by Brian Lumley
“That was the curse of Malinari’s mentalism: that it was there whether he wanted it or not. That while giving it direction, controlling it, took a great effort of will, shutting out its generally useless babble—the tumult of an entire aerie’s thoughts—were almost impossible! And when the sun was up and the barrier mountains rimmed in gold, many a sleepless day for my master if not for the musicians who laved his mind with the songs of Sunside.
“But I fear I have strayed. For I was speaking of Malstack and now have returned to Malinari. Or perhaps not, for this was what you wanted: to learn about The Mind and his ways. And anyway, and as I’ve said, an aerie is an aerie, and all much of a kind. Enough of Malstack.
“So, what else can I tell you of my master as was? Let me think a moment … .
“His origins? Oh, yes, I know of them also. For with time, after I had proved myself as a thrall, rising through the ranks to become a lieutenant—and when during the bloodwars I became the first of his lieutenants—we got to be close, Malinari and I. Well, as close as master and slave can get. And upon a time, during a brief lull when we took respite in Malstack, I remember he said to me:
“‘Do you know, but what is in the blood usually comes out in the flesh?’
“To which I replied, ’Master?’
“‘Your father,’ he said. ‘Do you know how he became chief of the Vadastras? ’
“‘I was a child at the time,’ I answered, ‘But yes, I remember. You made him the chief, my Lord.’
“‘And do you know why?’
“‘I have no idea, Lord.’
“‘Several reasons. One: because he desired the job. Among Szgany supplicants it takes a strong man—a man with a strong stomach—to be a chief and give away his own people. Two: because he was big and insensitive and a bully born, which I suppose is much the same as one. And three: because Dinu was rare among men, one of a small number that I could bear to converse with. Or rather, with whom I conversed on a level, without concerning myself whether or no they lied, and so not caring.’
“‘I am trying to understand, master,’ I told him, since it seemed he required an answer.
“‘I divine men’s thoughts,’ Malinari explained. ‘When they think against me, then I am … angered. And when I am angered, then I lose good men. Wherefore it sometimes serves me well not to read them! And I tell you, I lied to your father when I told him that his devious ways were known to me. Suspected, perhaps, but never known for a fact, not until the night when that woman he’d used betrayed him. Not that it mattered greatly; the Vadastras were doomed anyway, fuel for my bloodwar. Let me make myself plain: your father’s mind was closed to me. As is yours.’
“‘Mine, Lord?’
“‘Indeed, for what is in the blood comes out in the flesh. You are heir to Dinu’s mental processes … your minds are much alike, so that your thoughts, too, are vague and shadowy things to me, which I read as through a writhing mist. Oh, I could get to them more directly; should we say, by contact? With the very brain that holds them? For as you are surely aware, these fingers of mine are especially gifted in their own right. Alas, but that would probably mean the loss of yet another good man. That is a luxury which I cannot afford.’
“‘No, Lord,’ I said, and I admit I backed off a pace. ‘No, indeed, Lord!’
“But Malinari merely tut-tutted and shook his head, then winced and twitched a little as was sometimes his wont, saying, ‘No, no! Have no fear, Korath. For while the rest of this manse of mine is filled with men and creatures—creatures with minds that make noise and babble and uproar in my head, even when all else is silent!—you seem as empty as those great dark spaces out between the stars. Oh, yes, and I like you for it.’
“Then in the privacy of my master’s chambers, we would sit and listen to his music together—and I would try my best not to think … .”
“He told me of his beginnings.
“His father was Wamphyri: Giorgas Malin, who sniffed out even the craftiest of the Szgany by tracking the aura of their fear. He wasn’t a mentalist as such—he read no minds—but he was sensitive to sentience, and knew when intelligent, fear-filled minds were close by. He sensed the shuddering and trembling of the very brains of his prey, even when they themselves were still and silent. Wherefore Sunside’s nomads feared Malin worse than any other Lord; for despite their skill at cloaking their thoughts, he was usually able to discover them. In short, his talent had been similar to that of his son. Indeed, it had been the source of Malinari’s mentalism.
