“Where are they put up?”
“In the guest houses.”
“Any sign of the guest?” Ryan asked.
“No.”
Ryan turned his attention to the albino. “Jak.”
The teen shifted his focus to Ryan. “Yeah.”
“How good a look did you get at those men in the guest house?”
“Thirty, forty feet at closest. Could see plain enough.”
“Sec men?”
“Move like. Got organization. Got man checking posts regular.”
“Any markings?”
Jak shook his head. “Stripped clean. Saw places where mebbe had them before.”
Ryan thought about that. It wasn’t unusual for a sec force to have markings to identify itself in a more heavily populated ville. The effort saved on having to kill ville inhabitants who didn’t recognize the local authority standing before them. It also meant that the mystery guest was probably a baron, which didn’t sit well with Ryan at all. Barons nearly always meant trouble.
“HOWS YOUR HEAD?” Ryan asked.
“Still hurts, lover,” Krysty answered after a minute. “I can still feel Phlorin crawling around back there. Every now and then, I can hear her voice. But I think I’m getting better at blocking her out.”
Even if Krysty was, Ryan knew the effort was quickly sapping her strength. He’d seen her hands shaking as she’d worked a self-heat to get Vienna sausages for both of them. Ryan kept himself centered, but it hurt him to watch her struggle to keep it together. He and Mildred had decided that any attempt at exorcism would have to be postponed, given the uncertainty of their situation at the fort.
“We could leave at dusk,” Krysty pointed out. “That’s not more than a couple hours away.”
Ryan shook his head. “Sky’s darkening up. The old woman was right about the storm coming.” He’d spotted the clouds brewing when he’d scanned the trading post, wondering when Doc was going to make his way to them. “And we have no way of knowing when Doc’s going to make it back.”
“Do you think that woman’s holding him hostage?”
“Mebbe.”
“If she is doing it to keep us here, why?”
“They have thirty blasters,” Ryan said. “We make another seven. Upscaling their forces by twenty-five percent, that’s reason enough.”
“Nearly forty weapons,” Krysty stated. “What can they be up against?”
“I don’t know. But I figure we’re going to know soon enough.” Ryan touched her face with his fingers, trying not to show that he’d seen her involuntarily draw back at first.
She captured his hand in hers, then kissed the center of his palm. “Mebbe the night, wherever we spend it, won’t be all bad.”
Ryan nodded, but he wasn’t able to ignore the threat that hung over them all. He pulled Krysty to him, knowing she needed the feel of him against her. He captured one heavy breast in his palm, out of sight of the others, and kneaded it until he felt her nipple grow erect in his fingers. His thoughts drifted back to Doc despite Krysty’s presence. But he knew it was because her being there made the thought of escape even more enticing.
Only they couldn’t leave without Doc. Wherever the hell he was. Ryan cursed beneath his breath and kept holding Krysty.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Mebbe this could be a good resting point, Theophilus,” Annie suggested.
“Madam, I assure you that my reading voice is as strong as ever.” Doc glanced up from the pages, then drank the dregs of tea from his cup. Truth to tell, he’d lost himself in the play, drawing on all those past experiences of watching the play on stage till reality had faded around him. He’d given himself over to the machinations of Macbeth and his lady, and the foreknowledge of the price they were both going to pay for their treacheries.
Annie smiled good-naturedly. “Your voice is good, and strong and vibrant. And I’m enjoying the story, but you’ve interested me in other things, as well.”
Doc slipped a finger into the pages of the book, holding his place. “Pray tell, what other things, dear lady?”
She laughed at him, a full-throated guffaw that she gave herself over to. “I thought we might start with a bath.”
Doc’s face flamed in embarrassment, and he was at a loss for words.