Part 21 (2/2)

A man in a blue uniform sauntered up to the edge of the crowd, looking naval and official. He examined the money. ”It's genuine.

Make your choice,” he said to the butcher.

The butcher opened his mouth, closed it, and pocketed the money.

”The harbormaster,” Gian whispered. ”Say you want pa.s.sage on the Reteif!”

To where, for G.o.d's sake? ”Thank you, kind sir. Now if you two will unhitch this gentleman's horse from my cart, I have business with the harbormaster.” She stepped down from the cart. Her legs would barely hold her, as though she had been long at sea. She was still in her stocking feet. Two men stepped up to help, and she peeled off another bill and gave it to the nearest.

The crowd parted before her as she strode toward the harbormaster. He was a big man. She felt uncomfortably small.

Well, she was used to that. ”I'd like to s.h.i.+p this... this cargo on the Reteif.”

The man's face was weathered by years of wind and sun. He narrowed his eyes. ”The Reteif, you say?””Yes.” Nothing for it but to brazen it out. ”When could the boat be ready to sail?”

”Reteif's a tender, signorina, a sloop. She's been ready these four days.”

”Good. Have the cart pulled on to the quay. And I'll tell you my plans.”

But of course she didn't have any. She hoped Gian did. But she had to make it to darkness to get his help.

”Will you hurry?” she demanded, watching Gian climb out of the cart. They had pulled it behind a stack of barrels. The sun was about to set like a red ball into the Mediterranean. That meant Elyta and the others would be up. They'd find their prey gone and come looking. And the first place they'd look would be the harbor, since she'd told them Gian came to Amalfi for a s.h.i.+p.

She'd changed into fresh clothes she'd bought in town, boy's clothes, in view of what most likely lay ahead. But at least her breeches were clean, her face washed, and her boots fit. She'd bought a change of clothing for Gian too, if she'd sized the articles of clothing right.

Gian brushed himself off, looking disgusted. ”I didn't know you had money.”

”Your mother gave me a thousand in notes in addition to the draft that was in my reticule.”

”You could have bought the cart in Ravello and spared us almost breaking our necks.”

Ungrateful man! ”Well, I didn't think of that at the time. I had other things on my mind, like Elyta and her crew. And I did get us down the mountain and on to your precious boat-”

”A tender, Reteif is a tender.”

”Which is a kind of boat according to the harbormaster. And you might show a little appreciation.” She was working herself up now. ”You could still be in the chapel with Elyta.”

He looked self-conscious. ”Let's get going. She will have discovered we're gone.”

”Now you're in a hurry.” Now that it was his idea.

He took her arm and helped her onto the narrow plank that teetered between the rocking little s.h.i.+p and the quay. A sailor who wore a horizontally striped s.h.i.+rt and long, braided hair let go a flapping sail. Four others on the deck let go their sails too and began tying down the bottoms. They moved as in a precisely figured dance. A small, wiry man barked orders, none of which made the least sense to her. Everyone was very busy. But when they saw her, all movement stopped. A sail flapped free where slack hands had let go the rope. After an uncomfortable silence, everyone started talking at once. What with their various nationalities and accents, she could hardly make them out. She didn't need to. The tones were of protest, and the object of their distress was obvious. The captain tried to quell them with threats and a raised voice.

Gian stepped forward. ”Gentlemen.” He didn't shout, but she could feel him call what power he had and put it all into that one word. The protests died.

”I am Gian Urbano.” At the name, their eyes went wide. ”Reteif is my tender.” He glanced around at the other s.h.i.+ps floating in the harbor. ”So are most others in port. I go to Algiers, with my guest. If you do not choose to take us do not expect employment from me again.”

Two or three swallowed visibly. Several others looked down at their hands.

”Then we are clear. I would say also that common courtesy will be expected.” His voice was hard, but he ramped the power down.They cast off from the quay but she heard murmurs of ”bad luck” ”devil woman,” and ”what woman dresses as a man?”

”Here, sit on this coil of rope,” Gian said, ”where you are out of the way.”

She rolled her eyes in protest, but she sat. She was not wanted here. Was it that she was a woman, or because of her scar? The little s.h.i.+p pushed off the quay and turned into the harbor. Memories of a dreadful Channel pa.s.sage one stormy night with Matthew were already affecting her stomach. The crew would really warm to her when she vomited all over this tidy little s.h.i.+p.

Gian stood above her, hanging on the web of ropes. The wind rose. The sails belled out and the little s.h.i.+p picked up speed. In no time they were skimming over the water.

”Where are we taking the stones?” she asked to distract her thoughts from her stomach.

”You mean me-where am I taking the stones? You will stay with my friends in Algiers.”

”I'll bet I know what kind of friends those are.” If he thought she was going to be fobbed off on some vampires she didn't even know, no doubt as vicious as Elyta, he was very wrong. She'd find a way to thwart him when he tried to leave her behind. He would say it was for her own protection. She was getting to know him well.

”They are good people. Ian Rufford and his wife, Elizabeth. They helped me fight a... war in North Africa.” His face closed down. He looked forlorn.

She couldn't ask what kind of war or what role he'd played in the face of that expression. ”I'm not sure I'm up to any more vampires.”

”They were just like you, five years ago, before they were infected. You'll like them.”

They were made monsters? Now they lived forever and had to drink blood. How tragic.

”So, where are you taking the stones'?” she said, to change the melancholy subject.

He let out a breath. ”I... don't know.”

”What?” This was too much. ”I thought you said they were from some temple.”

”Rufford knows the general location, but it was buried under tons of sand. I'm not sure anyone knows exactly where it is.” He sounded thoughtful, but not defeated. Was he a lunatic?

”So... Your plan was to wander the desert until... what? h.e.l.l freezes?”

”No.”

”Then what?”

”Come inside the cabin.” He glanced about pointedly. Seaman scurried about, tr.i.m.m.i.n.g sails or whatever. The cabin was not appealing. But he was right. There was no privacy here.

He held her elbow as she rose. Did he have to do that? The thrill of touching shot through her. He had to duck his head to get into the cabin. It was tiny. Several hammocks hung in tiers against the wall. The legs of a rough wooden table were securely fastened to the floor. Above the table a swinging lamp cast careening light around the room. He set her securely in a chair. The rolling floor of the cabin reminded her of the hold on that Channel crossing.

”Give me the stones.”

She fished in her reticule. What was he about? He took the mahogany inlaid box and flipped it open. First he stared at the winking ruby within, then closed his eyes for a long moment. Kate began tapping her foot.

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