him.
Dario flinched. The memory of their flight from Venice and Boroâs death was still fresh in his mind, and the comment obviously pained him. Serafin regretted his sharp retort: Darioâs enthusiasm for the pirates was nothing but a masquerade behind which he hid his true feelings. Indeed, underneath it, he was suffering like all the others over what had happened.
Serafin laid a hand on his shoulder. âSorry.â
Dario managed a troubled smile. âMy mistake.â
âTell me what else you found out.â In a burst of harsh self-criticism, he added, âAt least you were smart enough to find out more about our new âfriends,â instead of just staring stupidly out the window.â
Dario nodded briefly, but then his grin was replaced by an uneasy look. He stepped up next to Serafin at the porthole, and both turned their faces to the glass.
âThey collect the bodies of their victims in a space in the back part of the boat. But to be honest, Iâm not sure there are any ships left up on the surface that could berobbed by pirates. They certainly wouldnât dare attack the Egyptian war galleys, and as far as I know, there hasnât been any trade to speak of in the Mediterranean since the beginning of the war.â
Serafin nodded. The Empire had cut all the trade routes. In the deserted harbors there were no more customers for merchants. Like all the others, the traders, together with the crews of their ships, had landed in the mummy factories as slaves.
Dario cast a guarded look back into the room: They were in one of the narrow cabins, along whose bronze-colored walls ran a maze of pipes, artfully worked into extravagant decorations, similar to the plasterwork in Venetian palaces, with the single difference that the patterns here were made of metal and wood. Not for the first time, Serafin wondered whom Captain Calvino had seized the boat from. He most certainly had not designed it himself, for he did not appear to be the kind of man who appreciated beauty. And along with all the functionality of the undersea boat, it was obvious that someone with taste and an understanding of art had been at work here.
Besides the two boys, there were also two sailors in the cabin. One of them was pretending to be asleep in his berth, but Serafin had seen him blink and look in his direction several times. The second man let his legs dangle over the side of his bunk as he whittled the figure of a mermaid from a piece of wood; wood shavings fell into the empty berthbelow him. There were eight empty beds, and the boys knew that there were several of these crew quarters aboard the boat. Captain Calvino had quartered Serafin and Dario in this cabin, Tiziano and Aristide in another. Eft and Lalapeya were lodged in a double cabin at the end of the central passageway, which ran like a spinal column through the entire boat; it wasnât far from the captainâs cabin.
At this hour most of the crew members were carrying out their duties in the labyrinthine spaces of the submarine. It was obvious that the two men in the berths had been placed there to keep an eye on the passengers, even if they took pains to appear uninterested. No one kept the boys from wandering around the boat, and yet they didnât take a step that was not observed. Captain Calvino might be an unscrupulous slave driver, but he was no fool. And not even the sea witchâs unequivocal order to transport his guests to Egypt unharmed kept him from openly conveying his displeasure with that order.
In a whisper, Dario relayed what heâd learned: âThe sea witch has placed the boat under her protection for as long as Calvino provides her with the flesh of corpses. They collect victims of shipwrecks and drownings all over the Mediterranean and bring them to the sea witch. The fellow I spoke with told me they dive around under the battlefields of the great sea wars all year long and catch the dead in nets. Appetizing
Dario flinched. The memory of their flight from Venice and Boroâs death was still fresh in his mind, and the comment obviously pained him. Serafin regretted his sharp retort: Darioâs enthusiasm for the pirates was nothing but a masquerade behind which he hid his true feelings. Indeed, underneath it, he was suffering like all the others over what had happened.
Serafin laid a hand on his shoulder. âSorry.â
Dario managed a troubled smile. âMy mistake.â
âTell me what else you found out.â In a burst of harsh self-criticism, he added, âAt least you were smart enough to find out more about our new âfriends,â instead of just staring stupidly out the window.â
Dario nodded briefly, but then his grin was replaced by an uneasy look. He stepped up next to Serafin at the porthole, and both turned their faces to the glass.
âThey collect the bodies of their victims in a space in the back part of the boat. But to be honest, Iâm not sure there are any ships left up on the surface that could berobbed by pirates. They certainly wouldnât dare attack the Egyptian war galleys, and as far as I know, there hasnât been any trade to speak of in the Mediterranean since the beginning of the war.â
Serafin nodded. The Empire had cut all the trade routes. In the deserted harbors there were no more customers for merchants. Like all the others, the traders, together with the crews of their ships, had landed in the mummy factories as slaves.
Dario cast a guarded look back into the room: They were in one of the narrow cabins, along whose bronze-colored walls ran a maze of pipes, artfully worked into extravagant decorations, similar to the plasterwork in Venetian palaces, with the single difference that the patterns here were made of metal and wood. Not for the first time, Serafin wondered whom Captain Calvino had seized the boat from. He most certainly had not designed it himself, for he did not appear to be the kind of man who appreciated beauty. And along with all the functionality of the undersea boat, it was obvious that someone with taste and an understanding of art had been at work here.
Besides the two boys, there were also two sailors in the cabin. One of them was pretending to be asleep in his berth, but Serafin had seen him blink and look in his direction several times. The second man let his legs dangle over the side of his bunk as he whittled the figure of a mermaid from a piece of wood; wood shavings fell into the empty berthbelow him. There were eight empty beds, and the boys knew that there were several of these crew quarters aboard the boat. Captain Calvino had quartered Serafin and Dario in this cabin, Tiziano and Aristide in another. Eft and Lalapeya were lodged in a double cabin at the end of the central passageway, which ran like a spinal column through the entire boat; it wasnât far from the captainâs cabin.
At this hour most of the crew members were carrying out their duties in the labyrinthine spaces of the submarine. It was obvious that the two men in the berths had been placed there to keep an eye on the passengers, even if they took pains to appear uninterested. No one kept the boys from wandering around the boat, and yet they didnât take a step that was not observed. Captain Calvino might be an unscrupulous slave driver, but he was no fool. And not even the sea witchâs unequivocal order to transport his guests to Egypt unharmed kept him from openly conveying his displeasure with that order.
In a whisper, Dario relayed what heâd learned: âThe sea witch has placed the boat under her protection for as long as Calvino provides her with the flesh of corpses. They collect victims of shipwrecks and drownings all over the Mediterranean and bring them to the sea witch. The fellow I spoke with told me they dive around under the battlefields of the great sea wars all year long and catch the dead in nets. Appetizing
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