Dark Ages Clan Novel Setite: Book 4 of the Dark Ages Clan Novel Saga by Kathleen Ryan

Author:Kathleen Ryan [Ryan, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vampire: the masquerade, horror
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2019-06-25T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Durazzo, Despotate of Epirus

June, 1206

Brujah clansmen welcome Ventrue nobles as battle-hardened mercenaries welcome raw, untested, princely knights: civilly, with neither insult nor deference to their theoretically higher state. The warrior-sage Geseric welcomed Lord Valerian thus; to Andreas he gave warm, heart-felt greetings. The Golden Virtue and her trading sisters frequented the safe harbor of Durazzo. Years of favors granted and repaid bound fief lord and merchant tightly, and the Setite had only rarely felt the lash of the Brujah clan’s infamous temper.

At their court meeting, Geseric professed himself astonished to see Andreas traveling by road. Almost apologetically, he informed his guest that neither the Virtue nor any other vessel was in port. The Egyptian thanked him for his concern, but offered no explanations. The Brujah could count; he would deduce Andreas’s reasons. He might not even be surprised when the caravan turned north from here, shunning the easy summer sea for the tortuous coast of Dalmatia.

Andreas left his passengers to their own devices. The Cainites here were almost as populous and half as savage as Thessalonica’s. Everyone but Hadeon and Calleo would find conversations or common interests with the courtiers. He had business of his own here, vastly more important than any immortal gossips.

Andrew of Egypt kept a warehouse by the docks, not far from the first temple he had helped to found in Europe. He and Goreb hastened from Geseric’s threshold to their own, as fast as their horses would take them. All the crew had crammed inside the complex; a reunion feast weighted down the tables of the counting-room and sanctuary. His clanmate Sebehlsenkare—known as Sybil in Durazzo—and the townsfolk who prayed in her shrine embraced him fondly; the Flemings stationed here clustered round their patron and sought his blessings. Sebehlsenkare and Ankhesenaten performed the cult of their god together, before both images, and then took a room apiece, at the center of their own tables, and watched the mortals eat and drink their fill.

After the feast, there were messages from Thebes, letters from his men at home, and news of the fleet to hear. The crew presented their concerns for the next leg of the journey. Ton needed wood and iron. Jacquy gave his opinion, not good, of the oxen, horses, and mule-teams that had survived the trip from Sofia. Andreas arranged for materials and replacements. Funds came out of the trading-house accounts; the trade-goods Willem and Dehaan had acquired along the route went into the stores. A few of the crew requested leave to stay, to go to sea, or to travel home, and some of the locals asked to join the wagons on the road. Andreas judged each request on its merits, suggested other paths, and finally allowed everyone to follow their hearts.

Only one man failed to obtain his desire, and he had not expected to have it granted: Dehaan pled with his lord on behalf of Ljudumilu’s health.

“The road is killing her, master.”

The old priestess was not too ill to object to this; Ankhesenaten laid a hand on her arm to quiet her until her grandson had finished speaking.

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