Servant of the Bones by Anne Rice Read Free Book Online Page B

is common. In fact, I think sanity in kings must be rare. Gilgamesh went crazy. Nabonidus was crazy. You ask me, Pharaoh was crazy in every story I ever heard about him.
    “And I understand this. I understand it because I have looked into the face of Cyrus the Persian and into the face of Nabonidus, and I know that kings are alone, utterly alone. I have looked into the face of Gregory Belkin, a king in his own right, and I saw this same isolation and terrible weakness; there is no mother, there is no father, there is no limit to power, and disaster is the portion of kings. I have looked into the face of other kings, but that we will pass over quickly later on, because what I did as the evil Servant of the Bones does not matter now, except that every time I killed a human life, I destroyed a universe, did I not?”
    “Perhaps, or you sent the evil flame home to be cleansed in the great fire of God.”
    “Ah, that is beautiful,” he said to me.
    I was complimented. But did I believe this?
    “So, let’s go on with my life,” he said. “I worked at the Court as soon as I left the tablet house, and then my writing and reading were of the utmost importance. I knew all languages. I saw many strange documents and old letters in Sumerian and was useful to the King’s regent, Belshazzar. No one much cared for Belshazzar, as I said. He couldn’t hold the New Year’s Festival, or the priests didn’t want him, or Marduk wouldn’t do it, who knows, but he wasn’t destined to be loved.
    “Yet I can’t say this made for a bad atmosphere in thepalace. It was fairly congenial and of course the correspondence was endless. Letters were pouring in from the outlying territories complaining about the Persians being on the march, or about the Egyptians being on the march, or about the stars as seen by various astrologists predicting very bad or good things for the King.
    “I became acquainted in the palace with the wise men who advised the King on everything, and liked listening to them, and realized that when Marduk spoke to me, sometimes the wise men could hear it. And I also came to know that the story of the smile had never been forgotten. Marduk had smiled on Azriel.
    “Well, what secrets I had.
    “So look. I am walking home. I am nineteen. I have very little time left to live and I don’t know it. I said to Marduk, How could the wise men hear it when you talk to me? He said that these men, these wise men, were seers and sorcerers just as were some of our Hebrews, our prophets, our wise men, though nobody wanted much to admit it, and they had the power as I did to hear a spirit.
    “He sighed and he said to me in Sumerian that I must take the utmost care. ‘These men know your powers.’
    “I’d never heard Marduk sound dejected. We had long ago passed the foolish point of me asking him for favors or to play tricks on people, and now we talked more about things all the time, and he frequently said that he could see more clearly through my eyes. I didn’t know what this meant, but on this day when he seemed dejected I was worried.
    “ ‘My powers!’ I said sarcastically. ‘What powers! You smiled. You are the god!’
    “Silence, but I knew he was still there. I could always feel him, like heat; I heard him like breath. You know, the way a blind person knows that someone is there.
    “I got to my front door and was ready to go in, and I turned around and for the first time I actually laid eyes on him. I saw Marduk. Not the gold statuette in my room. Not the big statues in the temple. But Marduk, himself.
    “He was standing against the far wall, arms folded, oneknee bent, just looking at me. It was Marduk. He was completely covered in gold as he was at the shrine but he was alive and his curly hair and beard seemed not made of solid gold as they were on the statue but living gold. His eyes were browner than mine, that is, paler, with more yellow in the irises. He smiled at me.
    “ ‘Ah, Azriel,’ he said. ‘I