Chapter Five

 

"Here are your rooms." The maid paused at the top of the stairs leading to the third floor of the Hazard Royale Inn and gestured toward a line of doors. She held out metal keys on circular plastic chips with numbers on them. "If there's anything else I can get for you, Aunt Maim said to let me know and I'll get it for you straight away."

 

"Are there bathtubs in the rooms?" Krysty asked, taking one of the keys from the girl.

 

The maid didn't look a day over fifteen. A mop of brown hair nearly hid her eyes, and every now and then a bit of a blue tattoo showed on the rounded cleavage she was showing above the unbuttoned green blouse. Her attitude about her job definitely wasn't enthusiastic.

 

"Yes, ma'am," the maid replied.

 

Ryan glanced at the hallway, getting its layout in his mind. It would be dark soon, and there was no guarantee they'd live through the night. A ville's hospitality generally extended only as long as their guests' usefulness remained. Even when there were signs of civilization in some locale of Deathlands, it tended to be superficial. Then again, Kirkland was a greedy man and might be wondering how to coax more anesthetic from them.

 

Clean and neat, the hallway formed a T at the top of the stairs. Six rooms lined the wall, promising small quarters, but at least the hint of privacy. Pictures covered the walls, set apart in hand-crafted frames. Upon closer inspection, Ryan saw that they were pages torn from a magazine. All of the pictures on the pages featured beautiful old wags that Ryan had seen in magazines himself. The two nearest him were of a bright red Corvette and a black Viper.

 

"Is it running water?" Krysty asked, getting impatient with the girl's reticence.

 

"No, ma'am. We'll have to bring it up in buckets."

 

Ryan faced the girl. "Are baths extra?"

 

"No, sir. Aunt Maim said to give you whatever you needed."

 

"We'll have a bath, then," Krysty said. "And I want hot water. A lot of it."

 

"Yes, ma'am." The maid dipped her head and gave Ryan the rest of the keys, then fled back down the steps.

 

"Enjoying your newfound wealth?" Ryan asked with a grin.

 

"It's not often we're given the run of an entire ville, lover." Krysty put her key in the lock and turned it. The mechanism opened after a slight hesitation.

 

Ryan's hand strayed to the butt of the SIG-Sauer as he peered over Krysty's shoulder. But the small room beyond was clear. A bed filled the center of the room, with a small table and a chest of drawers the only other furniture. A glass door led out onto a small balcony that fronted Hazard's main street. The sun in the west was an hour or so from disappearing behind the hills.

 

"I want to enjoy myself for the few days this lasts," Krysty said, entering the room and looking around.

 

Ryan glanced at J.B., trading looks with his old friend. While they'd been with the Trader, they'd sometimes enjoyed the hospitality of a ville. But often that hospitality had come with a price. Like the Trader had always said, sugar-coated shit was still shit.

 

"Do a changeover at two in the morning," J.B. said. "Give you a knock on the wall, let you know."

 

Ryan nodded. "I'll take first watch. We'll sleep in when morning comes. Mildred and Krysty can keep an eye on things until we catch up on our sleep."

 

"I watch," Jak volunteered, knowing from experience that Ryan and J.B. were dividing up the time between them. "Not too tired."

 

"Figured you weren't," Ryan said. "Thought mebbe you could drift through the ville after dark for a while. Get the fastest way out of here mapped. Just in case."

 

The albino nodded, understanding.

 

"What about me, Dad?" Dean asked.

 

Ryan looked at his son. Since his return from the Nicholas Brody School and the experiences they'd been through of late, Dean appeared steadier, more mature. "Feel up to a little recce?"

 

Dean smiled. "Sure."

 

"Jak?" Ryan asked, shifting his gaze to the teenager. "Your call."

 

The albino looked at Dean. "You listen? Move when say move? Quiet when say quiet?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Jak turned back to Ryan and nodded. "Look for anything special?"

