Words And Meanings
by Bonnie Rutledge
(copyright 2001)Chapter Eleven So we flew south again, any thoughts concerning the floating Francesca shoved far into the back of my mind. I know, for many years, I wished she had remained in that river to boil away with the morning sun."She survived."
How would you know?
"A century later, I killed her. In what you called 'a permanent sort of way.'"
Oh. Congratulations.
"Not necessary. What happened when you returned to D'Asile?"
That's kind of skipping ahead. Like I said, this story isn't about me, so much as it's about the people I've known. A lot of stuff went down while Bourbon and I were racing to Thérèse's rescue, action I didn't see with my own eyes, words I heard later, when Screed had a chance to fill in the blanks.
"Then what did Screed say happened next?"
Uh ... do you mind if I don't quote him exactly?
"Try for coherence where it's necessary."
In that case...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * Screed approached D'Asile from the banks of the Saône, his empty rucksack flapping against his side. Every few steps, his path would veer sharply as he darted to investigate particular interesting bits on the ground that triggered his attention, a piece of flint in one spot, the rustle of a furry animal in another. When he grew close enough for the castle to loom in full view, he paused and scratched his temple, shaking his head at the stark quiet of it.Screed commenced a half-skip/half-jog, hurrying up the hill. The wind shifted, and suddenly he crouched, tilting his nose to catch the stories carried on the breeze. Making a curious sound, he shifted direction, humming a tune as he strolled toward the gardens.
Beyond the cultured hedges, away from the well-kept roses, the arbors and the brief rambles of honeysuckle vines, Screed found a nicely trimmed, flat square of lawn piled high with dead bodies. Nearby, he spotted Lucrece in her pretty pale blue robe, her hair loose, focused upon digging a very large, deep hole.
She tossed her shovel aside, bending over at the waist as she visually judged if she'd dug far enough into the ground. Screed appreciated the view for several lusty seconds, then made another curious sound. "Buryin' treasure?? H'empties? Double duty 'its tha' jackpot!"
Lucrece whirled around. "The carouche!" She didn't give the impression this was a pleasant surprise. "What are you doing here?"
He slipped his cap off his head and twiddled with it as he beamed. "Head's h'up ta tha' V-Man. Scorchy tip ta blister ya ears."
She wiped impatiently at her robe, shooting him a look that could skin a deer. "Vachon left. You should do likewise." Lucrece turned her attention away from him and lifted two of the corpses, carried them across the yard, then lowered them into the ground.
"Why?"
Lucrece passed him a disbelieving look as she stalked back to the pile. "Because you're a strange-smelling rodent sucker who was not invited here and is not welcome!"
"Pretty chit-chat, that, mais Aye meant why tha' vaya con Vachyssoise? 'E's stayin' 'ere. Told me hisself." Screed wandered over to the dead, poked a couple of bodies, then began to copy Lucrece in moving them to the mass grave.
"He must have changed his mind," Lucrece answered bitterly as she dropped another corpse. "He chose to wander like a vagabond with you over living in a castle with me. You won. I lost. Happy?"
Screed snorted as he followed behind her with two more bodies. "H'iffen Aye'd scored h'a pot o' gold, tha' would be me h'oyster stew. Ya don' win h'a Spaniard. Tha's like winnin' tha' wind." He heaved his load over the side, scratched the side of his nose, and went back for more. "Ya don' make h'a Spaniard do h'anythin' 'e don' want ta do, lessen ya want h'a scruff. Ya hitch yer sail h'up fer tha' ride, h'or ya goes h'elsewhere. Now, h'a nice carouche ass-so-see-ate, onna h'other 'and, h'is h'always receptive ta bribes h'iffen ya want some-chosey fait-accompli." Screed patted his chest with pride and picked up another body.
Lucrece did a double take and began staring at Screed's activity. Her posture grew livid. "What are you doing?" She dogged Screed's steps back to the grave. "What do you think you are doing, carouche?"
Screed gave her a carefree grin. "Tidyin' h'up!" He dumped the corpse he carried, dusting his hands with satisfaction as it clumped at the top of the sunken pile.
"No!" Lucrece exhaled, storming around Screed in a fit. She shoved him, knocking Screed to his back on the ground. "No, no, no! You are not helping me! Of all possible people, I refuse your help! You should leave! Trust me, I am the last person to whom you should offer aid."
"H'it's not h'a screamin' problem, chickee. Aye was h'only chargin' ya twenty!"
She tossed her hair over her shoulder, snapping, "I'm not paying you! Go away!"
Screed scowled. "Ya coulda told h'a bloke before 'e started helpin'." He scrambled to his feet and stubbornly turned back to the remaining dead, lifting another corpse.
Lucrece observed his continuing assistance with incredulity. "I said I wasn't paying you for any work."
"'Eard ya tha' first time. Want me ta quit, that'll cost ya h'a 'undred livres," Screed negotiated.
"Are you completely -?" Lucrece broke off, throwing up her hands. "Fine. Stay. Go. It makes no difference." She sat where she was, wrapping her arms around her knees as she continued to watch Screed's movements.
"Complainin' h'about losin' tha' V-Man, h'all love-lorn, boo-'ooey," Screed commented, shaking his head as he transferred bodies. "H'iffen h'anybody's been shafted h'at this Shangri-la-di-da, h'it's yers truly."
Culpability flickered over Lucrece's features as she shifted her position. "What have you heard?"
"Me purse echoin', tha's wot. Grabbin' mortals ta pump tha' juice outta h'em, Miss Fancy 'n friends 'ad ta nab tha' mate wot h'owed me h'a milley!"
"A thousand livres is nothing," Lucrece sniffed.
"'H'a thousand h'is nothin','" Screed mimicked in a girly-tone. "H'it was promised ta ol' Screed's pocket! Don' get me wrong, Aye likes tha' jammy o' yer business h'arrangement - set h'up h'a ratsie production o' me h'own - butcha robbed me proper cut. Aye'm pissed h'onna matter o' principal. Wot Aye don' get, mindja - ya let Dumarchais an' tha' rest o' 'is batch scamper, but ya tricky-liquored tha' lot so that my mate croaks 'afor 'e can settle coin. Stupid move, Sunshine. Nobody gets their gain, 'cause ya didn' use yer brain."
