“Get up,” Ryan ordered, his voice as cold as Arctic pack ice. “Get up now.”
“Can’t Broke somethin’ inside me. Bastard!”
“You get up or I’ll cut your throat where you are. You have to realize how much out of your league you’re playing here, Carl. Now, for the last time, get up.”
Slowly, holding himself tightly as if he feared his guts were going to spill in the dirt, Carl drew himself erect. “Could’ve chilled me,” he said quietly.
Krysty spoke for the first time. “Wrong, Carl. If Ryan had planned on chilling you, then he’d have done it without making a mistake. Your mistake was thinking something that happened so many years ago was so important that it still had a meaning now. It doesn’t.”
“I see that now.” He managed a watery smile. “Figure I’ve made a double stupe of myself. Like to say sorry to both of you. Won’t happen again.”
Ryan nodded. “Stick to that, Carl. We’ll all get along fine. Now we best get back to meet up with the others.”
The blacksmith’s son took the lead, picking a route between some abandoned cabins, toward the distant stand of cottonwoods. Krysty walked along with him while Doc and Ryan brought up the rear.
“Do you trust the village smithy?” Doc asked quietly. “I am minded of the saying about talk being cheap and the price of action colossal.”
Ryan nodded. “Know what you mean. Seems to me that Carl might be a good man under the liquor and the self-pity. Seeing Krysty again’s stirred up feelings he thought long-buried. Could be he’ll be all right in the morning.” He grinned at Doc. “But I’ll be watching my back.”
THE RECCE HAD GONE WELL.
As far as they were able to tell, they knew the nighttime location of virtually all of the gang, both stickies and norms. Some of them had taken up residence in the homes of the good folks of Harmony, living in uncomfortable proximity. But most were in small groups in empty houses.
With a little help from Krysty, and a lot from Carl, they were able to draw up a map of the settlement that showed the network of streets and alleys, and the placement of all the main buildings.
Jak had built a small fire in the heart of the trees, having checked that the wind would blow any smoke away from the ville. By its light they were able to draw up their final combat plans for attacking the murderers.
Ryan borrowed Doc’s swordstick to point out who would go where and what they would try to do there.
Krysty suddenly interrupted him. “Sorry, lover, but?”
“What?”
“Got a question for Carl.”
“What is it, Krysty?”
She hesitated, closing her eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. “Been thinking about visiting Harmony for for too many years. Now I’m here and it’s really too damned late. The ones I loved best are all gone.”
“There’s still some that would recall you,” Carl said. “Dozen or more still living in the ville.”
She shook her head and patted him gently on the arm. “Past is past, Carl. We’ll do what we can to purge away the infection that’s destroying the place.”
“What was your question, Krysty?”
“Where’s the graves? Tyas and Peter.”
“On the hillside. Catches the morning sun. Real beautiful. Want me to take you there? Time to do it now, if you wanted. It’s way from where the killers are living.”
“I remember the cemetery. I just wondered if it was still there and if that’s where they rested. Now I know, then I can sort of feel easier about it.”
“You don’t want to try and find some of the older folks and ask themask them if there’s any clues about what happened to your mother?” Ryan cleared his throat. “Like Carl said, there’s time. Not moving until close to dawn.”
Krysty smiled, her teeth white in the semidarkness by the small fire. “Thanks, lover. Coming home’s never like you imagine it. Hills aren’t as steep and the roads aren’t so long. Church steeple’s shorter and the school looked a lot smaller than I remember it. Not the same.”