cb.coldheart canyon-第3部分

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　 Sandru　smiled　thinly。　〃I　will　show　you；〃　he　said。　〃As　much　as　you　wish　to　see。〃
　 He　switched　on　a　light；　which　illuminated　ten　yards　of　corridor。　A　large　tapestry　hung　along　the　wall；　the　image　upon　it　so　grey　with　age　and　dust　as　to　be　virtually　beyond　interpretation。
　 The　Father　proceeded　down　the　corridor；　turning　on　another　light　as　he　did　so。　〃I　was　hoping　I　might　be　able　to　persuade　you　to　make　a　purchase；〃　he　said。
　 〃Of　what？〃　Zeffer　said。
　 Zeffer　wasn't　encouraged　by　what　he'd　seen　so　far。　A　few　of　the　pieces　of　furniture　he'd　spotted　yesterday　had　a　measure　of　rustic　charm；　but　nothing　he　could　imagine　buying。
　 〃I　didn't　realize　you　were　selling　the　contents　of　the　Fortress。〃　Sandru　made　a　little　groan。　〃Ah。。。I'm　afraid　to　say　we　must　sell　in　order　to　eat。　And　that　being　the　case；　I　would　prefer　that　the　finer　things　went　to　someone　who　will　take　care　of　them；　such　as　yourself。〃
　 Sandru　walked　on　ahead　a　little　way；　turning　on　a　third　light　and　then　a　fourth。　This　level　of　the　Fortress；　Zeffer　was　beginning　to　think；　was　bigger　than　the　floor　above。　Corridors　ran　of　in　all　directions。
　 〃But　before　I　begin　to　show　you；〃　Sandru　said；　〃you　must　tell　me…are　you　in　a　buying　mood？〃
　 Zeffer　smiled。　〃Father；　I'm　an　American。　I'm　always　in　a　buying　mood。〃
　
　 Sandru　had　given　Katya　and　Zeffer　a　history　of　the　Fortress　the　previous　day；　though　as　Zeffer　remembered　it　there　was　much　in　the　account　that　had　sounded　bogus。　The　Order　of　St。　Teodor；　Zeffer　had　decided；　had　something　to　hide。　Sandru　had　talked　about　the　Fortress　as　a　place　steeped　in　secrets；　but　nothing　particularly　bloody。　There　had　been　no　battles　fought　there；　he　claimed；　nor　had　its　keep　ever　held　prisoners；　nor　its　courtyard　witnessed　atrocity　or　execution。　Katya；　in　her　usual　forthright　manner；　had　said　that　she　didn't　believe　this　to　be　true。
　 〃When　I　was　a　little　girl　there　were　all　kinds　of　stories　about　this　place；〃　she　said。　〃I　heard　horrible　things　were　done　here。　That　it　was　human　blood　in　the　mortar　between　the　stones。　The　blood　of　children。〃
　 〃I'm　sure　you　must　have　been　mistaken；〃　the　Father　had　said。
　 〃Absolutely　not。　The　Devil's　wife　lived　in　this　fortress。　Lilith；　they　called　her。　And　she　sent　the　Duke　away　on　a　hunt。　And　he　never　came　back。〃
　 Sandru　laughed；　and　if　it　was　a　performance；　then　it　was　an　exceptionally　good　one。　〃Who　told　you　these　tales？〃　he　said。
　 〃My　mother。〃
　 〃Ah；〃　Sandru　had　shaken　his　head。　〃And　I'm　sure　she　wanted　you　in　bed；　hushed　and　asleep；　before　the　Devils　came　to　cut　off　your　head。〃　Katya　had　made　no　reply　to　this。　〃There　are　still　such　stories；　told　to　children。　Of　course。　Always　stories。　People　invent　tales。　But　believe　me；　this　is　not　an　unholy　place。　The　brothers　would　not　be　here　if　it　was。〃
　 Despite　Sandru's　plausibility；　there'd　still　been　something　about　all　of　this　that　had　made　Zeffer　suspicious；　and　a　little　curious。　Hence　his　return　visit。　If　what　the　Father　was　saying　was　a　lie　（a　sin；　by　his　own　definition）；　then　what　purpose　was　it　serving？　What　was　the　man　protecting？　Certainly　not　a　few　rooms　filled　with　filthy　tapestries；　or　some　crudely　carved　furniture。　Was　there　something　here　in　the　Fortress　that　deserved　a　closer　look？　And　if　so；　how　did　he　get　the　Father　to　admit　to　it？
　 The　best　route；　he'd　already　decided；　was　fiscal。　If　Sandru　was　to　be　persuaded　to　reveal　his　true　treasures；　it　would　be　through　the　scent　of　hard　cash　in　his　nostrils。　The　fact　that　Sandru　had　raised　the　subject　of　buying　and　selling　made　the　matter　easier　to　broach。
　 〃I　do　know　Katya　would　love　to　have　something　from　her　homeland　to　take　back　to　Hollywood；〃　he　said。　〃She's　built　a　huge　house；　so　we　have　plenty　of　room。〃
　 〃Oh；　yes？〃
　 'And　of　course；　she　has　the　money。〃
　 This　was　naked；　he　knew；　but　in　his　experience　of　such　things　subtlety　seldom　played　well。　Which　point　was　instantly　proved。
　 〃How　much　are　we　talking　about？〃　the　Father　asked　mildly。
　 〃Katya　Lupi　is　one　of　the　best…paid　actresses　in　Hollywood。　And　I　am　authorized　to　buy　whatever　I　think　might　please　her。〃
