A Sharpness On The Neck (Saberhagen's Dracula Book 9) Fred Saberhagen (free ebook reader for iphone txt) 📖

where I considered that my honor was involved, was sure that I was going to try to rescue Radcliffe from the supposedly escape-proof prison of La Conciergerie. And of course he was right.

      The obvious way for me to save my client from prison and the scaffold, and strengthen him against further attack, was to turn him into a vampire—and Radu, I was sure, would have no trouble deducing that that was my plan.

      I felt confident of being able to follow my brother’s thoughts—even though I was not yet aware that Radu already had the cabinetmaker Duplay secretly preparing a wooden guillotine-blade. That fact I learned later, when it was too late to do anything about it.

      As I saw it, the main problem in rescuing Radcliffe lay in protecting him, indefinitely, against the evil machinations of Radu. In the course of nature, the young American might easily live another forty or fifty years. And if he were converted, Radu would be forced to abrogate his vow to drink the young man’s blood—either that or poison himself. Radcliffe’s blood would be safe from drinking, but the time in which I might be required to defend him from other forms of attack would very likely stretch out into centuries.

      Another reason to simply kill Radu. But no, my oath blocked me immovably from that course of action.

* * *

      Radu was ready to try any means by which he might succeed in catching Vlad in some kind of trap. Preferably fatal.

      And yet, when he really thought about it, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to kill Vlad.

      He mused aloud: “No, I can be perfectly satisfied with less than that … no, rather, his mere death is not enough. I want more.”

      The more Radu thought about the situation, the more it seemed to him that he would derive greater satisfaction from forcing Vlad to break a vow than he would from killing him. If only it were possible to torment him so that he would be driven to suicide … that would be a perfect consummation.

      But in his heart Radu knew that to be a futile dream. Even if he could somehow force Vlad to fail to keep a solemn vow. Neither brother was one to direct violence against himself.

* * *

      My little brother had also, through frequent visits, acquired a better knowledge of prisons than almost any breathing person in the world, even among those whose daily work lay in the fields of torture and incarceration. Both my brother and I were well aware that such establishments in general were anything but escape-proof, no matter how they might be advertised. Escape-proof prisons, like unassailable fortresses, exist only in theory. In the real world, such institutions are never any stronger than the weakest human in possession of a key. Bribery was far and away the most common means of getting out of one type of stronghold or into the other.

      But true fanatics were exceptionally prevalent among the guiding spirits of the Terror. Many of these revolutionaries qualified. Once a man or woman had fallen into their hands, bribery became much less dependable, and even dangerous. These sans-culotte jailers feared for their own heads, and spies were everywhere. Almost every official, high and low, was fearful of being charged with accepting the gold of Pitt, and being a part of the great ongoing conspiracy. There were a number of fanatics around who cared very little about money. A great many officials, fearing for their own necks, would refuse even to listen to business propositions, and even should they accept one they might think better of it and refuse to honestly stay bribed.

* * *

      Radu had his minions on watch, vigilantly trying to detect any attempt by Vlad at bribery of prison guards and officials. If any such plot were hatched, Radu intended to make sure that it was betrayed.

      Radu rubbed his bony hands together, enjoying the game immensely. He considered the possibility that he’d lose touch with Radcliffe, that Vlad could successfully get the young American out of prison and then spirit him away.

      But the more Radu considered that possibility, the less he was concerned. He was very confident that he would be able eventually to catch up with his victim again, no matter to what lengths Vlad went to protect him.

* * *

      It was at this time that Radu swore, or at least claimed to have sworn, his own great formal oath to drink Radcliffe’s blood, and also to see that the American’s head was cut off. How well he was able to keep it, we shall see. Oaths in themselves, of course, have never meant anything to that scoundrel; the only real purpose of this one, I am sure, was to mock me and irritate me further. Therefore he had to be sure that I knew about it. I could hear him in my imagination, expostulating in mock horror: “Do you want me to break my solemn oath, my brother? Whatever would our beloved papa say to that?”

      Naturally any serious blood-drinking would have to be accomplished before Philip’s execution.

* * * * * *

      Convincing the Terrorists that Radcliffe had been officially beheaded—with all the necessary paperwork in good order— meant that they would not be looking for him after his escape. He would still need forged papers, of course, but in a new identity.

      “Do you suppose he could pass as a Frenchman?”

      “I have little doubt of that.”

      I was discussing these matters with Constantia—because at the moment I had no more rational conversational partner available.

      “Suppose that, once Radcliffe’s been turned vampire, we were to let him be beheaded. No metal knife would be able to take his life; that has been already proven. Eventually—there need be no hurry—head and torso could be grafted back together. Long ago, as you may remember, I myself passed through much the same process; though my execution was not as clean as the one that Citizen Sanson will provide.”

      “A bit hard