He Lover of Death by Boris Akunin Page A

flew into a little room that was like a closet, or even a cupboard, only inside it was all covered in white tiles. On the floor by the wall there was a big vase or bowl – it was white too.
    ‘What’s this?’ Senka asked.
    She laughed. ‘A water closet. A privy with flushing water.’
    ‘And what if he gets the urge?’
    She laughed even louder: ‘Why, he’d burst before he’d go to the privy in front of a lady. He’s a prince, after all.’
    The door to the closet slammed shut, and she went to open up. Senka heard her shout: ‘All right, I’m coming, I’m coming, no need for that racket!’
    Then he heard the Prince’s voice: ‘What did you lock yourself in for? You never lock yourself in!’
    ‘Someone filched a shawl from the porch, crept in during the night.’
    The Prince was already in the room. ‘That must have been a vagrant, passing through. No one in Khitrovka would dare do that. Don’t worry, I’ll put the word out, they’ll get your shawl back and find the thief – he’ll be sorry.’
    ‘Oh, never mind about the shawl. It was old anyway, I was going to throw it out.’
    Then it went quiet for a while, something rustled and there was a slobbery sound.
    She said: ‘Well, hello.’
    ‘They’re necking,’ Senka guessed.
    The Prince said: ‘I’ll go and wash my hands and face. I’m all dusty.’
    Water started running on the other side of the wall, and the sound went on for a long time.
    Meanwhile Senka looked around in the privy cupboard.
    There was a pipe sticking out over the bowl, and higher up there was a cast-iron tank with a chain dangling from it – he had no idea what it was for. But then Senka had no time for idle curiosity – he had to scarper while he was still in one piece.
    And right up by the ceiling was a bright little window – not very big, but he could get through it. If he stood on the china bowl, grabbed hold of the chain, and then the tank, he could reach it all right.
    He didn’t waste any time on second thoughts. He climbed up on the bowl (oh, don’t let the damn thing crack!) and grabbed the chain.
    The bowl stood the test all right, but that chain played him a shabby trick: when he tugged on it, the pipe started roaring and water came gushing out!
    Senka almost fainted, he was so afraid.
    Death stuck her head in: ‘What are you doing? Have you lost your wits?’
    And just then the next door slammed as the Prince came out of the bathroom. So Death swung round towards him, as if she’d just finished her business.
    She closed the door behind her, firmly.
    Senka stood there for a while with his hand on his heart while he gathered his wits. Once he’d recovered a bit, he squatted down on his haunches and started wondering how beautiful women did the necessary. It was nature, they had to, but it was impossible to imagine Death doing anything like that. And where could you do it in here? Not in this snow-white china bowl! It was beautiful, the sort of thing you could eat fruit jelly off.
    So Senka still wasn’t sure – he found it easy to imagine that specially beautiful women had everything arranged in some special kind of way.
    Once he got comfortable in the closet, he wanted to know what was going on outside.
    He pressed his ear against the door and tried to listen, but he couldn’t make out the words. He tried sticking his ear here and there and finally crouched down on all fours, with his ear on the floor. There was a crack under the door, so he could hear better that way.
    He heard her voice first: ‘I told you – I’m not in the mood for fooling around today.’
    ‘But I brought you a present, a sapphire ring.’
    ‘Put it over there, by the mirror.’
    Footsteps. Then the Prince again, angry (Senka cringed):
    ‘Seems like you’re not in the mood very often. Other women can’t wait to get on their back, but you’re as prickly as a hedgehog.’
    She said (real reckless!): ‘If you don’t like me, then clear off, I won’t try to stop