A Dangerous Climate Read Online Free PDF Page B

for later, after Hroger would come for him. He tried again to speak. "Thank you."
     
"Thank the Finnish Watch who found you. Without them, I could do nothing." She moved away from him, and after checking the other patients, waited for Kyril to bring Yvgeny Sergeievich back to his bed.
     
Remembering that he had to breathe, Saint-Germain did his best to find a comfortable position on the hard mattress, then closed his eyes, wanting to be sure that he would not arouse any more curiosity from Ludmilla Borisevna Svarinskaya. Gradually sleep overcame him, engulfing him in a deep torpor that banished time, so that when he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find Hroger at the foot of his bed, a valise in his hand, his faded-blue eyes crimped in worry. One pair of shutters was open and a band of cool northern light spilled in. There seemed to be more sun now, as well, but whether that was true, or it was only that his eyes were less swollen, he could not tell. He raised his left hand.
     
"My master," said Hroger, glad that Saint-Germain had wakened.
     
Sudden, unexpected relief washed through Saint-Germain and he started to speak, wanting to assure him that he would recover. His throat was more swollen than it had been, and all that came out was a sound like ill-played reeds on an oboe. He lifted his unsplinted hand to his bandaged neck, saying only, "Bruised. And robbed." He realized three of the men in the other beds were awake and paying attention, so he made an obvious gesture to indicate that he could not continue to speak.
     
"I was told by the serving-man who brought me that you hadbeen set upon and badly injured out near the new treadmill, and that you had been brought here. I informed your wife of your condition, and came with the serving-man as soon as I had packed this case." He spoke in Hungarian, his accent as old-fashioned as Saint-Germain's. "I have clothes for you, and the light carriage waiting, Gronigen holding the reins."
     
Saint-Germain made a gesture of approval.
     
"I was told to warn you that if you make an accusation against a Russian worker in regard to your attack, you will be tortured as a discouragement to lying." He looked around as Ludmilla came in from the adjoining room, her European-style skirts rustling as she hurried toward Saint-Germain.
     
"Ah." She offered a smile as she approached the side of his bed. "You're awake, Hercegek. As you see, your manservant has arrived--a half-hour ago. He's been sitting here, waiting for you to wake up."
     
With the shuttered room still in twilight, Saint-Germain could see her better than when he had arrived: she was a handsome woman, too forceful to be pretty, though her features were attractively angular; she had flawless skin, a pert nose; her eyes were gold-shot hazel, her lips full. He tried to smile, but the cuts and bruises on his face twisted it into a grimace.
     
"There, Hercegek. Don't force yourself ..." She went to assist him, easing him into a sitting position. "Very good."
     
"Tell me, Madame, if you would," said Hroger with deference, "when was he brought here?"
     
"It was an hour or so before sunrise. The Watchmen found him and brought him here. I have their names if you need them." She patted his unsplinted hand in encouragement.
     
Saint-Germain nodded again, stopping the dizziness this created by an act of will. He made a sign to Hroger indicating he would like to stand up, and made a second sign that he wanted something on which he could write.
     
"I'll get crutches for you, Hercegek. Don't try to rise until you have them. I don't want you falling now. Kyril!" She hurried out of the room only to return in a few minutes with a pair of sturdy crutches."It will take you a little while to learn to use them, the more so because of your splinted hand."
     
Taking the crutches from her, Hroger said, "I think it's best if I assist him, Madame."
     
Ludmilla nodded at once, agreeing with Hroger. "Just as well." She got out of the way to