jherbert.sepulchre-第66部分

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oft　and　unsteady。
　　'Help　him　to　his　knees；'　a　voice　said。　It　might　have　been　Kline's　except　its　rasping　quality　reminded　Halloran　of　the　lodgekeeper。
　　Hands　pulled　at　him　roughly　and　his　mind　was　too　dulled　for　him　to　resist。　As　he　knelt；　something　passed　around　his　throat；　and　a　sudden　sharpness　there　jerked　him　erect。　He　tried　to　twist　away　and　the　pressure　increased。　His　hands　went　to　the　cause；　but　there　was　nothing　they　could　grip。
　　'Struggle　and　the　wire　will　bite　deeper；'　the　same　voice　warned。
　　Halloran　couldn't　see　the　person　behind　him；　but　he　could　feel　whoever　it　was　leaning　into　his　back。　A　spiciness　wafted　down　among　the　other　smells。
　　'Youssef　is　master　of　the　garotte；'　came　the　voice　again；　and　this　time　he　was　sure　it　was　Kline　sitting　there　in　the　shadows；　even　though　the　tones　were　roughened。　'Try　to　resist　and　you'll　find　out　for　yourself。'　There　was　a　weariness　to　his　words　that　made　Kline　seem　very　old。
　　When　Halloran　took　his　hands　away　they　were　smeared　with　his　own　blood。
　　'Let　him　see；　Youssef。　Let　him　see　where　he　is。'　The　pressure　slackened　and　Halloran　was　able　to　look　around；　although　his　view　was　restricted。　The　room　was　long　and　high…ceilinged；　and　the　walls　glinted　in　the　candlelight　as　if　water　was　trickling　through　the　brickwork。　A　solid　stairway　led　upwards　and　Halloran　saw　there　was　a　passage　but　no　door　in　the　darkness　at　the　top。　There　were　archways　around　the　sides　of　the　chamber　as　though　the　place　might　once　have　been　used　as　a　wine…cellar；　there　was　no　way　of　knowing　what　was　inside　those　cavities　now；　for　they　were　cast　into　the　deepest　shadows。　As　well　as　the　candles；　there　were　oil　lamps　here　and　there　helping　to　light　the　place；　these　close　to　pedestals　on　which　stood　delicately　worked　statues　and　effigies　in　shiny　metals。　On　one　near　to　where　Halloran　knelt　there　was　what　appeared　to　be　a　goat　rearing　up　on　hind　legs　against　a　tree　of　gold；　the　animal's　fleece　of　deep　blue　stone　and　white　shell。　The　small　statue　was　exquisite；　but　Halloran's　eyes　did　not　linger　on　it　for　long。
　　At　one　end　of　the　room　was　a　large　rectangular　slab　of　stone　which　rose　up　from　the　floor；　its　surface　a　matt…black。　A　parody　of　an　altar。　Spread　across　it；　and　lying　perfectly　still；　was　。an　obese；　naked　figure；　thick　curling　hair　covering　its　body。　Halloran　wondered　if　Monk　were　dead。
　　The　rasping　voice　broke　through　his　thoughts。　'Impressive；　Halloran。　You　paralysed　him；　he　can't　move；　can't　raise　a　finger。　Useless　to　me　as　a　bodyguard；　but　valuable　in　another　way　；　。　。'　From　outside　came　a　belly…rumble　of　thunder；　the　sound　muted；　a　long　way　away。
　　The　shadow　stirred　again；　shifting　in　the　seat。　'A　bad　night　up　there；'　Kline　said；　something　of　his　old；　excitable　self　in　the　remark　despite　the　distortion　in　his　voice。　'Hope　your　knees　aren't　getting　too　wet；　Halloran。　So　many　underground　streams　running　through　the　estate；　you　see；　with　all　these　hills　around。　Where　the　lake　swells；　so　do　they　…'
　　'What　is　this　place；　Kline？'　The　question　was　quietly　put；　but　Halloran's　tone　stopped　the　other　man。
　　Kline　studied　the　operative　for　a　while　before　giving　an　answer。　When　he　drew　in　a　breath　the　sound　was　wheezy；　as　though　his　throat　was　constricted。　'A　hiding　place；'　he　said　finally。　'A　sepulchre；　Halloran；　my　very　own　sepulchre。　A　room　no　one　would　ever　find　unless　they　knew　of　it；　and　even　then　they'd　have　problems。　Oh；　it's　always　been　here　at　Neath；　I　didn't　have　to　create　it。　I　had　to　disguise　its　existence；　though。　This　place　is　a　sub…cellar；　you　see。　A　passageway　extends　to　the　real　one；　but　I　had　it　bricked　off　so　no　one'd　ever　know。'　His　giggle　was　dry；　a　scratchy　sound。　'Ingenious；　huh？　Just　like　the　old　Sumerian　tombs。　Impossible　to　get　in；　and　impossible　to　get　out　unless　you　know　how。　You　could　rot　in　here；　Halloran；　and　no　one　would　ever　find　you。'　Halloran　tried　to　rise；　but　the　wire　around　his　neck　tightened　instantly。
　　'Two；　maybe　three；　seconds；　is　all　it'd　take　for　Youssef　to　kill　you；　so　don't　be　bloody　stupid。'
