The witching hour - By Anne Rice Page 0,175

of her age when I saw her. Arrayed in jewels and green velvet, she looked to be a young woman of perhaps seventeen. Great sleeves she wore, and voluminous skirts, and a green ribbon with satin rosettes in her black hair. Her eyes too seemed green against the magnificent fabric that surrounded her. And it struck me that Roelant himself did not know of her youth. Not a word had passed my lips to expose any of the lies that circulated around her, and I stood stung by her beauty as if she had rained blows on my head and shoulders, and then the fatal blow to my heart was struck when she looked up and smiled.

Now I shall have to go, I thought, and made to set down my wine. But she came towards me, smiling still, and she held my hands, and said “Petyr, come with me,” and took me into a small chamber of cabinets where the household linen was kept.

What polish she had now, and grace. A lady at court could not have done it better. But when I considered this, I considered also my memory of her in the cart that day at the crossroads, and how like the little Princess she had seemed.

Yet she was changed from those times in every way. In the few thin shafts of light that pierced the little linen room, I could inspect her in every detail, and I found her robust, and perfumed, and red-cheeked, and there sat the great Brazilian emerald in its filigree of gold upon her high plump breast.

“Why have you not told everyone what you know of me?” she asked as if she did not know the answer.

“Deborah, we told you the truth about ourselves. We only wanted to offer you shelter, and our knowledge of the powers you possess. Come to us whenever you wish.”

She laughed. “You are a fool, Petyr, but you brought me out of darkness and misery into this wondrous place.” She reached into the hidden right pocket of her great skirt and pulled up out of it a handful of emeralds and rubies. “Take these, Petyr.”

I drew back and shook my head.

“You say you are not of the devil,” she said to me. “And your leader says that he does not even believe in Satan, were those not his words? But what of God and the Church, do you believe in, then, that you must live like monks in retreat with your books, never knowing the pleasures of the world? Why did you not take me in the inn, Petyr, when you had the chance to do it? You wanted it badly enough. Take my thanks, for that is all you can have now. And these gems which will make you rich. You need no longer depend on your monkish brethren. Stretch out your hand?”

“Deborah, how did you come by these jewels!” I whispered. “For what if you are accused of stealing them?”

“My devil is too clever for that, Petyr. They come from far away. And I have but to ask for them to have them. And with but a fraction of their endless supply I bought this emerald which I wear about my neck. The name of my devil is carved on the back of the gold fitting, Petyr. But you know his name. I admonish you, never call upon him, Petyr, for he serves me and will only destroy anyone else who seeks to command him through his given name.”

“Deborah, come back to us,” I begged, “only by day if you wish, for a few hours here and there, to talk to us, when your husband would certainly allow. This spirit of yours is no devil, but he is powerful, and can do evil things out of recklessness and the prankishness that characterizes spirits. Deborah, this is no plaything, surely you must know!”

But I could see such concerns were far from her thoughts.

I pressed her further. I explained that the first and foremost rule of our order was that no one of us, regardless of his powers, would ever command a spirit for gain. “For there is an old rule in the world, Deborah, among all sorcerers and those who address powers unseen. That those who strive to use the invisible for evil purposes cannot but invite their own ruin.”

“But why is gain an evil thing, Petyr?” she said as if we were the same age, she and I. “Think of what you are saying! What is