“Or it was one of them. For of course Malinari was right: what’s in the blood will out in the flesh. But it takes two to make a bloodson, a vampire born of woman, and The Mind’s mother was a Szgany healer, whose power was in her hands. Do you understand the principle? She could cure the sick and the fevered by holding them, stroking them, by balming them with her lullabies and her loving touch. Ah, but I see that there are such in your world, too … faith healers, yes. And I also see that some are fakers, here as in my world. But Illula was the real thing.
“So, hunting in Sunside one night Giorgas found Illula the Healer—who had no man, for she had given her life over to her calling—and saw that she was beautiful. He had heard of her; the Wamphyri had their spies in Sunside, and little escaped the notice of the Starside Lords. However, there was no requirement for a healer in Giorgas’s manse or in any of the aeries, for common ailments were unheard of among the Wamphyri, whose systems are so imbued with evil that lesser evils can gain no foothold. I exclude, of course, the various mutations, autisms, metamorphisms, and madnesses, with which the Great Vampires were ever afflicted, if afflicted is the right word. For apart from lunacy—oh, yes, and leprosy, the so-called ’bane of vampires’ these other conditions were rarely considered illnesses at all; they were simply facts of life and longevity. For where men in their old age are prone to aches and pains, vampires in theirs are prone to all manner of weirdness.
“At any rate, while Illula’s skills were of little use to Giorgas, her beauty—not to mention her virginity, which was a rarity in females of an age, even in Sunside—was a sure fascination. And of course he had the latter from her, then had her to wife. Yes, for Giorgas wanted sons to manage his aerie, and where better to get them than from a handsome woman? According to Lord Malinari, his sire was not without good looks himself; which perhaps accounts for The Mind’s darkly handsome appearance.
“Ah, but the rare combination of Malinari’s parents’ talents accounted for a lot more than his merely physical attributes … .
“So, Illula the Healer was vampirized, and of course suffered the sleep of change. When she awakened, she was Wamphyri! And Giorgas’s manse now had both master and mistress. But if men should be careful in choosing their wives, how much more careful in the making of vampires? Especially Great Vampires.
“Anyway, Illula was Wamphyri, and a deal of Giorgas’s essence circulating within her; even the first nodes and filaments and foetal foulness of a parasite leech, gathering to her spine to suck on its marrow. That is ever the way of it. But as if to compensate for such depredations, the burgeoning vampire invariably accentuates the senses of the initiate. Not only the five mundane senses, but also—when such enhancement is of benefit to the parasite—any additional senses … .
“Illula and Giorgas shared a bed, and, of course—being his wife now and a Great Vampire in her own right—she clung to him through long Starside days, when the spires of the tallest aeries glowed golden in the seething rays from Sunside. And when her Lord started or moaned in his sleep (for even the most terrible of the Wamphyri are prone to nightmares, and some even more so, which usually spring from memories of their own conversions or initiations), then she would employ her healer’s hands to soothe his brow and her soft-crooned lullabies to drive away whichever terrors invaded his dreams. But in the twilight before the night—when despite her ministrations he would come awake showing little or no benefit from his rest—then Illula would be nonplussed; and Lord Malin
, he would laze around Malstack as if suffering from a crippling malaise … which he was. And she was it.
“The fault lay in her once-healing hands, her once-calming songs, her once-balming presence. For now, enhanced by Giorgas’s vampire essence and her ascension, her healing powers were reversed. Before, where Illula had given life—or at least given it back—now she drew it off. She battened on it like . . why like a vampire, naturally! For even if she would have it otherwise, her vampire would not. And there never was a vampire who gave of life, nor would there ever be.
“Thus Giorgas’s life-force was drawn from him, and while he grew weak she grew strong, and her vampire stronger still. Wamphyri, aye, and what a monster she would have made. Except that wasn’t to be.
“For she was pregnant by Giorgas, and on the day he died gave birth to a boy child whom she called Nephran, because that is the Szgany word for a wrong that may not be righted. And she knew that bringing this child into the world was wrong, but her mothering instinct made her keep him. As for his surname: certain tribes (Illula’s being one such) used ‘ari’ as an alternative to ‘son’. Thus instead of Malinson, he became Nephran Malinari.
