When she could endure no more of the grub soup, Chandra set her bowl aside and looked at Falia, intending to thank her. That was when she realized that the girl was staring at Gideon again-this time, with a look that could only be longing.
From what Chandra had seen, there were few men in the village. Undoubtedly, Falia was evaluating Gideon’s fitness as a mate. Though seemingly young for it, Falia clearly was ready for marriage. Chandra realized abruptly that the girl could well be several years older than she looked. Who knew what effects this blood ritual for the passing of wisdom had on an individual, to say nothing of her diet.
Even supposing that Falia was the same age at which girls on Chandra’s native plane typically married, it was unsettling to see how she looked at Gideon.
Chandra wondered whether he was aware of her keen interest in him. Gideon simply ate, his gaze lowered all the while on the food. If he was aware of the girl’s perusal, he didn’t acknowledge or return it.
When he finished eating, he set aside his bowl, and thanked Falia, who seemed to awaken from a trance.
She smiled. “Now what have you come here to ask me?”
“Has it always been nighttime on Diraden?” Gideon asked. “Forever?”
“Ah.” She nodded. “You’ve come to ask about Prince Velrav’s rule.”
“Yes. Did the endless night begin with him?”
“It did.”
“What happened?”
“When my grandmother was a child,” Falia said, “there was day and night here. King Gelidor ruled Diraden. He had three sons. The youngest, Prince Velrav, was wild and dissolute.”
The girl was a good storyteller, and the tale flowed smoothly, but the heart of the story was simple. The young Prince Velrav had engaged in various scandalous and destructive indulgences until his father banished him from castle and court.
Furious over his exile, and more ambitious and vengeful than anyone had ever guessed, Prince Velrav studied black magic and consorted with the darkest blood demons of the realm to plot against his father.
“You tell the story well,” Chandra said when Falia paused.
“Thank you,” said Falia, smiling at Gideon as if he had delivered the compliment.
Jurl snored peacefully as the girl continued her story.
“When he felt ready to carry out his nefarious plan, Velrav returned to his father’s castle. He presented himself as a humbled, penitent son, reformed in his ways and seeking forgiveness. The king welcomed home his wayward son, and never thought to protect himself from him.”
“Which was evidently a mistake?” said Chandra.
Falia nodded. “In the dead of night, while the whole castle slept, the prince crept into his two brothers’ bed chambers and murdered them both, along with their wives. Then he went into the nursery and slaughtered the three children whom his brothers had sired.”
“He slaughtered the children?” Chandra repeated.
“Then he went to his parents’ chamber,” Falia said, “where he beheaded his mother with one heavy blow of his sword.”
“He killed his mother?” Chandra blurted.
“He’s very wicked,” the girl said prosaically.
“He beheaded her,” Gideon mused. “Interesting.”
“It’s not interesting” Chandra said. “It’s disgusting! His own mother!”
“And then he murdered the king?” Gideon asked.
“No.” Falia shook her head. “He fed on the king.”
“He ate his father?” The grub soup churned unpleasantly in Chandra’s stomach.
“No, he fed on him,” Falia said.
Chandra said, “What’s the diff-”
“And that didn’t kill the king?” Gideon asked.
“It might have, of course,” the girl said. “But he also fed the king of himself.”
“Fed him of himself?” Chandra said with a frown. “What does that mean?”
Gideon asked, “Is the king still alive?”
“Of course not,” Chandra said dismissively. “This happened when Falia’s grandmother was a child.” A man who’d had grown sons and grandchildren that long ago wouldn’t still be alive now.
“Yes.” Ignoring Chandra, Falia nodded, holding Gideon’s gaze. “The king lives still. And since the night Prince Velrav killed his family and turned his father into a sickly shadow of what he himself had become,” Falia said, “daylight has never again come to Diraden.”
“How can the king still be alive after all this time?” Chandra wondered.
“Blood magic,” Gideon said.
“Fierce blood magic,” Falia said, her nostrils flaring. “Wicked. Dark.” She made the words sound… seductive.
Gideon said to her, “That’s what the ‘hunger’ is.”
They looked to Falia for confirmation. She nodded.
“Why did he feed his father his own blood?” Gideon asked. “He’d killed the rest of the family. Why keep the king alive?”
“To curse him,” said Falia. “The king lives in the darkest, deepest dungeon of the castle. He is fed only blood. He is left alone, in terrible solitude. No one speaks to him or sees him, except for Velrav, who visits him once in a great while and tells him about all the torment and suffering he is inflicting on the king’s realm.”
“And this has been going on since your grandmother was a child?” Chandra asked, appalled.
“So that’s why Velrav made it perpetual night here,” Gideon mused.
“I don’t understand,” Chandra said.
“Some blood drinkers don’t like daylight,” he said.
“You mean they don’t want to be seen drinking blood?” she said in puzzlement.
“No, I mean the sunlight burns them,” he said. “Like fire. Those who choose blood magic, those who decide to embrace the power it holds must guard themselves at all cost against the powers of light.”
Fire. The word reminded Chandra of their predicament.
“They don’t like fire, either,” Gideon said. “They’re vulnerable to it.”
“So he uses the veil of false night to block sunlight and red mana,” she mused.
“And that same sorcery winds up blocking all mana, except black,” Gideon said.
Falia said, “Yes, my grandmother says there once used to be other mana here. Other colors in the?ther. Other kinds of magic.” She gave them both an assessing gaze. “You are not from Diraden, are you?”
They both went still.
After a moment, Gideon said, “No.”
“Where did you come from?”
“Someplace very far away,” Gideon said. “And we can’t go back there while Velrav’s power holds.”
“And you would like to go back there? Together?”
“Yes,” said Gideon. “We would.”
Falia said with certainty, “The prince will not help you or give you permission to go.”
“No, I didn’t think so,” Gideon said. “Tell me about this veil of night, Falia, this shroud. It blocks mana and light, but it also keeps things alive, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said. “Just enough that many things aren’t really alive here anymore, yet they don’t really die.”
“That’s a tremendous amount of power. Can he do that all alone?”
“No,” the girl said, “his companions work with him to maintain the veil.”
“His companions?” Gideon asked.
“They are the blood demons who helped him develop the power.”
“And blood is what feeds their power?” Chandra asked.
“Yes,” Falia said. “When they feel the hunger, they seek more blood to sustain them. To empower their dark work.”
“How often do they get hungry?” Chandra asked.
“Often.”
“And then people are taken.” Gideon said.
“People. Goblins. Creatures. Animals.” Falia paused. “They like people best. But any blood will feed the hunger. People, though… those thrill them.”
Gideon studied her. “Do people with power thrill them in particular?”
Falia nodded.
“People with power,” Chandra said, “such as a menarch?”
She lowered her eyes. “Yes.”
“You’re in danger?” Gideon asked quietly.
“Always,” Falia said.
Falia offered them water to wash their skin and damp cloths to wipe away the worst of the grime and dirt from their garments. She loaned them a comb and got one of the village men to lend Gideon his razor. After they were clean and tidy, she suggested they all get some rest.