Free The Glass Word by Kai Meyer

job, eh? Oh, well, anyway, that’s what they do, because piracy isn’t going so well anymore.No one, not even this madman Calvino, wants to get mixed up with the Egyptians. And if he isn’t fishing bodies out of the water, he carries out commissions for the witch. Like getting us to Egypt.”
    â€œDo you know how they got this boat?”
    â€œThey said Calvino won it, together with the crew, in a dice game. No idea if that’s true at all. If it is, you could probably figure he cheated, that so-and-so. Have you seen how he stares at Lalapeya?”
    Serafin smiled. “To be honest, I’m not the least bit worried about her.” The idea that Calvino might have the sphinx brought into his cabin was simply irresistible: Picturing the captain’s dumb face when the sphinx took her true form and showed him her lion’s claws was worth gold.
    â€œHave you spoken with Tiziano and Aristide?” asked Serafin.
    â€œOf course. They’re wandering around in the boat somewhere and sticking their noses into everything that’s none of their business.”
    Serafin’s guilt deepened. The others had immediately started to become familiar with their new surroundings. Only he was spending valuable time indulging in his melancholy thoughts. The uncertainty over what had become of Merle troubled him more strongly the longer they were under way. But he mustn’t let himself lose sight of the most important thing: to bring them all out of this story safe and sound.

    â€œSerafin?”
    â€œUmm.” He blinked as Dario’s face came into focus in front of him again.
    â€œYou aren’t responsible for anyone here. Just don’t talk yourself into that.”
    â€œI’m not.”
    â€œI think you are. You led us when we went into the Doge’s palace. But that’s long past. Out here, we’re all in the same”—he grinned crookedly—“in the same boat.”
    Serafin sighed, then managed a weak smile. “Let’s go up to the bridge. I’d rather look Calvino in the eye than sit around here not knowing if he’s just given the order to cut all our throats.” As they went to the door together, he called to the two men in the berths, “We’re just going out for a few minutes to sabotage the machinery.”
    The sailor with the whittling knife stared in surprise at his comrade, who acted as if he were just awakening from a deep sleep with an unconvincing yawn.
    Serafin and Dario made their way quickly down the passageway. Everywhere the sights they saw were similar: pipes and steam ducts, artfully integrated into the richly decorated walls and ceilings and thick with verdigris; oriental carpets torn by heavy boots; the curtains in front of some portholes gnawed by mildew and dampness; and chandeliers missing single crystals and even arms, fallen off at some time and never replaced. The former glory of the boat was long gone to ruin. Wooden moldings were gougedand spoiled with childish whittlings, some actually broken by fighting fists. Here and there glass doors were missing from cupboards and partitions. The ceilings and floor coverings were full of wine and rum spots. On some of the murals, the pirates had blackened teeth and added mustaches.
    The bridge was in the top of the submarine, behind a double-sectioned window that looked out into the ocean deep like a pair of eyes. Captain Calvino, clothed in a rust red morning coat with a golden collar, was walking back and forth in front of the windshield, his hands clasped behind his back, arguing excitedly with someone who was blocked from Dario and Serafin’s view by a column. Half a dozen men were working at wheels and levers, which, like most everything aboard, were made of brass; one man sat on an upholstered saddle and was pedaling furiously on a couple of pedals, which drove heaven knew what kind of a machine.
    The two boys walked slowly up to the small platform in