"Just wait," Ryan replied. "It's all that we can do. If Jak can do anything, he will. In the meantime, I figure we should try to get some more rest, hope our injuries heal up before we get some action."

 

 JAK RESISTED THE TEMPTATION to look back over his shoulder as he was led away from the jail. Despite being about a foot taller than the wiry hunter, the island albino put his arm around Jak's shoulders.

 

 "You don't know how good it is to have another albino in the ville," he said in a confidential tone. "The brothers and sisters are good people, but there is always the sense that I am different from them. And so I am, in a sense. But to have someone else who lacks all color, rather than being white or black, is good. It gives someone to share identity with."

 

 "Not thought of it that way," Jak answered. "Where the fuck are we?"

 

 The island albino threw back his head and laughed. "My friend, you do not bandy words. I shall tell you."

 

 As they walked to the living quarters of the albino, he told Jak about the history of the island and also of the way in which the people worked, either farming, hunting or mining and scavenging for fuels. By the time he had finished, they had reached the albino's adobe homestead where he led Jak into a one room hut with two beds on opposite sides of the room, one of which had a table beside it piled high with books and papers. Beside the other bed was a Spartan arrangement of belongings, most of a practical nature.

 

 The albino laughed. Indicating each side, he said, "There you have, in a nutshell, the dichotomy of my brother and myself. I, Chan, I weave the legends and history of the ville, indeed of the world as we know it, into something that can help and guide us through the darkness of the future and into the light of destiny. I work with this," he added, tapping his head, "whereas my brother Markos works with this." He flexed his biceps and hit his chest. "He is a good man, but he believes in actions above words. As I am the opposite, then we are complementary to each other."

 

 "Markos, head of sec?" Jak queried.

 

 Chan looked at him quizzically. "Sec? Ah, you mean security, I would assume. Yes, he is the boss of security on Pilatu. But come, I know nothing about you as of yet, and we will have to decide what you can do to be a part of this land."

 

 "Name is Jak Lauren. And I hunt…" Jak began.

 

 IF THE ALBINO HUNTER had wondered where Markos had disappeared to—for he had parted company with them before they had reached the homestead—he would have been interested to know that the sec boss was walking across the awakening ville to the home of Sineta, with an intention to find out more about the woman he had discovered the night before.

 

 Mildred was still asleep when he knocked softly on the door to Sineta's homestead. The baron's daughter was awakened by the insistent sound, and rose to answer the call. "Markos, what are you doing so early?"

 

 "I have come to see the newcomer. It is important that we find out more about her. Chan has spoken to the albino who was with them, and has taken him away. The whitelanders freed him when they realized the position in which they found themselves."

 

 Sineta frowned, then looked back at the sleeping Mildred. "Freed?" she repeated. "I would not..."

 

 "Would not what?" Markos questioned, sensing that Sineta was on the verge of a revelation.

 

 The fine-boned baron's daughter returned her gaze to him, and a look of bland indifference masked the curiosity she had felt. "I would not talk to Mildred now. She has only just fallen to sleeping, and she will need rest."

 

 Markos bit hard on his lip. There seemed to be some ambiguity surrounding the outsiders, and it would be best to find out the truth as soon as possible. However, it would not be appropriate to contradict the baron's daughter. He contented himself for now with a brief nod.

 

 "Very well. I shall return later."

 

 Sineta watched him walk away, then closed the door behind her and walked over to the sleeping Mildred.

 

 "What games are being played here?" she asked rhetorically.

 

 THE COMPANIONS SPENT the next couple of days under armed guard, locked up in the jail, only the sound of everyday life outside the barred window and the feeble illumination it offered as markers of the passing of time. They were fed every day, at around sundown. A tray of food, enough for all, was brought in by a woman, while a sec guard stood by with an H&K at the ready for any trouble.

 

 There was no indication that the prisoners wished to offer any resistance. They allowed the food to be left without the slightest sign of giving any trouble. Mostly because of the five that were left in the jail, only two were fit enough to consider any kind of breakout. Doc was weary and battered by his experiences at sea, and although he had incurred no serious damage, his bruised body and even more bruised mind sought the solace of an enforced peace to gather its resources once more. J.B.'s leg was improving, and he exercised it as much as possible within the confines of the cell, making sure that the damaged muscle in his calf didn't stiffen and seize up. As for Ryan, he still ached all over, but it no longer hurt him to breathe and the pain was lessening with each day. His ribs could do with a longer resting period if they were to heal properly, but as long as he was able to function, Ryan figured that they may not have the time for him to make a full recovery. Each hour, each minute, he hoped to hear news of Mildred, or for Jak to return to facilitate an escape. But with each hour that Jak did not, he was aware that he was healing more and would be better equipped for when the time came.

