Chase the Morning

‘That’s all,’ I said, and took a deep draught of my beer.

Jyp blew out his breath sharply, and looked at me askance. ‘Now just what in hell were you hoping to do if you had caught up with the bastards? Take on a whole shipload of Wolves on your lonesome?’

I’d been hoping he wouldn’t ask that. ‘It was me the Wolves were after, I could have offered myself to them, if they’d let her go.’

Jyp spared me the laughter, just looked bleakly at me. ‘They’d have taken you cheerfully and kept her. Or let her go all right, overside. Or worse. They’re not nice folk, the Wolves.’ Katjka snorted. ‘In fact, if you want to get technical, they’re not folk at all.’

Katjka spoke, slowly. ‘She’s yours, this girl?’

‘No,’ I said hastily, ‘nothing like that. She works for me, that’s all – I feel responsible for her – for this –’

‘Well? demanded Jyp, but he was talking to Katjka, not me.

She shrugged, and from somewhere she produced what looked like a small oblong book and laid it down on the table; then she took my hand, and laid it palm-downwards on top. It felt warm, as if it had been next to her skin, and I realized it was a pack of cards. After a moment she released my hand, shuffled the cards and with flicking fingers began to deal them out on the table between us. They pattered stiffly down in neat overlapping rows, and when she had finished she motioned to me to turn one over, and then another. A little impatiently I turned over two at random; a girl I knew once had told fortunes with Tarot, a pretty tiresome girl, and I was expecting to see the same again. But these were ordinary playing cards – or not, for I had never seen anything like them. I had drawn the knave of diamonds first, and the double figure sneered up at me, swarthy, moustachioed like an Elizabethan brigand, with such malice in its glittering eyes that they shone and sparkled with the cold fire of real diamonds. Hastily I turned it back, and looked at the other; but it was the ace of hearts, and in the trembling light it seemed to swell and pulse, bright liquid red.

Katjka turned that one back. ‘One more,’ she said hoarsely. Reluctantly I turned over – I don’t know why – the last card dealt. It was the two of spades, and there was no sign upon it except the two black pips. But suddenly that blackness seemed to deepen and grow hollow, as if the pips were really openings into emptinesses beyond. They made my eyes blur, their focus swim, so that the two swam and shimmered and merged momentarily into one, a shimmering cavernous ace. Katjka plucked the card from my fingers and with a violent gesture swept the whole pack together.

‘Nothing?’ demanded Jyp.

‘No!’ answered Katjka curtly. ‘There’s a shadow over this business. There were faint signs, but … nothing I can understand, Christe pomiluj! Nothing …’

Steps from the back of the cellar like room broke the silence, and the waft of something spicy, singing with tomatoes and peppers and frying onions, more appetising than I would have believed possible. A face rose in the gloom, round and red and wrinkled as a winter apple but sporting a majestic hawk nose and a beaming smile; it was framed by a gaudy scarf and escaping ringlets of raven-black hair. The woman who came waddling up, bearing an immense and laden tray, could have been anywhere from fifty to seventy, plump but healthy; she laid down the tray with arms brawnier than mine.

‘Dekujeti, Malinkaçu!’ said Katjka. Evidently this was Myrko’s wife; she bobbed me a curtsey and reeled off a great stream of chatter I couldn’t understand. I rose and imitated Jyp’s bow, and the old woman seized my hands and chattered again, then kissed me forcefully on both cheeks and disappeared again, still chattering.

‘She was wishing you well in your ordeals,’ said Katjka slowly. ‘And telling you that you must eat. It’s good advice; you may need strength. I wish I could help you, but I cannot; sso …’

Jyp, already tucking into his plateful, lifted his head and met her eye. ‘Le Stryge?’ he asked.

‘Sztrygoiko,’ she answered.

‘Damn,’ he said, and went back to his food again.

At first I only picked at it, too panicky almost to force it down. I could feel the evening wearing away, that strange ship and all aboard it drawing further and further out of our reach. But the spices set water in my mouth and fire in my innards, and I began to eat as hungrily as Jyp. Even so, I was glad to see he wasn’t lingering; the moment his plate was clear he stood up, took a final swig of beer and tossed down his coarse linen napkin. He raised an eyebrow at Katjka. ‘Well,’ he sighed. ‘Time to go call on old Stryge, I guess.’

‘You don’t seem too eager,’ I said.

‘It’s got dangers of its own,’ Jyp told me. ‘But at this hour they shouldn’t be so bad.’

‘Dangers?’

‘He keeps odd company. Best be going; it’s a walk, and we won’t be wanting to take that automobile of yours. The Stryge gets kind of touchy about that sort of thing.’