"Bourbon let them go. I kept them all drugged so they would remain quiet until the time came to drain them. Your debtor must have been in poor health already for a few days in a cell and some opium to ruin him. Bourbon gave those people the chance of survival," Lucrece said quietly, her chin tilted down as she stared glumly into the grave. "I would have killed them all."
Screed made a sound of disgust. "Baron Bosky - tha's h'a mate wot needs ta learn 'ow ta 'ave h'a bit o' fun, properly h'improper like, know wot Aye mean?"
Lucrece had stopped listening. She leaned closer to the edge of the hole, reaching down into its depth. "There's so many of them. I slit their throats one at a time - I suppose it never registered. I haven't paid attention to the burial before, even the first time. Servants always did the work."
Screed grabbed irreverently at his crotch. "Ha! Serve this!"
"You are not a servant, Screed," she said, glaring at him crossly. "What you are is a scab that, no matter how I pick at it, never goes away. You simply fester and become more of a sore place blemishing my view." Lucrece suddenly seized his ankle as he passed with another load. "Stop."
"Wot? Stop? H'it'll cost ya. Aye'm h'only 'alf-through."
"I did not mean stop entirely," she replied quietly. "Stop putting them in this grave. It's too full. You'll have to dig another."
Screed shrugged and began to burrow with his hands, making quick work of creating a second, deeper hole.
Meanwhile, Lucrece resumed staring moodily into the first. "Did you say you copied my blood supply business with your rodents?" she asked. "You knew about it?" The concept left her bemused.
"Peeked durin' tha' par-tee." Screed nodded. "Clip h'em by tha' tails, give h'em h'a squeeze now an' then, fill yer bottle right h'up. Scored me enough squeak fer h'an extended h'allez-là."
"That wouldn't be a problem, would it?" Lucrece said prosaically. "There's only one of you. It's not like you have a dozen more carouche crawling underfoot, expecting you to obtain their rations in return for gold and favors. How many rats would that take? Would you clean out the tunnels of Lyon within a month? Two?"
Screed paused, scratching his skullcap. "Dunno. Ya know h'a dozen carouche local wot would be h'interested?"
"Hardly," Lucrece replied wryly. "And I don't recommend pursuing it. This blood supply business - it is another one of those things Vachon would call a 'pyramid scheme,' isn't it? Not sustainable in the long-term. It works fine for us at the top, but when you look at the bottom, all you see is..."
"H'a pharaoh-thee-well heap o' h'empties wot need tidyin'." Screed chuckled to himself as he commenced moving the last of the bodies into the new grave site. "Ya sayin' that corkin' h'em h'isn't tha' way ta go?"
"I'm having second thoughts. I must be. I'm discussing it with ... " Lucrece glanced up from the dead, surprise washing her features. " ... You."
"Sure ya h'are. Aye'm prized h'in certain circles fer me converse-station."
"So I gathered." Her mouth twisted mockingly. "I've always been simply a prize, at least from the cradle to the coffin." Lucrece tipped onto her back and stared meaningfully up at the cloudy night sky. "I followed the example of the men who raised me. I thought they loved me, prized me, but there's a difference between being prized and being a prize. I've just started to understand that." All at once, she climbed to her feet and began to trail inquisitively after Screed again. "Where are you going next?"
"H'outta Lyon. Gettin' too roar fer h'our type thanks ta you. Pourquoi ya want ta know?"
"I've had a bad idea. No, not bad so much as risky ... you, being a carouche, and me, being the one who ... But never mind that. Vachon will be looking for you." Lucrece appeared to be talking to herself more than Screed. She nodded as she came to a conclusion in her thoughts. "Yes, he will." She reached out abruptly again, grasping Screed's arm. "Stop!"
"Make h'up yer mind h'on tha' job, Fancy! Do h'it, h'or don't Aye?"
"Do it, but answer a question first. How much? How much would it take to bribe you to bring me along wherever will you go?"
He scoffed. "Come h'agin? Aye seem ta be hearin' lil' voices h'in me noggin. Lady Sunshine wants ta tag h'along wit' ol' Screed? Pull tha' h'other one, why dont'cha?"
"You said you were receptive to bribes. How much to take me along?" She grew impatient as Screed lingered over mulling her offer. "I could follow you without paying anything," she warned. "If that's the way you want it to be..."
"'Old ya h'anchor. Aye was h'only adulatin' me h'expenses. Aye see h'a number ... " He squinted, rubbing his fingers together as he imagined the feel of the coins. "The thousand ya h'owe me wit' siccin' Dumarchais, plus double fer toil 'n trouble."
She didn't blink, making Screed wish he'd tried asking for more. "Deal. My coffers are in the castle. Take it." Lucrece angled her chin stubbornly. "In fact, the gold, the gems - you can have anything you want. I'm leaving that behind."
Screed looked as though he'd just sailed off the edge of the world. "Wot? Ya fer real?"
"Yes, I am. I mean it. I don't want the money. I've struggled for it long enough, and to no reward."
"Hoo!" Screed called, abandoning any inclination to finish burying the dead, and began to head toward D'Asile with a spring in his step. "Forget tha' mob wot's comin' ta poke yer pretty 'ead h'onna pole! Ya've h'already lost h'it! Adios ta braino!"
"Wait!" Lucrece rushed into his path. "What mob?" she demanded.
"Tha' mob wot's gatherin' h'in Lyon h'on h'accounts one o' tha' bodies Bourbon turned loosy-goosy tattled yer business! Knowin' some richie snatched their amigos, 'n gave h'em h'a second smile," Screed said, motioning a slit across his throat, "townsies want yer 'ead strung, h'an' yer chatty-toe burnt low."
She frowned with concentration, quickly regrouping after digesting this new wrinkle. "How soon until they arrive?"
He appeared mystified as he gave his own response. "Should h'already be 'ere, by me h'estimate."
Lucrece held out her arms at her sides and exclaimed, "Then why didn't you mention it earlier?! Do you want to get us killed?"
