She gestured behind her. “The newcomers are under my protection. Harm them, and I will view it as an act of treason against the throne. Do you hear me? I am your queen.”
Slowly, the shocked men and women lowered themselves to their knees, bowing their heads in reverence, in awe and obedience to the hell-eyed woman standing before them.
“I am your queen!”
From dozens of throats came the repetitive murmur, “You are the queen.”
Nefron turned to face Ryan and his companions. Jak flinched at the sight of the bloodred eyes. She was still beautiful, but remote and somehow removed from any humanity he could understand.
“You have done me a service,” she stated. “You may stay or you may go.”
None of them responded to her words. Krysty stared at her, green eyes seething with hatred. “You are your father’s daughter,” she said quietly. “You have his power.”
Nefron smiled coldly. “And more.”
She turned away from them as Kela stepped from the kneeling crowd. Nefron embraced her and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Without looking their way, she demanded, “What is your wish? To stay or to go?”
“To go,” Ryan said hoarsely.
With a negligent wave of her hand, Nefron announced, “So be it. Your possessions will be r-turned to you. I will give you the use of a chariot and ask only one favor in return.”
“Haven’t we done enough?” Mildred muttered.
Nefron ignored the comment. “Will you grant it?”
“What?” J.B. asked.
“Ask my father to return to Aten,” Kela breathed. “A place of honor awaits him.”
The two women strode into the crowd, Kela following a few steps behind the swaggering Nefron. The people rose and fell into line behind them as they shuffled back toward the walls of the city.
The seven companions watched them go. Ryan briefly considered the wisdom of shooting Nefron through the back of the head. He realized bleakly he didn’t want revenge. He simply wanted to leave Aten as soon as possible and try to forget it—though he knew he never would.
Doc, watching the crowd following Nefron, quoted softly, “‘La belle Dame sans Merci hath thee in thrall.’ ”
Chapter Thirty
The next afternoon, when they spied the gray half dome of the installation rearing out of the Barrens, none of them felt like cheering. Though their clothes, blasters and other belongings were now back in their possession, all but Dean still felt slightly out of sync with reality, vaguely dissociated not only from their surroundings but from themselves.
They had stopped early that morning in Fort Fubar to convey Kela’s message to Danielson and gone on their way. Ryan was too numbed and exhausted to even thank the man for looking after his son.
Despite Dean’s questions, none of the companions were inclined to talk about what they had gone through in Aten. Jak in particular was stiff-lipped and more taciturn than usual. Ryan was in pain. His shoulder had been reset by Mildred and J.B., and medication she had taken from the installation’s laboratory had made it tolerable. Still, he looked haggard and haunted and he spoke only when spoken to—and then only the bare minimum of words.
They disembarked from the chariot, and the massive vanadium-steel sec door opened to the code Dean punched in. They trooped inside, making directly for the mat-trans chamber. None of them dared voice their secret fear, that they were the victims of a cruel practical joke on Nefron’s part, the controls were still frozen, trapping them in the Barrens with no place to go but back to Aten.
Ryan brought up the rear, lingering to close the door behind them. Krysty hung back, too, waiting for him. He didn’t meet her gaze.
“Let’s get to the gateway. Sooner we find out which way the stick floats, the sooner we can plan for the future.”
Krysty didn’t move. She blocked his path and said, “That’s what I want to talk about. Our future and how the recent past may affect it.”
“What?” he asked flatly, his eye questioning her.
“I know what’s troubling you, lover.”
He shrugged, making a move to step around her. “You weren’t responsible. Let’s go.”