But what I see is much worse.
As the blood sprinkles over him, his lower lip curls ever so slightly. Curls in an unpleasant manner, and I believe deep in my heart that he is reacting to my great sacrifice with all but disguised contempt. I pull my hands away.
"Open your eyes, Dante," I say.
He opens his eyes and beams. "Am I cured, my lady?"
I grin with false pleasure. "Almost, my friend."
Then I grab him by the collar of his filthy shirt and, before he can react, I drag him to the edge of the pond. The water has not completely settled since I touched it, but it is flat enough to show his reflection. No wonder he did not want to stand next to the pond with me by his side. For in the water, Dante's supposedly ruined and pained expression is extraordinary.
Literally, he is more beautiful than a man should be.
He could almost be a goddess.
I leap back from him and tremble.
"Landulf,"I gasp. "It was you. All along, it was you."
The other Landulf was just a puppet. Just a disciple of the real master, Dante. The duke in the castle was just a minion.
Dante was the real power behind the throne.
Dante was Landulf.
He stares down at his face for a long time before responding. Perhaps he has not seen his reflection in a whileIdon't know. When he finally does speak, his voice is remarkably gentle, not unlike it was before, yet with more power, the confidence of a being that has for a long time been master of his own destiny. He straightens as he speaks, as if his physical disease has no real hold over him. But I am not sure if that is the case. He speaks with authority but there is disappointment in his tone.
"I should have guessed you would return with greater wisdom," he says. "Last time you were easily tricked. But now I am the one who has been fooled." He sighs. "You have grown, Sita, in the last thousand years."
"Because I chose wisdom over compassion?" I ask.
He glances at me. "In a sense. It is easier for humans to pass a test of love than a test that requires wisdom. Because even love often obscures wisdom."
I am bitter. "You do not have the right to speak to me of love."
He has been tricked but he still has the ability to smile. "But I do admire you even if I don't love you," he says. "Admiration is the closest my kind gets to love. It serves us well. I never feel the lack of this love you constantly crave."
"You imply that I need something from you. You're wrong."
"Yet you cherished Dante's love," he says.
"I was merely bewildered on the path. You are lost here at the end."
"Perhaps." He pauses. "How did you guess?"
" Parsival.I saw it in Vienna before World War Two. The character ofKl ingsor was Landulf. He had been castrated by the pope." I mock him. "In the play, they said he was smooth between the legs."
A wave of anger rolls over his face but he quickly masters himself. "You have an excellent memory. No doubt I made other mistakes with you as well."
"Yes. But I am puzzled. Why did you give me the clue of the Medusa's head?"
"It was necessary. For you to be totally mine, you had to be warned by me in advance. Free will operates on both paths, the right and the left. When you intentionally killed that girl, then and only then were you made ready to meet me here."
"It was all just a set up? The whole thing?"
"Yes."
"And had I willingly given you my blood, I would have completed the third step?"
"Precisely. Then your blood would have been of the most use to me."
I sigh. "Well, I guess now you're not going to have it."
He stares at me. I see him clearly now, his supernatural beauty, even the faint tendrils of black that crawl around the field above his head. Yet I realize he still has leprosy.
"You are wrong on that point," he says softly.
I take a step back. "You are still about to die. You need my blood to live even a few more days. Your evil invocations really did give you leprosy.
He takes a step in my direction. "That is correct. The work has its price. But I need your blood to sustain this physical body, and continue my work in this third density. But unlike last time, I will now be unable to pass my blood onto others. You can no longer be convinced to be my initiate and undergo a shift toward negative polarization. Still, your blood will be useful to me for a long time." He removes a dagger from under his dirty shirt. It is the same one that the maid stabbed me with. It is stained with my blood. "There is no point in trying to run from me, Sita, or in trying to harm me. My psychic powers are beyond yours."