"H'us? There wasn' h'an h'us. There was me, h'innocent sailor, 'n you, targeted fer slash 'n burn!" Screed made a face, like the answer was obvious. "There was more dinero h'innit fer me h'iffen Aye finished buryin' tha' bones. Now, there's h'a castle ta plunder quick-like 'afore tha' riot shows h'up tha' sizzle! Fill me 'ands wit' gold, Sunshine, then there's h'an h'us!"
Lucrece glanced over her shoulder, back through the arbor toward the grave sites. "I suppose we should leave the dead uncovered. The mortals will want to bury their own, no doubt with the church's blessing."
He hopped up the steps of the terrace, selectively ambivalent. "Wot-ever, long h'as they don' try ta play churchy h'in ol' Screed's dire-erection."
Lucrece dodged in front of him at the entrance, shot Screed a displeased glare, then propped the door open so he could pass through ahead of her. "The money," she said as she clipped down the hall at his side, "I've changed my mind about that."
Screed groaned. "Now Aye know Aye'm h'imaginatin' things! First, she does want h'a cut, then she doesn't want h'a cut! 'H'oh, no! None h'a tha' goldie-shiney fer me!' Now she wants h'a share h'all h'over! Jes' like h'a skirt. Make h'up yer bleedin' mind h'already!"
"No need for dramatics," Lucrece countered, motioning for him to turn right as they reached the end of the hall. "I only want to leave a portion for the mortals." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Interesting how holy burials aren't for free."
"Grubby fingers o' religion, h'it is! H'inna portion that was goin' ta me!" Screed fussed. "Innit that nice?" he said sarcastically. "Fine way ta treat yer nouveau compadre, robbin' 'im blind!"
"Trust me, you won't miss a paltry fraction out of the whole," she assured him. "Do you have any idea how rich I am? I mean, was. It would be impossible to carry it all."
"Aye can try!" Screed insisted.
Lucrece stopped walking and gestured for him to move ahead. "Go through there, then left. You'll have to break in if you don't want to wait for me to fetch the keys."
"Keys h'are fer sissies." Screed made a sound of protest when she nodded and turned to leave him on his own. "Where're ya goin'? Aye thought ya was followin' tha' carouche?"
"I'll be back," she assured him. "You won't even notice I'm gone."
Screed watched as she disappeared around the corner, his nose wrinkling contrarily. "Aye'm noticin'." After a moment he stiffened, realizing he was wasting precious time in which he could be rifling valuables. "Skirts 'n baggage, baggage 'n skirts," he muttered as he followed Lucrece's directions to the money. His grumbles shifted into humming, and by the time Screed had broken into the coffers he was singing the words to a happy tune. "Skirts 'n baggage, baggage 'n skirts ... don' mindja manners, grab h'all tha' she's worth..."
Screed filled his rucksack, then ripped down a tapestry that he knotted into a makeshift bag filled with gold, silver, and jewelry. As he turned away from his loot to hunt for something else that would work as a carry-all, Lucrece reappeared. She'd dressed in breeches and boots her size, but had pulled a heavy leather coat over them. Obviously borrowed from items Bourbon had left behind, the sleeves hung down to her fingers and the body swung loosely, but the coat had many bulging pockets. A baldric crossing her chest peeped from underneath; the tip of the sword it hosted bobbed between a slit in the jacket's folds. The only feminine frill to her clothing was a blue ribbon that secured the long braid down her back. In one fist, Lucrece carried another satchel. This item drew Screed's attention finally, and most intently.
He motioned toward the pack. "'And tha' baggie h'over."
"It's already full."
Screed appeared affronted. "With wot?"
"My things."
"'Oldin' h'out h'on yer friend Screed? Ya said Aye could take h'all ya things!"
"All my wealth," Lucrece clarified, then became pensive. "Though these are wealth, of a sort."
"Lemme roll h'an h'eyeball h'on h'em," he insisted as he unfastened the flap and looked at the satchel's contents. "Skirts!" he exclaimed as he rummaged through pieces of folded material, his face exuding disappointment.
Lucrece feigned innocence. "You don't want to take a pretty dress, Screed? I do believe this one's your color!"
"Fun-ny!" Screed dug deeper in the bag, making a noise of even stronger disgust when he saw what was buried beneath Lucrece's clothing. "Books! Ya grabbed books?"
"People pay a great deal of money for books," she countered.
His expression brightened. "Like rosies ya bud somethin' new ... " Screed started to lift a volume from the satchel, but Lucrece slapped his hand, packed her items tightly and refastened the bag.
Slipping a leather pouch from one of her pockets, she held it out to Screed. "Fill this. We'll leave it with the dead."
Screed groused and grumbled, but he did as she asked. Tossing a coin-laden pouch back to her, Screed shuffled over to one of the locked chests and lifted it from its floor recess. "Nev-a' mind tha' sack 'n pack. Aye'll carry tha' boxes Aye've not busted yet. No bad h'apples h'in this lot, roight?"
"No. All pearls in that one, if I remember correctly. I've always liked pearls," she said musingly.
"Like kissies from tha' sea," Screed said approvingly, patting his new treasure chest lovingly.
"Quite," Lucrece said in a humoring tone. "But how are you going to fly with two sacks and a dozen chests, when you only have two hands? Strap them to your back with brass wire? Tie them about your waist with a rope?"
Screed gave her a confused look. "Who said we're flyin'?"
"I thought ... " Now Lucrece was the puzzled one. "We're in a hurry to escape a potential mob coming this way to burn this castle down. Speed would be appropriate. Flying is fast. Did I miss an important detail?"
"Yeah. Aye 'ave h'a ship 'itched ta tha' dock. Screed don' fly when there's water ta sail."
"Oh." Lucrece still appeared dazed with the addition of this information. Maybe it was the shock of understanding the sentiment, and the unexpected source advocating her policy of flying as a last resort. "In that case, I'll help you load your ship."
Screed smiled greedily as he watched her haul up one of the locked chests. "That's h'a mate." He hooked his makeshift sack of treasures over one shoulder, lifted the chest he'd selected, then followed Lucrece out of the room.
As they neared the terrace, the rumble of distant shouts reached them through the glass. Lucrece glanced worriedly over her shoulder. "The people from town ... they're here!"
