Voyage of Slaves

Further argument between the animals was cut short as the old lady moved toward the kitchen. “Would you like breakfast, Ben? I’m just scrambling some eggs with peppers and ham. You and your crew will have to feed yourselves, Janos Cabar. I don’t have enough to go around for my own guests and your ruffians.”

The smugglers’ leader shouldered her bullwhip. “I can’t stay anyway, too much business to attend. Stay indoors until I get back, boy!”

Annalisa led Ben and Ned into her kitchen, seating them at a table by the fire. Ned kept turning in the cat’s direction and hurling out insults. “Great hairy sausage! Do you ever get beaten up by mice, plinkypaws?”

The boy tugged his dog’s tail sharply. “Now just stop that, I won’t have it, d’you hear?”

Ned retreated sulkily under the table. “Well, that moving mattress started it. Ooh! Who are you calling twaddle tail, you overstuffed pillowcase!”

Ben watched Annalisa cracking eggs into a large skillet as he sent out a threatening message. “One more word out of you, mate, and I’ll tell the old lady that you never eat breakfast, and you only like stale crusts and water!”

The Labrador rested his chin on both front paws, complaining, “That’s right, take Miss Pandora Pussyface’s side, I’m just a poor old dog without a friend in the whole wide world!”

Ben rubbed his foot soothingly down Ned’s flank. “Try and ignore her, mate, I’m your friend.”

Ned stared soulfully up at his master. “I knew you were all along. Right, I’ll take your advice, friend. I’ll totally ignore that fleabound fat-ridden feline. The smelly, tatty-furred relic. . . . Oh great stuff, here comes the food, hope she doesn’t give that meowing moocher any!”

The morning passed on pleasantly enough at the Grey Swan. Ben made himself useful to Annalisa, fixing a loose door hinge and moving some furniture about for her. Every so often she would reward her helpful guest with a slice of her plum cake, or some bread and cheese. The old lady was of the opinion that boys were always hungry. Ben shared his titbits with Ned, who ate them with smug gusto, smirking at Pandora.

“Go on, idle paws, go and catch a mouse, you’re not getting any of this. Mmm, tastes lovely, delicious!”

Just before midday, Janos Cabar arrived back with information for Ben. “The word is that this Misurata villain will dock in the harbour sometime tomorrow, maybe midnoon. That’s all I can tell you, my friend, so keep your head down until then. I’ve got to go to Trieste now—can’t hang about here too long, or folk will start asking questions, and word might get out to the authorities. You’re safe enough here, though.”

Ben took out the pouch of gold coins, which still weighed heavily in his hands. “Janos, when your business is done in Trieste, will you be coming back this way?”

The smuggler nodded. “Aye, I always come back through Piran. Why do you ask?”

The big gold coins clinked dully as Ben shook the pouch. “Listen, I have no need for gold, so I’ll make you an offer. If you meet me here when you come back, I may need your help to break my friends free. Would this money be enough to cover your services?”

The smuggler toyed with the leather plaiting on her whip handle. “You really don’t realise the value of Krimboti’s treasure, do you? What’s in that pouch is a fortune. If you don’t need it, I know lots of women with families who do. I’ll do it, boy, you’ll have the assistance of me and my Istrani Wolves. I won’t bother with a return cargo, I’ll meet you here tomorrow night. If we leave Trieste driving unloaded wagons, we’ll be here around seven of the clock. That’s a bargain, friend!”

Janos Cabar spat on her palm, holding it out. Ben did likewise and they shook hands.

Ned pawed at his master’s leg. “See, I told you she’d go for it. Who’s a clever dog, then?”

Ben grinned at him. “Yes, good dog, clever dog! Roll over and I’ll scratch your tummy.”

Ned stalked off with his tail in the air. “Hmmph! Not while that cat’s watching!”

29

LA LINDI HAD TAKEN HER PYTHON, Mwaga, out of his basket. The snake coiled around her waist and arm, swaying its blunt face in front of her and touching her cheek with its long, forked tongue. Signore Rizzoli watched Mwaga and his charmer, noting the interaction between them with interest.

“Your snake seems restless today, Lindi, is something the matter with him?”

The enigmatic black lady caressed her pet’s shifting coils. “I think it must be raining outside. Mwaga often acts like this when there’s rainfall.”

Buffo looked up from his task of brushing Poppea. “You could be right. I wonder what time it is. Down here you lose all sense of night or day.”

Mummo yawned. “Early morning’s my guess.”

Mamma commented wryly, “How would you know, you’re always asleep? Just before you close your eyes, you always say it’s late night. Then when you wake up it’s always early morning to you. Serafina, what time do you think it is?”

The youngest of the troupe replied promptly. “Almost midday—time moves like a snail when you’re cooped up and you can’t see daylight.”