The Last of the Red-Hot Vampires

I looked around us as we made our way into the depths of the castle, noticing the surroundings with growing amazement. The word "grand" was an understatement when applied to the reception rooms. Rich ebony-edged lapis lazuli furniture jostled for room with crimson and gold chairs, settees, and opulent drapery. The walls looked like something out of an art museum, with objects adorning almost every free space: everything from chunks of rocky walls bearing faded cave paintings, to wooden triptychs depicting the medieval idea of religion scenes, to icons, both old and new.

The dapifer leading the way stopped before a pair of rococo double doors. He turned back to us, giving Sarah a frown. "The sovereign is never seen."

"What do you mean, never seen?" Sarah looked confused. "Not seen without an appointment?"

"No, I mean that the sovereign is never seen. That is, the sovereign does not appear in the Court of Divine Blood. Their graces are waiting for you," he continued, giving Theo and me a nod.

"Wait a second," I said, stopping him as he was about to open the door. "Are you saying that the person running the Court doesn't bother to put in an appearance once in a while?"

The dapifer's face reflected mild annoyance. "The sovereign does not choose to make its physical form known."

"How incredibly convenient," I said, shaking my head. "Why?"

"Why?" The dapifer's eyebrows went up. "Why what?"

"Why does the sovereign choose to not make its appearance known in the Court, its own home, if I understand the premise correctly. Is it afraid of something?"

The murmur of conversation that had accompanied the crowd following us hushed into a pregnant silence.

Portia, you are treading on very thin ice, Theo warned as the dapifer's eyebrows rose in startled surprise at my question. I urge you to discontinue this line of conversation. It can do no good to you, nor does it have any bearing on our situation.

No, but surely I can't be the only one here to find it more than a little suspicious that the almighty sovereign, the supreme being of everyone here, doesn't bother to pop in now and again and see how things are going.

I turned to the people filling the hallway as far back as the eye could see. "Doesn't anyone here wonder about the fact that sovereign has never been seen? Doesn't anyone question that policy?"

Sweetling, you must stop before this goes further.

So free thought isn't allowed here? Is no one allowed to question the existence of a supreme being that no one has ever seen?

The existence of the sovereign is not in doubt by any members of the Court, he answered, and I could feel how carefully he picked his words.

"Is there any empirical proof that the sovereign is even here now?" I asked, amazed that something so basic had escaped everyone. "Does no one even wonder if the whole idea of a sovereign is…untrue?"

"No," the dapifer said, his face once again bland and emotionless. "It is a matter of faith."

"Faith? Because you believe the sovereign exists, it follows that such a being must be?" I shook my head again.

Theo turned so Carol's foot whapped me on the arm. Sweetling, cease. We have more important things to take care of, and you arguing the logic of faith will not help our case.

He was right. I had met fanatics before—I'd lived with them for eighteen years—and I knew well that such people were not often open to logic and reason. This would be a battle for another time.

Sarah was watching me closely, concern in her eyes. I gave her a weakly reassuring smile and waved a hand at the dapifer. "Sorry to hold you up. We're ready if the mare are."

The dapifer opened both doors with a grand gesture, sweeping in to make a bow to the dais at the far end of the room.

"Hol-ee cow," Sarah said, her eyes huge as she spun around looking at the ballroom.

I had to admit, it was a pretty impressive sight. The walls were paneled in a warm, amber oak, with two rows of long windows running the entire length of the room. Sunlight poured into the room, leaving bright pools dappling the glossy, polished parquet floor. More pictures were on the walls between the windows, portraits this time, beneath each of which sat a silver and blue upholstered chair.