Thursday, January 27, 2011

Chapter IV

In which Machiavelli and Samuel arrive in the Great Metropolis and quarrel over the definition of proper lodging.


“Where...where are we?” Samuel asked, his head spinning. He took an unsteady step and promptly collapsed.

Machiavelli was scarcely able to contain his amusement, but managed to give a steady reply. “We are in London, of course.”

Slowly getting to his knees and looking around, Samuel observed his surroundings. “We are in a churchyard” he said vaguely.

“Naturally.”

“Naturally?”

“It is nearly dawn” Machiavelli informed him matter-of-factly. “It is time for me to sleep.”

“And you're...going to sleep here.”

Machiavelli shrugged. “I am a vampire.”

Samuel could not argue with this logic. “But where am I supposed to sleep?”

Machiavelli shrugged again. “You can sleep here if you would like. The mausoleum I am in the habit of occupying is quite capacious.”

Samuel took an involuntary step backward. “I...um...that is to say...that's very kind of you.”

Machiavelli smiled his ghastly smile. “Shall we then?”

Samuel took another cautious step backwards. “Ehm..I...well, perhaps it would be best if I found lodging with one of my friends here?”

Machiavelli looked slightly crestfallen. “Oh.” he said simply. “I forget that our hospitality is poor to a mortal.”

Samuel felt almost ashamed. “Look here” he said “I'm sorry. It's just that I think I should try to conduct some business whilst here. The money I brought won't last long.” And neither will my laudanum, he added mentally.

Machiavelli inexplicably began to laugh. This irritated Samuel. “Look here!” he said again “If-”

Machiavelli, still mirthful, held up a hand for silence. When he had caught his breath, or rather, stopped laughing, for he no longer breathed, he spoke:

“Samuel, caro mio, do not let such things concern you. This quest we embark upon may be dangerous, but it is not” he said, drawing a heavy purse from the folds of his cloak, “underfunded.”

Samuel stared. Machiavelli chuckled, if that was the proper word. “It is all right. Here.” he handed over the purse. “Get whatever lodging and supplies you may need. That- medicine?- you take? That as well, if you require it. I hope we will be on our way before long again.”

Samuel was almost undone by his kindness. “Thank you, M- Niccolo.”

“Think nothing of it, cari cuore.” He scanned the skies. “Dawn is coming. I should withdraw.”

“Very well” said Samuel. “But how shall I find you again?”

“Do not worry, Samuel!" Machiavelli scolded. "I will find you.”

Samuel swallowed nervously. “Very well.” he repeated. “But I think...”

“Yes?”

Samuel smiled. “I think I ought to get you some supplies as well.”

Machiavelli looked offended. “What do I need?”

“Clothes.” Samuel grinned.

It was Machiavelli's turn to stare. He drew himself up proudly. “But I have clothes.”

Samuel sighed. “My very dear Niccolo” he said. “When was the last time you changed your clothes?”

Machiavelli looked exceedingly put out. “I would have you know” he fumed. "that I have always been considered very well dressed. This cloak for example-"

“Styles have changed.” Samuel interrupted. “If I'm to travel with you, you need to be presentable.”

Machiavelli opened his mouth to reply but shut it immediately when he realized dawn was imminent.

“Do as you wish.” he snapped and was gone among the tombs.

“Oh I shall” Samuel said to the empty air. “I most certainly shall.”

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