 

"Horses," Ryan answered, "in case we have to leave quick. Any gear we might need in a hurry if we don't have to dicker for it. Self-heats, ring-pulls, road rations." He flicked his eye over to J.B. "You going to take a look at the gunsmith's?"

 

"When we finish up here," J.B. replied, "I planned on that being the next place we go. If it's open, I'll give it a look, see what's what. You going to be around?"

 

"Somewhere. I'll be close." Ryan tossed the Armorer a key. J.B. caught it with a quick flick of his hand, then opened the door and guided Mildred into the room they were going to share. "Jak, you and Dean okay with a room to yourselves?"

 

The albino nodded, and caught the key Ryan threw him. "We go in, get settled. Get gone soon."

 

"Hey, Dad," Dean said, "what if I find something I want?"

 

"Come talk to me. Mebbe we'll figure something out."

 

Ryan turned to Doc. "You and Albert feel okay about bunking up?"

 

"Verily, my dear Ryan," Doc responded, "I find I enjoy my small companion's versatility for conversation. Our companionship for the nonce will be quite pleasant."

 

"I'll take your word for it." Ryan tossed the old man a key. "You going to be around?"

 

"In the ville," Doc replied, "there's a place called Cobb's that has a reputation for good literature and fine wine."

 

"Keep your ass covered."

 

"Tighter than the proverbial duck's," Doc said.

 

Ryan followed Krysty into the room. She sat on the bed, pulling off the second of her stitched blue cowboy boots. She wiggled her toes luxuriously.

 

"We've got to see if they have something that passes for a general store in the ville, lover," she said with a grimace after she examined her boots. "And mebbe get a new pair of heels. These are tore all to pieces."

 

Ryan nodded and crossed the room. He moved the curtain from the window overlooking the balcony. The air inside the room was thick and unmoving. He opened the balcony door and felt the circulation improve almost immediately.

 

A horse-drawn wag parked out on the street in front of a building with a sign that read Mercantile. The driver tied up his reins and climbed out of the wag, walking across the uneven wooden boardwalk. Three boys joined him, walking just behind him.

 

Ryan shifted his gaze, taking in as much of the ville as he could.

 

"What's on your mind?" Krysty asked.

 

"Trader always had a saying," Ryan said, "about how calm water covered everything. Even a man drowning in it." He nodded at the ville. "I look out there, all I see is calm water when things should be muddied up some. Kirkland calls the tune in this ville, and everybody else seems to dance. Me, I'd kind of like to know what the piper's got under his sleeve."

 

Krysty joined Ryan at the window. She ran her fingers across his hard, flat stomach. Ryan liked the feel of her, and liked thinking about the clean bed and the possibility of a bath and whatever came after. He took her hand in his, splaying his fingers between hers and holding tight.

 

"Mebbe it's only calm water out there," she suggested.

 

"Mebbe," Ryan agreed. But the uniform calmness about the ville unnerved him. Liberty had been a cunning, heartless bastard. It gave a man pause for some reflection thinking about what tied a man like Kirkland to Liberty. And he wasn't going to forget Albert's story about the wholesale slaughter anytime soon.

 

A discreet knock sounded at the door.

 

Krysty disengaged from Ryan. "Yes," she called.

 

Ryan glanced at the young maid standing in the doorway. The girl's eyes were brazen and bold, meeting his own with no shyness.

 

"I've got your water on the way up, ma'am," the maid said. "Aunt Maim asked me to tell you and your man that she'd enjoy your company for supper tonight. She said to tell you that she understood it was short notice and everything."

 

"When?" Ryan asked.

 

"At eight o'clock," the maid replied. "After the evening church services."

 

"Sure," Ryan said. He glanced at his chron. "How long is that from now?"

 

"A couple hours." The maid covered a faked cough, then trailed her fingers down the gap in her blouse. Another button had evidently come loose on her trip down and back up the stairs. "She has some clothing you can borrow for tonight. She likes to have something of a formal dinner. Gussied up and all."

 

"Tell her we'll accept," Krysty said. "Have you got a kitchen available?"

