bl.necroscope2-第6节

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itten　his　tongue。
　Unlike　me！　Keogh　corrected　him。　I　was；　I　am；　a　necroscope；　not　a　necromancer。　Dragosani　stole　the　secrets　of　the　dead　like。。。　like　an　insane　dentist　yanking　healthy　teeth…without　an　anaesthetic。　Me：　I　talk　to　the　dead　and　respect　them。　And　they　respect　me。　But　very　well；　I　know　that　was　a　slip　of　the　tongue。　I　know　you　didn't　mean　that。　So　yes；　he　was　a　necromancer。　But　because　of　what　the　old　Thing　in　the　ground　did　to　him；　he　was　more　than　that。　He　was　worse　than　that。
　Of　course。　Now　Kyle　remembered。　〃You　mean　he　was　also　a　vampire。〃
　Keogh's　shimmering　image　nodded。　That's　exactly　what　I　mean。　And　that's　why　I'm　here　now。　You　see；　you're　the　only　one　in　the　world　who　can　do　anything　about　it。　You　and　your　branch；　and　maybe　your　Russian　counterparts。　And　when　you　know　what　I'm　talking　about；　then　you'll　have　to　do　something　about　it。
　Such　was　Keogh's　intensity；　such　the　warning　in　his　mental　voice；　that　gooseflesh　crept　on　Kyle's　spine。　〃Do　something　about　what；　Harry？〃
　About　the　rest　of　them；　the　apparition　answered。　You　see；　Alec；　Dragosani　and　Thibor　Ferenczy　weren't　the　only　ones。　And　God　only　knows　how　many　more　there　are！
　〃Vampires？〃　Kyle　thrilled　with　horror。　He　remembered　only　too　well　that　story　Keogh　had　told　him　some　eight　months　ago。　〃You're　sure？〃
　Oh　yes。　In　the　Mobius　continuum…looking　out　through　the　doors　of　time　past　and　time　to　e…I've　seen　their　scarlet　threads。　I　wouldn't　have　known　them；　might　never　have　e　across　them；　but　they　cross　young　Harry's　blue　life　thread。　Yes；　and　they　cross　yours；　too！
　Hearing　that；　it　was　as　if　the　cold　blade　of　a　psychic　knife　lanced　into　Kyle's　heart。　〃Harry；〃　he　said　stumblingly；　〃you'd。。。　you'd　better　tell　me　all　you　know；　and　then　what　I　must　do。〃
　I'll　tell　you　as　much　as　I　can；　and　then　we'll　try　to　decide　what's　to　be　done。　As　to　how　I　know　what　I'm　about　to　tell　you。。。　The　apparition　shrugged。　I'm　a　necroscope；　remember？　I've　talked　to　Thibor　Ferenczy　himself；　as　I　once　promised　him　I　would；　and　I've　talked　to　one　other。　A　recent　victim。　More　of　him　later。　But　mainly　the　story　is　Thibor's。。。
　
　
　Chapter　Two
　The　old　Thing　in　the　ground　trembled　however　minutely；　shuddered　slightly；　strove　to　return　to　his　immemorial　dreaming。　Something　was　intruding；　threatening　to　rouse　him　up　from　his　dark　slumbers；　but　sleep　had　bee　a　habit　which　satisfied　his　every　need。。。　almost。　He　clung　to　his　loathsome　dreams…of　madness　and　mayhem；　the　hell　of　living　and　the　horror　of　dying；　and　the　pleasures　of　blood；　blood；　blood…and　felt　the　cold　embrace　of　the　clotted　earth　closing　him　in；　weighing　him　down；　holding　him　here　in　his　darkling　grave。　And　yet　the　earth　was　familiar　and　no　longer　held　any　terrors　for　him；　the　darkness　was　like　that　of　a　shuttered　room　or　deep　vault；　an　impenetrable　gloom　entirely　in　keeping；　the　forbidding　nature　and　location　of　his　mausoleum　not　only　set　him　apart　but　kept　him　protected。　He　was　safe　here。　Damned　forever；　certainly…doomed　for　all　time；　yes；　barring　some　major　miracle　of　intervention…but　safe；　too；　and　there　was　much　to　be　said　for　safety。