"Don' jes' stand there, Sunshine. Run!" He kicked the door out with a booted foot. The glass insets shattered, raining in an abrupt clatter against the stone landing outside.
The shouts intensified and swiftly changed direction. Someone in the mob had picked out the crash, and the flow of mortals shifted to cut off any escape. As Screed and Lucrece rushed down the steps and through the manicured paths, the crowd flooded around the sides of D'Asile, their angry cries encroaching in a wave-like roar.
Both vampires' feet flashed over the lawn. Already mortals tumbled down the top of the hill, their torches bobbing in the darkness. Glass continued to shatter as the townspeople struck at the rest of the windows lining the terrace. The hedges and flowers at the edge of the gardens ignited as the frenzied bodies moved forward, a wall of flame creeping in their wake.
In sight of the water, Screed realized that Lucrece wasn't with him. He glanced around to find she'd halted by the open graves and now stared frozen as the chateau erupted with fire.
"Get h'a move h'on, girlie!" he yelled.
Lucrece looked back at him briefly, but D'Asile pulled her attention again as the mob surged dangerously close. All at once, the windows on the upper levels exploded from the rising heat. She flinched, then moved into action, hefting the chest she carried to support it against her leg and tossing the bag of livres so it landed cradled in the hand of one of the corpses. Lucrece fled, racing to catch up with Screed.
"Mortals teamin' like that turn tha' table," he reamed at her as they ran down the dock. "H'all they want h'is ta suck ya down, whirlpool, 'til yer pretty ass h'is ash. Tell me somethin'. Wot ya want ta stupid 'ang h'about fer?"
Lucrece jumped onto the small craft Screed had tied down, unloading her chest and satchel, then reached out to accept his other cargo. "I was saying goodbye to all of your new fortune that you had to leave behind," she said dryly while Screed heaved off from the dock.
"Aye still think yer h'a ninny," Screed informed her. "Grab h'a paddle. Tha' wind's died, 'n tha' current's slow fer h'a good stretch."
Lucrece began to row through the flat surface of the water. "Good thing your boat isn't bigger. You said this was a ship. It's more like one of those dinghies to travel between real ships and the shore, isn't it?"
Screed scowled, insulted that she'd cast aspersions about the size of his prized vessel. "Dinghy, nothin'! Wot would h'a puff like ya know h'about h'it? Good fer h'a 'andful o' crew, she 'as h'a sail, she 'as h'a 'old. She's h'a ship!"
"I've been on boats before," Lucrece countered. "Only they had cushions and - " She tensed at a nearby splash in the water.
They'd paddled about fifty feet away from the bank. The forward rush of the mob had now reached the dock, and those with torches lobbed them in attempt to hit the small vessel.
"Make h'a screamin' target, why don' Aye?" Screed cursed. "Keep h'up tha' stroke while Aye lower tha' sail."
Lucrece nodded, stroking rapidly through the water as another torch splashed and sank within a foot of their stern. More burning hail hurtled from shore, most clattering harmlessly into the river, sinking in sizzling afterthought. One torch came farther and faster than the others, driving both Screed and Lucrece to duck instinctively as it flew overhead. It landed on deck, its flames licking the planks at the base of one of the chests, crackling for revenge.
The vampires reared backward at the first burst of fire. They hovered for a wary second in fear, then both moved into separate courses of action. Lucrece snatched at the base of the torch, swiping it off of the deck, while Screed grabbed a bucket and doused the burning section of the boat. Lucrece aimed the torch at the dock like a flaming javelin. Some mortals leapt into the water for fear of being hit and cleared a straight path for the missile to strike a man behind them full in the chest.
"Coo!" Screed exclaimed. "Tha's h'a throw!" He gestured at the now-soaked boards tinged with black. "S'right h'enough! Jes' h'a scorch ta mark tha' h'occasion."
Lucrece flexed her hand and winced. "That's not all that scorched." Screed held out the bucket. She accepted it and soaked her fist, checking the dock as he returned to tying down the sail. "None of the mortals look interested in swimming after us. Do you think they'll find rafts of their own to chase us down?"
"Keep paddlin' ta be clever, 'til tha' wind blows. They'd 'ave ta come from Lyon, where Aye borrowed this floater from one h'of h'em wit'out permission. They're h'at h'a disadvantage pushin' tha' babble o' this brook, sailin' from town now. And ... " Screed added, a grouchy note to his voice. " ... She's not h'a raft. She's h'a proper vessel. Mindja lip, h'or Aye'll toss ya h'overboard!"
Lucrece's mouth twisted in amusement at his declaration. "Why do sailors refer to boats like they are women? Is it because they so rarely see the real thing?"
Screed snorted disparagingly. "'Cause their sides h'are curvy, we want ta fill their hulls, swab their decks, 'n reach port wit' h'em 'afore they toss h'us ta fathoms below."
Her smile became wondering. "That was almost poetic. If, granted, poetry had no meter and did not rhyme, but was only a matter of rhythm and metaphor, yes, that would have been poetic." Lucrece nodded in firm affirmation. "Not poetic, but a nice answer. Are all carouche so odd-tongued as you?"
"Like Aye care ta tongue h'em. Aye speak wot Aye think. Did so 'afore Tha' H'inka fanged me, so reckon tha' jammie-talkie h'is me h'own special glib."
Her eyes narrowed curiously. "The Inka? Who is The Inka?"
Screed had finished tying down the sail and spotted Lucrece sitting, doing nothing but soaking her fist in the bucket. "H'issen h'a pleasure cruise, ya lazy skirt!"
Lucrece removed her hand from the water and gave Screed a mock-salute. "Yes, Captain," she said in a facetious tone. Flexing her fingers again, she seemed satisfied with how they had healed. Lucrece dug in her coat pockets, pulled out a pair of leather gloves and put them on, then resumed rowing off port.
Screed joined in on the starboard side, and they passed a period filled only with the tranquil splashing of their paddles plowing the water and the current pushing a low creaking from the bottom of the boat's hull.
Silence and patience suited Screed off dry land, but not Lucrece. Soon enough, she gave into the temptation of asking, "Will we pass Lyon by sunrise?"
"H'iffen tha' breeze rises ta set tha' sails."