 

"Yes, ma'am. Cook is one of the best in these parts. Aunt Maim wouldn't have no other. A lot of people in the ville set store by her larder and the meals we serve out each day."

 

"What have you got in the way of fresh fruit and cheeses?"

 

"Apples and pears," the maid replied. "And we've got a half dozen different cheeses."

 

"I'd like a plate sent up shortly after the bathwater," Krysty said.

 

"Yes, ma'am. Aunt Maim said to tell you she had some rhubarb wine if you've a mind to sample some. She said you might be hungry from your trip, too. But she said to save some space for dinner because she's having Cook do some special dishes."

 

"Tell her thank you for us," Krysty said.

 

The maid nodded, her eyes still focused entirely on Ryan. "It's Chastity," she stated.

 

"What?" Ryan asked.

 

"My name," the maid replied. "It's Chastity."

 

"I'll remember that."

 

"You do it," she said without hesitation. "I'll see to it you get anything you want. Aunt Maim told me to make sure your stay at the inn was a good one. Told me to see to it personal."

 

Krysty crossed the room and closed the door in the maid's face. She turned back to Ryan, her face reflecting her amusement. "Guess we don't have to wonder where she's coming from."

 

"No," Ryan agreed. The girl's attentions didn't affect him. A strong man in Deathlands brought out the sexuality in a woman looking for somebody to protect her when she knew she couldn't do the job herself. She was only reacting the way she'd trained herself to react. "Guess she outgrew her name some time ago."

 

"Doubt if she remembers the passage."

 

"Be interesting to find out if any of the others got the same invitation we got."

 

Krysty nodded. "If you run into little Miss Big Eyes outside"

 

"I'll tell her she's late with the hot water."

 

"You do that."

 

Ryan grinned, then let himself into the hallway, relieved when he saw the maid was nowhere around. He knocked on J.B.'s door.

 

"Who's knocking?" the Armorer called out.

 

"Me," Ryan replied.

 

"Come ahead."

 

Ryan opened the door carefully. J.B. wasn't a man to creep up on.

 

The Armorer stood in the center of the room on the table. A bed slat blocked the balcony door from sliding open. J.B. worked the curtain cord through a bent nail sticking out from the ceiling. The nail was obviously in a new position.

 

"Redecorating?" Ryan asked.

 

J.B. shot him a wry glance. "We walked into this whitewashed ville, doesn't mean angels live here. I'm just taking a few precautions to make sure we get to walk back out of here."

 

Mildred came back out of the bathroom. "Running water would help things, but sleeping high and dry is a good enough thought for the moment. They got a pitcher of fresh water in there if you're dry, John." She nodded at Ryan. "Making a social call?"

 

"Krysty and me got invited to dinner tonight. Wondered if you'd been treated to the same invitation."

 

J.B. shook his head. "I got plans to see the gunsmith. Mildred and I will figure something out for ourselves."

 

"Probably wouldn't be a problem to set an extra plate or two."

 

"I kind of like the idea of spreading ourselves out a little more," the Armorer said. "Get what we need as fast as we can, get ourselves set up to leave if trouble comes along." He stepped off the table and grabbed the curtain cord. Then he took up the M-4000.

 

"Dinner's at eight. To be sociable, we'll probably hang around until ten and talk. We get any later than that, come looking. If you're not in by then, I'll do the same."

 

"Sounds good." J.B. sat the straight-backed, wooden chair on the table. He cradled the shotgun across it, pointing at the door. A couple lashes of another piece of the curtain cord secured it into place. Then he threaded the long cord through the nail and through the trigger guard, as well, fixing it so a drawer from the chest of drawers worked as a counterweight to pull the trigger. He attached the cord to the doorknob.

 

Ryan observed the setup. It wasn't anything fancy or elaborate, just deadly. And that was all it had to be. When the door was opened by anyone who didn't know the shotgun was in place, they'd get blasted stepping into the room.

 

"If you come by later," J.B. said meaningfully, "you want to make sure you knock."