　 〃Then　let　me　ask　you：　what　pleases　her！〃
　 〃Things　that　nobody　else　would　be　likely…no；　could　possibly…possess；　please　her；〃　Zeffer　replied。　〃She　likes　to　show　off　her　collection；　and　she　wants　everything　in　it　to　be　unique。〃
　 Sandru　spread　his　arms　and　his　smile。　〃Everything　here　is　unique。〃
　 〃Father；　you　sound　as　though　you're　ready　to　sell　the　foundations　if　the　price　is　right。〃
　 Sandru　waxed　metaphysical。　〃All　these　things　are　just　objects　in　the　end。　Yes？　Just　stone　and　wood　and　thread　and　paint。　Other　things　will　be　made　in　time；　to　replace　them。〃
　 〃But　surely　there's　some　sacred　value　in　the　objects　here？〃　The　Father　gave　a　little　shrug。　〃In　the　Chapel；　upstairs；　yes。　I　would　not　want　to　sell　you；　let　us　say；　the　altar。〃　He　made　a　smile；　as　though　to　say　that　under　the　right　circumstances　even　that　would　have　its　price。　〃But　everything　else　in　the　Fortress　was　made　for　a　secular　purpose。　For　the　pleasure　of　dukes　and　their　ladies。　And　as　nobody　sees　it　now。。。except　a　few　travelers　such　as　yourselves；　passing　through。。。I　don't　see　why　the　Order　shouldn't　be　rid　of　it　all。　If　there's　sufficient　profit　to　be　made　it　can　be　distributed　amongst　the　poor。〃
　 〃There　are　certainly　plenty　of　people　in　need　of　help；〃　Zeffer　said。　He　had　been　appalled　at　the　primitive　conditions　in　which　many　of　the　people　in　the　locality　lived。　The　villages　were　little　more　than　gatherings　of　shacks；　the　rocky　earth　the　farmers　tilled　all　but　fruitless。　And　on　all　sides；　the　mountains…the　Bucegi　range　to　the　east；　to　the　west　the　Fagaras　Mountains…their　bare　lower　slopes　as　gray　as　the　earth；　their　heights　dusted　with　snow。　God　knew　what　the　winters　were　like　in　this　place：　when　even　the　dirt　turned　hard　as　stone；　and　the　little　river　froze；　and　the　walls　of　the　shacks　could　not　keep　out　the　wind　whistling　down　from　the　mountain　heights。
　 The　day　they'd　arrived；　Katya　had　taken　Willem　to　the　cemetery；　so　that　she　could　show　him　where　her　grandparents　were　buried。　There　he'd　had　proof　aplenty　of　the　conditions　in　which　her　relatives　lived　and　died。　It　was　not　the　resting　places　of　the　old　that　had　moved　Willem；　it　was　the　endless　rows　of　tiny　crosses　that　marked　the　graves　of　infants：　babies　lost　to　pneumonia；　malnutrition　and　simple　frailty。　The　grief　that　was　represented　by　these　hundreds　of　graves　had　moved　him　deeply：　the　pain　of　mothers；　the　unshed　tears　of　fathers　and　grandfathers。　It　was　nothing　he　had　remotely　expected；　and　it　had　made　him　sick　with　sorrow。
　 For　her　part；　Katya　had　seemed　untouched　by　the　sight；　talking　only　of　her　memories　of　her　grandparents　and　their　eccentricities。　But　then　this　was　the　world　in　which　she'd　been　raised；　it　wasn't　so　surprising；　perhaps；　that　she　took　all　this　suffering　for　granted。　Hadn't　she　once　told　him　she'd　had　fourteen　brothers　and　sisters；　and　only　six　of　them　were　left　living？　Perhaps　the　other　eight　had　been　lain　to　rest　in　the　very　cemetery　where　they'd　walked　together。　And　certainly　it　would　not　be　unmon　for　Katya　to　look　coldly　on　the　business　of　the　heart。　It　was　what　made　her　so　strong；　and　it　was　her　strength…visible　in　her　eyes　and　in　her　every　movement…that　endeared　her　to　her　audiences；　particularly　the　women。
　 Zeffer　understood　that　coldness　better　now　that　he'd　spent　time　here　with　her。　Seeing　the　house　where　she'd　been　born　and　brought　up；　the　streets　she'd　trudged　as　a　child；　meeting　the　mother　who　must　have　viewed　her　appearance　in　their　midst　as　something　close　to　a　miracle：　this　perfect　rosebud　child　whose　dark　eyes　and　bright　smile　set　her　utterly　apart　from　any　other　child　in　the　village。　In　fact；　Katya's　mother　had　put　such　beauty　to　profitful　work　at　the　age　of　twelve；　when　the　girl　had　been　taken　from　town　to　town　to　dance　in　the　streets；　and…at　least　according　to　Katya…offer　her　favors　to　men　who'd　pay　to　have　such　tender　flesh　in　their　bed　for　the　night。　She　had　quickly　fled　such　servitude；　only　to　find　that　what　she'd　had　to　do　for　her　family's　sake　she　had　no　choice　but　to　do　for　herself。　By　the　age　of　fifteen　（when　Zeffer　had　met　her；　singing　for　her　supper　on　the　streets　of　Bucharest）　Katya　had　been　a　woman