Without electricity the streets below were dark. Light from the front of the Bent Rose spilled out into the avenue and over Gehrig’s wags parked outside. The eaves blocked part of the view.
Glancing east, Ryan searched for sign of J.B. The Armorer would post a red lantern once he’d secured the horses. Then Ryan and Jak would take care of the rest. Provided the albino and Doc returned any time soon.
“Yes,” Tarragon said, “they had children. And they loved them. Some, the ones that the Prince could ascertainand even some he wasn’t sure ofwere put to death, their bodies burned so that they weren’t even allowed the dignity of becoming part of the growth cycle.”
“Why hasn’t anyone chilled this prince?” Ryan asked.
“He is too well guarded,” the boy replied, “and we have no weapons. No blasters, anyway. The seed heralds know their futures depend on the prince’s well-being. If they fall out of his favor, they won’t be granted immunity from the plague.”
“What will the plague do?” Krysty asked.
“It’s specially designed. My father was able to look at some of the plans for it. He was high up in the Prince’s hierarchy. When it is released, the plague will replicate itself, killing everything remotely human that it touches.”
“Including muties?” Ryan asked. “Some of those can be hard to kill.”
“Mutations were expected,” Tarragon said. “With the amount of nuclear radiation involved in the war, Prince Boldt’s father knew the surviving humans would be radically affected. He feared monsters. When the raiders came among us, killing the bands of pollinators and caretakers, and raping the women among them before putting them to death, my people felt certain only the vicious had survived the end of the first world.”
“That’s not always the case,” Krysty said.
“But more often than not, it is.” Ryan wanted the boy to get it straight. “If Boldt releases this plague, how does he plan to survive it?”
“There are cryo chambers beneath his castle. He and his chosen few are supposed to go there and wait out the effects of the plague.”
“How long?”
Tarragon shrugged. “A generation. Two. Perhaps longer.”
“Why didn’t your father and the other people dissatisfied with life around Boldt leave?” Krysty asked.
Tarragon looked at her, his feverish eyes opened wide. “There is no place to run to that the plague will not reach. It was designed to cover the entire world in a decade or less. Wind-borne, waterborne, even spread by carriers that will later die, it will be everywhere.”
Ryan felt chill with the knowledge. It wasn’t just Mildred in the line of fire now. So was Dean. And so were his friends. “What about an antidote?”
“There is none,” Tarragon answered hoarsely.
J.B. FOUND ONE of the stable boys leaning over a section of fence inside the barn that had been made from one of the older buildings. He reached out, unseen and unheard, and seized the dozing boy.
The stable boy started fighting at once. He was beefy and strong, twenty pounds heavier than the Armorer. But J.B. was relentless. The Armorer kept his grip on the younger man’s carotid artery, shutting off blood flow to the brain only long enough to cause unconsciousness and not death. He kept his other hand clapped over his victim’s mouth to prevent shouts or screams.
When all struggle had died away, J.B. eased the boy to the ground amid the straw covering the concrete floor.
The barn housed about forty horses. All of them seemed to be well cared for, and all of them belonged to Gehrig or Gehrig’s people. Ryan had found that out during a brief trek down to the kitchens for their evening meal.
The structure was dimly lit by oil lanterns that hung on support posts lining the paddocks. Saddles, bridles and blankets hung from shelves on one side of the barn.
“O’Neil?” a male voice called out.
J.B. froze, his hand gliding to his hip where he kept his flensing knife.
“O’Neil, where the bleeding hell are you, mate? I got the bottle.”
Footsteps came closer as the Armorer took cover beside a paddock. The horse inside whickered and stamped its hooves restlessly.