The Vampire Megapack. Nina Kiriki Hoffman

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СКАЧАТЬ no doubt, and for the monks, these being their Holy Days, they will not begrudge us water and food, in the name of their God. But the request will do better coming from you than from me.”

      Although Sant-Germainus agreed, he asked, “Why do you think so?”

      The captain snorted. “Monks don’t like pirates. They’re likely to refuse me on that point alone.”

      “But you think they will provide me with food and water because I am a captive,” said Sant-Germainus.

      “It would be like them; their faith requires it,” said Captain Argourus, his smile widening. “Especially if you tell them I will kill you and all the men from your ship if you fail. They would rather be martyrs than betray their calling.”

      Sant-Germainus regarded the captain steadily. “And you intend that I should plead for all of us?”

      “And the monks, of course, since we would kill them, too, or lock them to the oars if they deny us. They can further their good acts by taking those of the oarsmen who are stricken, and treating their ills. We will lose half a dozen men to frostbite, I fear, and will need replacements for them. The monks could provide us with strong arms.” He coughed. “Tell them that during their Holy Days, they should uphold what their founder taught, and suffer for the good of others.”

      “Ship oars!” came the shout from the rowing-hold.

      “We must be close to shore; you can hear the breakers and smell the beach,” said the captain. “We will have to use the small boats to get to and from the land; there is no dock or quay at the inlet, not that it would be safe to tie up to any such structure with the seas still so high.” He pointed to Sant-Germainus. “Be ready to go ashore. I will not stomach delays. Our need it too urgent.”

      “I will have to find a cloak. My clothes are not sufficient to keep a mouse warm, not out in the open wind,” said Sant-Germainus. He did not want the clothes for protection against the elements, but to secure himself from prying eyes.

      “Your manservant can find that for you,” said the captain as he made for the ladder leading to the deck above. “Be ready. I will take your reluctance out on the hide of the oarsmen,” he declared ominously as he set foot on the lowest rung.

      “I will find what you need,” said Rutgeros to Sant-Germainus.

      “Thank you,” said Sant-Germainus, a troubled line settling in between his fine brows. He stood, accustoming himself to the roll of the ship, trying to put the discomfort of his headache and nausea behind him; forcing himself to listen to what the sailors and oarsman were shouting, he was able to reach a point where he could ignore his water-caused irritations, and to put his attention on what was going on around him, so that by the time Rutgeros came back from his search with a fine, if old-fashioned abolla, its deep pleats smelling of salt and rosemary; he was able to pull it on with little more than a wince. It’s color—a dark olive-gray—made him seem one with the shadows.

      “It is a bit damp,” Rutgeros said apologetically.

      “What is not?” Sant-Germainus countered with a hint of amusement. “It is mostly dry, and it is heavy enough to keep out the wind.” He saw Khafir-Amun descending the ladder into the hold. “How is this anchorage?”

      Khafir-Amun was tired; his big shoulders slouched and there were purplish shadows around his eyes. “It is the best we can have in this location,” he said. “This ship will not go much farther, in any case. We need food and water and the hull requires patching.”

      “Is it breached?” Sant-Germainus asked, trying to conceal his alarm.

      “Nothing too serious, but the hull must be patched; the damage will get worse if it isn’t attended to now. Three of the oars are in need of repair, as well.” He rubbed his lips. “I am hungry, and I need sleep.”

      Sant-Germainus nodded. “As are we all: hungry.”

      “The captain will have to provide for us, and soon,” said Khafir-Amun, scowling as he looked for a bunk in which to nap. “And everyone is tired, I know I am not alone. Some are asleep at their oars.”

      “Then the captain will provide rest and food,” Sant-Germainus agreed, thinking of the errand ahead for him. “If he has any sense.”

      “Six of the oarsmen have been set to fishing from the fore-deck,” said Rutgeros. “They should catch something to cook.”

      “Octopus,” said Khafir-Amun. “I like octopus.”

      “I suspect anything would do now,” said Rutgeros. “Except, perhaps, sponges.”

      “In storms like this, fishing is uncertain,” said Khafir-Amun, no longer paying much attention as he covered his yawn.

      “All the more reason for me to make haste,” said Sant-Germainus, as much to spur himself on as to explain his mission.

      “So say we all,” muttered Khafir-Amun.

      “Is there a lantern I can take with me?” Sant-Germainus asked, for although his eyes did not require the extra illumination to see in the night, he knew better than to forge off into the fading light with nothing to light his way.

      “I’ll find one for you,” Rutgeros said, and went forward in the chilly, malodorous hold, moving carefully among the groups of worn out oarsmen who sat on the floor, bent with fatigue.

      “So you really are going to speak to the monks, are you?” Khafir-Amun asked Sant-Germainus.

      “The captain insists,” said Sant-Germainus, resignation in every aspect of his body.

      “Just like that? On your own?”

      Rutgeros returned, carrying a simple oil-lantern, its wick just starting to burn. After blowing gently on the wick to increase its brightness, he held it out to Sant-Germainus silently; Sant-Gemainus took the oil-lantern and studied it for a brief moment, then looked att Khafir-Amun. “He has promised to kill you and all those he took from the Morning Star if I do not persuade the monks to feed and help us. I have no doubt he would carry out his threat.” His face was impassive but there was a glint in his dark eyes that revealed the contempt he felt for the captain. “That is not the way I would prefer to mark the remembrance of my birth.”

      “I see. So you aren’t likely to do anything other than what the captain requires,” said Khafir-Amun. “He’s a clever old devil, Captain Argourus is.”

      “Do you admire him?” Rutgeros asked in disapproving surprise.

      “No,” said Khafir-Amun. “But many pirates would simply cut their losses and strand the captives and the injured on this island to fend for themselves. At least we have something more than thirst and starvation ahead of us.” He listened to the outburst of activity on the deck, and smiled. “Ah. Someone has caught a fish. As soon as the men get the fire going again, we will have a little to eat.”

      “I hope the fish is of good size,” said Rutgeros.

      “Or that more are caught, and soon. They will put the fish in with the driest of the beans that are left into the pot, and anything else that we can still safely eat that hasn’t been washed overboard.” Khafir-Amun touched the charm that hung around his neck on a hin brass chain. “We will not die tonight, or tomorrow.”

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