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"So. Your reactions? Conclusions?"
"Okay, let's discuss. On the tape you keep talking about someone who bears my
name, and is evidently supposed to be my ancestor. There's a kind of family
tradition about him, and I can't prove that anything you say about this other
Philip Radcliffe is wrong. But I still don't see what all this has to do with
June and me being "
Graves's voice had suddenly acquired a sharp bite. "The tape is not solely or
even chiefly concerned with the French Revolution. Do you agree?"
"Well& "
"The tape presents an incomplete history of that epoch, but it does much more.
That is the whole point of its existence. The historical relevance of that
material
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to your own situation is its raison d'etre
."
The business about vampires. One of them in particular, who's out to get my
family, for some reason. Yes, of course I understood that."
"Yes, of course. 'For some reason.'" Graves mouthed the words as if they
tasted strange. "Evidently you understand the message of the tape, but you do
not believe it."
"I& "
"It seems to me that you are remarkably more stupid than your ancestor of two
hundred years ago and you, madam?"
June was adrift in anger and confusion. "Well& "
"I see." Graves, as if confirming some unfavorable estimate, nodded at them
both in turn. "Instead of wasting my time on tape, on attempting a reasonable,
logical approach, I should have listened to certain of my advisers, who& but
never mind that. It is too late to change our approach now.
"Your reaction to the business about vampires, as you call it, has been to
turn off your brain. Instantly you recognize the serious discussion of such a
topic as a symptom of madness, and your own minds are still locked closed."
Graves uttered a small hissing noise, a disturbingly reptilian sound. "Well,
at least you are watching the tape. I still have no time to argue with you. No
energy to waste on demonstrations. Pray watch it all over again."
He turned his gaze on June, and she nodded. "We will," she breathed.
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"Good." Graves's look softened somewhat. "I realize that you find yourselves
in a difficult situation. But once you accept the essential information the
tape contains, your own position will be much clearer."
Once more he faced Radcliffe. "To answer your question, we want nothing that
will be harmful to you, believe it or not. Quite the opposite. I insist that
you accept my protection until I have reached an accommodation with my
brother."
"The one who wants to drink my blood."
Graves nodded.
"So where do we go from Never mind, I know, you're going to tell me to watch
the tape to find the answer. Everything I really need to know is there."
Graves, smiling faintly, continued nodding.
"Just tell me one thing first, okay?"
Graves raised an eyebrow, a gesture of unstudied elegance.
"How do you hope to reach this accommodation? Is your brother coming here?"
"That is one possibility, but I think a faint one. And if he does not come
here
then I must seek him out." It was plain that Graves was not looking forward to
the prospect.
"You'll seek him out. Then what? You'll talk to him?"
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"I shall try to do so." The speaker paused, staring into the distance. Then he
added, as if speaking more to himself than to Radcliffe: "And he will
doubtless try to kill me."
"He will? Why will he do that?"
"I should have thought it obvious, to one who has now heard and seen the story
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on the tape."
"All right," said Philip vaguely. He didn't want to spell out his objection
that a concocted story, a crazy lecture on a videotape, was one thing, and
real life another. "And when this man, your brother, tries to kill you, then
you in turn&
T
The other shook his head. "No, I shall not try to kill my brother. I am
forbidden that."
June had been watching and listening to the men in silent fascination. Philip,
shooting a glance at her, found what he saw disturbing.
"Really?" he asked Graves. "Forbidden how?"
"I have sworn an oath. Even though killing Radu now would be a relief, I
think, for all concerned. My task is somewhat more difficult, though not
impossible."
As soon as Graves had departed, Radcliffe turned to Constantia, who had just
come in. "I don't understand this at all." That wasn't strictly true. He had
come a long way, he thought, toward understanding.
Believing was another matter altogether. "What did he mean, 'I am forbidden
that'?"
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The gypsy girl looked wistful. "It is a matter of oath-taking and honor with
him, you see. He can fight his brother, and even inflict serious damage on
him. But he cannot kill Radu."
"I still don't get it."
"Few in this age could possibly understand."
The furnishings of the small mobile home included a table-drawer stocked with
paper and pencils, and a small collection of books, from popular novels to
science, math, crossword puzzles, and chess problems.
Even with all the lights turned on, the little house could hardly be called
well-lit at night. But in one or two places there was light enough for
comfortable reading.
The windows were all neatly shaded or curtained, and the prisoners were
encouraged to keep the shades drawn after dark. The small-unit
air-conditioning purred on with reasonable effectiveness, though it was
somewhat noisy. Here in the high desert, the temperature dropped sharply after
sundown, and the cooler could be turned off and windows opened for a breeze.
One of the masked people, in what sounded like a kind of afterthought, warned
both prisoners never to invite any strangers in.
June and Philip thought that a strange request. They looked at each other and
shrugged; it would cost them nothing to agree.
"You've got the doors locked anyway, the windows barred."
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"Even so."
"All right. No strangers get invited in. How long are we going to be here?"
That question received basically the same answer as before. "I hope that in a
few days matters will be settled, one way or another."
On the kitchen wall there hung a 1996 calendar, the handout of some charitable
organization. June had turned to the proper month, and started to check off
the days since their arrival.
Radcliffe wondered who might have been living in this house yesterday, or last
month. The place didn't appear to be brand new, just well cared for. But
whoever it was seemed to have left no clues behind.
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The previous tenants, whoever they might have been, had evidently done without
a telephone. But once or twice Radcliffe saw his masked and breathing
guardian, standing at a distance out of earshot, speaking calmly into a
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