I found all this unrelievedly grim, but I noticed that the others, to a one, seemed comforted by these arrangements. It took me back to the night long ago when Akasha had died at the hand of Mekare. I realized with shame I had not the slightest idea what had become of her corpse.
Not to care, not to question, not to bother--all this had been part of the old way for me, one of shame and melancholy, an existence in which I assumed completely that we were cursed and the victims of the Blood as surely as mortals thought themselves to be the guilty victims of Original Sin. I had not seen us as worthy of ceremonies. I had not believed in the small coven that Armand had sought to rescue from those ghastly nights when he created the old Night Island for us to gather in the Florida climes.
Well, I saw the sense of all this now. I saw its immense value, for the old and the young.
I had been tired before the momentous change had been worked and, elated as I was--and the word does little justice to what I felt--I was still tired and needing to be alone now, alone with Amel.
But before I retired for the night, back to the French library, I felt we had to meet in the attic ballroom once more around the long rectangular gilded table that was still in place as it had been for our first assembly.
For one thing, every single immortal inhabitant of the household was watching me, trying to figure how Amel was infecting and affecting me, and I knew this, and so I had no hesitation about spending more time with them now.
So we returned to the long golden table and chairs. I stood at the head as before. Rose and Viktor kept to the wall with those retiring blood drinkers brought to Trinity Gate by Notker and Sevraine, whom I was determined to come to know before I left this place.
Whatever it might have been like for Akasha or Mekare to hold the Core, I couldn't know. But for me, having Amel inside of me multiplied and expanded my senses and my energy beyond measure. I still saw each of them and all of them when I looked at the assembly in a new and remarkably vivid way.
"I think this ballroom should be the place for Rose and Viktor to receive the Dark Gift," I said. "The table should be broken up and its parts put back on the periphery. I think the place should be filled with all the flowers from the shops of Manhattan that it can hold. Armand's local mortal agents can surely see to this during the daylight hours." He at once agreed. "And I suggest that all be present under the roof, but not in this room, leaving this room alone to Rose and to Viktor and Pandora and Marius for the giving of the Gift."
No one objected.
"Then at such a time as the ceremony is complete, others may be invited up, one by one, to give their ancient blood. Gregory, Sevraine, Seth. Perhaps you will agree to this. Marius, and Pandora, you will approve. Rose and Viktor, you will be willing. And I will give you a measure of my blood then too."
Agreement all around.
"Marius and Pandora can then take the fledglings down to the garden," I said, "for the physical death and its pain. And when that's past, they can be clothed in new garments and come into the house reborn. After that, Marius and Pandora can take our young ones out to experience the hunt for the first time."
Again there was obvious and enthusiastic agreement.
Rhoshamandes asked for permission to speak.
I gave it.
His arm and his hand had been working perfectly since their reattachment with no problem whatsoever as I knew they'd be, and he was handsomely clothed in a tailored gray leather jacket and a sweater of li
ghter gray wool.
He looked cool and collected and charming as if he'd never hacked anyone to death or kidnapped anyone, or threatened to kill my son if he didn't get his way.
"I can well understand if no one wants me to do more than be a quiet prisoner here," he said. "But I will give my blood to the young couple if they will accept it. And maybe this can go towards my forgiveness by this group."
Viktor and Rose waited on me for my response. And I, after looking intently at Rhoshamandes and Benedict for a long moment, noting the dazzling equanimity of the former and the obvious abject misery of the latter, said yes to this if Marius and Pandora approved, and if Viktor and Rose gave their consent.
Understand, I could hardly believe myself that I was doing this, but the Prince was in charge now and the Brat Prince was no more.
The motion carried, so to speak.
"I am sorry from my heart," said Rhoshamandes, with amazing calmness. "I have truly in my long life among the Undead never sought conflict even when others thought I should. I am sorry. I lost my own fledglings to the Children of Satan rather than make war. I ask the tribe to forgive me, and to accept me as one of its own."
Benji was staring at him with fierce narrow black eyes, and Armand was looking up at me from his chair with slightly raised eyebrows, and Jesse merely looked at him coldly, her arms folded. David had no discernible expression, but I felt I knew what he was thinking even though I couldn't read his thoughts.
What precisely are we to do with this one if we don't accept him back into the tribe? And what danger is he to anyone if we do?
Well, as I saw it, he was no danger. If he was not accepted, well then, he might become a danger, especially if others took this to mean that he had been "proscribed" like the ancient enemies of the dictator Sulla, who were then free game to be murdered by their Roman brethren. I was no Sulla.
I listened quietly for the voice of Amel, conscious that I wanted very much to know what he had to say. All had changed between us so totally that he was no longer even the specter in my mind of the old Voice. But if I had underestimated the complexity of all this, I did want a hint of that now.
In the silence, I heard his faint whisper. "I used him. Can we not be thankful that he failed?"
"Very well," I said. I turned to Rhoshamandes. "I say your apology is accepted. You are a member of this tribe. I can see no threat from you now to anyone here. Who disagrees with me on this? Speak up or forever be quiet."