in wonder, Mekare forced him down on his knees. She clasped his face and turned it up. And then he felt her fingers plunge into the sockets of his eyes as she removed them.
"Yes, yes, this blessed darkness," he said, "and then the chains, I beg you, the chains. Otherwise do away with me. "
Through Marius's mind, he could see the image of himself groping in blindness. He could see the blood flowing down his face. He could see Maharet as Mekare put the eyes into her head. He could see those two tall delicate women with their arms entangled, the one struggling but not enough and the other pressing for the deed to be accomplished.
Then he felt others gathered around him. He felt the fabric of their garments, he felt their smooth hands.
And only in the distance could he hear Maharet weeping.
The chains were being put around him. He felt their thick links and knew he could not break loose from them. And being dragged further away, he said nothing.
The blood flowed from his eye sockets. He knew it. And in some quiet empty place he was now bound exactly as he had dreamt of it. Only she wasn't close. She wasn't close at all. He heard the jungle sounds. And he longed for the winter cold, and this place was too warm and too full of the perfume of flowers.
But he would get used to the heat. He would get used to the rich fragrances.