intrigued, but before she could say anything, the Melissa called Nancy returned pushing a wheeled trolley on which were various bottles of liquid, creams and jars of unguent. Petra showed Mildred several of them while Jak watched sullenly from the corner of the room. Jak didn’t like this woman. In fact, he didn’t like any of the people he had met here so far. If it wasn’t for Ricky’s wound, he would be insisting to Mildred and Ryan that they get out of here, triple fast. There was something not quite right about the place, but he couldn’t put his finger on it yet.
* * *
RYANANDTHEcompanions wereserved cakes and honey water in the Regina’s meeting room. The cakes were light and delicious, while the honey water tasted subtly sweet and was wonderfully refreshing after their long trek.
“You have really outdone yourself as a host,” Doc said in toast as he took a bite from his third scone.
The Regina held her cup up in acknowledgment to him. “We treat outlanders as we would wish to be treated,” she said.
“That’s one heck of an enlightened attitude, ma’am,” J.B. remarked, wiping at his lips with a napkin. He found the honey water a little too sweet for his tastes, and suspected that the honey was used in part as a preservative to prevent stagnation or to perhaps mask the bitter taste of mineral content. When civilization had fallen apart, preserving food and drink had become a challenge.
“We hope that one day our kindness will be repaid, when we find a community that welcomes us with open arms,” the Regina told her audience.
J.B. laughed. “In our experience, open arms is the usual response—though the other kind,” he told her, mimicking a blaster being fired.
“You’ve traveled far, then?” the Regina asked.
Ryan nodded, swallowing a mouthful of delicious sponge cake. “We’ve been on the road a long time,” he said, “moving from place to place. The screw-up at the mat-trans coupled with our companion’s wound is what brought us here.”
“Do you ever think of settling down?” the Regina asked before taking another sip from her cup.
“Sometimes,” Ryan admitted.
“It’s a lovely dream,” Krysty added, her eyes meeting with Ryan’s for a drawn-out moment.
The Regina nodded in understanding. “We should all harbor dreams,” she told the companions. “They’re what make us strive and force us to grow. Without dreams we can never better ourselves, and so life remains static. You’re very welcome to stay,” she offered.
“That’s a mighty generous proposition,” Ryan responded.
“We have food to spare, and there are several empty properties—certainly enough to house all of you if you don’t mind sharing.”
Ryan looked at Krysty as he replied. “We don’t mind that in the slightest, Regina,” he said. “If it’s no trouble, that is.”
* * *
ITWASALMOSTan hour later when Ryan and his companions were ushered from the Regina’s presence, accompanied once more by Phyllida and her three associates. Charm stuck close to Doc, who seemed more talkative than usual—if such a thing was possible—and had a new swagger in his step.
The sun was higher in the sky as they entered the courtyard beyond the tower door, slowly notching toward midday. Waiting there on one of the crescent-shaped benches were Mildred and Jak. Mildred sat, rummaging in her backpack as she reordered her supplies, while Jak was crouching with his feet up on the bench, his head down, his eyes narrowed as he watched the surroundings. Jak looked incongruous in the tranquil surroundings, like a cat ready to pounce on an unsuspecting bird.
Mildred looked up as the group approached. “Hey, guys, what kept you?” she asked cheerfully.
“Tea and scones with the queen,” Doc replied, delight on his aged features.
Mildred glared at him before turning to the others. “Anyone else care to elaborate?” she asked.
Ryan ignored the question, instead asking one of his own. “What’s the news on Ricky?”
“He’s fine,” Mildred told him, “but a few days of bed rest would do him good. We left him at the...hospital, I guess you’d call it.” She pointed to the white-walled tower. “They’ve made some interesting medical developments there that I think are worth looking into, if we have the time.” She was clearly excited by the prospect.
“We have the time,” Ryan told her. “The baron of this ville just invited us to stay.”
Mildred looked suddenly wary.
“Is there a problem?” Mildred asked, her eyes flicking to the Melissa guards who stood at a discreet distance from the talking companions.
The companions had been forced to stay in places before, often at the mercy of a sadistic baron who wanted to use them either as slave labor or something even more reprehensible.
“No problem,” Ryan told her. Not yet anyway.
Call him suspicious, but Ryan didn’t trust this place. It was too friendly, too welcoming. They’d been asked to stay, but it was really a soft sell, with the offer of abundant food and a place to sleep. People in the Deathlands didn’t give without expecting to get. Plus there was the issue of the bomber and just why he had found it necessary to plant a bomb in a mat-trans that had only just been made operational. There had to be a reason for that, and Ryan wanted to know what it was. But he knew better than to ask straight-out; that was a quick way to alienate themselves and maybe get chilled for the inquiry. Sticking around a few days and observing the goings-on in this strangely peaceful ville might just yield the answers he was looking for.
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