 

 For Krysty and Dean, it was frustrating. All the more so for the young Cawdor as he had dreamed of his mother once more. This time, not being in the state of unconsciousness induced by a mat-trans jump, he was better able to remember the dream when he awakened. And it disturbed him. Where the mat-trans dream had been a fantasy of his parting from his mother, this was more the reality of the situation. They were living in a hovel, on the run from who knew what. His mother had been earning what little money they possessed as a gaudy, but her sickness was making it more and more difficult for her to attract clients. She had taught Dean the arts of stealing from trash and from stallholders and merchants, wherever possible, to try to obtain enough food to keep them alive.

 

 They were living in one room, still on the run from ville to ville, and as he watched, a racking cough seized his mother.

 

 "Got to send you away soon," she gasped between coughs. "I'm on my way to buying the farm, and I want to make sure you're okay."

 

 "I'm not going anywhere," Dean replied defiantly. "Who's going to go and get food when you need it if you're too sick?"

 

 Sharona smiled at him. "You're strong, my sweet Dean, but I've made plans, to make sure you get away, to make sure you're safe. I'll go happy if I know that."

 

 "I don't want you to go," he replied simply.

 

 "Mebbe we'll be together again some day, who knows?" she said. "I love you, Dean. Always remember that."

 

 Who knows… The words had grown into a deafening echo around his head, jolting him awake in the middle of the night.

 

 Stuck in jail, there was nothing for him to do but to brood on the dreams. And wonder why he was missing his mother.

 

 "HE GOES THROUGH THE TREES. Swift as he is, the need to thread through them will slow him. Jak, you and Moses take the left-hand path. I and Kami will take the right."

 

 Without pausing to answer, Jak and the thick-set, stocky man known as Moses set off to the left, skirting around the edge of the dense clump of trees in which the boar had sought to hide itself. The heavy beast could be heard, squealing in fear as it flung itself through the trees, crashing into the trunks, stumbling on the roots. It didn't have the awareness to realize that his pursuers could predict its path and would take an easier route to cut it off as it emerged.

 

 Jak easily outdistanced the heavier, lumbering Moses, his legs pumping as he covered the ground with ease. The scent of the boar's fear was in his nostrils and the light of bloodlust was in his eyes. While he was about this task, Jak forgot all about his companions, left to rot in jail. When the beast was chilled, then they would return to his mind.

 

 The albino hunter pulled up as he reached the point where the cluster of trees began to thin, gesturing behind him for Moses to slow.

 

 "Still in there," the stocky man panted as he halted next to Jak. "You're lighter, more nimble. You go up into the treetops and get ready to drop. I'll take the animal from the side."

 

 "Okay. Careful, boar triple scared and triple pissed off," Jak said as he began to scale the nearest tree.

 

 "Don't worry, I've been doing this far too long to take unnecessary chances. I'm more likely to thrust my hand into a pit of snakes than take an angry boar head-on," Moses replied, breathlessly but with good humor. Jak didn't reply, but allowed himself a grim smile as he attained the full height of the tree. Trying to fight wild boar in this way was probably more dangerous than a pit of snakes. The albino youth couldn't believe that a four-man hunting team was assigned to bring down the one creature—and at that by chasing and agitating it so that it was scared, furious and fighting mad. Left to his own devices, the albino hunter would have stalked his prey and waited until it was at its weakest before striking. A beast such as a boar was too strong and unpredictable to be taken in full flight. But he had said nothing of this. In the past few days he had soon learned that the islanders of Pilatu had ways of doing things that had been fixed over the generations, and were now immutable. As an outlander—and one who was biding his time until he could help the rest of his companions to escape—he felt it was best to keep his head down and to not make waves…and mebbe try not to get chilled in the process.

 

 "Here comes," he called down to his hunting partner, his attention suddenly snapped back by the sudden approach of the creature. It had been audible the whole while, but from his vantage point he could now see the boar as it crashed through the foliage and slalomed around the root structures. Even from high up and at a distance he could see the manic gleam of fear in the beast's eyes.