"And if it doesn't?"
"H'it will."
"You can't know that it will," Lucrece argued.
"You h'ren't goin' ta be so bleedin' noisy h'onna permanent basis, h'are ya? Wot, ya mus' be h'a real firecracker hip slammy yin-yang fer tha' V-Man ta put h'up wit' blab h'in tha' ear, h'on 'n h'on." He shot her a suggestive smirk. "'Course, h'iffen ya were partial ta h'a practical demonstration, Screed could get h'a little deaf..."
Lucrece growled and threw the bucket at his head.
Screed scrubbed the water from his face with a sleeve and held up a placating hand. "Settle ya feathers, Sunshine. Aye's jus' razzin' ya, friend-like."
"Of course, and I just experienced a spontaneous urge to practice my throw, using you as a target. Friend-like," she mimicked, then sighed. "My questions about escaping Lyon by dawn are perfectly reasonable. I don't want to get trapped in a town littered with mortals who might revolt, and you shouldn't be where - " Lucrece broke off and scowled.
"Wot h'about me 'n where?" Screed demanded.
"The Enforcers - they're coming for you. To Lyon."
"Pah! H'issen like someone told h'em me h'exact h'address - " Lucrece's expression sunk in, and Screed groaned. "Ya ratted!"
"I wouldn't use that wording exactly, but, yes, I had a hand in it."
"An' wot they're gonna do h'if they find me ... " Screed began.
"Destroy you," Lucrece affirmed.
Screed nodded sharply at her words. "Ya knew wot would happen. Ya made h'it happen!" Without waiting for another response, he reared forward and shoved her over the side.
Lucrece plunged into the water with a heavy splash, but she didn't bob immediately to the surface. Screed stomped across the deck, cursing angrily to himself. "Set tha' H'enforcers h'on me ... stab h'a Screed h'in tha' back why don'cha? ... h'expect ta tag h'along 'n watch h'em do tha' deed, Aye'm wise ta that!" He strode to the port side and shook a fist at the silent river. "Probably plannin' ta hand h'em tha' stake ... Tha's h'a nasty piece o' piece. Bad luck ta 'ave h'a Jane h'on board, 'struth, h'it h'is!"
"I was wrong," Lucrece's voice said smoothly to his back, "and I knew it, but I was a coward."
Screed turned, his eyes fierce. She stood on the other side of the ship, dripping wet, having swum underneath the hull to climb aboard the boat like a whisper while he ranted. "Did Aye say yer welcome h'on this crew? Get lost. Make h'it now. See, this h'is why h'a mate don't let mates h'associate wit' skirts! First, h'it's h'all moony-dovey, next thing ya know, somebody's got wood h'in their chest - tha' fella named Screed!"
"It was the other night, when everyone saw you at D'Asile. Some of the vampires wanted you dead just because you are a carouche."
He jerked a hand, looking ready to throw her overboard again. "Not h'interested!"
Lucrece continued to speak, methodically, calmly. "They found out the direction of the inn you stayed at in Lyon from one of the acrobats. Though I wasn't the one who contacted the Enforcers, they used my paper, my ink, and one of my servants to send the message ... I didn't come up with the plot, but when I discovered the threat, I did nothing. I could have given you a warning sooner, but..."
"But Aye'm h'a carouche?"
"No. That's not it." She shook her head earnestly as she tried to explain. "You have Vachon's loyalty, and I knew I did not. I did not believe that I could compete with that. Loyalty - it's more powerful than fear, more persuasive than temptation, stronger than love ... no, loyalty is love. It's difficult to kill. It was expedient to look the other way and have someone else kill you for my convenience."
Screed made a face. "Phhew! V-Man 'n Aye h'aren' that friendly. Haven' h'even known 'im fer h'a cen-tree," he said as he pointed at her angrily. "Don' jes' call h'a bloke words like 'lovin' 'n 'loyal' 'n ick-spect 'im ta take h'it like h'a compliment. Keep ya skirty words ta yisself!"
"Relax. It's not as if I called you loyal." Lucrece gave a small smile. "But you came to D'Asile to warn Vachon, even though you had to have known you wouldn't be welcome."
Screed's forehead scruffed rebelliously. "V-Man wouldn' 'ave 'ad h'a problem wit' h'it. Sides, Aye h'always planned ta grab me cut from ya collect-shio-nay. Figured ya h'owed me. S'not like Aye worried that tha' Spaniard couldn' 'andle h'it."
"Of course not," Lucrece replied softly. "But it never hurts to have someone watching your back. You're right. I do owe you. It isn't a matter of gold - "
"Then wot good h'is h'it?" Screed interjected.
"You helped me back at D'Asile," she emphasized. "If you hadn't come there, I would have had no warning of the mob attack. I wouldn't have escaped. You protected me. You kept me alive. I may have done my part toward putting you in danger, but let me make amends for that transgression by watching your back now. From what I've heard, the Enforcers travel in twos. Do you really want to be outnumbered if you run into them while you're still in France?"
Screed sniffed, trying to act unaffected. She spoke of the poetic. Her own words failed such an examination. She wasn't lyrical so much as she spoke like a woman, soft ideas draped in curvaceous logic that could quiet a man's angry thoughts. What did it matter that there were a thousand different, possible outcomes on the horizon? Feminine reason refused to be denied. The soul of Lucrece's argument latched onto Screed's indignation like a barnacle, wearing away the violence of his reaction in the face of betrayal to a wan belligerence. "Maybe not, but wit' tha' word h'out h'in Lyon 'bout ya juice farm busted, when ya H'enforcer friends get tha' gossip, you'll find yisself jes' h'as popular h'as h'inny carouche. Not so big h'of h'a stretch ya makin ta lend h'a 'and when they'll be aimin' fer ya ass jes' h'as speedy."
"Perhaps," Lucrece said, nodding slowly, "but I want to help."
Screed heard the offer, but he knew better than to believe it. No matter how earnest or well meaning, a helpful woman could easily spell disaster. A deceitful woman ... well, why not just stake yourself and save her the foreplay? "An' 'ow can Aye be sure h'iffen we run h'into h'inny o' these H'enforcer types, ya won' jes' double-cross ta save ya h'own hide?"
