bl.necroscope2-第14部分

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asused　to。　Then　he　looked　again　at　the　Ferenczy　andshrugged。　〃He　told　me　that　you　live　under　his　protectionbut　swear　him　no　allegiance。　That　you　occupy　land　butconcede　no　taxes。　That　you　could　muster　many　men　but　choose　to　sit　here　brooding　while　other　Boyars　fight　off　the　Pechenegi　to　keep　your　hide　whole。〃
　For　a　moment　the　Ferenczy's　eyes　went　wide；　seemed　flecked　in　their　corners　with　blood；　and　his　nostrils　gaped　in　an　audible　grunt。　His　top　lip　wrinkled　and　curled　back　a　little；　and　his　jagged　peaked　eyebrows　crushed　together　on　his　pale；　high　forehead。　Then。。。　he　sat　back；　seemed　to　relax；　grinned　and　nodded。
　Thibor　had　stopped　eating；　but　as　the　Ferenczy　brought　himself　under　control；　so　he　carried　on。　Between　mouthfuls　he　said；　〃Did　you　think　I'd　flatter　you；　Faethor　Ferenczy？　Perhaps　you　also　thought　your　trickery　would　scare　me　off？〃
　The　castle's　master　frowned；　wrinkled　his　nose　into　ridges。　〃My。。。　trickery？〃
　Thibor　nodded。　〃The　Prince's　advisors…Christian　monks　out　of　Greek…land…think　you're　some　sort　of　demon；　a　〃vampire〃。　I　believe　he　thinks　so　too。　But　me；　I'm　just　a　mon　man…a　peasant；　aye…and　I　say　you're　only　a　clever　trickster。　You　speak　to　your　Szgany　serfs　with　mirror　signals；　and　you've　a　trained　wolf　or　two　to　do　your　bidding；　like　dogs。　Hah！　Mangy　wolves！　Why；　in　Kiev　there's　a　man　leads　great　bears　around　on　a　leash…and　he　dances　with　them！　And　what　else　do　you　have；　eh？　Nothing！　Oh；　you　make　shrewd　guesses…and　then　pretend　that　your　eyes　have　powers；　that　they　see　over　woods　and　mountains。　You　cloak　yourself　in　mystery　and　superstition　up　here　in　these　dark　hills；　but　that　only　works　with　the　superstitious。　And　who　are　most　superstitious？　Educated　men；　monks　and　princes；　that's　who！　They　know　so　much…their　brains　are　so　bursting　with　knowledge…that　they'll　believe　anything！　But　a　mon　man；　a　warrior；　he　only　believes　in　blood　and　iron。　The　first　to　give　him　strength　to　wield　the　second；　the　second　to　spill　the　first　in　a　scarlet　flood。〃
　A　little　surprised　at　himself；　Thibor　paused；　wiped　his　mouth。　The　wine　had　loosened　his　tongue。
　The　Ferenczy　had　sat　there　as　if　turned　to　stone；　now　he　rocked　back　in　his　chair；　slapped　the　table　with　a　long；　flat　hand；　roared　his　mirth。　And　Thibor　saw　that　indeed　his　eye…teeth　were　like　those　of　a　great　dog。　〃What？　Wisdom　from　a　warrior？〃　the　Boyar　shouted。　He　pointed　a　slender　finger。　〃But　you　are　so　right；　Thibor！　Right　to　be　outspoken；　and　I　like　you　for　it。　And　I'm　glad　you　came；　whatever　your　mission。　Wasn't　I　right　to　say　you　could　be　my　son？　Indeed；　I　was　right。　A　man　after　my　own　heart…in　perhaps　more　ways　than　one；　eh？〃
　His　eyes　were　red　again　（only　an　effect　of　the　fire's　glow；　surely？）　but　Thibor　made　sure　that　a　knife　lay　close　at　hand。　Perhaps　the　Ferenczy　was　mad。　Certainly　he　looked　mad；　when　he　laughed　like　that。
