The Vampire Megapack. Nina Kiriki Hoffman
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has two shelters—one on the northwest side of the island, the other on the northeast, and there is a bay on the south-southwest side, and a few coves and inlets as well, but it is much more exposed.” Khafir-Amun recited from memory. “The southern inlets can also give protection, but not very good anchorage.”
“If we cannot find them, it hardly matters,” said Sant-Germainus.
“If the captain would post a watch, we would manage better. We need to know where we are,” said Khafir-Amun, repeating the cause of his anxiety. “We needs a man in the bow, and one in the stern.”
“Yes; but the captain is not willing to order that,” said Sant-Germainus, and after a glance at the brightening sky ahead beyond the bow, added, “And I fear I must rest soon.” This admission made him flinch inwardly.
Khafir-Amun nodded. “No man should pull a steering oar longer than a full day or a full night.”
“Including the day or night at the dark of the year?” Sant-Germainus asked.
“The days are short now, but in bad weather it hardly matters—every hour seems a day or more.” Khafir-Amun looked again toward the island, now appearing a bit larger. “We’re getting closer.”
“More risks of rocks,” said Sant-Germainus uneasily.
“I hope the captain will decide to anchor here. He should order a full inspection of the ship.”
“After she’s bailed out,” said Sant-Germainus, and shoved his end of the oar upward as the ship dropped down a swelling wave; men on deck grabbed hold of the two safety-ropes as water cascaded over them and into the open hold. Shouts from below erupted at once, and Sant-Germainus saw three more oars shipped inside. “One way or another, she will not go much farther.”
“No. Nor will the men,” said Khafir-Amun.
“The captain will order Dvlinoh to beat them.”
Khafir-Amun laughed unpleasantly. “It will do no good. They have no food. All three water cisterns have been breached, so there is nothing to drink unless we open the amphorae for their wine—not that the men would object to that. The barrels of salt pork were washed away some time last night. And the beans are sodden—the cook says they are going to spoil, and must be thrown overboard. He’s only going to cook up the few that are dry, and when they’re eaten—”
“Then he must reprovision,” said Sant-Germainus, holding the shuddering oar so tightly that he felt his manacles dig into his wrists.
“If he wants to get back to Thera,” said Khafir-Amun with grim satisfaction.
“Thera: is that where he is from?” asked Sant-Germainus. As another wave slopped over the side of the ship, he wobbled on his feet.
“So he said,” Khafir-Amun said, frowning as he watched Sant-Germainus balance himself against his oar. “He could be from there.”
Sant-Germainus regarded the men striving to move more buckets of water out of the hold. “It is cold enough that the oarsmen will soon have chilblains, if they do not already. They will have to be given something warm to drink, and soon.”
“They are all cold,” said Khafir-Amun. “It was folly to set out so late in the year.”
“It was that or have the ship impounded and the oarsmen taken as slaves,” said Sant-Germainus. “Storms were a more acceptable hazard.”
“Storms are one thing, pirates are another.” Khafir-Amun nodded slowly.
“The Morning Star could weather storms,” said Sant-Germainus. “But storms and pirates were beyond her to withstand.”
Khafir-Amun touched his hands together. “You did not know about the pirates, or that the storm would be so severe. Every man must decide these things for himself.” He narrowed his eyes as the first long rays of dawn broke through the clouds, lighting them from beneath so that it looked as if the sky were afire.
“Then steer for the island until the captain tells you otherwise,” Sant-Germainus recommended, then collapsed to his knees.
“YNAY!” Khafir-Amun bellowed as he reached to seize Sant-Germainus’ oar. “Take Sant-Germainus below and send up another steersman!”
It was Dvlinoh who answered the summons, shoving through the bailers and keeping hold of the safety-rope as he came to the after-deck. He gave Sant-Germainus a thoughtful stare. “Is he alive?” He did not wait for Khafir-Amun to answer, but leaned forward and unlocked the manacles. “Hang on until I come back. I’ll take his place at the oar, and the Captain may say what he likes.” Without another word, he slung Sant-Germainus over his shoulder and made his way back to the hold.
* * * *
Sant-Germainus opened his eyes; he was still cold and groggy, but he could feel the day waning above him, and although the hold stank of rotting cargo, unwashed bodies, and the effluvia of confinement, it was preferable to being on deck in the fading sunlight. He tried to move and almost fell out of the narrow bunk in which he had been sleeping as the ship weltered through choppy water; he muttered an oath in his native tongue and heard Rutgeros answer.
“So you are awake, my master,” he said in old-fashioned Latin.
“I am,” Sant-Germainus responded. “Where are we?”
“We are coming into a small harbor on Dhenoussa. Khafir-Amun found it about an hour ago. It is a small cove on the south side of the island. There are two long crests through the island, one in a straight line, the other curved; the inlet is in the last curve of that second crest. Approaching it is proving difficult: the seas are still high, and we cannot use the sail, and the oarsmen are being cautious not to splinter their oars on hidden rocks.”
“Did Khafir-Amun have any more information about the island?” Sant-Germainus asked, wanting to concentrate on something other than his discomforts.
“There is no spring on the island, or so the sailors say, so we will have to get water from cisterns on the island, which should be full after such a storm as we have had, assuming the shepherds and fishermen will allow us to have enough for our needs,” said Rutgeros. “Also, there is a monastery on the north end of the island; the fishermen are on the south side, so there should be food available somewhere. The monks should be charitable at this time of year, for their faith.”
“Assuming the captain is willing to pay for it,” said Sant-Germainus sardonically.
“Alas, I fear he has other plans; he intends to seize what he wants and to leave the island before anyone knows we have come.” Rutgeros bent down to offer the support of his arm. “And speaking of the captain, I have informed him of the severity of your sea-sickness so he will not expect you to ask for food.”
“Prudent of you, old friend,” said Sant-Germainus with a rueful smile. “Not that I am not ravenous.”
“As is the rest of the crew,” said Rutgeros. “If the captain had decided to make for Thera without taking on food and water, there would have been mutiny.”
“Or a dead crew,” said Sant-Germainus flatly; he would hate to have to drift in a damaged ship with nothing but decaying bodies and only Rutgeros for company.
“The captain is greedy and foolish, but he knows he could lose everything, including his life, if he starves his oarsmen.”
“I should hope so; his men must know it,” said Sant-Germainus. He managed to squeeze out of the bunk and get to his feet, but he discovered his head still ached and his strength was at low ebb.
“Hold steady,” Rutgeros recommended in Byzantine Greek as he offered the support of his arm to Sant-Germainus; there were other men near them who were listening to their conversation and would be suspicious of what they did not understand. “I discovered one of your chests in the cargo hold, the only one they took from the Morning Star. Apparently the straps and locks intrigued the captain; he couldn’t