Across the table, Dean had also reacted to Baron Silas’s words, and Mildred spared him a glare while Doc laid a hand on his arm. The younger Cawdor had yet to learn the cool of his father. The flicker in the corners of Baron Silas’s eyes gave away to the one-eyed warrior that he was watching them all intently, and Ryan grinned before he spoke again.
“These people aren’t monkeys, Baron,” he said easily. “We’ve all been together a long time, and I’m leader ’cause someone has to make the decisions. But we watch for each other, and act for and with each other. That’s how we survived, and that’s why I figure we’re valuable to you.”
Baron Silas cracked his impassive features with a raised eyebrow that could have indicated surprise. If it did, nothing was given away by his still frozen eyes.
“Now, why do y’all think you may be valuable?” he asked in a flat tone.
“Because if we weren’t, or you didn’t think that we could be, then we would have long since been chilled,” Ryan answered.
Baron Silas considered that for a moment, then said, “That’s a damn good point, and one that can’t rightly be answered that well. So I guess I’ll have to give you that.”
“In which case, sir,” Doc piped up after noisily clearing his throat as a preliminary to speech, “you may perhaps see fit to do us the justice of some manner of explanation. After all, from what our acquaintance Crow has told us, it would seem that you have taken some time and effort to build up this ville. Pray where do we fit in?”
For the first time since he had stared to speak, Baron Silas took his full gaze away from Ryan and settled it on Doc.
It was all Doc could do to avoid recoiling. The cold eyes and stone face were all too reminiscent for him of Jordan Teague, baron of Mocsin and the man who had been Doc’s torturer when he had first been flung into the world of the Deathlands. Both men shared the ability to make one feel like an insect in amber, being appraised by a superior intelligence and being.
Baron Silas noted this instinctive recoil and remembered it for future reference.
“I’ll tell you,” he said finally and in almost hushed tones. “But first, I think we could all do with food. Hell, I know I could…”
The baron clapped his hands three times, and the double doors opened. Two armed sec men came into the room, then exited again when they saw Hunter nod.
J.B. looked at Ryan. They were both thinking that this had to be some kind of arranged signal. If so, the big question was had the baron arranged this to impress or overawe them in some way… Or did he actually live in his manner?
Before either had a chance to say anything, the doors opened again and the sec men reentered, standing one on either side of the double doors. Following them came a procession of women, each carrying a silver tray containing dishes of food. The women, all of whom were well clothed in a variety of low-cut frocks and had similar physical characteristics—were all redheads either naturally or by dye and were large bosomed and small waisted although of varying heights. They were obviously picked by Baron Silas to follow his own preferences and weren’t just employed as serving girls. As they placed the trays on the tables, they stood back against the walls. They were followed by more girls with pitchers of wine brewed from locally grown fruits, and water. Plates, cutlery and goblets were laid before the companions, Crow and the baron.
“Interesting staff you have here,” Krysty murmured, taking in the similarities between the serving girls, and also their differences. Despite the shape and the hair color, some of them were black, Hispanic or Native American in ethnic origin. It made for a bizarre mix of the similar and the different.
“All my girls are handpicked,” Baron Silas said, indicating them with a sweeping wave. “I only go for the best—like in everything,” he added pointedly. “They’re available if you wish…always assuming you don’t have your own arrangements,” he said with a brief glance at Krysty and Mildred. “Now eat, drink and then I explain.”