"Derek Paterson - The Kaiserine's Champion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Paterson Derek)

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I awoke to find myself in another room, lying on a soft bed with clean sheets. An oil lantern cast its soft
light upon the face of the girl who sat in the chair beside the bed, reading a book. She was a pretty young
thing, with clear blue eyes and plaited blonde hair. She reminded me of the girl I'd left behind when I'd
marched off to The War. By the time I returned from the Moskovian campaign she was happily married
to an ex-cavalry officer who owned a medium-sized estate and had plenty of money. My Army pension
would have just about taken care of their dogsтАЩ food bills. I hadn't even tried to see her again.

My companion glanced up at me and started in surprise, seeing that I was awake.

"Please,тАЭ I said, holding a finger to my lips, тАЬNo noise. My head is killing me.тАЭ Ludwig had given me
another lump to match the ones Thenck's Noseys had imparted the previous night.

She said nothing, so I asked, тАЬWho are you?"

No answer. I would have questioned her further, but the lamplight showed the thin red line around her
throat. It occurred to me that perhaps the learned Doctor Schmidt had some connection with this odd
scar. She also wore a brown leather glove over her right hand. I could only guess what injury it
concealed and wondered whether Schmidt might be responsible for this, too.

"Can you talk?тАЭ I asked, slowly and clearly, pointing to my own mouth.

She shook her head, no.

I tried to think why she might be here. To look after me? To inform Schmidt or Thenck when I regained
consciousness? Either possibility had merit. I raised my head and examined the room. The first thing I
noticed was the door. It had neither handle nor bolts, which meant it must be opened from outside.
Another prison cell then, although the bed was comfortable and I had pleasant company. The second
thing I noticed was that the only window looked out into a dark alleyway and was fitted with iron bars.
Evidently they didn't intend for me to leave that way. A table in the corner supported a water jug, a
washing-bowl, a tub of soap, a razor and a shaving mirror. Someone had also laid out new clothing, a
uniform such as Corsican mercenaries wear and a pair of boots that looked to be my size.

My head pounded as I weakly pushed myself up and swung my legs off the bed. The girl stood also and
waited by the chair, watching me. I rubbed my jaw. I could have struck a Lucifer upon the bristles. The
thought made me smile, but only briefly, for I became aware of the gnawing hunger deep in the pit of my
stomach, and turned to look at the girl.

Her eyes widened in alarm and she took a half-step away from me, seeing something in me that
frightened her. She glanced at the door, as if wishing it would open so she could leave.Why was she
here? The answer to that fateful question struck me an instant later. The pounding in my head receded
and I closed my eyes, listening to the booming of her panicked heartbeat and the stentorian gasps of her
breathing from the other side of the roomтАФsounds that magnified and echoed in my skull like the tolling
of a cathedral bell. The rush of blood through her veins and arteries called to me, irresistible, deliciousтАФ

I leapt the space between us in a single bound. She moaned and struggled against me, as I had struggled
against the vampyre demoness who'd attacked me in the Guttzeig-High Sazburg coach. The girl's strength
was no match for mine. My incisors extended fully as I forced her head to one side and kissed her
exposed neck. They found the soft, warm flesh, piercing her jugular.