Chapter 353 - Aioa part 1

A pair of blood drinkers approached from the north. An old man and a girl-child.

Most vampires have the ability to sense the age and strength of our fellow blood drinkers. It is an instinct nearly all of us possess. The old man, I judged, was only two or three hundred years old, the vampire equivalent of a mortal teenager. He was a veritable Methuselah when he was given the Blood, possibly sixty or seventy mortal years old, but relatively young compared to the rest of us. His skin was coarse and deeply lined, like the flesh of a sundried fruit, and great fountains of brilliant white hair sprayed from his scalp and brow and ears. And he had heavy-lidded, milky white eyes with no irises or pupils. Blind when he was made a blood drinker, and blind still. The Blood had not restored his vision.

That would explain the whistling, I thought. The old man "saw" by emitting piercing little whistles and then listening to their reverberations-- a form of echolocation, much like that used by bats and dolphins. It was a fascinating trick, one I'd not encountered before.

His only attire was a tattered loincloth and he shuffled along with the aid of a gnarled oak staff. A package wrapped in leather hides was strapped across his bent back. Judging by the size and shape of the bundle, I assumed it was one of my limbs. I forgot which one Irema said. One of my arms, I thought. I found the idea mildly disturbing.

The girl-child who was leading the old man had been given the Blood at roughly the same time as her companion, though in form she appeared only nine or ten years old. She was small and thin and completely naked, her only adornment a rat's nest of tangled gold hair. She was filthy and there were leaves and twigs in her knotted hair but she had bright blue intelligent eyes and she carried herself with the bearing of an adult, her back straight and her head thrown back and her gait rather deliberate and unhurried. She did not skip along like a mortal child. I had the feeling she hadn't skipped in a very long time.

I stepped forward to welcome them, addressing the elder male.

"Greetings," I said with a respectful bow. "I am Gon, also known as the Father."

The old man tilted his head. "Gone are you?" he said, his voice high-pitched and nasal. "Where have you gone? Gone to the other side and back? Or gone mad like blind old Chaumas? Hah?" He prodded me with his walking stick and cackled.

I was quite taken aback by the old man's reply and uncertain how to respond.

"Hush, grandfather," the little girl said. She stepped forward and scowled up at me critically. "I am Sunni, the old man's maker. If you wish to have a rational conversation, you will address me."

I was somewhat chagrined that I had confused their relationship. I should have known better. Our physical appearances often have little bearing on our true age or powers. So this child was the old man's maker. It was an unusual dynamic.

"Apologies," I said, inclining my head to the immortal girl-child. "I did not realize you were the old man's master."

The waif returned a shallow bow, an inscrutable smile on her lips. "It is understandable," she allowed. "I imagined you were taller."

"I once was," I said.

The old man pursed his lips and emitted a piercing twitter. It was much like a birdcall but pitched beyond the range of mortal hearing. It was slightly annoying, made my ears ring. He listened for a moment and then chortled to himself in satisfaction.

"It is an honor to finally meet you," the girl-child said. "We've heard many stories, enemy of the God King."

"Good things, I trust," I said to the child.

"For the most part," the girl said. She shrugged as she replied, eyeing me in a very bold manner.

I found her scrutiny quite disconcerting. She regarded me the way an adult woman looks at a man in whom she is interested. Sexually, I mean. That measuring stare, eyes half-lidded, lips slightly curled as if I amused her in some way. I found her strangely unfathomable. Zenzele came forward to rescue me.

"Where are the others?" she asked. "Aioa? Racine? Has anything happened to them?"

"The God King knows what we are doing now, Mother," the girl-child said. "He found us with his Eye and dispatched a group of his finest warriors to stop us from collecting the final pieces of your husband's body. Baalt is among them, and two other powerful Masters. Aioa and the others led them away so that Chaumas and I could return this piece to Asharoth. She didn't want it to fall into our enemies' hands. She asks for reinforcements, Mother. As quickly as possible."

"She will have them," Zenzele said. "Come, child, to the Aerie, and tell us all that you know."

Drago dismissed his troops.