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'Drones? You believe that?'
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Gasping his shock
'No, but the authorities did. They gave them a flat in Craiova, right next to
the new railway. The mortar was rotten and shaky from the trains; the plaster
was coming off the walls;
someone's toilet in the flat above leaked on us ... but it was good enough for
workshy drones, they said. And until I was eleven that's where I'd play, next
to the tracks. Then . . . one night a train was derailed. It ploughed right
into our block, took away a wall, brought the whole place crashing down. I was
lucky enough to live through it but my people died. And for a while
I thought I'd be better off dead, too, because my spine had been crushed and I
was a cripple. But someone heard about me, and there was a scheme on at the
time - an exchange of doctors and patients, between American and Romanian
rehabilitation clinics - and because I was an orphan I was given priority. Not
bad for a drone, eh? So ... I went to the USA. And they fixed me up. What's
more, they adopted me, too. Two of them did, anyway. And because I was only a
boy and there was no one left back here,' (yet again, his shrug) 'why, I was
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allowed to stay!'
'Ah!' said Gogosu. 'And so now you're an American. Well, I'll believe you . .
. but it's strange for Gypsies to leave the open road. Sometimes they get
thrown out and go their own ways -
disputes and what have you in the camps, usually over a woman or a horse - but
rarely to settle in towns. What was it with your folks? Did they cross the
Gypsy king or something?'
'I don't know. I was only a boy,' Vulpe answered. 'I think perhaps they feared
for me: I was a weak little thing, apparently, a runt. At any rate, they left
the night I was born, and covered their tracks, and never went back.'
'A runt?' Gogosu raised an eyebrow, looked Vulpe up and down yet again. 'Well,
you'd not know it now. But they covered their tracks, you say? That's it,
then. Say no more. There'd been trouble in the camp, for sure. I'll give you
odds your father and mother were secret lovers, and she was promised to
another. Then you came along so he stole her away. Oh, it happens.'
'That's a very romantic notion,' Vulpe said. 'And who knows? - you could be
right.'
'My God, we're ignorant!' Gogosu suddenly exploded, beckoning to the barman.
'Here's you and me chatting in this old tongue of ours, and your two friends
bewildered and left out entirely. Now let me get you all another drink and
then we'll have some introductions. I want to know why you're here, and what I
can do to help, and how much you'll pay me to take you to some real ruins!'
'The drinks are on us,' said Vulpe. 'And no arguments. God, do you expect us
to keep up with you, Emil Gogosu? Now slow down or you'll have us all under
the table before we've even got things sorted out! As for introductions,
that's easy:'
He clasped the shoulder of the American closest to him. "This great gangly one
is Seth Armstrong, from Texas. They build them tall there, Emil, as you can
see. But then it's a big state.
Why, your entire Romania would fit into Texas alone three times over!'
Gogosu was suitably impressed. He shook hands with Armstrong and looked him
over. The Texan was big and raw-boned, with honest blue eyes in an open face,
sparse straw-coloured hair, arms and legs as long and thin as poles. His nose
was long over a wide, expressive mouth and a heavy, bristly chin. Just a
little short of seventy-eight inches, even seated Armstrong came up head and
shoulders above the others.
'Hah!' said the hunter. 'This Texas would have to be big to accommodate such
as him!'
Vulpe translated, then nodded in the direction of the third member of his
group. 'And this one,' he said, 'is Randy Laverne from Madison, Wisconsin. It
mightn't be so mountainous up there, but believe me it can get just as cold!'
'Cold?' said Gogosu. 'Well, that shouldn't bother this one. I envy him all
that good meat on his bones - and all the good meals it took to put it there -
but it's not much use in climbing. Me, I'm able to cling to the rocks snug as
a lichen, in places where gravity would get him for sure.'
Vulpe translated and Laverne laughed good-naturedly. He was the youngest and
smallest (or at least the shortest) of the three Americans: twenty-five,
freckle-faced, way overweight and constantly hungry. His face was round and
topped with wavy red hair; his green eyes friendly and full of fun; the
corners of his eyes and mouth running into mazes of laughter lines. But there
was nothing soft about him: his huge hands were incredibly strong, a legacy of
his blacksmith father.
'Very well,' said George Vulpe, 'so now we know each other. Or rather, you
know us. But what about you, Emil? You're a hunter, yes, but what else?'
'Nothing else!' said Gogosu. 'I don't need to be anything else. I've a small
house and a smaller woman in Ilia; in the summer I hunt wild pig and sell meat
to the butchers and skins to the tailors and boot makers; in the winter I take
furs and kill a few foxes, and they hire me ,to shoot the occasional wolf. And
so I make a living -barely! And now maybe I'll be a guide, too.
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Gasping his shock
Why not? -for I know the heights as well as the eagles who nest in 'em.'
'And the odd ruined castle? You can show us one of those, too?'
'Castles abound,' said Gogosu. 'But you told me there are guides and guides.
Well, so are there castles and castles. And you're right: anyone can show you
a tumble of old boulders and call it a castle. But I, Emil Gogosu, can show
you a castle!'
The Americans Armstrong and Laverne got the gist of this and became excited.
Armstrong, in his Texas drawl, said: 'Hey, George, tell him what we're really
doing here. Explain to him how close he was when he talked about Dracula and
vampires and all.'
'In America,' Vulpe told the hunter, 'all over the world, in fact,
Transylvania and the
Carpatii Meridionali are famous! Not so much for their dramatic beauty or
gaunt isolation as for their myths and legends. You talked of Dracula, who had
his origins in a cruel Vlad of olden times . . . but don't you know that every
year the tourists flock in their droves to visit the great
Drakul's homeland and the castles where he's said to have dwelled? Indeed,
it's big business. And we believe it could be even bigger.'
'Pah!' said Gogosu. 'Why, this whole country is steeped in olden lore and
superstitious myths. This impaler Vlad's just a one of them.' He leaned
closer, lowered his voice and his eyes went big and round. 'I could take you
to a castle old as the mountains themselves, a shattered keep so feared that
even today it's left entirely alone in a trackless place, like naked bones
under the moon, kept secret in the lee of haunted crags!' He sat back and
nodded his satisfaction with their expressions. 'There!'
After Vulpe had translated, Randy Laverne said, 'Wow!' And more soberly:
'But... do you think he's for real?'
And the hunter knew what he'd said. He stared straight and frowning into
Laverne's wide eyes and instructed Vulpe: 'You tell him that I shot the last
man who called me a liar right in his backside. And you can also tell him
this: that in these ruins I know, there's a great grey wolf keeps watch even
today. And that's a fact, for I've tried to shoot him, too!'
Vulpe began to translate, but in the middle of it the hunter started to laugh.
'Hey! Hey!' he said. 'Not so serious! And don't take my threats too much to
heart. Oh, I know my story's a wild-
sounding thing but it's true all the same. Pay me for my time and trouble and
come see for yourselves. Well, what do you say?'
Vulpe held up a cautionary hand and Gogosu looked at it curiously in the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]