The drumming had stopped.
“Lets go,” Ryan said. “Quick and quiet.”
THERE WAS NO SOUND of pursuit, and they quickly caught up with Krysty and Jak, who were dragging the semiconscious prisoner between them. Ryan glanced at the bald-headed figure, making sure that it really was the infamous Straub that they’d taken the trouble to rescue. Just for a moment he wasn’t certain, as the face was lined and pinched and seemed years older.
But the lids blinked open, showing the familiar black eyes, rolling and trying to focus. The mouth sagged, showing the tip of the reptilian tongue.
“The countess will thank you for saving her servant,” he said in his unforgettably deep, rich voice. Then his eyes closed again and he slumped back, unconscious.
THE WAG WAS STILL THERE, safe and snug, and they slid Straub into the back seat, where Mildred sat with him. Ryan took the wheel, with Krysty at his side, and the others crowded into the middle seat of the vehicle.
The engine started and Ryan slid it into low gear, aware that the walking and fighting in the swamps had strained the wound in his thigh, leaving him with a dull ache. But it seemed to be healing well.
“Memphis and the countess,” he said.
DAWN FOUND THEM out of the swamps, into a part of the state that looked relatively unchanged. A rolling green plain, with the blackened scar of a nameless township, squatted mute and dead a couple of miles to their north. Ahead the land rose slightly toward bluffs, and they found a beautiful narrow river flowing fast alongside the highway.
“Can we take a break?” Mildred asked. “Straub could do with some water. He’s slipping in and out of consciousness. Be good to stabilize him.”
“Sure,” Ryan agreed, pulling onto a patch of lush grass, switching the engine off and throwing open the door to let in the fresh, cool morning air.
Straub was placed on his back while Mildred used a wet rag to wash his face and hands, trickling water into his open mouth. The man was barefoot, dressed in his usual black shirt and pants, though the encounter with the muddies had left them torn and crusted with dried blood.
“Looks in a poor state,” Krysty observed. “Not the man he was when we saw him last.”
The jewelry was gone, including the opal earring, which wasn’t surprising, and there was a gap where the gold tooth had been knocked out. Ryan had already checked to make sure the man wasn’t wearing any kind of concealed weapon, but he was clean. Presumably the muddies had stripped him of the ivory-hafted razor that he used to carry.
Straub’s skin was very pale, and he’d lost a fair bit of weight, looking to be around one-thirty pounds. As they stood around him, the man’s dark eyes opened again, and he looked up at the circle of his old enemies.
A slight smile curled his lips. “It wasn’t a dream,” he said. “I was taken by those grotesque little bastards and was preparing myself to die at their cruel claws. Then I was plucked away amid gunfire and darkness. And who should it be?” He looked puzzled. “The names escape me. Brian?”
“Ryan.”
“Yes. Ryan Cordell.”
“Cawdor.” He wondered how much of this was genuine memory loss. It just didn’t ring true with such a devious and cunning man as Straub.
“And Krysty Wroth. J. Dix.”
“Dix. J. B. Dix,” the Armorer said. “Come off it, Straub. You can’t have forgotten. Not that long.”
“You others” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been through changes since we last met. Where was that? On the Greasy Grass of Montana? The red cliffs of Big Bend by the Grandee? In the haunted ruins of Los Alamos? I was there for some time, seeing what I could learn in those sterile, ticking corridors. But I’ve forgotten all of that, as well. I am grateful for your saving me from death, and the Countess Katya, who I serve willingly as her slave, will reward you.”
“This is Jak Lauren, Mildred Wyeth and Doc Tanner,” Ryan said. “We met before. Last time we saw you was on a cold beach, and you were attacking a good friend of ours. What happened to him?”