“Ah, that is a beautiful story,” said Pandora under her breath.

“But that doesn’t make him good!” said Armand.

“And that doesn’t make him evil either,” I said. “When Maharet told us these old tales she made it clear: good spirits were those who did the bidding of witches; bad ones did mischief. That’s a very primitive and near-useless definition of evil or good.”

I was suddenly aware of Benji gesturing to Armand, asking him to be quiet, and Louis also. And I saw that Marius was making a similar gesture with his hands low to the table, as if to say, Be quiet. And no sooner had I picked up on this than Armand picked up on it.

I thought for a moment, pressing my fingers together right under my eyes. Then I said, “Look, I’m not speaking for the Voice’s benefit. I’m not trying to trick him by praising his sensibilities or his growth or his capacity to love others. I’m saying this because I believe it. The Voice can tell us things no other entity in this world can, and that includes perhaps other spirits who are among us—.” I glanced knowingly at Sevraine. I was speaking now of Gremt. “Entities that aren’t really confiding in us! Or helping us. Such spirits may be so angry at Amel, so against him, so inveterately his enemy from the time before time that they can’t be counted on right now to help us.”

“We don’t know that,” said Sevraine. “We only know they will not help. You’re speaking of powerful spirits who may in time help us but for now are waiting, waiting to see what we aim to do.”

“No, I would not count out those spirits,” said Pandora suddenly. “They may help us yet.”

“Precisely,” said Sevraine.

At once everyone was in a bit of an uproar. But it was plain many at the table knew what we were talking about and many did not. Benji did not. Neither did Louis or Armand, but Marius knew and so did Pandora. And even the flashy and dapper Everard knew.

“The Talamasca will not help us yet,” said Marius. “But they are with us in this.”

“The Talamasca’s made up of spirits?” demanded Benji. “Since when did that come to be known!”

Quickly, Marius told him to be quiet, that it would all be explored.

And then I held up my hands for silence. I fully expected to be ignored, but the exact opposite happened.

“My point is simply that this Amel is a spirit of immense knowledge and secrets and he happens to be our spirit!” I waited. “Don’t you see? We cannot keep talking about him as if he were a cheap villain who’s broken into our existence simply to inconvenience us and frighten us and bully us and demand things from us. He’s the fount of our very life.” I leaned forward and rested my hands on the table. “So he kills,” I said. “We kill. So he slaughters mercilessly. Who here of my age or older has not done the same? This entity, this being, is at the root of what we are. Whether he has any plan or not, beyond taking possession of Rhoshamandes, he has a destiny! We all do! That’s what this crisis has taught me. That’s what Benji’s incessant urgings have taught me! We are a tribe with a destiny and it’s a destiny worth fighting for. And Amel feels what we feel, that he is a being condemned to suffer for reasons he cannot know, a being who wants to love and wants to learn, who wants to see and feel, and he, like us, has a destiny worth fighting for.”

Utter silence.

There was almost no movement, except that they were all glancing to one another. Then in a low voice Seth spoke.

“I think,” he said, “that Prince Lestat has made an excellent point.”

Marius nodded.

“So what you’re saying,” said Benji, “is that the Voice is a member of the tribe.”

I laughed. “Well, yes!”

“And he’s evil and we are evil,” whispered Armand.

“That’s not so!” said Benji. “We are not evil. You will never understand that. Never.”

A change came over Seth. It was sudden. He rose to his feet and so did Sevraine and also Gregory.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Rhoshamandes. He’s coming,” said Seth. “He’s drawing near.”

“He’s overhead, directly,” said Gregory.

Marius rose to his feet with them.

I stood there with my arms folded, listening. I glanced over my shoulder at Rose, who lay in uneasy sleep under her blanket. I looked at Louis who was watching me intently.

But anyone could hear it now, hear its footsteps, and plainly they all did except for Rose, who slept.

He, this being with his mind closed shut like a vault, was walking with intentionally audible steps down an iron staircase somewhere, likely from a portal on the roof, and into the hallway beyond the entrance to the ballroom.

Slowly he came into a view, a startlingly good-looking young man in face and form but a blood drinker of five thousand years most certainly. He had dark brown hair and mild, very open grayish-blue eyes, and he was dressed in an impressive military jacket, black velvet, forest-green trim, very flattering to his tall well-made frame, and he walked right up to the foot of the table.

“Rhoshamandes,” he said. There was a flicker of hesitation in his face. Then he bowed to the assembly. And with nods, he gave his greetings, “Sevraine, my dearest. And Gregory, Nebamun, my old friend, and my darlings, Allesandra, Eleni, Eugénie. And Notker, my beloved Notker. And Everard, my dearest Everard. And to all of you, my salutations. And to you, Prince Lestat, I am at your service, so to speak, as long as we can come to an agreement. Your son is as yet unharmed.”

A vampire, a male who was part of Notker’s group, rose now and fetched a chair from against the wall and brought it to the table.

But this stately and impressive creature walked around to one side and made his way to Jesse, standing behind her, over her, and bending to speak to her intimately.

“It was never my wish to harm Maharet,” he said. “And I wish with all my heart and soul I’d found some way to avoid it. I did it because she meant to exterminate us all. I swear to you this is true. And I killed Khayman because I thought when he came to grasp what I’d done, he’d seek to punish me for it.”

She stared straight forward, her eyes dull and red, and gazing off as if she hadn’t heard. She didn’t move. David did not look up at Rhoshamandes either.

Rhoshamandes sighed. And when he did that a rather casual and cavalier expression passed over his handsome features, a rather dismissive expression. It was only there for a second, but I caught it and was startled by it, startled by the hardness of it in contrast to these elegant and sensitive words.