try to brazen it out; for surely Karl knew nothing for a fact, not yet, and all of this was a trial by nerves. Later, if it came to the worst, Radu could always make a run for it. That is, if there was to be a later ...
By then he was back in front of his master's chair, and the time for action, perhaps even for thinking, was past. Karl reached out a hand. 'The sword,' he said. 'Put it down.' Radu did so, and his master took it up - but carefully - by the bone hilt.
Then Karl stood up, and Radu backed off. But: 'If you so much as think of running,' Karl warned, 'I shall take you down into the bottoms and let the warriors fight over you. Now kneel beside the stool there.' That was easy, for Radu's knees were giving way. 'Good!' said Karl. 'And place your hands behind your back, and clasp them. Then lower your neck across the stool. Even so ...'
'Master, I ...!' Radu's eyes bulged where he stared at the stone floor.
'Aye?' Karl's inquiry was almost casual.
'If I say nothing, I lose my head,' Radu gabbled. 'And if I speak the truth - even though I have done nothing for myself but everything for you - still I lose my head! Where is the justice?'
'Tell me the truth,' Karl said, 'and I swear that I shall not harm you in the slightest degree. Neither myself nor any man or monster in all Turgosheim.'
Radu knew better than to try bargaining, not with his neck across a block. And now his dam broke and the words flooded out of him. 'It is ... as you have dreamed it! But she was Szgany filth; she was not good enough; she made your bed a mire!'
'Ahhhh!' said Karl.
Radu heard the swish as the sword went up, and screamed, 'Master! Your word, not to harm me: neither yourself nor any man!'
"Vampire World 1 - Blood Brothers"
'Indeed,' said Karl.
Sensing in that final moment the presence of some other, Radu's eyes swivelled up - even as Wratha's silver sword came slicing down. And in the instant of death, still Radu didn't believe who he saw standing there ...
Then it was done, Wratha's way, and in every instance but one Karl had stood by his word. For neither himself nor any man of Turgosheim had killed Radu Cragsthrall.
But a monster ...?
Chapter 9
II
Some hours after his meeting with Wratha, Karz Biteri, Historian to the Wamphyri, thrall to Maglore of Rune-manse, reported to his master in one of his several workshops and recounted the occurrences of the day. But not in every detail.
When Karz was done, Maglore looked up from his examination of stretched, rune-inscribed skins (the bleached skins of trogs, mainly) and various fragments of carved bone, and said, 'Continue.' Simply that. A man of words, he nevertheless knew how to use them sparingly. And the implication of this single word was that he already knew there was more to be known.
Maglore was one hundred and sixty years old. By Wamphyri standards he should be in his prime, but he looked old. He and certain others of the Lords and Ladies - mainly the so-called 'high-caste' of the Wamphyri - were modern disciples of Turgo Zolte: so far as possible, they followed Zolte's olden ascetic die-turns. These were simple and all based upon one ideal: To fight vampirism throughout life and undeath, even including the ultimate condition of vampiric contagion, which is to be Wamphyri! To deny oneself - and therefore one's parasite - those things which are the fuel of all evil works: blood, the carnal lusts of the flesh, suspicion and hatred of one's fellows, and the pride which comes before a fall. In short, to be Shaitan's opposite, or as much opposed to him and his ways as possible. It had been a losing battle for Turgo Zolte and all his followers ever since, but still they tried. And it accounted for Maglore's shrivelled aspect; for as he'd learned well enough, though still he would deny it, the blood is the life.
Yes, Maglore looked old, but Karz knew that he didn't need to. On those infrequent occasions when he called for his woman, then he would appear young again, and the Historian would know that he had taken the blood of a man.
'Continue, master?' Karz looked blank, and for all that he should know better wondered what Maglore was thinking.
'My thoughts are mine alone!' the