“And as he grew to a man so the strange mixture or mutation of the joint skills of both of his parents—that which had been in their blood—came out in his flesh and grew with him. But unlike his father’s half-mentalism, Nephran’s was whole and wholly monstrous, and unlike Illula’s healing touch, his was an evil life-devouring Power right from the beginning. And in combination these altered talents matured into the form which made him what he was and what he still is: Malinari the Mind.
“His love of music, he got that from his mother. Likewise his blinding headaches: she also passed those down to him. For as a healer in Sunside, that had been her payment—or lack of payment—for the good works she did: something of the illnesses of her patients transferred to her, presumably so that they might be cured! But in Nephran these migraines were made worse, complicated by the tumultuous, pounding thoughts of others.
“Well, and there we have the man. As for his mother:
“As time passed Illula’s mind slowly slipped from her … or at least, the problems started with her mind. But gradually she developed so many illnesses in her body, boils and bruises, cankers and gangrenes, aches and pains and general disabilities, that her vampire was hard put to keep up. Let her parasite cure one disorder, another would spring up in its place. In Illula’s more lucid moments, she would try to explain these things away: they were all the ailments she had cured in Sunside, now coming out in her. For her capacity for good had been robbed from her, and with it whatever was in her that kept these evils at bay.
“She might have died a slow death, or Malinari might have seen fit to put her away, but it didn’t come to that. Illula’s time was up and she knew it. When her son was eighteen she gave him Malstack, took a flyer and flew back to Sunside in the twilight before the dawn. Over the barrier mountains the sun found her, and she and her flyer both paid their dues in smoke, steam and stench.
“Well, and so much for Nephran Malinari’s beginnings.”
With which, finally, Korath was finished. For a while, at least …
Koratb, you’ve done well so far, said Harry. But his deadspeak voice was noticeably fainter now. And before the extinct vampire could begin preening, Jake queried:
“Are you all right, Harry?”
I am … called to many places, the other answered. I can be me as a boy, and as a man, or I can stand off and watch myself as I was. But I’m not much for doing what’s already been done. And there are places to be where I need to be a lot more completely than I am here. None of which will make much sense to you, I know. But physically, I can effect very little here, except I do it through you.
And Korath added, hopefully: And through me?
But Harry shook his incorporeal head. You are less than I am. You can affect nothing, unless someone were foolish enough to let you get too deep into his mind, into his bones—which isn’t going to happen. Jake, be warned: this Korath was a four-bundredyear-old vampire. If you should ever need to speak to him again, don’t open your mind to him, not all the way. Never let him in, or you could end up carrying him with you forever.
And Jake shivered, hugged himself, and said, “Don’t let it worry you. I can’t see me returning to this place without damn good reason.” And the water gurgled darkly, and the sump stank of nitre and stale explosives, of horror and death and crumbling, shock-stressed concrete.
Then … you are finished here? Korath’s doomful voice trembled. And is this my fate, to be left alone down here forever? Why, you have not even thanked me, much less pardoned me for being what I was made to be!
Thanked you? Harry said, his voice still far-distant and faintly echoing. Pardoned you? How many women did you rape and vampirize when you and your master “hunted” the Szgany in Sunside? How many good men have you killed with your gauntlet and your bare hands?
Agghhh! Korath cried. And: Ah, no, don’t … don’t remind me! he pleaded. That wasn’t me! Or it was, but I was driven to do these things. I was driven by … driven by my … (But here he came to an abrupt, stumbling, tongue-biting halt).
… By your leech? Harry finished it for him. Your leech, Korath? And then to Jake: Do you see what I mean? Nothing more devious than a vampire, even when he’s dead. This one bad developed a leech and was ready to ascend. And Malinari was right to recruit him, for be was obviously the right stuff.
“But he is dead now,” Jake answered. “And being dead, what more mischief can he possibly get up to?”
