"John G. Hemry - Kyrie Eleison" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hemry John G)

Kyrie Eleison by John G. Hemry

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“The best-laid plans....” applies to everybody.

Frost rimmed the large, thick windows looking out over a cliff and down to dark
water flecked by whitecaps. Sleet rattled against heavy stone walls as an erratic wind
swept by. Low on the horizon, a reddish sun glowed through a rare small rent in the
clouds that otherwise covered the sky, casting long shadows across the room where
Garvis Skein lay abed, snoring heavily under the pile of blankets he favored for
warmth.

Francesa walked quietly into the room, her uncovered feet making almost no
sound, ignoring with the stoicism of years of experience the searing cold on the
soles of her feet whenever she had to leave the comparative comfort of a rug’s
surface and cross bare stone. Working silently and swiftly, she pulled tinder and coal
from the bag she carried and, kneeling in front of the stone fireplace in one corner,
got a fire going with efficiency born of long practice.

Garvis stirred under his covers. Francesa froze, her breathing as shallow and
quiet as possible. The fire popped, and Garvis’ eyes opened, frowning at the ornate
designs carved into the ceiling. The eyes slowly pivoted, coming to rest on
Francesa. The man’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “You have broken a rule,” he
muttered. “Noisemaking during sleep period. Inform the duty Officer so he may
order the appropriate punishment.”

Francesa bowed her head silently, then brought her right hand up to touch her
forehead. “Aye.”

“Go away.” Garvis turned to settle under his blankets.

Francesa snarled at his back, knowing the man wouldn’t move again until the
fire had warmed the room. Then she left as silently as possible.

Officer Varasan was lingering over breakfast when Francesa found him. One
look at her expression and he sighed heavily. “Now what?”

Francesa stood before him, trying not to notice the crumbs on the shirt that
stretched over his belly. Her stomach threatened to rumble, something she tried to
silence with every fiber of her being. On those few occasions when she and her like
were granted good bread, their sunken stomachs offered no purchase for any
crumb. “I made a sound, Officer,” she stated tonelessly. “Before call to work.”
Varasan sighed again. As Officers went, he wasn’t so bad, Francesa thought.
But he was an Officer. “Where?”
 “The chamber of the First Officer.”

This time Officer Varasan flinched. “Stars, girl, couldn’t you have picked a
less important place?” He let out a long breath of air, a gust the warmth of which
actually brushed against Francesa. “Though as you well know every place is less