sheer length of the building ahead made her wary, not to mention the fact that there must have been an immense space beneath the floor. She noticed staircases swiftly descending at times, wide and narrow, grand and spiral, half-covered by some dark living creeper, or simply hanging in the dark space without any visible support. She blinked quickly to get rid of the feeling that it was all a dream. Everything here was dark: the passageways, the carvings on the doors, the ampel plants that seemed to move on their own. Candles flickered on and off in sconces or large floor chandeliers, adding to the sense of blackness. At any rate, they only brought out black objects from the gloom. Rhianon only couldn’t tell what materials were used here. What was it, black wood, black stone to upholster the few pieces of furniture?
«It’s easy to get used to,» she heard Orpheus’ insistent voice in her head. «The fiery letters, which appear and disappear on their own when you ask questions, are best seen against such a background.»
Rhianon squinted at him. Of course, his lips weren’t moving, and he wasn’t saying anything out loud, but the words were coming out.
Suddenly the sound of music caught her attention. In one of the opened doors she noticed a harpsichord. And it seemed to be playing by itself. She would have thought it was the wind pressing the keys, but of course there was no wind. Why would there be any wind in such a confined space?
Rhianon imagined a girl in a gorgeous black dress sitting on a pedestal in front of the harpsichord and playing it. And beside her, of course, would be her gentleman, also dressed in black, correcting the sheets of music on the easel. For a moment she thought she saw those two, the same couple from the masquerade, but of course they were no longer masked, and the faces under them were as pale, bloodless, and expressionless as those of her companion. Is that how everyone here becomes? Does the power gained through magic drain all the joy of life from them? Is this the price of knowledge? They say one must sell one’s soul to gain the key to forbidden knowledge. And what happens then, will what you buy be worth its price, or do forbidden sciences merely open a gateway to darkness. Rhianon felt out of place here. She didn’t like the darkness around her and the rustles that echoed within it.
«It won’t always be like this, you’ll get used to it,» Clive didn’t whisper the words to her, but they seemed to sound to her alone, while his fingers gripped her hand harder and harder. He didn’t seem to want to let her go, but he already knew that she would soon want to leave.
She remembered the execution and the way the blade cut through a defenseless neck. The magical pendant was powerless to preserve flesh from the fatal blow. Maybe, by stepping in here, she was setting herself up for the same blow. There is a difference between physical strength and the evil energy hidden within these walls. The second is even worse, because it is more insidious and much stronger. Rhianon felt the crushing emptiness with every cell of her body. Maybe Orpheus had been right when he’d told her that a stroke of the blade was merely liberating. Here, on the contrary, she felt as if she were shackled. The darkness seemed to try to take her captive and never let her out again. Rhianon struggled to breathe in the stinking air and felt a flame build up in her chest. In a second she’d breathe out a trickle of fire into the darkness. She didn’t want to burn her companion, but the flame was bursting out. She couldn’t hold back any longer.
«Calm,» he turned around just as the air next to her heated up, «there’s nothing to defend yourself against, you can live here in peace for centuries without even noticing that they’ve passed, because nothing disturbs the silence.
«And so you can live here quietly side by side with the living and the dead?» She asked without knowing why. «And not even know that someone who died a long time ago is now keeping you company?»
«Yes,» he admitted simply and unashamedly. «It would be one grandiose crypt if it were not for magic, it equals all of us, both the living and the dead, or rather there is neither one nor the other, neither life nor death has no meaning here, because the soul is the same after death, and it hungers for magical knowledge no less than the living. Here we all die and are born to darkness. And some die before that.»
She tried to wrest her hand from his.
«I remember the execution,» she whispered.
Clive stopped abruptly, and looked at her differently, not with the long, hard stare she’d received the first time, but with a look of dismay. His unexpressive eyes twisted for a moment, his lips twitched slightly, as if he wanted to say something and couldn’t. Rhianon looked closely at him, and for a moment thought she had a glimpse into his soul.
«You’d better leave us,» Orpheus looked as if he were about to come between her and her escort. «You see, she doesn’t need a guide. She can learn a great deal more about this place herself than she can in your presence.»
Rhianon was frightened that a furious altercation was about to break out between her two companions. Orpheus looked angry and disheveled, as if he’d just had a fight with a bunch of rivals and was ready to get into more. There was a palpable power coming from Clive. But unlike the talkative Orpheus, he was still restrained and wise. Apparently, death adds to wisdom. Rhianon had no doubt that he had survived it, and now saw the world very differently than they did. At any rate, instead of the expected quarrel, only a slight nod of the head followed. Clive let it be known that he accepted the remark and was ready to step into the shadows temporarily.
«You shouldn’t be here,» Orpheus clutched at her shoulders as soon as Clive left them, pulling at the lush flounces of the fabric. His ethereal touch was suddenly very tangible. He hurried to lead her somewhere forward through the dark galleries, and seemed ready even to rip her off the ground and carry her in his arms. «You will die here,» he whispered, «and so will I.»
«You think we have somewhere else to go,» she hissed at him. «Perhaps to my castle, where I would be headless and you could sit guarding my corpse or pestering other people. You’d better go and be a companion for someone who’ll really need you.»
He didn’t even take offense at her.
«I’m already too attached to you.»
«Yeah, I can see that,» she grudgingly looked at the way his thin, too-long fingers wrapped around her shoulders.
«I can hardly keep up with you anymore.»
«That’s what parasites do when they suck on some plant. Vines in the garden or mushrooms at the roots of trees, you, like them, just need to live off someone else. On your own, you are nothing. You are zero. You are an empty space. You become more material the closer you get to me. And you think I haven’t noticed it yet.»
«Chill out! Otherwise your breath will ignite this gallery.»
His remark was sarcastic, but it was the right one. She tried to hold her breath. The tight corset tightening her breasts worked well for that. The fire that had matured inside her never broke free with a gasp. But Rhianon was still staring into the darkness, afraid that it was about to burst into flames.
«To think that you’re so golden and delicate, and you’re what I’d call a fiery beauty.»
She did not react at all to Orpheus’ remark. Sometimes even he was right. But that truth was of little use. Nothing could be changed. She was what she was and that was why they had come here now.
«Stop dragging me along,» she snapped at him, «I can find my own way around here.»
«Well, please,» Orpheus obediently
