"The Prince will keep his word if he gives it," said Allesandra, "just as he did before."
"I need more than that, much more," said Rhoshamandes. But he was pondering, obviously.
Derek sat as quiet and still as possible, not daring to hope, not daring to say, Yes, take me to them, to the Prince, and I will tell all, for certainly they could not treat him as horribly as this fiend. For hours he'd listened to Benji's old broadcasts, and realized the great camaraderie that existed within the tribe. They were not all lawless fiends. The Prince was no lawless fiend. But then again, how did Derek know what they would do with him? Could he expect the mercy they'd shown Rhoshamandes when Rhoshamandes had fallen into their hands? Rhoshamandes had been one of them, after all.
Allesandra made a soft exasperated noise. She stood between Derek and Rhoshamandes, and turned her full attention once more to Derek. She spoke again of "the bulletin" which had gone out over Benji's "live" broadcast this evening, of Garekyn in New York, of Garekyn slaying one of their kind and devouring the brain, of Garekyn wounding a cherished blood drinker by the name of Eleni and escaping the powerful blood drinker Armand. She spoke again of what Armand had seen in the creature's blood. The city. Amel. Derek put his arms over his head and buried his face in his left arm like a bird burying its head beneath its wing.
Glad he killed one of you, glad he escaped, glad he is free! And blast the intelligence to the whole world on your radio programs! Do it! Blast it to those of you who are not wicked, and not spiteful and not full of evil! Blast it to those who have hearts still in their breasts.
Rhoshamandes moved Allesandra to the side so that he loomed over his prisoner once more.
"I saw a city in your blood," Rhoshamandes said, "and now the others are calling this city by a name, they're calling it Atalantaya. Is that the name of this city? Are you the survivors of Atalantaya? This is Atlantis, isn't it, Plato's Atlantis?"
"Oh, don't give him any ideas," said Roland. "And certainly not anything as grand as the lost kingdom of Atlantis! The little fool. Don't you realize that this creature is likely nothing but some form of mutant, who knows no more about himself than humans know about themselves?"
Arion interrupted. "They're broadcasting more on this," he said. "There is a woman now under investigation."
"A woman?"
Derek kept his eyes tight, listening.
"Dark skin and the same black hair with the golden streak in it. Well, this is certainly beyond coincidence."
"What, gold streaks in dark hair?" asked Roland. "What does that mean?"
"There's more to it."
Through the web of his fingers, Derek peered out to see Rhoshamandes holding the ax in his left hand while with his right he gazed at the screen of his cell phone. Arion too had his phone in his right hand. Their phones were talking, but the words had no meaning for Derek, something about a great drug company, laboratories, a doctor, a suspicious doctor with a common name.
"It's one of them," Rhosh said. He was powerfully excited.
He glared at Derek with narrow eyes. He strode forward and pushed the cell phone at Derek. Derek tried to turn away but another pair of hands had hold of his head and was making him turn to look at the cell phone. A lovely perfume rose from the silk robes rubbing against him.
"Child, just look at the picture on the phone," said the female blood drinker. "Tell us if you know this woman."
Fearfully, Derek looked through his tears.
And there she was all right, most certainly, there she was, without doubt, his magnificent Kapetria!
He struggled to turn around, to crawl through the very wall to get away from them, to conceal his thoughts and his heart from them. She too lives! He broke into frantic sobs again, sobs of relief and excitement and happiness, let them parse his sobs as they would, he didn't care. They are both alive, Garekyn and Kapetria. He had only to hold out until they found him, he had only to hold out until he could somehow be free.
"I say call them now," said Arion. "This woman too is on the run. And they are beside themselves. They're calling all to the Chateau. Call the Prince and speak to the Prince. Tell him about this boy. Tell him you want peace and to be accepted again and you'll bring the boy to Court now."
"I loathe the Prince with my whole soul," muttered Rhoshamandes. "I will not call him nor will I go to his court."
"That's it, isn't it?" asked Allesandra.
"Which means what?" demanded Rhoshamandes.
They moved away back closer to the fire, and Derek peered at them again secretly through his fingers. In the very depths of his soul, he sang th
e word "Kapetria" over and over again. Kapetria. And at all times it will be Kapetria who will determine the time and the place, and it will be Kapetria to whom you are to defer....
"You want a great deal more than you've ever admitted," said Allesandra, her voice rising in her anger. She reached out for Rhoshamandes and took him by the shoulders. "Rhosh, you cannot destroy the Prince," she said in an imploring whisper. "You are powerless against them. Don't dream of vengeance now. Take the possibility of truce and acceptance."
"For now, yes, I will and I do, but for always?" Rhosh pulled away from her. "There will come a time when I will destroy the Prince and take that lying demon spirit Amel out of him! And this boy is far too valuable to hand to them on a silver platter. That I will not do."
"Well, I'm with you in your opposition," said Roland, his voice colder and nastier than the voices of the others. He gazed mockingly at Derek and gave Derek one of his usual vicious smiles. "And if you want to hold on to this valuable hostage, I understand it. But don't go cutting him to pieces."