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trees, beyond that to a tangle of briars, and then to the clustering stands of
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sweet pepperbushes bordering a small freshet. Cattails thrust their green
brushes thickly along the edge, shoving against the long tips of the sweet
pepperbush stalks with their profusion of tiny white bells. Ahead of him, a
large willow tree overhung the edge of the stream. He saw a bit of blue cloth
among the humped chaos of roots and cattails. Ros had worn her favorite blue
dress that morning.
"Ros!"
Malthus got no answer.
He scrambled over the roots.
Ros lay half in and half out of the little stream, water flowing across her
dangling legs halfway up her naked thighs, her skirts ripped away, and her
small clothes gone. Blood and drying cum coated her loins. A courier pouch lay
tucked behind her head. Malthus dropped to his knees, dragged her into his
arms, and turned her head to the side. On her neck he found the distinctive
scrape and pierce marks of a Lemyari. He extended his awareness through her
body. Life  he almost missed the flicker of it. A moment more and he would
have found her dead. Malthus slit his wrist and pressed it into her mouth.
Blood flowing over her tongue caused her fangs to come down, she bit
reflexively without regaining consciousness, and sucked him.
Rage brought Malthus' fangs to full extension, and sent a flush across his
dark features. He saw a piece of paper folded and shoved into the neck of what
remained of her dress. Opening the pouch, Malthus shoved that in with the
rest, not bothering to try and read it in the darkness  he knew already who
had written it.
His lips writhed back from his fangs. "I'll kill you, Sergei. I'll kill you
for this."
The rumors that Sergei had a taste for little girls had finally been
confirmed to Malthus. If the vampire had fallen into the grip of Passion-Dance
of Obsession, Sergei would keep coming back until he had killed all of them,
and then go looking for the rest of Malthus' family. Malthus intended to make
it Sergei's last dance.
Malthus let Ros feed until he was certain that he'd pulled her back from the
edge. Lifting her in his arms, he settled her against his shoulder, picked up
the pouch, and carried her home. He put Ros to bed, and then fetched a basin,
ewer of water, soap, and a soft cloth. One he had cleaned Ros up, he let Lyrri
out.
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"Lyrri, your sister is hurt. She fell in the water. Don't disturb her."
Her eyes were large as she nodded solemnly. "I won't, Uncle Malthus.
Malthus put Lyrri to bed, and sent her to sleep with a touch of his hand.
Afterward, he took the pouch to his office and sat down at his desk. Malthus
untied the leather thong holding the pouch closed and drew out two sealed
letters and the folded paper he had found shoved into Ros' dress.
He unfolded the paper first, and found that the message had indeed come from
Sergei. The note, written in an elegant hand with graphite said simply:
"Playing both sides of the game? That could get you killed.
"By the way, she was delicious. I'll come back for the other one."
Sergei
Malthus crumbled the paper angrily, kneading it in his hand for several
minutes before dropping it into the woven basket beside his desk. He would see
that it was burned with the rest when he finished. Sergei was so certain of
his power, that he was taunting Malthus, and it rankled. Was Sergei
threatening him? More reason to kill the vampire and be done with it.
Two more letters, one from Lord Daemon, and the other from the god-queen
Gylorean. No wonder Sergei made that threat. He must think he can blackmail me
here. No matter.
Malthus broke the seal on the first letter.
Malthus,
I want the child alive. He is worth a chest of gold to me. If you can get me
his mother also, I will make that two chests. They are more valuable than you
can imagine. But only if they are alive when they reach me. I am the only one
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who knows how to use them. Do not disappoint me.
Daemon, Lord Brandrahoon.
Malthus felt a moment's elation until he read the signature. Lord Daemon had
just given his true name, and with that name came an implicit threat. For the
first time in his life, Malthus knew fear. He wished now that he had not told
Brandrahoon of the child and its mother.
He knew all the stories and most of the rumors concerning the oldest vampire
in existence. He was one of the three brothers who had founded Waejontor.
Once there were three brothers: Brandrahoon the vampire; Isranon called
Dawnhand, speaker to spirits; and Waejonan the Accursed, first of sa'necari.
The words trembled in his mind. The hellgod-queen Gylorean Galee had made
Brandrahoon the first vampires. Back in the days when the sa'necari were
merely a cult led by Waejonan the first king of Waejontor, they had learned to
fear Brandrahoon. The dreaded Lord Hoon, a vampire lord with many holdings
throughout the continent, had to have been Brandrahoon all along.
Historians and others had long speculated on whether the ancient vampire
still lived or not. Now Malthus knew and he wondered how many others did also.
Brandrahoon would only have revealed himself if he felt secure in his position [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]