The Saga of Larten Crepsley 1-4. Darren Shan

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СКАЧАТЬ was to spear a fish with their little finger. It should have been a simple task, except Seba had tied a strip of cloth around their eyes so that neither could see.

      “Listen closely, gentlemen,” he called from the bank, where he was tucking into a pheasant that they had caught and roasted for him earlier. “No creature moves in complete silence. Focus. Train your ears. Ignore the sounds of the stream and the rumblings of your stomachs.”

      “Easy for him to say,” Larten huffed, the delicious smell of the pheasant thick in his nostrils. He hadn’t eaten since they’d arrived here four nights ago. Wester hadn’t either. Seba had told them they could eat nothing until they caught a fish.

      Wester bent close to the water and strained, but he could hear nothing moving beneath the surface, even with his advanced senses. After a few minutes he stabbed directionlessly, figuring if he did that often enough, he had to catch something eventually. But he came up empty-handed.

      Beside him, Larten was struggling to control his rage. He was starving, wet and freezing. But worst of all, he felt like a fool. There was no way they could do this. If it was a still pond, perhaps, but there were limits to what even a vampire could do. Besides, when he’d studied the stream from the bank before getting in, he hadn’t seen any fish.

      Something bumped lightly against Larten’s leg and he thrust at it. His nail struck true and he yelled with triumph. But when he ripped his blindfold away he saw that he’d only speared a piece of wood.

      “You will not get fat on that,” Seba chuckled, juices from the pheasant dripping down his chin.

      “Charna’s guts!” Larten roared and threw the stick at Seba. It struck the vampire’s shoulder and bounced harmlessly to the floor. Seba stared at it, then at Larten, his expression unreadable.

      “Apologise!” Wester hissed. He’d removed his blindfold and was trembling.

      “For what?” Larten shouted. “He’s treating us worse than animals. There’s no way we can–”

      “He is,” Seba calmly corrected him. “There is.”

      “How about this?” Larten sneered. “You are a stupid, cruel, decrepit sham of a vampire!”

      “Larten!” Wester gasped.

      “You have lost your senses,” Larten pressed on. He waded out of the stream and stood dripping before his master. “You do not deserve the title of General. You are setting us tasks that no vampire could complete, just to watch us fail. You should go and…”

      He stopped. Seba had stood up and was heading for the stream. He got in and told Wester to tie the blindfold around his eyes. As the pair of young vampires watched in silence, he extended his arms and stuck out the index finger of both hands. Seba crouched low over the gushing water and held his position like a hovering hawk. For a long time he didn’t move and his assistants were motionless too. Then, in a flash, his left hand shot into the water. When he pulled it out again, his finger was stuck through the middle of a small, silver fish.

      Seba tossed the fish on to the bank, removed his blindfold and raised an eyebrow at Larten, inviting an apology. But Larten was in no mood to beg his master’s forgiveness. With a curse, he suggested a dark, warm place where Seba could stuff the fish, then spun on his heels and stormed off.

      “Larten!” Wester cried, struggling out of the stream. He wanted to go after his friend, but before he could, Seba called to him.

      “Hold, Master Flack.” When Wester looked back, he was astonished to see Seba smiling. “Let him go. It will do him good to sulk for a while.”

      Wester frowned, then looked for the fish. Picking it up, he sniffed carefully. “This isn’t fresh,” he whispered.

      “I would be shocked if it was,” Seba chuckled. “I caught it some hours ago, while you were hunting for my pheasant. I had it concealed up my sleeve. As a trained magician, Larten really should have noticed. Perhaps he was too hungry to concentrate.”

      “Larten was right,” Wester snapped. “You’re making fools of us.”

      Seba’s smile faded and he shook his head. “You are like sons to me. I would never do that to you. The tasks I have set are all within the means of vampires of a certain standing. You and Larten are not yet ready to pass such tests, but they are legitimate and there is no shame in failing them.”

      “I don’t understand,” Wester frowned. “Why set the tests if you know we can’t complete them?”

      “To provoke a reaction like the one we have just seen.” Seba sighed and stepped out of the water. “Larten is a fine young vampire, honest and obedient, but he lacks patience. He also tries to hide his true feelings. It is important for a man to control his emotions, but sometimes we need to be able to express ourselves freely in the company of those we love and trust.

      “Larten needs to rebel,” Seba said. “He has stood by me loyally ever since we met in that place of the dead, but the time has come for him to face the world by himself. He must choose his own path, not simply march with me down mine.”

      “Why don’t you just tell him that and cut him free?” Wester asked.

      “It is important that he thinks it is his own choice,” Seba said. “If you have to be told to rebel, it is not a true rebellion.” Seba noticed Wester’s confusion and laughed. “You might have assistants of your own one night, and then my actions may not seem so curious.

      “In the meantime I must ask you to trust me. Say nothing of this to Larten. Continue to suffer with him as he fails more tasks and grows ever angrier. If he asks how I reacted to his insults tonight, tell him I fumed and cursed his name. Let him think I am as angry with him as he is with me.” Seba’s eyes softened and his voice dropped. “By no means tell him that I love him dearly, or that this hurts me a lot more than it infuriates him.”

      CHAPTER TWENTY

      The three vampires came to a city in the middle of the night. It was raining and they trudged through the streets in silence, keeping to the shadows. Larten and Wester were paying little attention to their surroundings, heads lowered, waiting for their master to find a spot where they could rest up. They assumed Seba would lead them to a graveyard or the ruins of an old building, as he usually did, but this time he surprised them by stopping in front of an inn.

      “I feel like sleeping in a comfortable bed tonight,” Seba said. “How does this establishment look to you?”

      “Very nice,” Wester said, beaming at the thought of spending the night indoors for a change.

      “Fine,” Larten grunted, casting a weary eye over the front of the inn. Then he paused and studied it again. It was an old-looking building, with blue glass in the windows. Not many inns had such curious glass. In fact Larten had only ever seen one exactly like it, a long time ago, when he was still a human child and passed by this way quite often.

      “I know this place,” Larten whispered, raising his head and staring at the street with more interest.

      “Do you?” Seba asked, faking innocence.

      “I’ve been here before. This is…” He stopped and gulped. “This is the city where I was born.”

      Wester СКАЧАТЬ