The Companion - One With The Shadows Part 21

There was a pause. "I drove it here from the square, didn't I?"

An image of the treacherous road down to the sea from Ravello rose in his mind.

Oh, excellent. Just excellent.

Chapter Seventeen.

Kate took a breath and willed her heart to stop pounding. The vampires could not be a threat to them in daylight. With any luck the villagers would still be drowsing. She had the money from her reticule. She was only nervous because Gian was so helpless in the sun, and that meant everything was up to her. Was she up to it?

She took up the reins and clucked to the horse. No danger of this beast careering through the piazza and attracting attention. She willed herself to patience. The cart creaked as it turned. Gravel crunched under the wheels. Did the d.a.m.ned thing have to make so much noise? The horse plodded down the drive and out the open gates. The piazza was quiet. A man dozing on a bench looked up, frowning as they pa.s.sed. Did he recognize the cart?

Just walk on. Clip-clop. The pace was like to drive her mad.

Out of the little town, now. The road turned steeply down in a hairpin curve. She urged the horse into a trot. The cart jolted along between the lemon grove terraces, empty now of workers.

"Be careful." She jumped at Gian's voice. "This road is treacherous."

He was right about that. The narrow road wound at the edge of a deep ravine. The stream was lost in the green gorge below.

She heard a commotion behind her over the rumble of the cart. She glanced back. A horse was coming around the last bend.

And it was coming fast.

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l! She slapped the reins over her horse's rump as hard as she could. The beast lurched into a canter. She jerked it up short to take the next curve, and the cartwheels slid toward the verge. The cart rocked, then righted itself and careened on.

Kate's cap fluttered over the edge and her hair fell down her back. She imagined the shattered cart and their broken bodies in the stream far below. Three riders galloped into the turn above her.

"Slow down, you fool, you'll ruin my cart!" one shouted.

"Look, Giuseppe, it's a girl."

Kate slapped the reins over the horse again.

Another turn, barely negotiated. She glanced up. Her only comfort was that the horses chasing her were anything but speedy.

They were probably farm horses, big and heavy-boned. Her pursuers hadn't taken time to saddle them, if these horses had ever even known a saddle. The men were not handy riders either. She had a chance.

"Hah, horse, hah," she yelled. Another turn, and another. They were only a hundred feet or so above the stream now. The road suddenly forgot how to be a tangled ball of brown string upon a green carpet. It sloped gently downward as the valley widened.

The cart went faster, but so did the horses behind her. She could smell the sea now. The stream widened into an estuary.

What was that mewling sound?

A flock of sheep milled out from behind some cypress. She glanced behind. The horses, their riders bouncing uncomfortably on their backs, were only fifty feet behind her.

She set her lips. "Hah, horse, hah!" She slapped the reins. The cart bounded ahead. A grunt behind her told her Gian was still alive. The horse veered to the left, trying to miss the sheep. Baaing distress boiled up from the right. The horse was through. The cartwheel grazed the leader of the flock who wore the bell. A man with a crook swore at her.

And they were clear. Kate glanced behind. Sheep jostled the pursuing horses. There must be fifty of the wooly beasts. The horses' alarmed whinnies alternated with snorts of dismay. Two began plunging and rearing. Their riders slid off and disappeared among the sheep. Kate couldn't help but grin. A tidy piece of work, that. She turned onto the coast road, north toward Amalfi.

"Are you all right back there?"

"You do not... I repeat, you do not know how to drive a cart." The words were m.u.f.fled by the tarpaulin.

Well! "You'll be glad to know we lost them at the sheep."

"I'll be glad when we get to the harbor, if I've any senses left at that point."

What a curmudgeon. Didn't he appreciate that she had driven a cart for the very first time in her life down the Valle del Dragone at breakneck speed and brought them home safely?

They were just clopping into the outskirts of Amalfi when she heard horses approaching behind her again. She turned, shocked.

Were they so determined? She got the horse back into a reluctant canter, but he had spent his strength. Ahead the town marched up the hill to the right, the quays poked into the aquamarine water, and a small forest of masts nodded to each other on the swell. A wide flagstone piazza lay on either side of the road between the harbor and the town.Was there refuge here? Perhaps not. The three horses caught up to her as the cart edged into the piazza.

"Thief! Help!" the butcher shouted to the men unloading provisions from small boats tied at the quay. "This woman stole my horse and cart."

The horse stopped in the middle of a gathering crowd.

Wild thoughts of how to explain her actions careened through Kate's head. "We're running from vampires" didn't have a successful ring to it.

People gathered round the cart. Murmurs of "she's dressed like a man," and "look at that scar," ran round the crowd.

"Ask for the harbormaster," Gian suggested sotto voce from the back.

"What can he do?" she shot back, annoyed. He was no help. It was up to her. "Signori, I had to borrow the cart. But I always meant to pay for it."

The loud guffaws were led by the butcher. "Get a magistrate. Gaol is the place for her."

Kate felt for her reticule. "I'll buy the cart and contents. You can have the horse."

"And what would the likes of you pay with?" More loud laughter. "No coin I would take."

She peeled off what she thought was the equivalent of thirty pounds sterling, three or four times what the whole was worth.

"Good, because I have soft money. Will that do?"

Silence fell.

"Here, let me see that," the butcher said, grabbing the money. "Probably counterfeit."

"Looks real enough to me," one of his compatriots observed, sidling closer.

"She still stole the cart and horse. Paying now don't mean she shouldn't go to gaol."

"Well, then take it back, and I'll keep my money," Kate said calmly.

"If I got anything ye might want ta steal, gel, let me know," a seaman said. This provoked laughter from the crowd. The butcher bl.u.s.tered.

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.