of the 15th Century, about the same time as Thibor.
So, it's my conclusion that Faethor, Thibor, and Janos are al dead and gone. My Master... isn't so sure. He tells me the Wamphyri have a habit of turning up in the strangest places, at the most inconsiderate times. And he's certain that Ferenczys - more than one, and at least one Drakul: this 'D.D.', of course - survive to this day ...
But now there are more complications and we're obliged to go back, back, al the way bach to Waldemar Ferrenzig. Waldemar was a lusty one and fertile, and his sister wasn't the only one he slept with. There were records in a museum in olden Moldavia that I read al of sixty years ago. Alas, when I went back recently the museum was no more; what they'd missed in World War I they hit in World War II, and the museum was a bumed-out ruin. But I remember what I read originaly:
That before Svyatoslav, in Kiev, there was a Boyar like a prince who was banished out of the city west, 'to the farthest corners of the land,' who built a great house 'under the mountains on the border of Moldavia'... the Khorvaty! His name was 'Valdemar Fuhrenzig,' but I can only believe he was Waldemar. As to why he was sent out of Kiev ... wel, he was Wamphyri!
Those were Viking days, and the Varyagi were establishing their trade routes to the Greeks along Kievan Russia's eastern rivers. Wel, despite that Waldemar was banished from the land, he liked to go into the woods for days on end, hunting boar in the great forests that sprawled west of the River Bug. And one day he came across a Varyagi encampment.
Normally there would be no trouble; oh, they were fierce men, these Vikings, but they were traders, too. And the Ferenczy had a party of retainers, his thralls, along with him. But this time it was different. The Vikings were heading north for the Baltic and home, and they had a beautiful woman with them, stolen out of some port on the Black Sea. So far, she had suffered no harm; they would sell her back home, to be some Prince or King's raven-haired, dark-eyed wife.
She implored Waldemar"s help as a gentleman. Obviously he was a Boyar, for he had his men with him, his dogs, his hawks.
But the Ferenczy's men were thralls', his dogs were wolves, and his hawks as bloodthirsty as he himself!
Wel, there was no more of the story in the old Moldavian museum, but at least I was able to ascertain this lady's name. She was a Sicilian Princess, or at least of royal blood. Alas, she was also illegitimate, with no actual claim to the region from which she took her name: Constanza de Petralia. And Petralia is a village or town in Sicily's Le Madonie.
It was worth a trip to Sicily; I spoke to several historians; the code of silence is extensive! But finally I was able to consult certain records.
Constanza de' Petralia had returned to Sicily in 866. No sooner was she home than she gave birth to twin boys, one of which was hideously deformed and destroyed at birth. The surviving child was named - of all things - Angela! Far more important, on coming of age he changed his surname: to Ferenczini! His mother came into property, money. She was over-indulgent with her son, who was much-travelled: Corsica, Italy, Romania and Moldavia. But there the trail peters out, and to my knowledge there are no more Ferenczinis today. As for Ferenczy: its a common name in all regions throughout and bordering the Carpathians. But -
- The real Ferenczys are still out there somewhere ...
B.J. was finished with that part of it. Harry now knew (to the best of her knowledge,) as much as she knew. In fact the Necroscope knew a great deal more; so much more that he could easily have told B.J. what had become of Faethor and Thibor Ferenczy! Except it wouldn't be easy, couldn't even be dragged out of him if it also meant compromising his talents. But in any case she didn't ask, for that was something she would never have suspected in a million years.
Why should she?
B.J. was tired now; it had taken a massive effort of will to maintain her wolf-shape and the energy of her scarlet Wamphyri eyes. But she had needed to be sure that the knowledge she