I sometimes wonder if you listen at all! Harry told him. I can only hope you’ll remember some of this when you’re awake,
“Lord, who would want to?” Jake replied, then shivered and hugged himself tighter yet. “And talking about being awake—or if not awake at least out of this place—aren’t we just about finished here?”
Jake, (Harry sighed,) try to get this fixed in your stubborn head. I’m not sure I’ll be back. I may not be able to come back. So while I am here you bad better be taking in everything you can. And whatever else you do, remember that in future time I’ve seen your blue life-thread crossed by the red of vampires. So like it or not, one way or the other, it’s coming.
And Harry’s deadspeak voice—despite that it was fainter yet—was so sincere, so urgent and fraught, that finally Jake had to take note of what it was telling him. With which he resigned himself yet again, and said: “So … what’s next?”
Korath isn’t finished, Harry answered, with something of a sigh—but different this time because it was a sigh of relief, not one of frustration. We still don’t know bow he—how they—ended up here. We’ve only heard half of the story, and we still don’t know very much at all about Vavara and Szwart.
Jake might have contradicted him, for he had learned something of Vavara and Szwart himself, from Lardis Lidesci. Before he could speak, however:
Nor are you going to know much about them! (Korath’s surly voice.) Not from me, anyway. For you are ungrateful, and I have spoken my last.
Not your last and not nearly enough, Harry told him. Bluster all you like, Korath, but I say you will speak.
Oh, and are you then a necromancer after all? Korath queried, sarcastically. If so, perhaps I should point out that I’ve neither living nor dead flesh for you to worry with your pincers and hot irons.
That’s very true, Harry replied. But I think I could probably find a bone or two, washed clean in this pipe—if I were a necromancer. But I’m not, and anyway there’s no need. For you know as well as I that as little as you are now, if we take our leave of you, then you’ll be even less. Or is our company worth nothing? In which case we must assume that you prefer this endless darkness, this eternal silence, and leave it at that. And leave you forever and ever.
After a long moment it seemed that Korath sobbed, but very quietly. Until finally he answered: But you’re a cold and cruel one, Harry Keogh.
/> And Harry told him, Ah, but I had good teachers. And they were vampires, too. So say on while you still have the chance, Korath, and while we are still here to hear you out … .
21
A DARK LADY … AND A DARKER LORD
“Fuelled by blood, Nephran Malinari’s bloodwars were a terrible scourge on humanity,” Korath picked up the threads of his story. “For as long as he ravaged on Sunside to provision fortress Malstack, so must the rest of the Wamphyri forage, lest Malinari’s army so outstrip theirs as to whelm them under. Thus the Szgany suffered as never before—at least not for sixty thousand sunups—” (twelve hundred years) “since the mythic and immemorial time of Shaitan the Unborn’s great wars, before he was unseated and banished north to the Icelands.
“The Mind’s foes were many, his friends few. Even the latter were not his ‘friends’ in the human sense of the word, that sort of comradeship being so rare among the Wamphyri as to be a myth in its own right! But at any rate, his dubious allies were Vavara—a Lady in all but name, for she would not accept that men call her ‘Lady’ for fear it might damage her status by making her seem less than a Lord—and Szwart, which was the only name that suited a Thing such as he. Szwart, which means darkness! For indeed he was darkness, literally the darkest of all the Lords of the Wamphyri; something which I shall endeavor to explain in a little while. But for now, so much for Malinari’s allies. Oh, there was a handful more, but Nephran, Szwart, and Vavara (who insisted upon the status of a man despite her obvious, indeed devastating feminine charms and attributes), they were the generals, the triumvirate, the Big Three.
“Then there were The Mind’s foes, the enemy proper; first and foremost, Dramal Doombody, the most powerful of the Wamphyri of that period. Some thirty years earlier, at the pinnacle of his power, Dramal had contracted leprosy from a comely Szgany woman in which the disease had seeded itself but was not yet manifest; since when he had accepted to be known as ‘Lord Doombody.’ For of course his body was doomed, no matter how long it might take the great ‘Bane of Vampires’ to run its course.