"You can't," she replied succinctly. It was the only answer she could have given that he would have believed. "How can I be sure you wouldn't make a deal with them to serve my head on a platter if you could?"
"Ya can't," Screed retorted. His eyes pierced her like an eagle. With a gruff sound of decision, he spit into his palm and held out his hand. "Have ta trust h'each h'other whether we like h'it h'or not. An' wit' h'a sneaky wenchy like you, Aye'd rather have ya h'on me side h'iffen that's tha' direction tha' prow's pointin'."
She stared at the sheen of his damp, outstretched palm, hesitating a moment before taking his proffered hand in a determined grip. "And I'll risk trusting you."
They shook hands, eyeing each other for a suspicious minute until Screed stepped back, issuing a brusque, "Wot-ever. Back ta tha' rowing, lazy."
Chapter Twelve They resumed paddling up the Saône in silence. Every few strokes, Screed would sense her staring. His head would snap around, and he would look back at her until her gaze drifted nonchalantly to the reeds on the distant bank or to watch the blanket of clouds overhead thicken. Eventually, the cycle would begin again - he would feel Lucrece studying him quietly, and he would flip her a guarded look. Finally, the unbroken pattern scraped his nerves beyond patience. "Wot's this?" He swiped one hand through the air. "Cut h'it wit' tha' peep-review." Screed straightened his shoulders, feigning modesty. "Yer makin' me feel h'objectably objected.""That wasn't my intention. I just..."
"Jes' wot?"
"I just wondered how you became friends with Vachon." She appeared undecided about the desirability of the details, but asked anyway, "What do you have in common?"
"Don' care."
Her lips pursed, annoyed at the brevity of his reply, but apparently she was determined to be on best behavior. "I see."
"No, ya don't. Yer 'igh 'n malarkey, like that Bourbon mate ya hang with. H'a droog hasta fit h'in wit' ya, puzzle piece people. 'Aye see,'" he mimicked her voice and expression. "Two words, 'n Aye wager ya got h'a jackpot scrammin' h'about ya blondie 'ead. Ya don' say wot ya think, 'n ya don't mean wot ya say. Tha's wot V-Man 'n Aye 'ave h'in common."
Lucrece tipped her chin austerely, not thrilled by Screed's pronouncement, but enduring it like a draught of bitter medicine. "You mean that you always tell the truth, while I am deceitful?"
"Fah! Wot kind h'a wusses do ya think we h'are? 'True' 'n 'false' h'is jes' words fer believin'. H'a mate can change 'is mind h'on wot 'e believes, given tha' provocation. H'it's tha' reasons why h'a body believes 'n flaps h'its tongue wot can make h'a difference h'in whether they're golden."
His explanation left her obviously puzzled, her expression slipping into a knot as she tried to unravel his meaning. "So, you do lie, but that doesn't count as deceit because ... ?"
"'Cause Aye don' care h'bout tha' people Aye slicky-tongue. H'it's when ya lie when ya know ya 'ave h'amiables wit' some droog, ya know yer rippin' their sails, 'n ya screw h'em dirty anyhoo, ya h'introduce deceit h'into tha' h'equation."
"So, in your mind, I never betrayed you by keeping silent about the Enforcers coming for you?"
"Don' push h'it, Sunshine. H'it's my fanny ya schemin' inta tha' skewer. Ya not gonna talk me h'inta clappin' 'n shoutin' 'Heave-ho!' ta make ya conscience fluffy white!" Screed grimaced begrudgingly, then added, "But ya roight, ya didn' betray me. Straight-out bitchy-swipe, but not tha' back stab." He saw a shade of relief flicker across her features and added sharply. "H'iffen ya burned h'anyone, was tha' V-Man. Maybe ya don' care h'about tha' Spaniard." He shrugged complacently. "Fine h'enough. 'Cause h'iffen ya did, an' ya still pulled h'a number h'on 'is mate Screed h'outta ... what's tha' word?"
"Jealousy," she said miserably.
"Right, jell-o-see. Well, wouldn' want ta be ya," Screed sniffed thoughtfully as he wound his paddle in another arc. "Second thinkin' ... h'iffen ya didn't care, Lady Sunshine, wot h'are ya still doin' here h'on this boat?" He shook his head ruefully. "Boat h'aside, still wouldn' want ta be ya."
Lucrece made no reply, turning her stares now toward the dark water as she rowed steadily.
They made slow progress up the river. An hour passed before a wind rose up again, stirring the stillness of the night with a hollow rushing sigh as the air painted an invisible path about the small ship. Lucrece recognized it, felt the strong breeze fluttering against her cheeks, but Screed did nothing. She frowned, uncomprehending of why the sailor made no acknowledgment. When he continued to spin his oar in the water without a care, she prompted, "The wind - aren't you going to raise the sail?"
Screed shook his head. "Nope."
"But you said it would be faster."
"Not wit' this wind." As he spoke, a sharp gust swept by that abruptly shifted direction, tilting the ship with its force even without pushing against a field of unfurled canvas. The river's surface had become choppy, and clouds crept overhead, weaving into a dark blanket that shrouded the sky. "An h'ill one, primed ta tip more 'n h'anythin'. Ol' Neptune mus' not be happy wit' h'us. Storm'll be h'up lickety-blink."
"Rain?" A fat drop splashed against Lucrece's cheek, answering her question. "Ugh, I had just begun to feel dry! Shouldn't we seek shelter?"
Screed set aside his oar and began to move the chests, his rucksack, Lucrece's satchel, and the tapestry filled with valuables into the boat's shallow hold, the items joining his stores of blood. "H'abandon ship? Not bleedin' likely! We fight ta keep 'er h'on course 'n h'upright. Wot's h'a lil' damp?"
Hours passed before the weather cleared, and it took all their efforts to keep from losing ground to the waves and the wind. Screed took it all in like a little kid, shouting with glee every time the boat heaved at a precarious angle, and rallying encouragement at the ship every time her boards groaned under the power of the storm. To Screed, it was bliss. He was in his element, manning the open water. He didn't need to concern himself with more. Lucrece endured the tempest in as much solemnity as he expressed jubilation, but Screed didn't think less of her for it. When he yelled for her to bail water from the deck, she bailed. When he barked orders on how and when to row, she dug in her oar without aberration. By the time calm regained a foothold with the weather, Screed had decided that Lucrece wasn't a useless skirt fit only for trouble, but had potential as a sailor. As far as he was concerned, she'd proved she could be part of a crew, something that words couldn't convey to his satisfaction.
