“Afternoon to y’all,” he said in a Southern drawl. “Y’all come to hear the latest news from God and his Holy Apostles? I can tell y’that the bear will rise from his sleeping and his claws will strangle the lion in the west.”
“There,” Sharpe said loudly. “A true doomie, isn’t he?”
“And the crescent moon’s goin’t cast its shadow over the sleeping two-headed eagle. Result’ll be piles of corpses that’ll block the river of silver.”
“Second-rate Nostradamus!” Doc snorted. “Been fools making up mock prophecies since the dawn of time. Means anything you want it to mean.”
The man ignored the comment. “An’ I have heard true gospel word that the crooked cross will lie broke in the snow while the thorned crow burns on the mountaintop.”
Sharpe suddenly drew his blaster and aimed it at the prating naked man, his hand trembling. “Shut him up, Joaquin, or by sweet Jesus, I will!”
RYAN HELD THE GUARD by the shoulder, the panga at his throat. J.B. was close behind him, the scattergun drilling into McCaffrey’s stomach.
“We’re going in,” Ryan breathed in the darkness. “Just say your name and nothing else. If the man inside asks what you want, say you feel sick. Understand?”
“Yeah, mister. Please don’t kill me. Baron’ll likely do that when he finds out I let him down.”
“Right. Sec man inside does what’s sensible, then you both carry on living. What’s his name?”
“It’s Robbie Ford tonight.”
THE SEC MAN STANDING by the bolted back door that led to the open night snapped smartly to attention as the baron and his party approached.
“Everything all right, Ford?” asked Joaquin.
“Quiet as a grave.”
“Who’s outside?”
“McCaffrey, sir.”
“Didn’t he just get married?” Sharpe asked. “Man should be with his wife, not out in the cold and dark.”
“Not long on his spell, Baron,” the sec chief said. “Then he can get in to his Molly.”
“Well.well. Good enough. Then we’ll go back inside, Joaquin.”
“Good enough, Baron.”
“And I shall ask questions from the doomie woman.” Sharpe looked at Emma. “And you will tell me the truth, or it’s the ending for your friends.”
She smiled at him with an oddly gentle expression on her face. “I’ve already decided, Baron. And I’ll answer all your questions for you. Though the answers might not be what you want to hear in your heart.”
“Matters nothing. Good, good. Come on, quickly, then.”
MCCAFFREY KNOCKED on the door, giving his name to Ford, explaining he felt sick. There was no delay or suspicion, and the door began to swing open.
“Had the baron here with the outlanders only five minutes past,” Ford said through the widening crack.
The mention of the fearful name pushed the prisoner over the edge, stepping instantly from sanity to blind panic. Taking Ryan by surprise, he pushed at him and started to yell a warning.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Fireblast! Get the door!”
The reaction from the terrified sentry had been so sudden and unexpected that be nearly pulled it off. Ryan was unbalanced, the panga moving from McCaffrey’s throat. And J.B. had stepped away to one side so that he wouldn’t be visible to the guard opening the door to the ville.
The sec man was in a blind panic, flailing at Ryan with both hands, his musket still dangling from his shoulder. They were at such close quarters that it was difficult to use the panga, though Ryan was trying to back off a half step to buy himself the room for a clear swing.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw that J.B. hadn’t hesitated, kicking at the partly open door with his steel-tipped combat boots, knocking it wide, golden light streaming out into the night, vanishing inside.
“Don’t kill me.don’t kill me.don’t kill.” the young guard panted, his face as a white blur, his mouth wide open in terror. There was the sudden acrid smell of urine as he lost control of his bladder.
It was a potentially disastrous situation. If any other guards heard the outcry, they could easily gun down Ryan and J.B. Or, at best, simply drive them off into the night with the opportunity of a rescue bid gone forever.