The Empire of Glass - Andy Lane [74]
He glanced along the deck of the boat, and was annoyed to see the Doctor standing by the mast, his white hair billowing in the wind like a miniature of the billowing sail above his head, looking for all the world as if he were enjoying himself. Shakespeare was sick to his stomach. After all, he'd only just stepped off the boat from England, and he had been looking forward to a few days standing on dry land. Venice wasn't exactly dry land, of course, but it was an acceptable substitute.
A gull flew close overhead, and Shakespeare cursed at it.
"What was that?" Galileo shouted from his position by the tiller.
"Nothing of import," Shakespeare shouted back.
"Coming into port? But we've barely been out half an hour."
Galileo's beard bristled angrily. "If that's a slur on my navigation, I'll have your liver and lights Master Shake-Shaft!"
"What I said was -" Shakespeare sighed. "Oh, never mind. It's not worth going to war over."
"Having a bit of trouble making yourself understood?" the Doctor asked, glancing over his shoulder with a superior smile on his face.
"I confess, Doctor, that I do not understand why I am here."
Shakespeare scowled as best he could, but it turned into a clownish grimace as a spray of sea water hit him in the face.
"I thought I had made it all perfectly clear," the Doctor said. "We are seeking the island of Laputa, where I believe my companion to be held."
"That's all very well," Shakespeare snapped, "but it doesn't explain what I am doing here, especially while Kit Marlowe is wandering around Venice. I have a mission to fulfil for my Monarch."
The Doctor ran his thumbs under his lapels and cocked his head to one side. "If, as you explained, you have been instructed to seek the representatives of some foreign empire and do business with them, then I suspect that you may find them on Laputa. Although -"
and he chuckled "- you may discover that they are from an empire that does not lie on any of the standard trade routes."
Shakespeare was about to reply when something loomed up out of the mist ahead: a sketchy shape, a darker shadow against the grey veils, like a piece of scenery forgotten and unlit behind a backcloth. "What is that?" he cried as it became clearer - a fabulous, fantastic city of cloud-capped towers, gorgeous palaces, solemn temples, great globes and slender spires, paths that hung in mid-air and stairways that moved by themselves, like Jacob's ladder. "Is it... is it heaven?"
"No, it's Laputa," the Doctor said with satisfaction. "Mister Galileo, prepare to make land."
"Aye, Doctor," Galileo shouted from the stern of the boat. "But I warn you, we have company."
Shakespeare and the Doctor both turned to face Galileo. The bearded Venetian was pointing off to one side, to where a patch of mist had been cleaved by the bows of another boat. And beside it, another. And beyond that, a third. Figures moved on their decks, clad in stark black cloth. Shakespeare strained his eyes. Perhaps it was the mist, but they looked like corpses, freshly animated, staring blindly ahead. The wind whipped the sea-spray into their faces, but they didn't blink, or wipe their eyes. And as the wind carried their boats closer, Shakespeare was unsurprised to see the weeping sores that covered their exposed skin.
The bell tower was set on the edge of the crowded market-place that was St Mark's Square, a few hundred yards from the edge of the lagoon. Stalls selling foods, sweets, trinkets and pets were gathered around its