The Casanova sec men who had escaped death at Front Royal with the baron had proved less than enthusiastic about his new plan, and so had been set free from his service. The former baron was wearing their blasters and was dressed in their patched clothing, his fine suit of silk thrown into the bushes. Henderson had washed in a creek that morning to cut the smell, since he no longer had access to perfume. His infamous box of jolt and snuff was hidden in the hollow of a tree a few miles farther into the forest. It had been the supreme sacrifice, but revenge was worth any price.
Chewing on a piece of jerky, Henderson walked his stallion down the exact middle of the road, so that nobody could possibly think he was trying to sneak toward the ville. Gaining the trust of Baron Armand DuQuene was of primary importance at this stage of the negotiations. Afterward, things would rapidly change, but that time hadn’t yet come. This day, Henderson was all smiles and brotherhood.
The ruins stopped abruptly, and the high walls of the ville rose from the rubble-strewed streets and yards. The debris made it damn near impossible for coldhearts to charge at the ville through all of the wreckage and rubble.
Rusty strips of metal, railroad tracks, led to a large metal-bound door on the north side, and to the south a river flowed through a thick metal grillework. The main gate was fronted by concrete road dividers, again making it tough for enemies to swiftly reach the ville. The door itself was a solid array of barbed arrowheads so tightly packed it was impossible to tell if the material underneath was wood or iron, or whatever.
Composed of bricks and cinder blocks combined in a random pattern, the walls of the ville rose fifteen feet skyward. Armed with shotguns, sec men stood guard behind the top, while wooden towers rose tall within the city, more sec man watching the wall and the ruins beyond with binocs.
Again, Henderson was impressed, although he kept the feelings from his face. This was a fine ville, well designed and built. Tough for any invader to attack. He trembled with anticipation to make it his.
The wall guards were tracking him by now. Henderson stopped well away from the front gate and stepped off his horse, keeping a grip on the reins. To the best of their knowledge, he was just a whitehair solo coming to trade or beg.
“What do you want?” a voice barked from the ground.
Caught by surprise, Henderson now saw there was a tiny man-sized door in the main gates. Standing there was a huge bald sec man dressed in old clothes and sporting a homemade scattergun.
“Morning,” he said, smiling as he walked closer. “I am Baron Henderson of Casanova ville and need to speak with Baron DuQuene immediately. Fetch him.”
The sec man threw back his head and guffawed. A few more on the walls also laughed, and Henderson had to fight to keep from drawing a blaster and chilling the fools.
“You have a choice, boy!” he boomed, allowing a fraction of his true feelings to show through. “I am either a harmless crazy or Baron Henderson with important news for DuQuene! So choose well, ass! It could mean the total destruction of your fucking rad pit of a ville!”
The hairless guard stopped laughing and cocked back the hammers on his crude blaster. “Or you’re a shammer, trying to trick us,” he growled, pointing the barrels directly at Henderson. “Trying to trick us out of food or ammo. Should chill you now.”
“Do it!” the baron raged, sneering openly at the man. “You are obviously too stupe to deserve to live! Do it, I command you!”
His face contorted in rage, the guard aimed the blaster and braced himself against the recoil of the colossal homemade.
“Nobody commands anything here but me,” a new voice said, and the huge gates swung open wide, exposing a second wall of spiked wooden beams. That imposing barrier was raised out of sight to the sound of squeaking pulleys, and Baron Armand DuQuene strode out, flanked by a squad of sec man armed with bolt-action longblasters. Aside from the baron himself, all of the men were shaved bald, making them appear nearly identical. The sec men marched in step around their baron, the blasters gleaming with polish. Henderson admired their precision and couldn’t wait until they were his bodyguards.
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