JAMES AXLER. Homeward Bound

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Jabez spit at him and wrestled with the stubborn mechanism for recocking the blaster. The sec men started to move in, and Jak leaped to his feet, brandishing the knife.

The stones would have been awash with blood if Lady Rachel had not acted. She raised her hand and snapped out a command that checked her son’s murderous rage and stopped the sec men from opening up with their car-bines.

“Alive,” she shouted. “Take them all alive! Chain Ryan and lock up the others. Triple guard.”

So it happened. Jak was carried away unconscious, bleeding from a gash on his temple. The others walked- escorted by sec men-back to their chambers.

On the way, Ryan looked around and saw that the tall sergeant was still in charge of them.

“One question,” he said.

“What?”

“The old man who died.”

“Yeah. What of him?”

“Who was he? Didn’t recognize him.”

“He knew you, didn’t he, Lord Ryan Cawdor? You didn’t even try to deny it. You sat there like a kid messed his pants.”

Ryan shook his head. “Didn’t intend to come and dine with Harvey. Wasn’t the plan.”

“What was?” The sec officer held up his gauntleted fist to halt the escort. “Come on, Lord Ryan. You’ll tell me sooner anyway.”

“I’ll tell you anyway. Why not?”

“Murder the family and then rule yourself as the baron of Front Royal?”

“Yes to the first and mebbe to the second. You still didn’t tell me his name.”

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The sergeant moved closer, grinning. “You’ll like this, Lord Ryan. Remember little Kenny Morse?”

“Course. If n it hadn’t been for Kenny, I’d have died at fifteen. He saved me from my brother.”

“And you know what-”

“He was murdered,” Ryan interrupted. “I heard that recently.”

“That was his brother, Will, just betrayed you in there. Funny, isn’t it?”

“No.”

some miles away, deep in the forest of the Shens, Na-than Freeman was leading Doc Tanner and Lori Quint along winding paths. Picking his way carefully, he stopped frequently to listen for any sound of man or beast. They were heading toward the rambling fortress of Front Royal.

the chain around ryan’s throat bit into his skin and was drawn so tight that breathing was difficult. It held his head still, strained up and back. The steel of the hand-cuffs was pitted with age, but the action was greased and clicked home, and squeezed so hard that the ends of his fingers were swollen and sore. But he’d felt worse.

At least the sergeant hadn’t taken the opportunity to give him a beating, merely checking that the cuffs and the throttle chain were secure. He fixed the end of the links to a heavy iron ring that was built into the stone of the wall.

“Now you wait, my lord.”

“I wasn’t going to move, anyway. Could you put out the lamps? They’ll disturb my sleep.”

The man laughed at that, tweaking him by the cheek with the thick leather glove. “If you weren’t who you

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are… and if you weren’t going where you’re going… I swear I could almost like you.”

“When will my brother come?”

The sec man sniffed as he straightened up. “Baron’s not well, seeing you come up like a skeleton out of the tomb. Had himself some drink, did the baron. On the morrow he has to ride out to Fishers’ Hill. There’s a hunt fixed. Boars. Baron wouldn’t miss that. And it’ll give you a day to sweat on it.”

“Tomorrow night, then?”

“Figures. There, I’ve dimmed all the lamps but one. Need that to watch you through the judas hole in the door. Sleep well, Lord Cawdor.” Somehow, that time, there didn’t seem the same element of sarcasm when he called him by the title.

The door closed with a solid thunk, and Ryan heard the key turn in the lock. A double bolt slammed home. The sec man had told him that the other three were also locked in their rooms, but none of them was to be tied. And Jak had recovered consciousness from the blow to his head.

They would all take their turn being interrogated by Baron Harvey Cawdor.

There was a warm glow from the lamp that stood on an old, polished round table near the barred window. The draperies had been closed, leaving only a chink near the top. It was full dark outside.

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