Alan Lewrie 08 Jester's Fortune by Dewey Lambdin

Author:Dewey Lambdin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Publisher: Fred
Published: 2011-11-15T12:05:33+00:00

CHAPTER

7

The Austrian liaison officer assigned to them was a low-ranking Leutnant zur See Conrad Kolodzcy, a minor figure from one of the minor navies. His rank, however, was the only thing humble about him for he had a very high opinion of himself, which was apparent right from his arrival aboard Pylades with no less than two body-servants, two large sea-chests and a clutch of luggage that held—

so he haughtily told them—the bare necessities of life, without which no true gentleman would dare to travel.

Lewrie wasn't so sure Kolodzcy wasn't an out-of-work instructor of dancing, masquerading—some rude jape the Austrians had foisted on them—and was more than happy that Rodgers was the one forced to deal with him on a daily basis and share his august company.

Leutnant Kolodzcy was a touch leaner than courtier-slim, as thin as a high-strung whippet or greyhound. He displayed such elegant, languid mannerisms that he could have taught refinement to the Venetians, making them look like lumbering dockyard drunks by comparison. He stood three inches shorter than Lewrie's five-foot-nine—and that with the help of a pair of glossy black Hessian boots with heels so tall they were suited to cavalry stirrups. And they were adorned with more gaudy gilt cord and tassels than post-captains were allowed on an entire coat!

His hair was dark, almost raven-black, and cut in that newfangled Frog fashion . . . brushed forward over the ears and forehead, and lacking that long, plaited queue particular to real sailormen. He sported soft brown puppy eyes set in a rather pale face of such startling regularity that he was almost effeminately pretty, with cheekbones any fashionable lady might kill for, a pert little drawer-knob of a chin, and lips quite bee-stung, or as cherubically bowed as Cupids. When he didn't have 'em set in a disbelieving pout or moue, that is, over how real navies lived!

And Leutnant zur See Conrad Kolodzcy wore scent . . . rather a lot of scent. Lewrie suspected his family was in the trade and kept him stocked with a constant supply of the family product, as a fashion adjunct or as a walking advertisement. That Hungary Water or Cologne wasn't used in the manner most folks used it—to cover the reek of unwashed flesh and clothing—for Leutnant Kolodzcy had fetched along a portable, collapsible canvas bathtub as part of his "absolutely essential" kit, and had been appalled to learn that his daily allotment of water for shaving and bathing would be the same as a British officer's—a bare pint a day!—

barring what they could sluice into water-butts when it rained. He had been most vocal in expressing his horror over that; that, and the lack of proper chefs, proper bedsteads, clean bed-linen daily, decent wine to drink, or the dreadful hours he'd be expected to rise or retire, or the fact that tea, coffee or chocolate couldn't be whistled up from the galley on a whim.

Fortunately for their mission, he could express his horrors in English, French,

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