“Four hundred years. Do you realize I have walked this earth sampling the blood of, what is that, seven, eight generations?” “Yes, my lord,” said Ambrus. “We have had some good times.” Terah poured himself some Bordeaux. Holding the goblet in his hands, his long fingernails clicking on the brass, he continued, “But I am bored, my friend. Are not you?” Ambrus walked to the other side of the table and removed his violin from the red velvet-lined case. “Shall I play for you?”