　The　fire　flared　up　as　a　log　turned　on　its　side。　A　smell　of　burning　wafted　to　Thibor's　nostrils。　The　woodcocks！　Both　he　and　his　host　had　forgotten　them。　He　decided　to　be　charitable；　to　let　the　hermit　eat　before　killing　him。　〃Your　birds；〃　he　said；　or　tried　to　say；　as　he　made　to　get　to　his　feet。　But　the　words　tangled　themselves　up　on　his　tongue；　came　out　slurred　and　alien　sounding。　Worse；　he　couldn't　force　himself　upright；　his　hands　seemed　glued　to　the　table　top；　and　his　feet　were　heavy　as　lumps　of　lead！
　Thibor　looked　down　at　his　straining；　twitching　hands；　his　nearly　paralysed　body；　and　even　his　horrified　glance　was　slow；　filled　with　an　unnatural　languor。　It　was　as　if　he　were　drunk；　but　drunker　than　he'd　ever　been。　It　would　require　only　the　slightest　shove；　he　was　sure；　to　send　him　sprawling。
　Then　his　eyes　fell　upon　his　goblet；　the　red　wine　from　the　pitcher。　Vinegary；　yes。　That　and　worse。　He　was　poisoned！
　The　Ferenczy　was　watching　him　closely。　Suddenly　he　sighed　and　stood　up。　He　seemed　even　taller　now；　younger；　stronger。　He　stepped　lithe　to　the　fire；　toppled　the　spit　and　steaming　birds　into　the　flames。　They　hissed；　smoked；　caught　fire　in　a　moment。　Then　he　turned　to　where　Thibor　sat　watching　him。　Not　a　muscle　of　Thibor's　body　would　answer　his　mind's　desperate　mands。　It　was　as　if　he　were　turned　to　stone。　Droplets　of　cold　sweat　started　out　upon　his　brow。　The　Ferenczy　came　closer；　stood　over　him。　Thibor　looked　at　him；　at　his　long　jaws；　his　misshapen　skull　and　ears；　his　crushed　snout　of　a　nose。　An　ugly　man；　yes；　and　perhaps　more　than　a　man。　〃P…p…poisoned！〃　The　Wallach　finally　spat　it　out。　〃Eh？〃　the　Ferenczy　cocked　his　head；　looked　down　on　him。　〃Poisoned？　No；　no；〃　he　denied；　〃merely　drugged。　Isn't　it　obvious　that　if　I　wanted　you　dead；　then　you'd　be　dead…along　with　Arvos　and　your　friends？　But　such　bravery！　I　showed　you　what　I　could　do；　and　yet　you　came　on。　Or　are　you　simply　stubborn？　Stupid；　maybe？　I'll　give　you　the　benefit　of　the　doubt　and　say　that　you're　brave；　for　I've　no　time　to　waste　on　fools。〃
　With　a　great　effort　of　will；　Thibor　forced　his　right　hand　spastically　towards　a　knife　where　it　lay　on　the　table。　His　host　smiled；　took　up　the　knife；　handed　it　to　him。　Thibor　sat　and　trembled　with　the　strain　of　his　effort；　but　he　could　no　more　take　that　knife　than　stand　up。　The　entire　room　was　beginning　to　swim；　to　melt；　to　flow　together　in　a　dark；　irresistible　whirlpool。
　The　last　thing　he　saw　was　the　Ferenczy's　face；　more　terrible　than　ever；　as　he　leaned　over　him。　That　bestial；　animal　face…jaws　open　in　a　gaping　laugh…and　the　crimson　forked　tongue　that　vibrated　like　a　crippled　snake　in　the　cavern　of　his　throat！
　The　old　Thing　in　the　ground　sprang　awake。。。　！　His　nightmare　had　awakened　him；　and　something　else。
　For　a　moment　the　Thibor…creature　thrilled　with　the　horror　of　his　dream；　before　remembering　where；　who　and　what　he　was。　And　then　he　thrilled　again；　the　second　time　with　ecstasy。
　Blood！
　The　black　soil　of　his　grave　was　drenched；　gorged　with　blood！　Blood　touched　him；　seeped　like　oil　through　leaf…mould；　rootlets　and　earth　and　touched　him。　Drawn　by　the　instant　capillary　action　of　his　myriad　thirsting　fibres；　it　soaked　into　him；　filled　his　desiccated　pores　and　veins；　his　spongy　organs　and　yawning；　aching　alveolate　bones。
