“No worse, no worse. Gotta look it that way. That’s why gate’s crawling with sees, as thick as lice on a horse blanket.”
Soon enough it was Doc and Lori’s turn to face the guards on the cobble-lined approach to the main en-trance to the ville. Up close Doc realized what a difficult operation it would be to try to take the fortress.
“Could use a Peacemaker or a Minuteman missile here,” he said.
“What’s that, stranger?” a sec man barked. Doc hadn’t even realized he’d spoken out loud, and he became con-fused.
“Don’t wish to cause any fuss or alarm. Sorry if I spoke out of turn, only the volume of a given mass of gas is in-versely proportional to… to something or other.”
Two more of the sec men turned their way. “What’s he saying?” asked one, a brutish looking bully with a num-ber of unhealed sores across his upper lip. “Heard him say something about wanting gas.”
“No, that wasn’t quite…” Doc Tanner paused, fight-ing hard to gain control of his wandering wits, knowing that for the first time in many, many years, the lives of others rested with him.
Lori was holding his arm so tightly that it was hurting him, but it suddenly seemed to be his sole contact with reality and sanity. With an effort the old man pulled him-self together.
“I am Doctor Tanner and this is my-”
237
“I’m his assistant,” Lori put in quickly, remembering from the planning session in the abandoned wag that this was to be her role in their attempted deception.
“Yes, my assistant. I wish to gain entry to this eminent ville.” The splendidly rounded vowels rolled out from between the immaculate set of teeth.
“Why?”
“I am a traveling medicine man.”
“What d’you do?” the sec man asked. Now there were six of them around the strangers, mostly there to leer at the blond vision that was Lori Quint.
Then Doc recalled something of the spiel he’d con-trived as they’d walked through the forest. “Hallelujah, my brothers. I’m here to help to heal the sick and make the lame walk. To aid the blind in obtaining the miracu-lous gift of sight and the deaf to be able to worship at the shrine of the muse of orchestral sound. If your piles itch or your skin flakes or your glands swell or your kidneys leak or your lungs wheeze or your teeth ache, then let Doc Tanner be your hope and your blessed salvation.”
He ended on a silence that seemed respectful. The old man thought that he might have missed his true voca-tion.
“I have missed my true vocation,” he said, not intend-ing to speak out loud. Fortunately his tumbling speech had fascinated all of the guards, and nobody listened to his comment.
“You say you draw teeth, old man?” asked a skinny man with a stubbly beard sprouting amid a lake of warts.
“I do, indeed. But sadly all my tools were taken when we were attacked by muties some days ago. They took all our possessions.”
238
“We got tools in the guardhouse. Come in. Our ser-geant’s been moaning for days and nights about a tooth that ails him.”
Doc was brought sharply back to earth. “Draw a tooth for your sergeant? I don’t… I mean to say that it’s not-”
“Not what, old man?”
Doc swallowed hard, wondering why his mouth had become bone-dry. The crowd pressed around him, and he heard Lori squeak as someone goosed her. He struggled to hang on to his unique role as the savior of the group. Everyone was depending on him.
“If the tools are suitable?”
There was a disturbance in the throng, with men and women staggering sideways. A tall man appeared in an immaculate uniform, gesturing for the drawbridge to be kept clear.
“With the renegade caught, we have to watch for any spies or enemies,” the sergeant barked at the sec men. “And who the sweet crucifix is this?”
“Traveling quack-salver,” the corporal replied. “Says he can treat bad teeth.”
“Then get him in and he can treat mine. Pain’s burn-ing my brain. Is the gaudy with him?”
“My assistant, Captain,” Doc Tanner said. “Did I hear you mention some renegade?”