 

 Kami and Jules, the hunt leader, had arrived at the opposite side of the outcrop. Shaped roughly like an oval, it came to a point where they had met. Each pair had skirted the outside to cover the possibility of the boar taking an early exit from the undergrowth, but the odds had always been weighted in favor of it making the distance in an attempt to lose what it believed to be its pursuers—the four men who waited now for it to emerge. Kami hunkered at the base of a tree, covered like Moses, while Jules scaled a neighboring tree so that he overhung the narrow path made by the confluence of tree roots that the creature was sure to take. As he edged along the branch to gain the optimum position, he was within touching distance of Jak, and the albino studied the man who led all the hunting expeditions. He was tall and rangy, with a heavily etched face. Streaks of gray ran through his close-cropped head. His hairline was bisected by the weal of an old and badly healed scar, which ran back across his skull to a point beyond the crown. His eyes were watery and bloodshot, and there was tension written in them as they met Jak's.

 

 "Ready, son?" he asked. Jak nodded.

 

 Both men were armed with short hunting spears, the light shafts made of whittled balsa that were only just heavy enough to carry the finely honed and razor-sharp heads. Double-edged, the heads were barbed so that they would go in easily but resist any attempts by their prey to be removed and, in fact, would cause more damage as the attempts to remove them tore into the flesh. There was a window of a fraction of a second. The beast, squealing with fear, moved beneath them. For the briefest moment its back would be directly under their aim. In that moment, they would strike.

 

 There was no word of command. There was no necessity. Both hunters knew by instinct sharpened by experience the optimum moment to strike. As one, they plunged their spears downward. The balsa shafts were light, but the heads of the spears were of a heavy pig-iron metal; and the weight used the light balsa as a flight.

 

 One spear struck the boar where the skull joined the spine, the needle-sharp point of the head slicing through the thick layers of muscle that rippled on the creature's massive neck and shoulders. Simultaneously the second spear arrived at an angle, cutting into the animal's flanks, a throw designed to slice through the layers of flesh, fat and muscle to rip into internal organs, causing massive hemorrhaging.

 

 The boar simultaneously reared and twisted, the twin points of agony searing into its brain, confusion adding to the pain as it tried to work out where its enemy was and how best it could defend itself. It almost doubled over, flipping around to face the direction it had run, squeals of agony and fear increasing. While it was facing away from Kanu and Moses, the two hunters made their move.

 

 Darting from their hiding places, the men moved in on the creature, pulling back their arms to strike. They needed lightning reflexes at this stage, as the creature was erratic and unpredictable. It thrashed wildly, its awareness now clouded with a red mist of pain as blood flooded its guts and the barbed spearhead in the neck began to work its way down into the spinal cord each time it moved, cutting off motor neurone action.

 

 Moses struck first. The creature turned wildly so that its head was toward him. The eyes were glittering and sightless, lost in some private hell of pain. Knowing it could still smell him and strike on reflex, Moses wasted no time in chucking his spear. It shot straight and true, taking the creature through one eye, the heavy metal head of the weapon driving forward to rip into the soft tissue of the boar's brain.

 

 The result was almost instantaneous. The creature gave one terrible cry that ended in a rattling cough as it flipped over once more. Blind, buying the farm and now almost completely defenseless, its legs waved wildly as it rolled, leaving the soft, white underbelly open and undefended.

 

 Kanu needed no second chance. His spear flew straight and true, taking the creature in the gut and ripping the remaining life from it. It flipped once more, snapping the balsa shaft of the spear, as it had done with all the others, and leaving the head embedded in its flesh. Gouts of blood gushed from the open wound in time with the fading pulse, spilling onto the ground and darkening the soil and vegetation, steaming in the cool morning air.

 

 The creature thrashed feebly a few times and was then still. It was an enormous size, and needed the four-pronged attack to take it in flight. Jak was still of the opinion that this matter could have been settled much more easily if left to his methods, but said nothing as Jules stepped forward to prod the now-still beast with his foot. "Big bastard. Should feed a lot of people, and the hide'll come in useful," he said simply.

 

 Moses eyed the corpse speculatively. "I'm thinking that mebbe this is the shadow that comes in the night, spiriting away other creatures to join him," he said, referring to a mysterious attacker that had been decimating their livestock supplies over the past couple of weeks. It was a hot topic of conversation among the hunters in the ville, and Jak had heard plenty about it during his few days with them.

