“Why not?”
“When?” asked Jak, who’d been sitting next to Emma.
The baron drained his tankard of beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Now.” He pushed his chair back and walked quickly from the hall.
Joaquin was the only member of his staff allowed to eat with them, and he rose to follow his master, beckoning to Ryan and the others. “Come on. Baron doesn’t care for late or slow.”
“I can believe that,” Ryan said, leading his companions after Sean Sharpe.
Chapter Twenty
Ryan noticed that Jak seemed to be limping more badly than he had earlier in the day. “Those stone splinters in your calf still giving you trouble?”
“Some. Knocked going after stickies. Loose stones. Hurt on walk here.”
“Need Mildred to take a look at it later?”
The albino shook his head, the stark white of his hair seeming to illuminate the dark hall through which they were passing.
“Just wound knitting.” He hesitated a moment, as though he were trying to decide whether to ask a question, finally making up his mind. “Ryan?”
“What?”
“Why does Baron keep looking me and Krysty?”
“I don’t know, Jak. I noticed it, as well.” There was no point in pretending to someone as acute as Jak that he was imagining things.
Emma tugged at his sleeve, delaying him until they were last in the line. “Good lie,” she said quietly.
“About the baron?”
“You think he’s considering Krysty and Jak for his collection, don’t you?” She tried for a smile and nearly got there. “No point lying to me, is there, Ryan?”
“Guess not. Can you see Sharpe doing anything?”
“No. No, I can’t.” She paused. “At least, I. Not yet, I can’t.”
THEY CAME OUT a bolted door into a courtyard at the rear of the main building, having followed the baron past the kitchens and a laundry room.
Sharpe set a fast pace, not doing anything to check that his guests were following successfully. Joaquin, the sergeant, acted as a link, trying to keep his master in sight ahead of him, glancing back to make sure Ryan and his seven companions weren’t getting left too far behind.
Through the next door was a formal knot garden, constructed from box and yew. Sharpe seemed to be gathering speed, vanishing through an archway on the far side of the garden before Ryan and his friends had reached the near side.
“Nearly there,” Joaquin called.
Krysty’s bright crimson sentient hair was curling tightly about her nape, where it had earlier been flowing freely over her shoulders. Ryan spotted it, knowing that it was often a sign of unease.
He moved closer, dropping his voice. “Trouble?”
“Not a good feel. Not exactly danger. Guess it must be the mutie animals he’s supposed to have in this collection of his. Soon know.”
Jak and Emma brought up the rear. The black-clothed young woman was pale, and it looked to Ryan like the teenager was supporting her. But it didn’t seem a good idea to draw Sharpe’s attention to her weakness.
The baron stood impatiently by a steel door with three heavy sec bolts on it.
“You say you want to see my pets, then you can’t be bastard bothered to turn up on time. I think I’ll cancel my invitation to you.”
His voice was harsh, like a cold norther over a granite slab. The handsome mouth was curled in disdain.
Krysty stepped closer to him, smiling. “That would be a great disappointment, Baron. We hoped to pass this way, before the accident to our wag. We had heard so much throughout Deathlands of Baron Sean Sharpe and his unusual collection.”
“Unusual, Miss Wroth?”
“Yes.”
“Wrong. It is fucking unique.” A wintry smile drifted across his lips. “However, I wouldn’t have it said through this fair land that I refused the plea of a pretty woman. No, not pretty. Quite beautiful. You may see my pets.”
“Thank you, Baron.” Krysty came close to dropping him a curtsy.
“But I will waste no time with it. Joaquin?”
“Baron?”
“Do the honors. Make sure all is locked and safe. Any mistake and I’ll have the skin off your back.”
“Aye, Baron.” The hesitant note of doubt was impossible to mistake.