Read Online Jerusalem Man 02 - The Last Guardian by David Gemmell - Free Book Online
Authors: David Gemmell
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on this site?'
'About a month; it's one of the best. There will be a lot of answers here, mark my words.'
'And you think it is a building?'
'What else can it be?' asked Deiker, with a broad grin.
'It is a ship,' Shannow told him.
'I like a man with a sense of humour, Meneer. I estimate that it is over three hundred feet long -
most of it still buried. And it is made of iron. Did you ever see anyone float a piece of iron?'
'No, but I have seen an iron ship before - and considerably bigger than this one.'
Deiker shook his head. 'I am an Arcanist, Meneer. I know my business. I also know you do not get ships at the centre of a land mass. That will be three full Silvers.'
Shannow said no more but paid for the food with Barta coin and carried it back to his saddle, stowing it in his cavernous bags. Then he walked back through the camp towards the wagon by the stream. He saw a woman sitting by a blazing fire with her two children asleep in blankets by her feet.
She looked up as he approached and he watched her hand slide towards the pistol scabbard on her belt.
*
Beth McAdam looked long at the tall newcomer. His hair was shoulder-length and dark, with silver streaks at the temples, and a white fork at the chin showed in the close-trimmed beard he wore. His face was angular and strong, his blue eyes cold. By his side were two pistols in oiled leather scabbards.
He sat down opposite her. 'You coped well with a perilous journey. I congratulate you. Very few people would have dared to cross the Big Wide without the protection of a wagon convoy.'
'You get straight to it, don't you?' she said.
'I do not understand you?'
'Well, I do not need a guide, or a helper, or a man around me. Thank you for your offer. And good night.'
'Have I offended you?' Shannow asked softly, his blue eyes locked to her own.
'I don't offend easily. Neither do you, it seems.'
He scratched at his beard and smiled; in that moment his face lost some of its harshness. 'No, I do not. If you would prefer me to leave, I will do so.'
'Help yourself to some tea,' she said. 'After that, I would like some privacy.'
That is kind of you.' As he leaned forward to lift the kettle he froze, then stood, turning to face the darkness. Two men walked into the firelight; Beth eased her hand around the butt of her pistol.
'Meneer Shannow, do you have a moment?' asked Klaus Monet. 'There is someone I would like you to meet.' He gestured to his companion, a small, balding figure with a sparse white beard.
'This is Boris Haimut; he is a leading Arcanist.' The man dropped his head in a short bow and offered his hand. Shannow took it.
'Meneer Deiker told me of your conversation,' said Haimut. 'I was fascinated. I have thought for some time that we were studying a vessel of some kind, but it seemed so improbable. We have only excavated some one-fifth of the... the ship. Do you have an explanation as to how it got here?'
'Yes,' replied Shannow. 'But I fear we are intruding on the lady's privacy.'
'But of course,' agreed Haimut. 'My apologies, Frey ...'
'McAdam. And Meneer Shannow is correct; I do not wish the sleep of my children disturbed.'
The three men bowed and silently left the camp-site. Beth watched them vanish into the shadows and then reappear on the torch-lit slopes of the site.
She poured herself some tea and sipped it, Shannow's face hovering in her mind. Was he brigand or Landsman? She shook her thoughts clear of him. What difference did it make? She would not see him again. Throwing the remains of her tea to the ground, she settled down under her blankets.
But sleep did not come easily.
*
'You have to understand, Meneer Shannow,' said Boris Haimut with an apologetic smile, 'that Meneer Deiker is Oldview. He is a Biblical man and believes the world is currently enduring the Last Days. To him Armageddon was a reality that began - to the best of our knowledge - three hundred and seventeen years ago. For myself, I am a Longview scholar. It is my belief
'About a month; it's one of the best. There will be a lot of answers here, mark my words.'
'And you think it is a building?'
'What else can it be?' asked Deiker, with a broad grin.
'It is a ship,' Shannow told him.
'I like a man with a sense of humour, Meneer. I estimate that it is over three hundred feet long -
most of it still buried. And it is made of iron. Did you ever see anyone float a piece of iron?'
'No, but I have seen an iron ship before - and considerably bigger than this one.'
Deiker shook his head. 'I am an Arcanist, Meneer. I know my business. I also know you do not get ships at the centre of a land mass. That will be three full Silvers.'
Shannow said no more but paid for the food with Barta coin and carried it back to his saddle, stowing it in his cavernous bags. Then he walked back through the camp towards the wagon by the stream. He saw a woman sitting by a blazing fire with her two children asleep in blankets by her feet.
She looked up as he approached and he watched her hand slide towards the pistol scabbard on her belt.
*
Beth McAdam looked long at the tall newcomer. His hair was shoulder-length and dark, with silver streaks at the temples, and a white fork at the chin showed in the close-trimmed beard he wore. His face was angular and strong, his blue eyes cold. By his side were two pistols in oiled leather scabbards.
He sat down opposite her. 'You coped well with a perilous journey. I congratulate you. Very few people would have dared to cross the Big Wide without the protection of a wagon convoy.'
'You get straight to it, don't you?' she said.
'I do not understand you?'
'Well, I do not need a guide, or a helper, or a man around me. Thank you for your offer. And good night.'
'Have I offended you?' Shannow asked softly, his blue eyes locked to her own.
'I don't offend easily. Neither do you, it seems.'
He scratched at his beard and smiled; in that moment his face lost some of its harshness. 'No, I do not. If you would prefer me to leave, I will do so.'
'Help yourself to some tea,' she said. 'After that, I would like some privacy.'
That is kind of you.' As he leaned forward to lift the kettle he froze, then stood, turning to face the darkness. Two men walked into the firelight; Beth eased her hand around the butt of her pistol.
'Meneer Shannow, do you have a moment?' asked Klaus Monet. 'There is someone I would like you to meet.' He gestured to his companion, a small, balding figure with a sparse white beard.
'This is Boris Haimut; he is a leading Arcanist.' The man dropped his head in a short bow and offered his hand. Shannow took it.
'Meneer Deiker told me of your conversation,' said Haimut. 'I was fascinated. I have thought for some time that we were studying a vessel of some kind, but it seemed so improbable. We have only excavated some one-fifth of the... the ship. Do you have an explanation as to how it got here?'
'Yes,' replied Shannow. 'But I fear we are intruding on the lady's privacy.'
'But of course,' agreed Haimut. 'My apologies, Frey ...'
'McAdam. And Meneer Shannow is correct; I do not wish the sleep of my children disturbed.'
The three men bowed and silently left the camp-site. Beth watched them vanish into the shadows and then reappear on the torch-lit slopes of the site.
She poured herself some tea and sipped it, Shannow's face hovering in her mind. Was he brigand or Landsman? She shook her thoughts clear of him. What difference did it make? She would not see him again. Throwing the remains of her tea to the ground, she settled down under her blankets.
But sleep did not come easily.
*
'You have to understand, Meneer Shannow,' said Boris Haimut with an apologetic smile, 'that Meneer Deiker is Oldview. He is a Biblical man and believes the world is currently enduring the Last Days. To him Armageddon was a reality that began - to the best of our knowledge - three hundred and seventeen years ago. For myself, I am a Longview scholar. It is my belief
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