George Martin - Fevre Dream

“He beat you?” Marsh said.

Joshua nodded. “Easily. As he had always done before, except that one night. I summoned up all the strength and will and anger that was in me, but I was no match for him. Even Julian did not expect it, I think.” He shook his head. “Joshua York, king of the vampires. I failed them again. My reign lasted for just over two months. For the past thirteen years, Julian has been our master.”

“Your prisoners?” Marsh asked, knowing the answer but hoping he was wrong.

“Dead. They took them one by one, over the months that followed.”

Marsh grimaced. “Thirteen years, that’s a long time, Joshua. Why didn’t you run off? You must have had a chance.”

“Many,” Joshua York admitted. “I think Julian would have preferred that I vanish. He had been bloodmaster for a thousand years or more, the strongest and most terrible predator ever to walk the earth, and I had made him a slave for two months. Neither he nor I could account for my brief, bitter triumph, but neither could we forget it. We struggled again and again over the years, and each time, before Julian brought all his power to bear, I saw the flicker of doubt, the fear that maybe this time he would be overcome again. But it never happened. And I stayed. Where would I go, Abner? And what good could I do? My place was with my people. All that time, I continued to hope that someday I could take them back from him. Even in defeat, I believe my presence was a check on Julian. It was always I who initiated our contests for mastery, never him. He never attempted to make me kill. When supplies of my drink ran low, I set up my equipment and made more, and Julian did not interfere. He even allowed some of the others to join me. Simon, Cynthia, Michel, a few others. We drank, and stilled the thirst.

“For his part, Julian kept to his cabin. You might even say he was dormant. At times no one but Sour Billy would see him for weeks. Years passed that way, with Julian lost in his own dreams, though his presence hung over us. He had his blood, of course. At least once a month, Sour Billy would ride into New Orleans, and return with a victim. Slaves before the war. Afterward, dance-hall girls, prostitutes, drunks, scoundrels-whomever he could entice out to us. The war was difficult. Julian stirred during the war, and led parties into the city several times. Later he sent out the others. Wars often yield up easy prey for my people, but they can also be dangerous, and this war took its toll. Cara was attacked by a Union soldier one night in New Orleans. She killed him, of course, but he had companions… she was the first to die. Philip and Alain were arrested on suspicion, and imprisoned. They were shut up in an outdoor stockade, to wait for questioning. The sun came up, and both of them died. And troops fired the plantation house one night. It was half-ruined anyway, but not empty. Armand died in the blaze, and Jorge and Michel were horribly burned, though they recovered. The rest of us dispersed, and returned to the Fevre Dream when the marauders had gone. It has been our home ever since.

“The years have passed with a sort of uneasy truce between Julian and myself. There are fewer of us, barely a dozen, and we are divided. My followers have my liquor, and Julian’s have their blood. Simon, Cynthia, and Michel are mine, the others his, some because they think as he does, others because he is bloodmaster. Kurt and Raymond are his strongest allies. And Billy.” His expression was grim. “Billy is a cannibal, Abner. For thirteen years, Julian has been making him one of us, or so he says. After all that time, the blood still makes Billy sick. I have seen him retch on it a dozen times. But he eats human flesh eagerly now, though he cooks it first. Julian finds that amusing.”

“You should have let me kill him.”

“Perhaps. Though without Billy we would have died on the steamer that day. He has a quick mind, but Julian has twisted him terribly, as he twists all those who listen to him. Without Billy, this way of life Julian has constructed would collapse. It is Billy who rides into the city, and brings back Julian’s sorry prey. It is Billy who sells off the silver from the boat, or parcels of land, or whatever else is needed to keep some money on hand. And, in a sense, it is because of Billy that you and I have met again.”

“I figured you’d get to that sooner or later,” Marsh said. “You been with Julian a long time, without runnin’ off or doin’ nothin’. Only now you’re here, with Julian and Sour Billy hunting for you, and now you write me this goddamned letter. Why now? What’s changed?”

Joshua’s hands were tight on the ends of his armchair. “The truce I spoke of is over,” he said. “Julian is awake again.”

“How?”

“Billy,” said Joshua. “Billy is our link with the world outside. When he goes into New Orleans, he often brings back newspapers and books, for me, along with food and wine and victims. Billy also hears all the stories, all the talk in the city and along the river.”

“So?” said Abner Marsh.

“Of late much of that talk has been about one topic. The papers have been full of it, too. It is a topic dear to your heart, Abner. Steamboats. Two steamboats, in particular.”

Abner Marsh frowned. “The Natchez and the Wild Bob Lee, ”he said. He couldn’t see what Joshua was getting at.

“Precisely,” said York. “From the papers I have read and the things Billy has said, it seems that a race is inevitable.”

“Hell, yes,” said Marsh. “Soon, too. Leathers has been braggin’ all up and down the river, and he’s starting to cut into the Lee ’s trade bad, from what I hear. Cap’n Cannon ain’t goin’ to stand that long. It ought to be a hell of a race, too.” He tugged at his beard. “Only I don’t see what that’s got to do with Julian and Billy and your damned night folks.”

Joshua York smiled grimly. “Billy talked too much. Julian grew interested. And he remembers, Abner, he remembers that promise he made to you. I stopped him once. But now, damn him, he intends to do it again.”

“Do it again?”

“He will recreate the slaughter I found on the Fevre Dream, ”said Joshua. “Abner, this business between the Natchez and the Robert E. Lee has caught the interest of the whole nation. Even in Europe large wagers are being placed, according to the papers. If they race from New Orleans to St. Louis, it will take them three or four days. And three or four nights, Abner. And three or four nights.”

And all of a sudden Abner Marsh saw where Joshua was going, and a coldness settled on him such as he had never known. “The Fevre Dream, ”he said.

“They are floating her again,” said York, “clearing out that waterway we had filled in. Sour Billy is raising money. Later this month he will come to the city and hire a crew, to help make her ready and man her when the time comes. Julian thinks it will all be very amusing. He intends to take her to New Orleans and land her until the day of the race. He will let the Natchez and the Robert E. Lee depart first, and then he will take the Fevre Dream upriver after them. When darkness falls, he will close in on whichever boat is leading, pull alongside her, and… well, you know what he intends. Both steamers will be lightly manned, without any passengers, to keep their weight down. Julian will have an easy time of it. And he will compel all of us to take part. I am his pilot.” He laughed bitterly. “Or I was. When I first heard his madness, I fought him, and lost yet again. The next dawn I stole Billy’s horse and fled. I thought that I could frustrate him by running. Without a pilot, he could not bring it off. But by the time I had recovered from my burns, I saw the fallacy in that. Billy will simply hire a pilot.”