Past an iron portcullis, another set of double doors opened into a courtyard of flowering bushes and stone benches. A gravel path circled a marble fountain with a predark bronze statue, and orchids dotted the basin with tiny fish darting about in the clear water. Smoky torches lit the courtyard, and a dozen sec men stood smoking green cigs, talking softly. But at the sight of the two females, they snapped to attention and briskly saluted. Silver stayed in the background, head bowed, hands folded.
“Ready for inspection, my lord,” a sergeant stated, holding a salute until it was returned.
“Is the ville secure?” Krysty asked.
“Yes, sir!”
“Then continue as you are for the time being.” Krysty turned to go, and the man cleared his throat.
“What?” she snapped irritably. Hunger was growing inside her belly like a fire. It had been days since her last full meal, on top of which summoning the power of Gaia always left her weak and hungry. Her stomach loudly gurgled again, and the sec man flicked his attention to her midriff then back.
“You shouldn’t walk alone, my lord,” the sec man said. “Which of us do you want as an escort?”
Damn, she was the baron now and had to tolerate such things. Krysty briefly looked over the guards, none of them very impressive.
“I need no escorts inside my own castle,” she retorted, touching her blaster and briskly walking away.
The sec men frowned at each other, their confused and angry voices mixing with the splash of the fountain in the private garden.
A side path led to another door of iron and wood. Silver pushed it open with some difficulty, and Krysty entered a long room with a vaulted ceiling. Instantly she was assaulted by the rich smells of roasting beef and fresh bread. Then a wave of weakness washed over Krysty, and she nearly stumbled. The need for food was a knife in her guts by now.
Over by a roaring fireplace, the companions were seated at a massive table looking over maps and cleaning their weapons. The other end was covered with dirty dishes.
Ryan snapped his head up at her approach and smiled widely, the first such expression she had seen in months. It faded quickly, but she went directly to the man and kissed him soundly.
“I’m glad to see you, too, lover,” Krysty said, stroking his smoothly shaved cheek. “Now get the fuck out of my chair, I’m the baron.”
“My lord,” he said, chuckling, and shifted his chair to the side to make room for another.
“Silver, have you eaten yet?” Krysty asked, then she glanced about. The girl was gone, moving as silently as morning mist. Maybe there was more mutie in that mute than she expected.
Judiciously Mildred watched as the woman stiffly took a chair from a line of them along the wall. She had tended Krysty as best she could under the circumstances. The redhead had several sprains, and quite a few bone bruises, painful but not life-threatening. Good news, as without her med kit there was little Mildred actually could do. And the local healer knew nothing of basic hygiene, much less surgery or chemistry. She used a lot of wild herbs, and seemed to have a pathological fear of science. Understandable, considering what science had done to the entire world a hundred years ago.
Krysty sat down heavily at the table, and serving girls appeared from a steamy kitchen to lay down bowls and plates of food. There was a whole loaf of brown bread still radiating warmth from the oven. Plus a tiny dish of honey with a piece of comb. A heaping bowl of steamed kelp, with some sort of chopped nuts on top, a tray of boiled crab, baked fish, a bowl of fresh oysters still in their shell with a curved knife on top for easy opening. There was no glassware, but the wooden mugs were carved with scenes of sailing ships and naked women.
Taking a sailing ship, Krysty poured it full of water and greedily drank.
“How are you feeling?” Mildred asked, going to the woman and lightly probing her here and there.