bl.necroscope2-第13节

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trees；　but　that　was　all。　He　turned　back　to　face　his　host。　〃Yes；　of　my　own　free　will。。。〃
　Then　you　are　wele。〃　The　Boyar　fixed　his　torch　in　a　bracket　just　inside　the　doorway；　bowed　a　little　from　the　waist；　stood　to　one　side。　And　Thibor　crossed　the　drawbridge；　made　to　enter　the　house　of　the　Ferenczy。　But　in　the　moment　before　he　entered；　he　glanced　up；　saw　the　legend　burned　into　the　age…blackened　oak　of　the　arched　lintel。　He　couldn't　read　or　write；　but　the　cloaked　man　saw　his　glance　and　translated　for　him：
　〃It　says　that　this　is　the　house　of　Waldemar　Ferrenzig。
　There　is　also　a　sign　which　dates　it；　showing　that　the　castle　is　nearly　two　hundred　years　old。　Waldemar　was。。。　he　was　my　father。　I　am　Faethor　Ferrenzig；　whom　my　people　call　〃the　Ferenczy〃。
　There　was　a　fierce　pride　now　in　that　dark　voice；　and　for　the　first　time　Thibor　felt　himself　unsure。　He　knew　nothing　of　the　castle；　there　might　easily　be　many　men　lying　in　wait；　the　open　door　gaped　like　the　maw　of　some　unknown　beast。
　〃I　have　made　preparations；〃　said　Thibor's　host。　〃Food　and　drink；　and　a　fire　to　warm　your　bones。〃　He　deliberately　turned　his　back；　took　a　second　torch　from　a　dark　niche　in　the　wall　and　lit　it　from　the　first。　As　flames　caught　hold；　so　the　shadows　fled。　The　Ferenczy　glanced　once　at　his　guest；　unsmiling；　then　led　the　way　inside。　And　the　Wallach　followed。
　They　passed　quickly　through　dark　corridors　of　stone；　anterooms；　narrow　doorways；　into　the　heart　of　the　tower；　then　up　a　spiralling　stone　stairway　to　a　heavy　trapdoor　in　a　floor　of　stone　flags　supported　by　great　black　timbers。
　The　trapdoor　stood　open　and　the　Ferenczy　gathered　up　his　cloak　before　climbing　through　into　a　well　lighted　room。　Thibor　followed　close　behind；　allowing　the　other　no　time　to　be　on　his　own。　As　he　emerged　into　the　room　he　shivered。　It　would　have　been　so　very　easy　for　someone…to　spear　him　or　lop　off　his　head　as　he　came　up　through　the　trapdoor。　But　apart　from　the　pile's　master；　the　roomwas　empty　of　men。　Thibor　glanced　at　his　host；　looked　all　around。　The　room　was　long；　broad；　high。overhead；　a　ceiling　of　timbers　was　badly　gapped；　flickering　firelight　showed　a　slate　roof　above　the　ceiling；　missing　tiles　permitted　a　glimpse　of　stars　swimming　in　smoke　from　the　fire。　Theplace　was　somewhat　open　to　the　weather。　In　winter　it　would　be　bitterly　cold。　Even　now　it　would　not　be　warm　if　not　for　the　fire。
　The　fire　was　of　pine　logs；　roaring　in　a　huge　open　fireplace　with　a　chimney　built　at　an　angle　to　pass　through　an　exterior　wall。　The　logs　burned　on　a　cradle　of　warped　iron　bars；　twisted　with　the　heat　of　many　such　fires。　At　the　fire's　front；　six　spitted　woodcocks　were　roasting　over　red　ashes。　Sprinkled　with　herbs；　the　smell　of　their　flesh　was　mouth…watering。
　Close　to　the　fireplace　stood　a　heavy　table　and　two　chairs　of　oak。　On　the　table　were　wooden　platters；　eating　knives；　a　stone　pitcher　of　wine　or　water。　In　the　centre　of　the　table　the　roasted　joint　of　some　beast　still　smoked。　There　was　a　bowl　of　dried　fruits；　too；　and　another　containing　slices　of　coarse　dark　bread。　It　was　not　intended　that　Thibor　should　starve！
　He　glanced　again　at　the　wall　with　the　fireplace；　its　base　was　of　stone；　but　higher　up　it　was　of　timber。　There　was　also　a　square　window；　open　to　the　night。　He　crossed　to　the　window；　looked　out　and　down　on　a　dizzy　scene：　the　ravine；　dark　with　close…packed　firs；　and　away　in　the　east　the　vast　black　forests。　And　now　the　Voevod　knew　that　he　was　in　a　room　of　the　castle's　central　span　where　it　crossed　the　narrow　gorge　between　the　towers。
　〃Are　you　nervous；　Wallach？〃　Faethor　Ferenczy's　soft　voice　（soft　now；　aye）　startled　him。
　〃Nervous？〃　Thibor　slowly　shook　his　head。　〃Bemused；　that's　all。　Surprised。　You　are　alone　here！〃
　〃Oh？　And　did　you　expect　something　else？　Didn't　Arvos　the　gypsy　tell　you　I　was　alone？〃
　Thibor　narrowed　his　eyes。　〃He　told　me　several　things…and　now　he's　dead。〃
　The　other　showed　not　the　slightest　flicker　of　surprise；　nor　of　remorse。　〃Death　es　to　all　men；〃　he　said。
　〃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　pro