The Magister’s home was a palace of exquisite beauty, marble-fronted and surrounded by terraced gardens. Young women came out to greet them and Manannan allowed Kuan to be led away to the stables beyond the gardens.
‘You have many slaves,’ he said to Paulus as they walked inside.
‘Not slaves, helpers. Servants, if you like.’ He led the Once-Knight to a suite of rooms and gave him his first goblet of Ambria. As he drank it, Manannan felt strength surge through his limbs.
‘What is it?’ he asked, astonished.
‘It is the bedrock of our civilization. It is life, Manannan. Drink of this and you will never have need of medicine, neither will you age.’
Samildanach and the other Knights were away in the north, he was told, but they would return in about a month. At first Manannan was concerned, and restless. Could he not ride out to meet them? Paulus agreed that he could, but advised him to rest for a few days, gather his strength, and then he would supply a guide. But the days passed and Manannan grew to love the white-towered city. There was something about it that opened his souclass="underline" the problems of the Realm seemed so far away, and the world he had left behind so remote and petty.
He bathed in scented water and found no need of food — one drink and his strength returned in seconds. The people here were gentle, and he spent several days roaming the libraries and museums, studying the customs of the Vyre. They were not a warrior race, though once — according to the histories — they had boasted great armies. Now they employed a mercenary force to patrol their borders, but there was little trouble with neighbouring lands.
‘Where is Samildanach?’ he asked Paulus on the fourth day of his stay.
‘He is helping to rescue some people from your own troubled land. Nomads, I believe they are called. He has opened a Gate for them to allow them to settle in our land.’
‘That is kind of you.’
‘It is not just kindness, Manannan. We have suffered, terrible plagues here during the last thirty years, and there are few people left to till the earth or supply our | needs. The land needs new blood. There are some two thousand Nomads settled already in the north. Perhaps when Samildanach returns, you can visit the new towns they are building.’
On the fifth day Manannan had been ill at ease. He felt strong as a lion, but on edge. He spoke of his feeling to Paulus, who smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You must understand,’ said the Magister, ‘that the Ambria is working inside you, rebuilding your body, making it stronger than it has ever been. It is also making you more aware of your body. What you need is a companion for your bed.’
‘I am pledged to celibacy,’ Manannan had told him.
‘Truly? For what purpose? Man was intended to mate. Trust me, Manannan.’
He had sent Draya to him that night, and she was divine to look at as well as being bright, witty and charming. Together they had finished a pitcher of Ambria and made love throughout the night. And Paulus was right. The tension in Manannan was gone; he felt smooth and relaxed, at one with this new world. After Draya he had enjoyed Senlis, Marin and others whose names he could not now remember.
The joy of it all was almost too hard to bear. The City of the Vyre was close to Manannan’s view of Paradise. It had everything except an all-powerful god and, truth be told, that made it somehow even better than Paradise. There were no judges here; the only law seemed to be Joy.
And the days passed. Manannan read the Books of the Vyre, learned their poetry, viewed their painting and sculpture, made love to their women. The Once-Knight was content for the first time in his life.
Soon Samildanach would return and they would ride to the rescue of Ollathair, put the Realm to rights, and then return here to enjoy the rewards of the blessed.
On the sixteenth evening Manannan fell asleep with these dreams in his mind. He awoke in the middle of the night, shivering and cold, and reached for his Ambria only to find the pitcher empty. He swore and rose — he was sure it had been half full when he fell asleep, but Paulus would have more. As he stood, he saw a figure sitting in the chair by the window — her back to the moonlight, her face in shadow.
‘Who are you?’ he asked. ‘Never mind. Just let me get a drink and I will talk to you.’
‘You need a drink to be able to talk?’ she responded, her voice low and deep. Something stirred in Manannan’s memory, but it danced like morning mist, dispersing as he reached for it.
‘No, of course not. But I am cold.’ He moved towards the door.
‘Then put a blanket around your shoulders. You look foolish standing there naked, holding that pitcher.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I am a friend, Manannan. The only friend you have here.’
‘Nonsense. I have made more friends here than in all my life.’
‘Come,’ she said. ‘Sit and talk.’
‘I need a drink.’
‘There is fresh water,’ she offered.
‘I don’t need water,’ he snapped.
‘No,’ she admitted, ‘you need Ambria. You need the Nectar of the Gods. Is it too late for you, Manannan?’
‘Do not speak in riddles, woman. I have no time for this; I did not ask you here.’
‘You did not. Nor did I ask to be here in this cursed city. But such is the game of life. You are a Knight of the Gabala and once that meant something to the world. Only the strongest, the noblest could dream of donning the silver armour. Are you strong, Manannan?’
‘I have never been stronger.’
‘Then let me set you a task — not a difficult task. Sit here with me until the dawn — do not leave this room until the sun rises. Is that too difficult, sir Knight?’
‘What a ridiculous question. Of course it would not be difficult, but I have no wish to play this game. Now leave me in peace.’
‘The call of the Ambria is strong, is it not? I know. I cannot resist it. For me it has been too long, and no one warned me of its terrible properties.’
Manannan hurled the pitcher aside. ‘Damn you, woman, does your prattle never end?’ He stormed across to her and dragged her to her feet. It was then that she turned towards him and the moonlight fell upon her face. Manannan recoiled as if struck. ‘Morrigan? Dear Gods, Morrigan?’
‘I am grateful that you remember me.’
‘How did you come here?’
‘Samildanach brought me. Ten days after you… they… passed the Black Gate. He came to me in the night, took me in his arms and told me he loved me. He said he would show me Paradise.’ She laughed grimly. ‘Instead we came here.’
‘But… this is not an evil place.’
‘Because they are cultured and have treated you well? They have done a terrible thing to you, Manannan.’
‘Not so. I am strong, and I am happy. What terrible thing is that?’
‘And why did you come?’
‘To find Samildanach.’
‘In order to return home?’
‘Yes.’
‘To combat the evil in the realm caused by the King and his Red Knights?’
‘Yes.’
Morrigan sat down and stared out over the moonlit garden, silent for a while. Then she looked up at Manannan. ‘The Red Knights are led by Samildanach. They are your friends, my dear; they are the Knights of the Gabala.’
‘I do not believe it. Paulus says they are in the north, resettling Nomads.’
‘Indeed they are… or they were. But you have not heard it all yet, Manannan. The Nomads are coming here in their thousands… but not to till the land. They are the Ambria… they are the food for the Vyre. That is what we are here, Drinkers of Souls. That is immortality, Manannan. We suck the essence of life itself from other human beings. We are not immortal, we are merely Undead. That is the drink you lust after — if you still want it. Go and find it.’