Mildred turned to the Armorer. “I feel as diffident about this as you, John, but we’ll just have to go with it for now.”
The Armorer nodded. “Ryan’s right to go with it right now. I just wish we knew more about them.”
The party left the confines of the charnel house clearing and entered the veld, strung out in a line behind Gloria. As soon as they were out into the open, the atmosphere lightened. They were clear of the stench of death and the oppressive enclave of trees. The veld itself was a beautiful sight by the light of the setting sun, the last rays of the day stretching fingers of opaque orange light across the grassland. They were walking directly into the sun as it sunk beneath the horizon, and the warrior queen was outlined in silhouette, a shadow fanning out behind her to cover the first two of the party that followed—Jak being in the lead, as he had still been at the head following the initial exit from the forest.
Mildred found a strange significance in the fact that the albino was absorbed by the shadow of the woman, and she headed toward Krysty, catching up to her.
“Is it me, or have you noticed the way that Gloria keeps looking at.Jak?” she whispered into her friend’s ear.
“Yeah, and that could cause us problems, right?”
“If you’re thinking what I am, then it surely could,” Mildred replied. “I don’t know what the hell is bugging Jak, but it has to do with whatever happened in the mat-trans jump, and somehow he thinks it involves Gloria. Because he sure as shit hasn’t been looking at her the way she’s been looking at him.”
“Right,” Krysty agreed, “and if she comes on to him and he freaks, then that could really put us right in the shit. Which is exactly what we don’t need right now.”
“So you think someone should mention this to Ryan? Just in case he hasn’t noticed…”
“I’ll talk to him about it when we’re alone. He knows something’s up, but whether he’s picked up on this aspect…” She tailed off, before adding, “Well, he’ll know soon enough.”
IT WAS an uneventful trek across the veld. As they continued along the trail, the light faded slowly into twilight, and the temperature dropped. The hum of insects decreased in the night air, and the companions followed Gloria across the plain.
The woman walked at a steady pace, seemingly untroubled by the possibility of any attack from man or beast as darkness fell, her trust in her tribe sisters total and born of long experience and the natural arrogance of one born and bred to lead. It was reflected in the lazy hip sway of her walk, which Ryan realized was deceptive when he looked back over the territory they had covered.
As they traversed the plain, the warriors of the tribe who had dispersed to scout the territory assembled around their queen, forming a party that flanked the companions, offering them protection but also—if looked at it in a certain light—hemming them in.
Both Ryan and J.B. noted, with admiration and also for future reference, that the female warriors seemed to glide across the veld and slip in and out of the shadows, seeming to join up with the main party as though from the very air itself. They were obviously well trained and possessed a natural grace that had become a tribal trait through sheer necessity and survival over the years.
Margia, the blond armorer of the tribe, was the last to join, appearing from the shadow of a nearby outcrop and falling into step beside Doc.
“Madam, may I congratulate you on your companions’ ability to deceive in the darkness,” the old man murmured with an inclination of his head.
Margia chuckled. “You’re a strange man, old one. You make me laugh, and I like that. It’s going to be good to have you around. Most men are dullards and are only useful as packhorse or for stud.”
“I fear that both functions may find me past my best,” Doc commented.
Margia chuckled once more, a harsh, throaty sound that echoed across the plain, its resonance making it carry more than its volume.