　Safe　from　the　men…mere　men；　most　of　them…who　had　put　him　here。　For　in　his　dreaming　the　wizened　Thing　had　forgotten　that　those　men　were　long　dead。　And　their　sons；　dead。　And　theirs；　and　theirs。。。
　The　old　Thing　in　the　ground　had　lived　for　five　hundred　years；　and　as　long　again　had　lain　undead　in　his　unhallowed　grave。Above　him；　in　the　gloom　of　a　glade　beneath　stirless；　snow…laden　trees；　the　tumbled　stones　and　slabs　of　his　tomb　told　something　of　his　story；　but　only　the　Thing　himself　knew　all　of　it。　His　name　had　been。。。　but　no；　the　Wamphyri　have　no　names　as　such。　His　host's　name；　then；　had　been　Thibor　Ferenczy；　and　in　the　beginning　Thibor　had　been　a　man。　But　that　had　been　almost　a　thousand　years　ago。
　The　Thibor　part　of　the　Thing　in　the　ground　existed　still；　but　changed；　mutated；　mingled　and　metamorphosed　along　with　its　vampire　〃guest〃。　The　two　were　one　now；　inseparably　fused；　but　in　dreams　that　spanned　a　millennium；　still　Thibor　could　return　to　his　roots；　go　back　to　the　immensely　cruel　past。。。
　In　the　very　beginning　he　had　not　been　a　Ferenczy　but　an　Ungar；　though　that　was　of　no　account　now。　His　forefathers　were　farmers　who　came　from　a　Hungarian　princedom　across　the　Carpathians　to　settle　on　the　banks　of　the　Dniester　where　it　flowed　down　to　the　Black　Sea。　But　〃settling〃　was　hardly　the　word　for　it。　They　had　had　to　fight　Vikings　（the　dreadful　Varyagi）　on　the　river；　where　they　came　exploring　from　the　Black　Sea；　the　Khazars　and　vassal　Magyars　from　the　steppes；　finally　the　fierce　Pechenegi　tribes　in　their　constant　expansion　west　and　north…wards。　Thibor　had　been　a　young　man　then；　when　at　last　the　Pechenegi　wiped　out　the　rude　settlement　he　called　home　and　he　alone　survived。　After　that　he'd　fled　north　to　Kiev。
　Never　much　of　a　farmer；　indeed；　far　more　suited　for　war　with　his　massive　size…which　in　those　days；　when　most　men　were　small；　made　Thibor　the　Wallach　some…thing　of　a　giant…in　Kiev　he　sold　himself　into　the　service　of　Vladimir　I。　The　Vlad　made　him　a　small　Voevod　or　warrior　chief　and　gave　him　a　hundred　men。　〃Go　join　my　Boyars　in　the　south；〃　he　manded。　〃Fend　off　and　kill　the　Pechenegi；　keep　〃em　from　crossing　the　Ros；　and　by　our　new　Christian　God　I'll　give　you　title　and　banner　both；　Thibor　of　Wallachia！〃　Thibor　had　gone　to　him　when　he　was　desperate；　that　much　was　clear。
　In　his　dream；　the　Thing　in　the　ground　remembered　how　he'd　answered：　Title　and　banner；　keep　them；　my　Lord…but　only　give　me　one　hundred　men　more　and　I　shall　kill　you　a　thousand　Pechenegi　before　returning　to　Kiev。　Aye；　and　I'll　bring　you　their　thumbs　to　prove　it！〃
　He　got　his　hundred　men；　also；　like　it　or　not；　his　banner：　a　golden　dragon；　one　forepaw　raised　in　warning。　〃The　dragon　of　the　true　Christ；　brought　to　us　by　the　Greeks；〃　Vlad　told　him。　〃Now　the　dragon　watches　over　Christian　Kiev…Russia　itself…and　it　roars　from　your　banner　with　the　voice　of　the　Lord！　What　mark　of　your　own　will　you　put　on　it？〃　On　that　same　morning　he　had　asked　this　question　of　half…a…dozen　other　fledgling　defenders；　five　Boyars　with　their　own　followers　and　one　band　of　mercenaries。　All　of　them　had　taken　a　symbol　to　fly　with　the　dragon。　But　not　Thibor。
