“Big talk, freak,” Jak said.
The Magus looked for a moment as though he were going to attack the albino teenager, then he relaxed back on his seat, smiling mirthlessly. “Someone looking like you do should not toss around the name of a freak, you white-haired little mutant. A part of me hopeshopes so muchthat the Armorer and the one-eyed whore-son will fail in their task. I will so enjoy supping at the cold bowl of revenge.”
“All you’re fit for,” Krysty said.
Wolfram lifted a pudgy, negligent hand. “Let us not have ill talking. This will be resolved, one way or the other, very shortly. We expect Ryan and John to have been landed last afternoon. They will have made some progress and camped for the night, not wishing to risk traveling through an alien and stickie-infested forest in the dead of darkness.”
Doc was staring out of the window. “You truly make me wish to vomit, gentlemen. You take two women and a lad and an old man prisoner and use them as bait to try to destroy two of the bravest, finest men I have ever had the privilege of meeting. It is simply contemptible behavior.”
The Magus rose at that and moved to stand by Doc. “You have no understanding, you old fool! This is not some game with rules and honor. They’d do it to us.”
Doc turned and stared at the semiandroid. “You talk about honor? I don’t believe you could begin to understand the word. Ryan and John have courage. Grace under pressure, someone once called it, years ago.”
Wolfram sipped at his brandy. “Please, Dr. Tanner. This can be done without acrimony, without standing on ceremony. We believe that they will try a rescue, which will fail. If there is no loss of life, they will then submit to our wishes. We have faith in their ability, unless the passing years have taken the edge from their ruthless combat skills. They will defeat the recalcitrant stickies and drive them whimpering back to us. And all will be as well as well can be.”
Jak’s hand was inching toward the small of his back, where Krysty knew he still had one of his throwing knives concealed, and she tensed herself, ready for violence. But the teenager changed his mind and relaxed.
Lying now on her bed, Krysty found herself slipping into an uneasy slumber. If Wolfram was right, then Ryan might be making his move with J.B. during the coming night.
And there was absolutely nothing that she could possibly do to help him.
Finally she slept, dreamlessly, tossing and turning from side to side, as the day wore on.
“THEY’LL LIKELY BE the three foremen that the fat man told us about.”
Ryan and J.B. had been making good progress, tracking along the winding maze of narrow trails that cut in all directions through the coniferous forest. Each time the path forked, they simply took the route nearest to north, using the mossy sides of the trees to keep their bearings.
There had been no sign of two-legged life, though Ryan thought at one point that he caught the scent of a fire burning, but the wind shifted westerly and the smell disappeared.
There had been some signs of game in the soft patches of the trails, but both men agreed that to risk shooting at anything would be too dangerous.
At one point a fine stag suddenly appeared from the wilderness less than fifty yards ahead of them and stood and stared, unmoving. He was so close that Ryan could almost have hit it with his panga, and a single shot from the Steyr would have been a formality. But the threat from stickies in the neighborhood was too great, and he and J.B. watched helplessly as the magnificent animal finally tossed its head back, the antlers scraping at the low branches of a larch-pole pine, then vanished into the woods on the other side of the narrow path.
It was less than a quarter hour later that they came across the three corpses.
The shadowy clearing contained the lichen-covered remains of what might have been a hunting lodge. The roof was long caved in and gone, as were most of the walls, leaving only some of the thick, roughly carved, main upright beams and cross timbers that had divided the rooms.