　Blood…life！…filled　the　vampire；　set　centuries…numbed　nerves　leaping；　brought　incredible；　inhuman　senses　instantly　alert。
　His　eyes　cracked　open…closed　at　once。　Soil。　Darkness。　He　was　buried　still。　He　lay　in　his　grave；　as　always。　He　opened　the　sinuses　of　his　gaping　nostrils；　and　immediately　closed　them…but　not　entirely。　He　smelled　the　soil；　yes；　but　he　also　smelled　blood。　And　now；　fully　awake；　he　carefully；　far　more　minutely；　began　to　examine　his　surroundings。
　He　weighed　the　earth　above　him；　probed　it　with　instinct。　Shallow；　very　shallow。　Eighteen　inches；　no　more。　And　above　that；　another　twelve　inches　of　pact　leaf…mould。　Oh；　he'd　been　buried　deep　enough　that　time；　but　in　the　centuries　between　he'd　wormed　his　way　closer　to　the　surface。　That　had　been　when　he　had　the　strength　to　do　so。
　He　exerted　himself；　extended　pseudopods　up　into　the　soil　like　crimson　worms…and　snatched　them　back。　Oh；　yes；　the　earth　was　heavily　saturated　with　blood；　and　human　blood　at　that；　but。。。　how　could　that　be？　Could　this　be…could　it　possibly　be…the　work　of　Dragosani？
　The　Thing　reached　out　its　mind；　called　softly：　Drago…saaaniiii？　Is　it　you；　my　son？　Have　you　done　this　thing；　brought　me　this　fine　tribute；　Dragosaaaniiii？
　His　thoughts　touched　upon　minds…but　clean　minds；　innocent　minds。　Human　minds　which　had　never　known　his　taint。　But　people？　Here　in　the　cruciform　hills？　What　was　their　purpose　here？　Why　had　they　e　to　his　grave　and　baited　the　earth　with…Baited　the　earth！
　The　Thibor…creature　whipped　back　his　thoughts；　his　protoplasmic　extrusions；　his　psychic　extensions　and　cringed　down　into　himself。　Terror　and　hatred　filled　his　every　nerve。　Was　that　the　answer？　Had　they　remembered　him　after　all　these　years　and　e　to　put　paid　to　him　at　last？　Had　they　let　him　lie　here　undead　for　half　a　millennium　simply　to　e　and　destroy　him　now？　Had　Dragosani　perhaps　spoken　of　him　to　someone；　and　that　someone　recognised　the　peril　in　what　was　buried　here？
　Senses　thrilling；　the　Thing　lay　there；　his　scarcely　human　body　trembling　with　tension；　listening；　feeling；　smelling；　tasting；　using　all　of　his　heightened　vampire　senses　except　that　of　sight。　Aye；　and　he　could　use　that；　too；　if　he　dared。　But　for　all　his　fear；　the　one　thing　he　did　not　sense　was　danger。　And　he　would　know　the　smell　of　danger　as　surely　as　he　knew　the　smell　of　blood。　What　hour　would　it　be？
　His　trembling　stilled　as　he　gave　the　problem　of　the　hour　a　moment's　thought。　Hour？　Hah！　What　month　would　it　be；　what　season；　year；　decade？　How　long　since　the　boy　Dragosani…that　child　of　Thibor's　every　hope　and　evil　aspiration…how　long　since　he'd　visited　him　here？　But　more　importantly；　was　it　day　now。。。　or　was　it　night？
　It　was　night。　The　vampire　could　feel　it。　Darkness　seeped　down　through　the　soil　like　the　rich；　dark　blood　it　acpanied。　It　was　night；　his　time；　and　the　blood　had　given　him　a　strength；　an　elasticity；　a　motivation　and　a　mobility　almost　forgotten　through　all　the　centuries　he'd　lain　here。
　He　put　out　his　thoughts　again　to　touch　upon　the　minds　of　the　people　in　the　glade　of　stirless　trees　directly　above　him　where　he　lay。　He　did　not　think　at　them；　made　no　effort　to　municate；　mer