"Lumley, Brian - Vampire World 2 - The Last Aerie" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

Wrapped in a creature such as this, a man would be completely immobilized - fixed like a fly in honey, smothered and softened by digestive juices - and finally slurped away until his flensed bones were discarded in a clattering heap! But Nestor was no such victim.
His egg, by now the merest tadpole of a leech, was strong and growing stronger by the moment. Its strength was Nestor's, who was strong in his own right. Suck-scar's guardian creatures had been Vasagi's and now were his, all of them. And they must be made to understand that he'd suffer no more threats, not in his own house!
Standing his ground, he coughed up a great gob of phlegm to spit into the poisonous heart of the monster rearing before him! And turning on his heel, he pointed a commanding, threatening finger and issued a mind-blast that sent the other beast shrinking back from him: BEGONE!
Something of Vasagi was in him, and just like the Suck's other weird constructs, these things knew it. They collapsed like piles of fur to the steps, and bellied back from Nestor, grovellingly to their accustomed places. And now there was no one and nothing in Suckscar to say no him.
Canker was impressed, and followed even closer to
heel as they went up to Vasagi's old rooms over the great hall. Behind them, Wran and Spiro were nowhere in sight. They were exploring on their own, a fact which had not gone unnoticed by Nestor. As well to suffer their rudeness ... for now at least.
At the top of the wide flight, cartilage balconies extended left and right, grafted to ledges in the rock which spanned half-way across the great hall just below the ceiling. Up here, Nestor would be able to move about, keeping watch over the industries of common thralls and lieutenants alike. Tunnels in the walls at the rear of the ledges led to lesser rooms, galleries, storehouses, dizzy observation platforms supported by cartilage buttresses, and landing bays and stables in the outer 'skin' of the aerie, whose rock had been worn into those deep and impressive scars for which the manse was named. From the outermost turret, looking hard right (due south), Nestor spied the barrier mountains golden in their peaks, while on high the clouds over teetering Wrathspire were lined with silver and hazy with deadly sunlight. Such observations helped with his orientation: temporal, spatial and mundane, all three. For just as he had begun to think of himself as invincible, he was reminded of his mortality and the sun's destructive power. And when he'd momentarily considered himself magnificent, the stack's awesome majesty had reduced him to a flea. From which time forward his excitement was somewhat reduced .. .
This was as well, for after the view from the platforms, landing-bays and bartizans, Nestor found Vasagi's rooms something of a disappointment; patently the Suck had not been one for luxuries but within Wamphyri parameters had been satisfied with a life of austerity. His bed was of stone slabs raised up, with a large depression hollowed in the middle and filled with
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the cured furs of Sunside animals. Beneath the bed was a fire hole containing a few scattered ashes. A blackened bone flue angled off from the head of the bed to join with another above a massive fireplace in the vastly thick outer wall. In a curtained corner niche, a dark-stained hole angled down into the floor, from which issued the occasional draught of fresh air. It was just as well that the other end of this hole vacated in some lofty, inaccessible exit over the abyss, for it had been Vasagi's toilet.
From another room, hewn deeper into the stack's porous outer sheath, a large, deep, circular window fitted with cartilage baffles gazed out in a north-easterly direction, showing on the one hand the barrier range dwindling into distance, and on the other the far, dark-blue sheen of the aurora-lit Icelands horizon. There were rooms with wooden tables and chairs, and others with benches cut in the walls. A large sloping hall was enclosed behind an east-facing wall with a row of window holes admitting a maximum of light - and of air! Before being walled-in, this draughty gallery had been one of the manse's great scars; during the period of Vasagi's occupation at least, it had become his studio. This was where the Suck had worked on the 'designs' of his metamorphic creatures, before he gave them life in his vats. And as Nestor examined the huge and intricate paintings, he felt glad Vasagi had not invested oJJ of them in flesh.
The east wing of this one level had now been explored, and Nestor and Canker returned to the sweeping staircase down into the great hall. But as they descended a cry rang out, and Canker was galvanized into activity. 'Hah! I had expected it,' he growled. 'The brothers Killglance, scavenging!'
'What?' Nestor looked at him. 'You can only mean
pillaging, surely? But I am the master here, and all that is here is mine. Would they dare?'
Canker snorted. 'Wratha was right: being here and existing here are different things. Unless you are sure of a person or thing, never invite him or it into your house! If you must, make sure he, or it, enters of his own free will. Which is to say: he faces the consequences of any transgressions, whether of his making or of yours! Letting the brothers in here, why, that was like giving them a licence to work their will! Remember: Wran the Rage killed Vasagi. Already he may consider himself entitled to whatever's on offer, while you as yet merely aspire.' He shrugged. 'In my way, I tried to warn you.'
'From now on I shall value your warnings,' Nestor told him. 'But right now I may require your help! Here they come.'
Wran and Spiro had emerged from one of the tunnels into the great hall. Behind them, they dragged female thralls with their clothes stripped mainly from them and hanging in rags. The women were vociferous in their protests; here in Suckscar, they knew what was their lot... but in Madmanse?
