When they returned to the room, Doc and Mildred couldn’t help but laugh. J.B. was the most changed and bore the brunt of the hilarity.
“Speaking strictly as a man who never wore a skirt in his life, John Barrymore, I must say that you strike a very fetching picture.”
Ryan sat down glumly, looking at his deep brown hands. He felt like he was trapped within a jolt addict’s delirium, dressed and stained as he was. He couldn’t help but wonder if Kela was playing a cruel game with them.
Iwat beamed at them proudly, as if they were his creations. He clapped his hands sharply, and Baldy One and Baldy Two stepped in immediately. To Mildred, the scholar announced, “You are assigned a food-preparation station in the palace.”
Mildred’s eyes flashed. “I’m a doctor, not a hash slinger.”
“You have nothing to say about it,” Iwat retorted. He nodded toward Baldy One. “Escort her there.”
The shaved-headed man grasped her by her upper arm, and Mildred jerked angrily away. Baldy One grabbed her again, so roughly she cried out in pain. J.B. instantly stood toe-to-toe with the much larger man, glaring up into his face.
“Take your bastard hand off her, or I swear I’ll feed you your balls.” He spoke in a ferocious whisper, packing every word with a deadly conviction.
Baldy One glanced quizzically toward Iwat, who stared back with wide, disconcerted eyes.
“Tell him to do it,” Ryan advised. “Or you’ll have a hell of a mess to clean up in here.” The last was directed toward Baldy Two, who looked as if he were considering the wisdom of pouncing on J.B.
“It is against the rules,” Iwat stammered. “I cannot allow this insolence—”
“Yeah,” Baldy One rumbled. “Don’t start a fight you can’t win, One-eye.”
Draping a comradely arm over Iwat’s shoulders, Ryan said, smiling, “Allow it just this once.” He bent his arm sharply, hooking Iwat’s soft neck in the crook of his elbow. “This may be a fight we can’t win, but you’ll die first. Get me?”
Iwat’s respiration became fast and harsh. “Release her!”
Baldy One slowly removed his hand. J.B. and Mildred embraced, kissed then she turned to the door, the guard falling into step behind her.
Ryan took his arm from Iwat, who rubbed his throat, coughed delicately and said to Doc, “You are assigned to transportation maintenance.”
Doc nodded brusquely, then shook hands with both J.B. and Ryan. “Gentlemen.” He departed with a quiet dignity, despite Baldy One nearly treading on his heels.
“Now us,” Ryan said.
A jittery smile tugged at the corners of Iwat’s mouth, but his eyes were fearful. “You will join a pyramid work detail, shift two. The men’s barracks are through there.” He gestured toward a short hallway. “Shall I go with you to make sure you’re properly settled?”
“No, thanks,” J.B. told him. “You’ve done enough for us already.”
They walked through a series of small chambers and stopped before a door. A young aproned man with a sheathed dagger at his hip stood beside it. He swung it open upon their approach and gestured grandly for them to enter.
J.B. and Ryan stepped into a long, low-ceilinged hall, so long that its far end seemed to run away in the distance. A dull clamor of male voices filled the dim interior, and the air was redolent with the stink of old sweat and urine. When their eyes adjusted to the murk, they saw a dormitory, a barracks with pallets laid out in facing rows on the stone floor. Many of the pallets were occupied, many more weren’t.
The two men moved down the wide aisle between the pallets. “Do we just grab a rack at random and sack out?” J.B. queried.
Ryan shook his head. “There’s got to be an overseer or boss around here someplace.”
A fat, repellent figure shambled toward them from the dark end of the aisle. He wasn’t very tall, but he was two men wide. A huge paunch swelled out over the top of his breechclout. His head was shaved except for a wispy strand of hair on the left side of his head. His flabby pectorals gleamed with a combination of oil and sweat. His rank, unwashed odor was very nearly overpowering.