　〃I'm　no　Boyar；　sire；〃　the　Wallach　had　told　him　with　a　shrug。　〃That's　not　to　say　my　father's　house　was　not　honourable；　for　it　was；　and　built　by　a　decent　man…but　in　no　way　royal。　No　lord's　or　prince's　blood　flows　in　my　veins。　When　I've　earned　myself　a　mark；　then　I'll　set　it　over　your　dragon。〃
　〃I'm　not　sure　I　like　you　especially；　Wallach。〃　The　Vlad　had　frowned　then；　uneasy　with　this　great；　grim　man　before　him。　〃Your　voice　sounds　out　perhaps　a　trifle　loud　from　a　heart　as　yet　untried。　But…〃　and　he；　too；　had　given　a　shrug；　〃…very　well；　choose　a　device　for　yourself　when　you　return　in　triumph。　And　Thibor…bring　me　those　thumbs　or　I'll　likely　string　you　up　by　yours！〃　And　that　day　at　noon　seven　polyglot　panies　of　men　had　set　out　from　Kiev；　reinforcements　for　the　ensieged　defensive　positions　on　the　Ros。　One　year　and　one　month　later　Thibor　returned　with　nearly　all　of　his　men；　plus　another　eighty　recruited　from　peasants　hiding　in　the　foothills　and　valleys　of　the　southern　Khorvaty。　He　made　no　plea　for　audience　but　strode　into　the　Vlad's　own　church　where　he　was　at　worship。　He　left　his　weary　men　outside　and　took　in　with　him　only　one　small　sack　that　rattled；　and　approached　Prince　Vladimir　Svyatoslavich　at　his　prayers　and　waited　for　him　to　finish。　Behind　him　Kiev's　civilian　nobles　were　deathly　silent；　waiting　for　their　prince　to　see　him。
　Finally　the　Vlad　and　his　Greek　monks　turned　to　Thibor。　The　sight　they　saw　was　fearsome。　Thibor　had　soil　on　him　from　the　fields　and　forests；　dirt　was　ingrained　in　him；　he　bore　a　freshly　healed　scar　high　on　his　right　cheek　to　the　middle　of　his　jaw；　which　made　a　pale　stripe　of　scar　tissue　that　cut　almost　to　the　bone。　Also；　he　had　gone　away　as　a　peasant　and　returned　something　else　entirely。　Haughty　as　a　hawk；　with　his　nose　slightly　hooked　under　bushy　eye…brows　that　very　nearly　came　together　in　the　middle；　he　gazed　out　of　yellow；　unblinking　eyes。　He　wore　mous…taches　and　a　scraggy；　twisting　black　beard；　also　the　armour　of　some　Pechenegi　chief；　chased　in　gold　and　silver；　and　an　earring　set　with　a　gemstone　in　the　lobe　of　his　left　ear。　He　had　shaved　his　head　with　the　exception　of　black　forelocks　that　hung　one　to　each　side；　in　the　manner　of　certain　nobles；　and　in　all　his　mien；　there　was　no　sign　that　he　knew　he　stood　in　a　holy　place　or　even　considered　his　whereabouts。
　〃I　know　you　now；〃　the　Vlad　hissed；　〃Thibor　the　Wallach。　Don't　you　fear　the　true　God？　Don't　you　tremble　before　the　cross　of　Christ？　I　was　praying　for　our　deliverance；　and　you…'
　〃And　I　have　brought　it　to　you。〃　Thibor's　voice　was　deep；　doleful。　He　tipped　out　his　sack　onto　the　flags。　The　prince's　retinue　and　the　nobles　of　Kiev　where　they　stood　back　from　him　who　ruled　over　them　gasped　and　gaped。　Bones　clattered　white　in　a　heap　at　the　Vlad's　feet。
　〃What？〃　he　choked。　〃What？〃
　〃Thumbs；〃　said　Thibor。　〃I　had　the　flesh　boiled　off　them；　lest　their　stink　offend。　The　Pechenegi　are　driven　back；　trapped　between　the　Dniester；　the　Bug　and　the　sea。　Your　Boyar　army　hems　them　in。　Hopefully　they　can　deal　with　them　withou