bl.necroscope2-第15章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　〃My　two　friends；　they're　also　dead。〃　Thibor　hardened　his　tone　of　voice。
　The　Ferenczy　merely　shrugged。　〃The　way　up　is　hard。　It's　cost　many　lives　over　the　years。　But　friends；　did　you　say？　Then　you　are　fortunate。　I　have　no　friends。〃
　Thibor's　hand　strayed　close　to　the　hilt　of　his　sword。　〃I　had　fancied　an　entire　pack　of　your　〃friends〃　showed　me　the　way　here。。。〃
　His　host　at　once　stepped　close　to　him；　less　a　step　than　a　flowing　motion。　The　man　moved　like　liquid。　A　long　hand；　slender　but　strong；　rested　on　the　hilt　of　Thibor's　sword　under　his　own　hand。　Touching　it　was　like　touching　living…snakeskin。　Thibor's　flesh　crawled　and　he　jerked　his　hand　away。　In　the　same　moment　the　Boyar　unsheathed　his　sword；　againwiththatflowing；liquidmotion。The　Wallach　stood　disarmed；　astonished。
　〃You　can't　eat　with　this　great　thing　clanging　about　your　legs；〃　the　Ferenczy　told　him。　He　weighed　the　sword　like　a　toy　in　his　hands；　smiled　a　thin　smile。　〃Ah！　A　warrior's　weapon。　And　are　you　a　warrior；　Thibor　of　Wallachia？　A　Voevod；　eh？　I've　heard　how　Vladimir　Svyatoslavich　recruits　many　warlords…even　from　peasants。〃
　Again　Thibor　was　caught　off　guard；　he　hadn't　told　the　Ferenczy　his　name；　hadn't　mentioned　the　Kievan　Vlad。　But　before　he　could　find　words　for　an　answer：
　〃e；〃　said　his　host；　〃you'll　let　your　food　grow　cold。　Sit；　eat；　and　we'll　talk。〃　He　tossed　Thibor's　sword　down　on　a　bench　covered　with　soft　pelts。
　Across　his　broad　back；　Thibor　carried　a　crossbow。　He　shrugged　its　strap　from　his　shoulder；　handed　it　to　the　Ferenczy。　In　any　case；　the　weapon　would　take　too　long　to　load。　Useless　at　close　quarters；　against　a　man　who　moved　like　this　one。　〃Do　you　want　my　knife；　too？〃
　Faethor　Ferenczy's　long　jaws　gaped　and　he　laughed。　〃I　desire　only　to　seat　you　fortably　at　my　table。　Keep　your　knife。　See；　there　are　more　knives　within　reach…to　stab　the　meat。〃　He　tossed　the　crossbow　down　with　the　sword。
　Thibor　stared　at　him；　finally　nodded。　He　shrugged　out　of　his　heavy　jacket；　let　it　fall　in　a　heap　to　the　floor。　He　took　a　seat　at　one　end　of　the　table；　watched　the　Ferenczy　arrange　all　the　food　within　easy　reach。　Then　his　host　poured　two　deep　iron　goblets　of　wine　from　the　pitcher　before　seating　himself　opposite。
　〃You　won't　eat　with　me？〃　Thibor　was　suddenly　hungry；　but　he　would　not　take　the　first　bite。　In　the　palace　in　Kiev；　they　always　waited　for　the　Vlad　to　lead　the　way。
　Faethor　Ferenczy　reached　along　the　top　of　the　table；　showing　an　enormous　length　of　arm；　and　deftly　sliced　off　a　corner　of　meat。　〃I'll　take　a　woodcock　when　they're　cooked；〃　he　said。　〃But　don't　wait　for　me…you　eat　whatever　you　want。〃　He　toyed　with　his　food　while　Thibor　fell　to　with　some　zeal。　The　Ferenczy　watched　him　for　a　little　while；　then　said；　〃It　seems　only　right　that　a　big　man　should　have　a　big　appetite。　I；　too；　have。。。　appetites；　which　this　place　restricts。　That　is　why　you　interest　me；　Thibor。　We　could　be　brothers；　do　you　see？　I　might　even　be　your　father。　Aye；　big　men　both　of　us…and　you　a　warrior；　and　quite　fearless。　I　suspect　there　are　not　many　such　as　you　in　the　world。。。〃　And　after　a　short　pause；　and　in　plete　contrast：　〃What　did　the　Vlad　tell　you　about　me；　before　he　sent　you　to　bring　me　to　his　court？〃
　Thibor　had　determined　not　to　be　taken　by　surprise　a　third　time。　He　swallowed　what　was　in　his　mouth；　and　returned　gaze　for　gaze　across　the　table。　Now；　in　the　light　from　the　fire　and　flickering　flambeaux　in　jutting　brackets；　he　allowed　himself　a　more　detailed　inspection　of　the　castle's　master。
　It　would　be　pointless；　Thibor　decided；　to　make　any　sort　of　guess　at　the　age　of　this　man。　He　seemed　to　exude　age　like　some　ancient　monolith；　and　yet　moved　with　the　incredible　speed　of　a　striking　serpent　and　the　lithe　suppleness　of　a　young　girl。　His　voice　could　sound　harsh　as　the　elements；　or　soft　as　a　mother's　kiss；　and　yet　it　too　seemed　hoary　beyond　measure。　As　for　the　Ferenczy's　eyes：　they　were　deep…seated　in　triangular　sockets；　heavy…lidded；　and　their　true　colour　was　likewise　impossible　to　fathom。　From　a　certain　angle　they　were　black；　shiny　as　wet　pebbles；　while　from　another　they　were　yellow；　with　gold　in　their　pupils。　They　were　educated　eyes　and　full　of　wisdom；　yet　feral　too　and　brimming　with　sin。
　Then　there　was　the　nose。　Faethor　Ferenczy's　nose；　along　with　his　pointed；　fleshy　ears；　formed　the　least　acceptable　part　of　his　face。　It　was　more　a　muzzle　than　a　nose　proper；　yet　its　length　stayed　close　to　the　face；　flattening　down　towards　the　upper　lip；　and　pushed　back　from　it　with　large　nostrils　slanting　upwards。　Directly　underneath　it…too　close；　in　fact…the　man's　ridgy　mouth　was　wide　and　red　against　his　otherwise　pale；　coarse　flesh。　When　he　spoke；　his　lips　parted　just　a　little。　But　his　teeth；　what　the　Wallach　had　seen　of　them　when　the　Ferenczy　laughed；　were　big　and　square　and　yellow。　Also　glimpsed：　incisors　oddly　curved　and　sharp　as　tiny　scythes；　but　Thibor　couldn't　be　sure。　If　it　was　so；　then　the　man　would　seem　even　more　wolf…like。
　And　so　he　was　an　ugly　man；　this　Faethor　Ferenczy。　But。。。　Thibor　had　known　ugly　men　aplenty。　And　he　had　killed　plenty　of　them；　too。
　〃The　Vlad？〃　Thibor　carved　more　meat；　took　a　swig　of　；　red　wine。　It　was　vinegary　stuff；　but　no　worse　than　he　wasused　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　killin