Ancient Appetites

toast.

Sitting down opposite Tatiana, he poured himself some tea from the pot and reached for the sugar.

'Is Gerald up yet?'

'You must joking.' Tatiana smirked. 'He was first down. Apparently he's made a discovery that could change the course of science. He's been rabbiting on about your adventures last night to anybody who'll listen.'

'Has he really?'

'Oh, yes,' Daisy spoke up. 'You were quite the hero, he says. Right up until that part where you… injured yourself. The hazards of riding bareback, I suppose.'

Nate coughed into his tea, and Tatiana giggled.

'Are you sure you're comfortable?' Daisy added. 'Should we get you a softer chair?'

Tatiana was noisily blowing her nose in her handkerchief, her cheeks blushing violently.

'Gerald has a habit of stretching the truth with his storytelling,' Nate grunted.

'I hope so' – Daisy sipped her tea – 'for the sake of the family line.'

Nate threw her a savage stare, and she put her hand to her mouth, turning crimson. It was not the thing to say to a man who had just lost his brother.

'I'm sorry' she stammered quietly. 'I… I wasn't thinking-'

Nathaniel continued to glare at her.

'Gerald's giving everyone else the tour down at the stables,' Tatty whined, her mind still on the monster. 'They wouldn't let me go. Said it wouldn't be decent for me to see the thing. It's so unfair.'

'Well, don't you mind them.' Nate winked at her. 'None of them will get to ride it.'

'Oh, yes please!' she exclaimed. 'Do you think I could-?'

She was interrupted by the appearance of Roberto at the door. Nate stood and hurried over. Berto gave him a grim smile.

'Nate! God, it's good to see you! Welcome home!'

'How the hell are you, you old rogue?' Nate grasped his hand. 'You haven't changed a bit!'

It wasn't true. Berto looked pale and shaken, and Nate couldn't tell if it was the shock of Marcus's death or the realization that he was now the Wildenstern Heir. Or it might just have been the result of a morning spent in the company of their father.

'How is he?' Nate asked.

'Like a bear with a headache,' Roberto replied wryly. 'I feel as if I've been put through the meat-grinder. Even the dogs are scared of him today – God, I hate those dogs. I haven't seen him in such a foul temper for a long time. He… eh, he wants to see you immediately.'

Nate looked over at his breakfast.

'I wouldn't keep him waiting,' Roberto urged him.

'Right, then.' Nate glanced uneasily towards the open doors of the elevator at the end of the corridor.

He wondered if all sons were as terrified of their fathers.

'It'll be fine,' Berto said in an effort to reassure him. 'I've… I've softened him up for you.'

Nate gave his older brother a sour look and strode out the door and down towards the elevator.

'We'll all be thinking of you!' Roberto called from behind him.

V

THE PATRIARCH

Nate stood motionless in the mechanical lift. A teenage boy in a braided uniform hovered in the corner by the door, with his hand on the brass control lever. It was pushed all the way forward. The elevator climbed steadily through the floors. Nate ran his sweating hands down his jacket and tried to loosen his stiff collar. He had told himself many times that there was no real reason to be intimidated by his father. The old man had never hurt him, had never laid a hand on him or brutalized him in the way that some of his schoolfriends had been by their fathers. In fact, his father had paid little attention of any kind to his children. Except for Marcus, of course. But there were no other patriarchs like Edgar Wildenstern. And few other families shared the ruthless Wildenstern traditions.

Few other families tolerated assassination as a means of achieving one's ambitions.

The Wildenstern family valued ambition above all other qualities. It was how they had achieved their success, and how they had accrued one of the largest fortunes in the world. The family possessed more wealth than many a sovereign nation. They were a breed apart, not only in terms of their wealth, but also in the physiology that had helped them attain it.

Wildensterns lived longer, were fitter, stronger and recovered from injury and disease far quicker than the average human being. They were blessed with what was known as 'aurea sanitas'; what their doctors (all drawn from the family itself) sometimes referred to as 'a hereditary resistance to death'. This was bolstered by the effects of gold on their powers of healing. For reasons that were still not fully understood, placing pure gold in contact with their skin increased their healing abilities many times over.

These characteristics were shared by a few of the most powerful families in the world, but were rarely spoken of outside this select company. The families were also careful to marry into one another, to keep these powers amongst themselves. When one was so blessed by God, one had to be careful not to waste His gift on the undeserving.

But with so many of them living so long and producing proportionately large broods of children, there was fierce competition for the control of the resources of these families. And over the generations, a system of traditions had been put in place to hone these conflicts for the good of the families.

The Wildensterns were a perfect example. The eldest son of the family was the Heir, and took over as Patriarch when his father died. If there were no sons, one of the Patriarch's brothers could take his place, but sons always took precedence. The Patriarch controlled the family's resources and distributed the wealth and responsibilities as he saw fit. If the next son in line thought he could do a better job or, more to the point, was greedy enough to try it, he had the right to kill his brother and ascend to the position of Patriarch. The family would see to it that the death was ruled an accident, and no outside authorities would be permitted to involve themselves.

The same went for any male member of the family. If he wanted to improve his position, he could kill his way closer to the top. It was a tradition that had endured for centuries, and was seen as an essential way of honing ambition and ability, and rooting out any of the few weak individuals that arose in each generation.

It was not as straightforward as plain murder; there were some strict rules laid down – the Rules of Ascension – and anybody who failed to follow them would be ostracized – barred from any further contact with the family. Also, every male member of the Wildenstern clan within conceivable reach of the title was trained from birth in the techniques they would need to defend themselves, so it was not as if they would be easy targets. These skills included, but were not limited to, mastering unarmed combat, fighting with a range of edged weapons and firearms, the mechanics of trap-setting and the chemistry of poisons. These were taught with the emphasis on protecting oneself, but Nathaniel had gradually come to understand that if he should feel the need to use his skills to advance his position, the family would understand.

Female members of the family could not hold any positions of importance apart from those of wife and mother, but they were welcome to assist their male relatives as they saw fit. Some also chose to take advantage of the training where they could.

Edgar Wildenstern, Duke of Leinster, was the current Patriarch – and it was expected that he would hold the position for some time to come. At 123 years old, Nathaniel's father had survived countless duels, several assassination attempts – including stabbings, shootings, a house fire, a crossbow bolt, a poisoning and a mathaumaturgical curse – and had outlived three wives (at least one of whom was thought to be every bit as fierce as he was). Apart from his advanced years and growing obesity, he suffered from gout and syphilis, was