James Axler – Keepers of the Sun

IN THE THIRD ROOM, next along the silent corridor, Doc and Jak had found it difficult to persuade the servants to leave them to get on with their baths. In the end Jak had tugged at his hair and rolled his ruby eyes at them, dropping into a simian crouch and sidling at them, knuckles trailing the floor as he poked out his long tongue.

“Well acted, young fellow,” Doc applauded, ruffling the teenager’s hair. “A triumph for the white plume of Navarre, is it not?”

“Is it, Doc. What’s that mean?”

“It is a heraldic reference, dear lad. But too complicated for my poor foozled brain to explain to you. Let us utilize this steaming tub. Do you wish to go first?”

“Plenty of room for both, Doc.”

The old man almost blushed. “I can see that, Master Lauren. But my generation was not all that used to bathing in public.”

“Public? You and me?”

Doc grinned, showing his full set of amazingly perfect teeth. “I suppose that I lay myself open to the charge of becoming prudish in my dotage.”

“What’s prudish?”

“Not wanting to take my clothes off in front of another member of the same sex. Prudish. But not rudish or crudish. But rather nudish.”

Jak was already peeling his way out of his clothes, shirt and vest dropping with a thunk due to the weight of the concealed knives. His heavy .357 Magnum pistol clattered onto the wooden floor.

“Lewdish?” Doc mumbled. “Foolish? Ghoulish? Aye, most certainly ghoulish.”

There was a splash and he turned to see Jak’s face, framed with wet white hair, peeking at him through the wreathing steam. “Come on, Doc. Water’s fine.”

“WHERE EXACTLY ARE WE in the fortress?” Krysty asked. “We went up and down so many stairs and passages that even my sense of direction got messed up.”

“I think we’re somewhere close to the back wall. If there was a window in that wall there, I reckon we might find ourselves looking out over the moat. Feels solid, so it’s probably one of the outer fortifications.”

“One of the strongest villes we’ve ever seen.” She folded her arms behind her head and stared up at the ceiling. “Feel fairly safe for once.”

“Not all that safe when there’s Takei Yashimoto breathing fire and vengeance all over the place. Put us all to the sword if it wasn’t for Mashashige.”

“Least I can’t see him being toppled.”

Ryan ran his fingers through his thick curly hair, seeing if it was drying. “Not so sure. He could resist an army, unless they got heavy armor and grens, but he’s got so many soldiers and servants it must be impossible to keep track of who they are. If I wanted to get at himchill himthat’s the way I’d do it. Small number of determined men.”

“You know best, lover. How long do you want to stay here? Couple of days?”

“Not too long. You don’t share a house with an enemy. But I find it all fascinating.” He coughed. “All apart from the dreadful pollution of the air. Makes my eye smart and my throat hurt. Guess the slant-eyes are used to it.”

“Don’t let Mildred hear you use that expression. Not what she calls ‘politically correct,’ is it?”

“They insult us. Fireblast! Why shouldn’t I insult them a little?”

Krysty laughed, but it turned into a coughing fit. “Is there any drinking water around, lover?”

“Probably poisoned with mercury or comes from some raving rad hot spot.”

He got up and padded around the room, but there was nothing to drink.

“Could you go and try get us some?” she asked.

“Sure. Just strap on the blaster and the panga, and I’m off and running.”

“You need them?”

He shrugged. “Time you think you feel safest is the time of most danger.”

“Another Traderism?”

“No. A Ryanism.” He laughed. “But I’m sure that Trader would have agreed with it.”

WITH THE REASSURING WEIGHT of his two weapons on the hips, Ryan slid the panel across and peered out into the corridor. A series of small pottery oil lamps burned brightly at intervals along the passage. He was a little surprised to find that there were no servants in sight. The palace of Mashashige was so overpopulated that it seemed odd to find a section deserted.