Hurrying towards Wran, Spiro, and their struggling prizes, Zahar and Grig went to intercept. Back from seeing to the former's wounds, they seemed affronted by the twins' rapaciousness. But these were the Kill-glance brothers, Lords of the Wamphyri; if things turned nasty, Nestor's lieutenants wouldn't stand a chance. Still, it said a lot for Zahar that even with a dangling arm and damaged hand he now knew where his loyalties lay. For the moment at least...
Laughing, the Lords faced down the would-be defenders of Suckscar; but Spiro grew calm in a moment, his grin becoming a scowl as Zahar and Grig drew closer.
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Until at last he queried: 'Oh? And is there a problem?' Giving his captive a back-hander in the face, he sent her skittering among a crowd of cowering thralls where they'd emerged from their various places. So far, Suck-scar's 'people' had kept well out of it; they had guessed that the Lord Vasagi was no more, but had not known the nature of their new master. Curiosity is a powerful force, however, especially among vampires. A good many of them were here now, anxious to discover what was their lot.
'Make or break!' Canker coughed in Nestor's ear, where they too closed on the frozen tableau. 'It's come sooner than I thought. Gore Sucksthrall was the best of Vasagi's men, and he's dead. These others are useless to you, and the Killglance brothers are fiends in a fight. I ... I like your cut, Nestor, but this is not my problem. It's up to you now: a "diplomatic solution" - cowardice, if you like - or a beating, and possibly death.'
'Or something else,' Nestor answered, in a voice empty of emotion, cold as the winds off the Icelands. 'Watch your back.'
'Eh?' Canker glanced to the rear, and saw Nestor's furry familiars flowing across the hall's flags behind them.
'Even without you,' Nestor told him in that same emotionless voice, 'I am not alone. And I'm not about to be beaten.'
Canker paused a moment, then threw back his head to howl like a mad thing and shake from head to toe. And catching up with Nestor, he said: 'Why, now I like your cut even more, my crafty Lord Nestor - not to mention the odds! Very well, we stand together.'
'Well?' Spiro took a threatening pace towards Grig, who had now come to a halt.
And Wran -- still smiling, for the moment - told
Zahar: 'Man, if you persist in blocking my way, there's a very strong chance I'll eat your heart right here and now, off this immaculately clean floor.'
'Gentlemen,' Nestor growled, coming upon them. 'I see you found my women, and picked out two of the comeliest to show me what is my get. That was thoughtful of you. But now, alas, matters have come to a head and I must show you off my property. As you see, two of my creatures are here to make sure you have not forgotten the way out.' And in his mind: Rear up! Menace them! Issue your smoking juices!
He stepped aside, Canker likewise -- and the guardians of the staircase at once flowed forward, reared upright, presented their muscular underbellies and dripped acid! Wran released his captive; both he and his brother crouched down, looked this way and that; their crimson eyes now blazed with fires so hot they almost smoked. Then:
'Do ... you ... threaten?' No longer a 'gentleman', Wran looked about to explode, indeed to rage.
Threaten?' Nestor put on a surprised expression. 'In what way? I merely provide you with an escort from my place. For as I have said, matters are coming to a head.'
'What matters?' Spiro snarled, clasping his brother's arm as if to hold him in place.
'Why, only that the sun is up,' Nestor answered. 'You've a little time to spare, of course, but if you would collect your flyers from Wratha's landing-bay, and return to Madmanse without - inconvenience - then it's time you were on your way.'
Wran's captive had wriggled away from him; she hid behind Nestor, clutching his jacket. The brothers fumed; they glared at each other, at Canker, and at Nestor with his knife in his belt, but mainly at his familiars. Wran and Spiro were not equipped for war, and even Nestor's
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common thralls had now taken heart, hissing and creeping closer.
'Hah.'' Spiro snarled. 'Not a threat?' 'In no way,' Nestor answered. 'I invited you in here, and you entered of your own free will. What sort of hospitality, to threaten you now? Also, Wran is responsible for my being here. I would be in his debt - except of course, I saved his life on Sunside, and so we're even. And while we talk the sun is risen, soon to burn on Wrathspire. I was thinking of your safety, and only that.'
Wran took a deep breath, held it a moment, then slapped his thigh and burst out laughing, however harshly. 'A prodigy!' he cried, through gritted teeth. 'A babe out of Sunside, grown to a man in a single morning, and master now of an aerie manse! Well, and didn't I say you'd do well in Suckscar?'
'Indeed you did.' Nestor gestured to indicate the way out, and in so doing cleared a path for them across the floor of the great hall, towards the tunnel stairs to Wratha's landing-bays. 'And so I shall. But each of us in his own place, and yours is in Madmanse.'
The brothers left; they took their time walking across the floor, but they left. Behind them, Nestor's staircase guardians flowed across the flags, leaving a whiff of acid stench in the air. And ahead of them:
Nestor sent a thought to the dark-furred bat-thing in its archway niche. The men who approach: Jet them pass, then spit at them, hiss, and shepherd them up and out of Suckscar! From this time forward, they shall not pass again.