to the Venetian clan-leader, Klomano, that you had arrived in Venice. He seemed to be expecting you my lord,â said the vampire.
âI see, and you are?â asked Roconn.
âMy name is Zaichari.â
âWhere is Klomano? Take me to him.â Zaichari stood up at once and made for the door.
Roconn held out his arm to stop, Zaichari looked fear-stricken.
âNot now, wait until nightfall.â Zaichariâs face smoothed.
He had a thin, pointy face. His deep-brown eyes looked around the room. Zaichari clearly had not expected to be spending the afternoon with the clan-king. He was dressed in black robes, with a silver clasp at the top holding them closed. He looked clean and well built, tailored for the vampire life, Roconn was sure he was an efficient killer.
Roconn on the other hand, did not. He had been in the same robes for days on end. They were dirty and the occasional blood splatter stained his sleeves and torso. But even so, Roconnâs robes were much more exquisite. The long, black, robes ended at his ankles, golden thread was sewn along the edges where they had been clasped together with a gold coloured eagle catch.
âOf course, my lord.â
During the course of the day he was informed that Klomanoâs clanâs hideout was hidden away inside a large castle just outside the gates of Venice. Roconn was told he could enter via the canals on a black gondola which had the Venetian Clanâs crest painted on the side: a silver dragon, whereas Roconnâs Clan crest is represented as two golden vampire teeth. He need only say the words: secrecy is hidden, where the sun does not penetrate , for the gondola to be punted to a sewer entrance leading straight into the main hall. There he would be greeted by Klomano, his old friend.
Finally, dusk arrived and Roconn was eager to find out information.
âMy lord, it is time, if you would be happy to follow me, I will take you there.â
âAfter you,â Roconn replied smoothly.
He and Zaichari walked through the busy streets. On more than one occasion Roconn found himself staring at the pulsing neck of a passer-by, and quickly recovered himself. He needed to feed, and fast.
As if reading his thoughts Zaichari whispered as a large group of evening-walkers passed by, leaving the sweet scent of a tasty meal.
âMy lord, should you need blood, we keep an ample supply at The Den. Our hideout.â He added looking at Roconnâs puzzled face.
âWe canât all retreat to the luxury of Castle Blackmoor, my lord,â he said to Roconn with a smirk.
âGood, I shall require it soon. The need for restraint is becoming increasingly difficult.â
On they walked, through the streets, taking a different turn every now and again. They twisted through dark, narrow alleyways, and ended up in another street that looked nearly identical to the last. Venice was a stone maze, but Zaichari knew it like the back of his hand. He walked with confidence to the end of a street and was greeted a man clad in deep blue robes of silk who stood by a large canal. Zaichari clapped his hands together three times, each quieter than the last. Roconn knew he was sending a signal, so they waited patiently for a few minutes and admired the lively canal. People walked up and down the side of the canal, bustling about as other gondolas punted up and down the water. Zaichari greeted a number of people as they passed, Roconn assumed they did know he was vampire, but admired the way Zaichari had blended and mingled with the residents of the city, a wise move, befriending the townsfolk.
âWhen were you turned Zaichari?â asked Roconn curiously.
âIn the year eleven thirty-four, by Klomano. He sought me out while I was working in a field, gathering crops for my father. I was nineteen. He said he had need of my abilities. I didnât know what he meant. I had no abilities as far as I was concerned. Well, unless you count the
âI see, and you are?â asked Roconn.
âMy name is Zaichari.â
âWhere is Klomano? Take me to him.â Zaichari stood up at once and made for the door.
Roconn held out his arm to stop, Zaichari looked fear-stricken.
âNot now, wait until nightfall.â Zaichariâs face smoothed.
He had a thin, pointy face. His deep-brown eyes looked around the room. Zaichari clearly had not expected to be spending the afternoon with the clan-king. He was dressed in black robes, with a silver clasp at the top holding them closed. He looked clean and well built, tailored for the vampire life, Roconn was sure he was an efficient killer.
Roconn on the other hand, did not. He had been in the same robes for days on end. They were dirty and the occasional blood splatter stained his sleeves and torso. But even so, Roconnâs robes were much more exquisite. The long, black, robes ended at his ankles, golden thread was sewn along the edges where they had been clasped together with a gold coloured eagle catch.
âOf course, my lord.â
During the course of the day he was informed that Klomanoâs clanâs hideout was hidden away inside a large castle just outside the gates of Venice. Roconn was told he could enter via the canals on a black gondola which had the Venetian Clanâs crest painted on the side: a silver dragon, whereas Roconnâs Clan crest is represented as two golden vampire teeth. He need only say the words: secrecy is hidden, where the sun does not penetrate , for the gondola to be punted to a sewer entrance leading straight into the main hall. There he would be greeted by Klomano, his old friend.
Finally, dusk arrived and Roconn was eager to find out information.
âMy lord, it is time, if you would be happy to follow me, I will take you there.â
âAfter you,â Roconn replied smoothly.
He and Zaichari walked through the busy streets. On more than one occasion Roconn found himself staring at the pulsing neck of a passer-by, and quickly recovered himself. He needed to feed, and fast.
As if reading his thoughts Zaichari whispered as a large group of evening-walkers passed by, leaving the sweet scent of a tasty meal.
âMy lord, should you need blood, we keep an ample supply at The Den. Our hideout.â He added looking at Roconnâs puzzled face.
âWe canât all retreat to the luxury of Castle Blackmoor, my lord,â he said to Roconn with a smirk.
âGood, I shall require it soon. The need for restraint is becoming increasingly difficult.â
On they walked, through the streets, taking a different turn every now and again. They twisted through dark, narrow alleyways, and ended up in another street that looked nearly identical to the last. Venice was a stone maze, but Zaichari knew it like the back of his hand. He walked with confidence to the end of a street and was greeted a man clad in deep blue robes of silk who stood by a large canal. Zaichari clapped his hands together three times, each quieter than the last. Roconn knew he was sending a signal, so they waited patiently for a few minutes and admired the lively canal. People walked up and down the side of the canal, bustling about as other gondolas punted up and down the water. Zaichari greeted a number of people as they passed, Roconn assumed they did know he was vampire, but admired the way Zaichari had blended and mingled with the residents of the city, a wise move, befriending the townsfolk.
âWhen were you turned Zaichari?â asked Roconn curiously.
âIn the year eleven thirty-four, by Klomano. He sought me out while I was working in a field, gathering crops for my father. I was nineteen. He said he had need of my abilities. I didnât know what he meant. I had no abilities as far as I was concerned. Well, unless you count the
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