‘Oh, but I do,’ answered the other at once. ‘I know it from the Widow herself. Now don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying that she simply volunteered all of this. It wasn’t that we had a good gossip session or anything like that. Far from it. No, for I had to really sit down with her and ask her about him, repeatedly, until I’d dug it all out. He was dead and his power gone, certainly, but still something of it lingered over, do you see?’
Dragosani grew thoughtful. His eyes narrowed a little. Suddenly, surprisingly, he felt threatened by this man. He was too clever by far, this Ladislau Giresci. Dragosani resented him – and at once wondered why. He found it hard to understand his own feelings, the sudden surge of emotion within. It was too enclosed in here, claustrophobic. That must be it. He shook his head, sat up straighter, tried to concentrate. ‘Of course, the Widow is long dead now.’
‘Oh, yes-years ago.’
‘So you and I, we’re the only ones who know anything at all about Faethor Ferenczy?’
Giresci peered at the younger man. Dragosani’s voice had sunk so low that it was little more than a growl, almost sinister. There seemed something wrong with him. Even under Giresci’s questioning gaze he gave himself another shake, rapidly blinking his eyes.
That’s right,’ Giresci answered, frowning. ‘I’ve told no one else in – oh, longer than I can remember. No point telling anyone else, for who’d believe? But are you all right, my friend? Are you well? Is something bothering you?’
‘Me?’ Dragosani found himself leaning forward, as if drawn towards Giresci. He deliberately forced himself upright in his chair. ‘No, of course not. I’m a little drowsy, that’s all. My meal, I suppose. The good food you’ve served me. Also, I’ve driven a long way in the last few days. Yes, that’s it: I’m tired.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes, quite sure. But go on, Giresci, don’t stop now. Please tell me more. About Ferenczy and his forebears. About the Ferrenzigs. The Wamphyri in general. Tell me anything else you know or suspect. Tell me everything.’
‘Everything? It could take a week, longer!’
‘I have a week,’ Dragosani answered.
‘Damn, I believe you’re serious!’
‘I am.’
‘Well now, Dragosani, doubtless you’re a nice enough young fellow, and it’s good to talk to someone who’s genuinely interested and knows something about one’s subject – but what makes you think I’d care to spend a whole week like that? At my age time’s important. Or maybe you think I have the same kind of longevity Ferenczy had, eh?’
Dragosani smiled, but thinly. On the point of saying, you can talk to me here or in Moscow, he checked himself. That wasn’t necessary. Not yet, anyway. And it might let Borowitz in on his big secret: how he came to be a necromancer in the first place. ‘Then how about the next hour or two?’ he compromised. ‘And, since you’ve suggested it, we can start with Ferenczy’s longevity.’
Giresci chuckled. ‘Fair enough. Anyway, there’s whisky left yet!’ He poured himself another shot, made himself comfortable. And after a moment’s thought:
‘Ferenczy’s longevity. The near-immortality of the vampire. Let me tell you something else the Widow Luorni
said. She said that when she was a small girl, her grandmother had remembered a Ferenczy living in the same house. And her grandmother before her! Nothing strange about that, though – son follows father, right? There were plenty of old Boyar families round here whose names went back to time immemorial. There still are. What’s strange is this: to the Widow’s knowledge there had never been any female Ferenczys. And how does a man pass on his name if he never takes a wife, eh?’
‘And of course you looked into it,’ said Dragosani.
‘I did. Records were scarce, however, for the war had destroyed a great deal. But certainly the house had been the seat of the Ferenczys as far back as I could trace it, and never a woman among ’em! A celibate lot, eh?’
Without understanding his outrage, Dragosani suddenly felt that he himself had been insulted. Or perhaps it was only his natural intelligence which felt slighted. ‘Celibate?’ he said stiffly. ‘I think not.’