　　'For　God's　sake；　why；　Kline？　I'm　here　to　protect　you。'　Still　Halloran　did　not　raise　his　voice。　A　coldness　was　in　him；　one　he　knew　so　well。　A　deadness　of　emotion。
　　'God？　God　has　nothing　to　do　with　this。　Not　your　God。　Only　mine。'　The　wheezing　breath；　a　movement　in　the　shadows。　Then　he　said：　'You　killed　the　Keeper。'
　　'The　gate…keeper？　He　was　dying；　he'd　lost　control　of　the　dogs　…　the　jackals。　They　tore　him　to　pieces。　But　how　did　you　know　he　；￠　was　dead　。　。　。　？'。
　　'You　still　doubt　my　abilities？'　Kline　was　shaking　his　head。　'More　than　just　our　minds　were　linked；　Halloran。　He　was　surrogate　for　my　ills；　my　weaknesses。　He　took　my　years。　Through　him　I　was　allowed　to　live　without　blemish；　without　ageing；　free　to　use　my　faculties　without　hindrance。'　…'The　old　man　said　you'd　used　him。'
　　'I　was　allowed　that　gift。'
　　'Allowed？'
　　'The　power　to　discharge　those　physical　things　we　all　dread；　the　disadvantages　that　e　with　the　years　and　with　debility；　was　bestowed　upon　me。　Now　that　power　is　waning。　Something　has　happened　and　nothing　is　right　any　more。　You　killed　my　Keeper；　you　broke　the　link。'
　　'I　told　you　he　was　dying　before　the　jackals　got　to　him。　The　strange　thing　is　he　seemed　glad　to　be　dying。'
　　'He　was　a　fool。'
　　'Listen；　Kline；　I　want　you　to　tell　this　idiot　to　take　the　wire　away　from　my　neck。'
　　'After　what　you　did　to　Monk？'
　　'I'm　going　to　hurt　him　if　he　doesn't。'
　　'I　don't　think　so；　Halloran。　I　don't　think　you're　that　good。　Besides；　you　want　your　curiosity　satisfied；　don't　you'？　You　want　to　learn　some　more　history。　Last　night　I　only　meant　to　whet　your　appetite。'
　　'Kline　。　。　。'　Halloran　warned。
　　'Be　quiet！'　Kline's　hands　clenched　over　the　chair　arms。　He　shuddered；　as　if　it　had　hurt　to　raise　his　voice。　'You're　going　to　pay　for　what　you've　done。　You're　going　to　help　stop　what　。　。　。　what's　。　。　。　happening　to　me。'　He　slumped　back；　and　Halloran　could　see　the　rise　and　fall　of　his　narrow　shoulders；　could　hear　the　squeezing　of　his　breath。
　　When　he　spoke；　Kline's　voice　was　low　again；　the　sudden　verve　gone。　He　sounded　ancient；　like　the　old　man　in　the　lodgehouse。　'Be　patient　and　listen；　Halloran；　because　I　want　you　to　understand。　You　deserve　that　at　least。　Let　me　tell　you　about　the　god　who　walked　this　earth　three　thousand　years　before　the　Christ　God。　I'm　sure　you're　no　devotee　of　the　Scriptures；　but　no　doubt　you　had　them　drummed　into　you　by　your　Catholic　priests　when　you　were　a　boy　in　Ireland。　Let　me　make　some　sense。　of　their　fairy…tales；　allow　me　that。'
　　'Do　I　have　a　choice？'
　　'Yes。　Youssef　could　kill　you　now。'　Halloran　said　nothing。
　　A　dry　snigger　from　Kline。　'How　precious　time　bees　when　there's　little　of　it　left；　even　for　those　who　have　lived　so　tong　。　。　'　The　candle　flames　swayed　as　though　a　draught　had　swept　in。
　　'The　man…god　was　called　Marduk　by　his　chosen　people；　the　Sumerians；'　Kline　began；　while　Halloran　wondered　how　long　the　Arab　could　keep　the　garotte　tensed。　'He　civilised　the　Sumerians；　advanced　them；　taught　them　the　written　word；　revealed　to　them　the　secret　of　the　stars；　instilled　order　into　their　society。　It　was　from　him　that　they　learned　to　cure　by　cutting　into　the　human　body；　how　to　forge　metals　dug　from　rock；　to　make　tools　and　instruments；　to　use　vehicles　for　carrying。　Was　that　evil？　How　could　it　be？　It　was　knowledge。　But　for　those　mortals　who　ruled；　such　learning　was　regarded　as　a　threat；　because　it　usurped　their　power。　That　was　the　fear　of　the　Sumerian　kings　and　certain　high　priests。　And　hasn't　that　always　been　the　fear　of　your　Christian　God？'　The　question　was　put　slyly；　Kline's　tenor　changing　constantly；　a　shifting　of　character　that　Halloran　had　bee　used　to；　but　the　change　never　before　as　abrupt　as　this。　It　was　as　if　Kline　had　little　control　over　himself。
　　'But　perhaps　it　was　the　other　knowledge　that　these　rulers　feared　most；　because　that　gave　power。　I　mean　the　knowledge　of　magic；　the　ways　of　alchemy；　the　understanding　of　the　Cabala；　the　art　of　witchcraft。
　　'For　more　than　a　thousand　years　he　influenced　them；　and　how　the　Sumerian　people　enjoyed　his　control。　All　he　asked　in　return　was　their　worship；　their　veneration　of　his　ways。　Burnt　offerings　pleased　him；