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little butler, Norman; surprisingly poor food for a baron's home; no members of the baronial family
coming to greet their guests, except for the snow-headed Elric, who was lurking in the balcony. And no
sec men.
That was strangest of all.
Over the years of his life in Deathlands, Ryan had to have visited hundreds of villes, and met most of the
barons who ruled them. Though he scratched hard at his memory, he couldn't recall a single case where a
baron managed without any members of a security force.
Some barons ruled with terror. Some with brutal power. Some were comparatively kind and decent
toward the people of their domain.
But not one could have slept easy in his bed at night without the sure and certain knowledge of the
blasters that defended him.
It was a common fact that few barons in Deathlands lived out a natural span close to the biblical three
score and ten. It was also well enough known that most were murdered by wives or mistresses. Next came
sons or daughters, then brothers or sisters. You went way down the butchery tables to find barons who'd
been deposed and slaughtered by their own sec chiefs or men.
He wondered how the Cornelius Family kept its grip on the people of Bramton and the surrounding lands
if they had no sec men. It didn't make sense.
"Sec men must be out of sight, out of the way," he whispered to Krysty.
"They do not exist, Ryan Cawdor. We do not need them." The answering voice came from high above his
head, making him jump, confirming his suspicion that Elric Cornelius had to have preternaturally keen
hearing to have caught his muttered words from way up in the galleryunless there was some cunning trick
of the acoustics that carried sound around a building. Ryan had heard of such things.
Ryan stared blankly up. "Friend of mine used to say that a man who said he never needed help was
already way beyond any help," he called.
A light laugh hung in the air.
There was the faintest whisper of feet on stone steps, then Elric was among them.
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Deathlands 29 - Bloodlines
"I see that the food we prepared was not much to your liking," he said, glancing around at the plates, most
of which carried the piled detritus of the disappointing meal.
"Long on quantity and perhaps a little short on quality," Doc replied.
"If you stay awhile with us, then you must instruct us on how to improve. Guests from the outlands are
rare here. And food such as this" he swept out a long arm, ending in pale, bloodless fingers, "is not what
we choose for our own pleasures. Not at all."
Ryan hesitated, wanting to ask the man what they ate for their own pleasure. But there was something
about being blind that held him back. Cornelius had already shown himself capable of anger, and without
being able to see the man's face, Ryan felt himself unable to judge what his reaction might be.
"Have you done with the food?" Elric was moving around the room and had come to a halt directly
behind Ryan, increasing his discomfort.
"We have," Krysty replied. "It's been a heavy day, especially for Ryan and me. I think we'd all like to get
ourselves some rest now. If that's all right with you."
"But, of course. Norman will show you to the rooms that have been set aside for you. They all have
running water and all facilities. It will not be "necessary" for anyone to leave his, or her, room during the
night."
The threatening stress on "necessary" was unmistakable, and J.B. responded to it first.
"You saying harm might come if we don't stay in our rooms? What kind of harm would that be?"
Ryan heard the smile from Cornelius. "You make it sound as though you worry that your lives might be
threatened, John Dix. This is a large and rambling house, and we would not wish any of you to come to
harm. That is all. Norman, you may take over, and I wish all a good night."
Chapter Twenty-Three
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Deathlands 29 - Bloodlines
Ryan slept fitfully. The passing of the hours had become an enigma to him, and when he woke for the
fifth or sixth time he'd completely lost touch with how late or early it was.
There had been a dream where he was in the ruins of a great metropolisperhaps Newyork. It seemed a
center for travel, and there were dozens of commercial transport wags, filling with passengers. Ryan had
known that he wanted to get to a ville in the Shens, but he couldn't remember the name of it. And the
destination boards on the fronts and sides of the wags were all blank.
He had asked bustling men and women which was the right vehicle to catch for the Shens, but they'd all
pushed by him, faces averted, intent on their own business.
Finally he'd taken the nearest wag, but it had been empty, with shuttered doors and windows and no way
of communicating with the driver.
He had awakened from that jolting darkness to the blackness of the bedroom that Norman had showed
him and Krysty late the previous night.
"Krysty?" he whispered, reaching to his left side, where he knew she'd been sleeping.
But the space was empty, the sheets cold.
Ryan drew the SIG-Sauer, cocking it automatically, the click sounding unusually loud.
A door creaked open to the right of the big, high bed. "Why the blaster, lover?"
He eased the hammer down and replaced the heavy automatic under the pillow. "Woke and you weren't
there."
"Went for a pee. Found it hard to sleep. Something about this place makes me uneasy, Ryan."
"Yeah, I felt it, too. Got locked into a classic anxiety dream about getting lost on a journey."
"I was walking across a heather-covered land and it got evening and something was coming after me.
Pretty ghosty. Goes with the look of this house."
Ryan had been sitting up and he lay down again. "When you get a chance, pass the word to the others to
stay on orange. Something I don't like about the Family."
"Only met one member, so far." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]