Surreptitiously, Nathan glanced out of the corner of his eyes at the stained-glass window nearby. The scene was of an armed hunter with a stag at bay.
“Guess I’m just getting old,” the man replied, measuring each word carefully. “Happens to each of us. Even Red Roger. Remember him? Time takes us all down, Uncle.”
Releasing his grip, Ryan did indeed recall Red Roger, and his gut tightened in suppressed fury. Fireblast, so that was the problem.
“Perhaps you’re right, nephew,” Ryan added, deliberately using the word to let the man know what he said next was a blatant lie. “Besides, Overton is my son. You can see it in the very way he walks. That man is Cawdor to the bone.”
“To the bone,” Nathan agreed listlessly.
Laughing, Ryan slapped the baron on the back. “Well, enough politics. I’m off for some sack time with my woman. Let me know if you want to go fishing later on. Still lots of trout in the moat?”
Nathan blinked in shock. Fish in the moat? Only minnows and sunfish not worth catching if you were starving. Then his face took on a neutral expression. “Certainly, lots of them in our special hole. Think you could find it after so many years? What has it been, twelve?”
“Twelve,” Ryan repeated, brushing the wild tangles of black hair off his scarred face. “Later, nephew. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“In the morning, Uncle.”
“Tomorrow,” Ryan corrected. As his uncle departed, Nathan took a cigar from his shirt and used a disposable lighter on the tip, puffing until it glowed cherry-red. Taking a single draw, he then tossed the smoke away, watching the glowing cheroot tumble the five stories into the moat. It drifted slightly to the left from the wind.
Baron Cawdor stood silent on the battlements, contemplating the dark waters below for several minutes before Jian Hwa Ki stepped from the shadows.
“You did well, Nathan,” he said with a smirk. “The fool believed every word. I’m pleased.”
With a snarl, Nathan spun and grabbed a fistful of the slim man’s collar, bodily lifting him off the stone floor. The sec man began gagging and choking for air. “Please” he wheezed.
“I’m Baron Cawdor to you,” Nathan snarled, spraying spittle on the man’s red face. “And if not for the life of my unborn child, I would wash this ville with your blood, and the blood of your stinking master!” Strangled gasps were the only reply. Nathan raised his right hand. “Do you understand me?” A slap punctuated each word.
Blood flowing from his nose and mouth, Ki nodded frantically.
“Bah, you’re not worth the effort to chill.” Disgusted, the baron threw the man away, and he hit the floor a yard distant. Nathan turned from the sec man and looked into the black night again. In the east, the sky softened in color with the approach of dawn. A new day was being born, quite possibly the last of his life.
“Leave,” Nathan said in a normal voice. “Or die. Your choice. I’m beyond caring.”
The taste of blood filling his mouth, Ki slunk from the balcony and hurried inside the fortress, closing the hallway door quietly. Inside the building, the sound of music was louder, and the merriment only fueled his rage and shame. Going to his room, Ki inspected the damage in a mirror. There would be no scars, but the memory of being handled like a childworse, like a slaveby an overseer, filled him with mortification.
“That was the worst mistake of your life, Baron,” Ki muttered, his mind already working on the details of a fitting revenge.
THE DYING LIGHT from the crackling fire threw strange shadows on the trees surrounding the small forest clearing. Green sticks supported a metal rod upon which hung the roasting carcass of a coney. The skin of the rabbit was draped over a tree branch, already scraped clean of tissues and dripping with urine as a preparation for proper tanning.
Sipping a plastic cup of coffee sub, Daniel Lissman wrinkled his nose at the smell. Urine had a lot of tannic acid, and was an excellent beginning for curing hides to keep them from going bad. In addition, it would help mask the smell of the kill and reduce the number of predators who might be interested enough to investigate.