Lucrece seemed less certain that she'd accomplished anything. Once the rain ebbed to a faint mist, she appeared incredulous at the water dripping off the corners of her coat, as well as her chin and nose. She cringed as she moved and her drenched clothing emitted a squishing sound. "I'm soaked like a gutter rat."
Screed almost jigged with pleasure as he began to swab down the deck. "H'it's tha' life, h'issen h'it?"
A stream of liquid piddled over the side of the boat as Lucrece wrung out the hem of her leather coat. "It's not death, at least." She glanced up at the sky, now only laced with a few idle clouds. "We definitely won't make it past Lyon before dawn if we stay with the ship. If we take what we can carry and fly - "
"No," Screed cut in. "We tie her h'off 'n hide her when tha' time comes. There's not room fer h'a body down below wit' me treasures, so we find h'a squat fer daylight. Aye'm keeping me boat, H'enforcers h'or no H'enforcers."
Lucrece looked primed to argue, then a flash of comprehension overcame her features. "I understand. She's your castle. Very well. We remain on the water as much as possible."
"Crossin' h'at Dover was 'ardly h'enough ta wet me whistle. S'been too long - Aye miss tha' ocean, tha' salt h'in 'er breath. River drift like this h'is dandy, but h'only h'a pinch o' tha' real thingee."
Lucrece's expression became sentimental with the talk of life off dry land. "Have you ever been to Venice?"
Screed demurred. "H'only tha' Mediterranean side o' h'Italia."
"Venice is a city of palazzos on the sea. On the Grand Canal, the boundary between land and water blurs, and what results is beauty."
"Coo!"
"Coo," Lucrece agreed. "Venice is the best of both our worlds, I'd wager."
At her drop of the magic word 'wager,' Screed became all business. "Wot ya want ta bet? Ya haven' got nothin' but dresses 'n boundies."
"I have this." She pried off her right glove, flashing a simple silver band on her second finger, the ring of the deceased Marie.
Screed snapped his fingers. "Divvy h'it h'over then. We 'ead Venetian, 'n h'iffen ya floaty castles suit h'a sailor proper, Aye'll give h'it back."
Lucrece handed him the piece of jewelry with a steady look, and Screed twisted it over the knuckles of his pinkie. "What are you going to bet?" she asked.
"Wot kind h'a stupid question h'is that? Gold, natr'ly." Screed patted one of the strapped down chests lovingly.
"I don't want gold," she scoffed as she replaced her glove. "I just rid myself of it."
"Then h'iffen ya win tha' wager," Screed countered, "Aye promise Aye won' give ya h'any."
They continued up the Saône, crossing to the right bank as they neared the town. The oldest quarter of Lyon loomed off the starboard side as the first wisps of daylight seeped out of the horizon. Screed aimed the craft toward the next dock that sprouted from the retaining wall and proceeded to tie it down grouchily. "Wot's ta guarantee tha' bloke Aye stole this ship from doesn' find 'er 'n steal 'er back wit' me booty while we lay low?" he complained.
"There are no guarantees, Screed," Lucrece said absently as she retrieved her satchel from the cramped hold. "If he has the bad grace to take his ship back, we'll just have to double-rob him."
Screed settled his rucksack over one shoulder and studied the fastened fabric of the sail longingly. "Poss-see-bull," he allowed, "but wot h'if we tent h'it? No toasty h'if we 'ide h'under tha' canvas."
"Yes, so toasty," Lucrece argued. "The sun would pass through, and even if it did not, we would be trapped if anyone boarded during the day - " Suddenly she froze, her breath catching as she stared toward the shore. "Screed? Grab what you need. We have to move."
"Wottzit?" He followed the direction of her gaze, through a small opening between two buildings. Half a dozen men stood in a semi-circle, all dressed in black. "Six 'eads, twelve h'arms, hell o' lot h'a gloomy, that."
"They're Enforcers," Lucrece snapped, jumping onto the dock and yanking Screed's sleeve to encourage him to follow her.
"H'enforcers? Ya promised they traveled h'in duos not 'exagons!!" he accused as he jogged after her.
"I heard that they travel in pairs. I've never actually seen any before."
"Then 'ow do ya know that gang h'is full o' h'em? Could jes' h'as well be Cromwell's cronies. Look h'it ta me."
They'd run further down the retaining wall, slipping through a narrow lane to reach the cobbled street. Early morning traffic clattered against the stones as they peered from the doorway of a shop at the dark group in the distance.
"Cromwell in intrigue here?" Lucrece sounded skeptical. "No, I can feel them. Can't you?"
Screed frowned. "H'is that wot that strange tingly h'is? Aye jes' thought Aye 'ad h'an h'itchy place. S'different than tha' h'usual vamp zap feelin'."
Lucrece nodded. "They don't know that we're here. They're searching for us."
Screed pulled her away from the shop. "So stop playin' peek-a-boo 'n get h'outta sight. Sky's gettin' beamed, worse fer h'us. We ditch h'inside h'a quiet nook, 'n lay h'invisible."
In this quarter of Lyon, buildings intertwined via dark passageways and sheltered flights of stairs, transforming sections of the city into a giant maze. They ran across the street and entered one of these traboules to cross onto the next block, then climbed to the second level. Screed and Lucrece ducked through a doorway after peering through its dim windows. The covered walk shaded it from the encroaching sunlight, and it looked to be someone's home, deserted during the workday.
"What if they come?" Lucrece asked in a faint voice as she sat on a wooden bench.
"Mammy h'or Pappy knock-knock 'ome, ya do h'em," Screed said plainly. He juggled his wineskin, pausing to take a sip. "Aye'm set fer me squeaker."
