Anne Rice - Servant of the Bones

“ ‘Then I’ll teach you everything I can,’ he said. ‘We’ll travel. We’ll go to Athens and then down into Egypt. I have never been deep into Egypt. I want to go. We’ll travel by magic. Or sometimes merely in the natural way, because you’re a strong guardian, and you must remember everything I teach you…your tendency, your weakness, is to veer away from pain by forgetting it, and when I die, you’ll feel some pain.’

“He fell quiet. I think the lessons were at an end for a little while. He closed his eyes. But I had a further pressing question.

“ ‘Ask it, then, before I go to sleep.’

“ ‘These Canaanites, who made this curse. Were they Hebrew?’

“ ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Not Hebrew as you are. Their Yahweh was one of many gods, only the strongest, a war god it seems. They were ancient peoples and they believed in other gods too. Are you glad to hear this?’

“My mind had drifted. ‘I suppose I am,’ I said. ‘Yes, I am. But I belong to no tribe now. My destiny is to belong to the best of Masters, for without them I may forget everything, I may drift…I may cease to see or hear or feel…and I won’t be dead, merely waiting for the one who calls me forth.’

“ ‘I won’t live long,’ he said. ‘I’ll teach you every trick I know that you have the power to do, and how to deceive men with illusions, and how to create spells over them with words and attitudes…that’s all it is…remember…words, attitudes…it’s the abstract…not the particular. You could make a curse of a list of barrels of grain if you said it right, you know? But I’ll teach you and you will listen, and when I die…’

“ ‘Yes…’

“ ‘We’ll see what the wide world teaches you by that time.’

“ ‘Don’t expect too much of me,’ I said. I looked at him directly, which I had rarely done in all this time. ‘You ask me what I remember. I remember killing the bedouins and I liked it very much. Not as much as the flowers, gathering them, you know, but killing…what is there like it on earth?’

“ ‘You have a point,’ he said. ‘You have to learn that to love is better…to be kind is even better. In killing you crush a universe of beliefs and feelings and generations in that one person whom you kill. But when you do kindness, it’s like dropping a pebble in the great ocean and the ripples go on forever and ever, and no wave, not even those as far away as Italy or Egypt, is the same. Kindness actually has considerably more power than killing has. But you’ll come to see it. You knew it when you were alive.’

“He considered for a moment, and then concluded his advice for the day.

“ ‘You see, it’s a matter of how well you can measure these things. When you strike down a man, you don’t see the full implications of his death, not then. You feel the blood rush in you, even as a spirit you are formed in the likeness of man. But when you do something good, you can see it often…you can see it and see it and see it…and that’s what overrides the desire to kill finally. The goodness shines too bright; it’s too…undeniable. When you walked you saw it in people’s faces, didn’t you? Goodness. No one tried to hurt you. Not even the palace guards. They let you by. Was it your clothing and your demeanor? Or did you smile at them as well? Did your face shine with goodwill? Each time you return to me, you are happy, and your spirit, whatever made it, has a great capacity to love.’

“I didn’t answer.

“ ‘What is in your head now?’ he asked. ‘Tell me.’

“ ‘The bedouins,’ I said. ‘What fun it was to kill them,’ I answered.

“ ‘You’re stubborn!’ he said.

“He closed his eyes and went to sleep. I sat there watching and gradually I slept too, asleep in my body, listening to the flowers next to my ears, and looking up into the branches of the olive tree now and then to see the birds there, and the distant sounds of the city became a music to me. And when I dreamed, it was of gardens, and light and fruit trees and joyous spirits with faces filled with love.

“Words were woven into my dreams.

“ ‘And I will give thee the treasures of darkness, and hidden riches of secret places, that thou mayest know that I, the Lord, which call thee by thy name, am the God of Israel…I form the light, and I create darkness: I make peace, and create evil…’ My eyes opened, but then I knew sweeter verses, and sank back into a half sleep of song and willow trees swaying in the breeze.”

13

For fifteen years, I traveled with Zurvan. I did his bidding in all things. He was rich, as I’ve said, and many times he wanted to travel merely as men do, and we went by ship to Egypt, and then back again to Athens and to other cities which he had visited in his youth and had despaired of ever seeing again.

“Almost never did he let on that he was a magician, though now and then he was recognized by one with second sight. And when called upon to heal the sick, he would do what he could. In every place we traveled he bought or had me borrow for him, or even steal, tablets and scrolls of magic, and these he studied and read to me and made me memorize, further reinforcing his conviction that all magic was more or less the same.

“That I can remember these years with crystal clarity is a mercy, because during the time that separated me from his death and the present I have few distinct memories at all. I know there were times after Zurvan’s death when I woke with no memory and served my masters out of boredom, and sometimes watched them bring destruction upon themselves and thought it amusing, and even now and then took the bones from them myself to another. But all this is hazy, fog. Meaningless.

“Zurvan was right. My response to pain and to suffering was to forget. And it is the overall tendency of spirits to forget. Flesh and blood, bodily needs, these are what inspire memory in man. And when these are wholly absent, it can be sweet to remember nothing at all.

“During Zurvan’s life, he made a better casket for the bones. He made it of very strong wood, plated inside and out with gold, and he made a carved-out space for the bones to rest in their curled position, as that of a child asleep. He had carpenters work on this because, in truth, the work of his spirit familiars was not exact enough for him. Those who know the material world work with greater respect for it, he said.

“On the outside of this casket which was a rectangle just long enough to contain my skeleton, he carved the name of what I was and how I was to be called, and he carved the stern warning that I must never be used for evil, lest that evil descend upon the one who calls. He cautioned against the destruction of my bones, lest all restraint upon me go with it.

“He wrote all this in the form of incantation and sacred poetry in many languages all over the casket.

“He put a Hebrew symbol or letter which means life on the casket.

“It was very good that he did all this early, because his death came quite by surprise. He died in his sleep, and I was called forth only when his house in Syracuse was being raided by petty thieves and people of the village who knew he had no kin and were in no fear for him. And as he had left no demons to guard his body, they sacked the house, found the casket, spoke of the bones, and I awoke.

“I slew everyone present, down to the smallest child who rummaged through Zurvan’s clothes. I slew them all. That night, the villagers came to burn the house of the Magus in hopes of dispelling its evil. I was glad of this because I knew that Zurvan, being Greek by birth, though a man of no nation or tribe by choice, wanted his remains to be burnt, and I had arranged them within the house so that they burnt first and fast.