bl.necroscope2-第15部分
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〃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