"No. I mean, what if the Enforcers follow us here? We sensed them because they weren't looking for us with their eyes. They're trying to pick you out from all of the mortals. You, because you're the carouche. The Enforcers are trackers; you stand out to them. If you felt them ... " She pushed abruptly off the bench, her satchel swinging against one hip. "If you felt their presence, they could have just as easily felt yours. We shouldn't stay here. We need to move as far away from them as possible."
Screed grabbed the back of her jacket as Lucrece headed for the door. "'Old h'it. Ya mind tellin' me 'ow we get h'anywhere durin' tha' day? 'Ow tha' H'enforcers'll bloodhound fer that matter?"
"We take traboules where we can, the sewers where we cannot. We could traverse Saint Jean without a single ray burning us."
"Aye readja, but can't tha' doom patrol jes' follow?"
"Not if we lose them," Lucrece argued as she opened the door and motioned for Screed to come along. "Maybe they don't know the city."
Screed stepped outside first and immediately erupted in a curse. "Damn! Bleedin' lambs!" He'd spotted two of the Enforcers climbing the stairs, moving purposefully in their direction.
"Run! Go!" Lucrece shouted.
They raced down the corridor, sprinted the length of a tunnel segmenting another house, then followed a sharp left turn around the next corner.
"'Eard 'ow ya h'exterminate h'an H'enforcer?" Screed called.
"I don't know how they're killed. If they were like the usual vampire, why would they raise so much fear in the Community?"
"'Cause tha' fancy lot's très chicken ta find h'out?"
They turned another corner, right this time. Lucrece abruptly stopped running. Screed noticed her stillness after a few steps, turned around, and slowed to a backward walk. Lucrece scowled and motioned for him to continue. "Keep going!"
"Ya gone loco? Me dead granny moves faster. Come h'on!"
"No!" she shouted. "I'm going to try slowing them down. Go ahead!"
Screed took a few strides, then whirled around with a groan. "Awwww ... Janey scores h'a spit 'n Aye get ta tell V-Man tha' luverly story? No yankin' way!"
The Enforcers moved around the corner. Lucrece leapt in the air, clasped the arch overhead and swung out with her legs. She caught the first of the Enforcers in the chest, slamming him backward against the plastered railing. The top beam cracked under his weight, then caved, and the Enforcer kept falling at an angle, until he landed in an illuminated fountain centered in the square beyond the passage. He gave a cry as his skin began to smoke and blister in the daylight.
Lucrece laughed with victorious delight. "Ha! Stay out of the sun!"
She dropped into a crouch, narrowly avoiding a blow from the second Enforcer as he swung at her head. Lucrece unsheathed her rapier and lunged upward, stabbing the Enforcer in the belly, but he didn't offer even a minor flinch. Instead, he issued a reprimanding sound while he waved a warning finger at her as though she was an impudent child.
The Enforcer lashed out with his other arm, striking his fist across her jaw. Lucrece crashed into the rocky wall behind her, her skull making an audible crack. Her eyes drifted shut for a disoriented instant, then she shook her head with a wince, clumsily trying to scramble to her feet.
The Enforcer helped, pulling her up by her hair. "Stay out of the sun," he cautioned maliciously, then yanked the back of her coat, preparing to heave her over the side after his burning partner.
When Lucrece had first been hit, Screed had punched a fist into the plaster of the building, then jammed his elbow into the exposed facade until a piece of masonry loosened from its mortar. "'Ey!" Screed yelled, now throwing the brick at the Enforcer's head.
The brick struck the Enforcer across his cheekbone, one sharp corner lancing his eye. Out of reflex, he released Lucrece's hair to clutch at the injury. With her neck now free to turn, she snarled, biting the Enforcer in the arm which still held her by the jacket. He immediately released her clothing, striking blindly for her face again. Lucrece ducked, scanning the stone underfoot for the fallen brick. Locating it, she rammed the Enforcer's chin with the block in a clumsy uppercut. His head snapped back with a crunch, but the next second, he turned his uninjured eye on her again. His iris flared red, and he growled, cuffing her in the middle of her face. She stumbled, and the Enforcer crowded closer, swinging at her again from the side.
"Ah, bollocks!" Screed groaned. He elbowed another brick free, aiming it at the right side of the Enforcer's face again, hitting him in the exact same spot.
"Do ya know h'anythin' h'about fightin'?" he demanded as he stalked forward, snatching the brick from Lucrece's grip and cracking it against the Enforcer's eye socket a third time before the other vampire had the chance to react. Screed held his empty fist in front of his mouth, the flat of his knuckles blocking the tip of his nose. "Ya got h'a guard, Sunshine. Use h'it, an' maybe yer nose won' get broken next time!" Screed swung his brick at the Enforcer's head with a right hook. He nodded with satisfaction at the sound of a snapping jaw, then handed the brick back to Lucrece. "Now try h'it."
She appeared slightly unsettled and glanced at their reeling attacker with unsure eyes, then back at Screed. He motioned with his fists, reminding her to watch her guard. Lucrece copied his posture, then sought her revenge on the Enforcer's nose with two sharp jabs of the masonry. The vampire's legs buckled, and he collapsed in a heap. Lucrece looked back at Screed. "Did I do it right?"
"That's h'a start," Screed said, holding out his palm for her to hand the brick back. She did, wiping gingerly at the faint streaks of blood above her upper lip and licking her fingers, never dropping her guard fist. Screed went to work on the fallen Enforcer's head, hammering on it with the brick like a nail in a loose plank. The grinding of skull against stone echoed in rough, grainy scrapes, followed by the muffled impact of the rock on spongy tissue.
Screed straightened, holding the brick stained with blood and specks of clinging gray matter high in his grip. He glanced over his shoulder to Lucrece, who watched mouth agape, guard still in place. "Wot? Ya through teasin' tha' bears?" Screed asked, nodding their escape path down the passage. "'Cause Aye'd like ta scamper 'n hide now 'afore h'inny h'others show."
She finally lowered both her fists, demanding, "Is he dead? Do you think he's dead?"
"Depends h'on whether h'an h'Enforcer needs h'all tha' lil' bits o' brain, h'or h'iffen they run h'automaton, Aye suppose," Screed said, throwing the brick aside.
Read Chapters Thirteen and Fourteen Return to Story Index