 

 "Boar not usually meat eater." Jak spoke up.

 

 "Mebbe not," Moses agreed, "but it could be a mutie of some sort. The long-ago wars have long fingers of fear and hate that stretch through the generations."

 

 Kanu shrugged. "Whatever it is, it'll keep Markos happy, and he is like the gathering storm if he is not."

 

 Jules agreed. "That is never a bad thing. Let's get this back to the ville."

 

 The four-man team cut two strong branches from the surrounding trees and, using the vines that curled around them, made ropes to secure the front and back legs of the chilled beast. Running a branch between both sets of legs, they each took one branch end and hefted the creature. The branches creaked and they could feel the vine ropes give under the weight of the muscle-bound boar. To have tried one long branch running the length of the body with all four legs secured would have snapped a branch without a doubt.

 

 The hunters shouldered the weight and began to move. The boar was a good catch, and would make the journey back to the ville seem much longer than it was. Jak pondered as they walked that it was a simple way of life, but as everything on the island was so close to the ville, it would be hard for the companions to escape without being hunted down like the boar he was now helping to carry.

 

 He wondered if Mildred had any ideas. He had seen her briefly, but she was showing little sign of hurry.

 

 Jak was curious—as much as he ever allowed himself—as to why.

 

 MILDRED HAD FOUND HERSELF faced with a barrage of questions from Sineta as soon as she had awakened.

 

 The baron's daughter had been vexed by the information from Markos that the albino had been "freed" by the pale ones, as this contradicted what Mildred had told her about the companions being friends and equals. However, when Mildred had cross questioned her about the attitudes of Markos and Chan, she had explained to Sineta that it was perhaps a ploy to allow Jak to go free, and then she did something that she wouldn't have believed possible. She told a possible enemy that Jak would be free to plan an escape.

 

 "I don't even know why I'm telling you this," Mildred said, rubbing her eyes and forehead as if to alleviate the raging cross-current of feelings that built up in her head. "For God's sake, you could tell Markos and have Jak chilled. But I trust you not to." Her eyes met Sineta's, and in them Mildred could see that the baron's daughter was willing her to explain. She continued. "Look, you see my friends as the enemy because of the color of their skin, and they see you as the enemy because you overpowered us and locked them up. So they'll use any method to work a means of escape. Isn't that exactly what Markos would do in such circumstances?"

 

 "I can understand this, but Markos will not, and if your albino friend attempts to free the pale ones, then he will be chilled. They all will."

 

 "Then let me speak to him, try to explain. Let me see the others," Mildred implored.

 

 Sineta shook her head. "Would that it was that simple. Markos will not allow it."

 

 "But you're the baron's daughter, for God's sake," Mildred exclaimed, "surely you outrank him!" Sineta smiled slowly, sadly. "You forget, I am also a woman. I have no authority while my father lives and I am unmarried. Nor will I have any when I am married and the wife of the next baron."

 

 Mildred sighed. "Well, this is just stupid. It'll end in a firefight where people will get hurt unnecessarily. Why waste life and ammo when it's not needed?"

 

 "You speak almost as if you do not know which end of the burning stick to grasp," Sineta said.

 

 Mildred frowned. The baron's daughter was right. Normally she would have no hesitation in saying or doing anything that would help her companions. She would go to any lengths to get them out of that jail. And yet this time it was different. Mildred remained silent, and Sineta left her to her thoughts.

 

 The next couple of days went by quickly, all too quickly for Mildred. On the advice of the baron's daughter, she said nothing about their discussion, and didn't pursue the matter of gaining release for her companions. Instead she immersed herself in the life of Pilatu, learning about the society into which she had found herself.

 

 She learned that she liked it. It had occurred to her that she had started to use the phrase "for God's sake" more than the occasional profanity that spilled from her lips. And she wondered why this should be. It took only a day of wandering around the ville for her to realize what was happening to her.

 

 The people of Pilatu were pleased to see her up and about. For the first day, Sineta went with her. That was more, Mildred felt, to prevent her making contact with the companions than to show her around. The people she met were pleased to show her their part of the ville and to talk with her about their island and the place from whence she had come. It had been some time since there had been new arrivals on the island—particularly a sister and an albino accompanied by whitelanders—so there was much curiosity about her history. Mildred skirted this wherever possible. She couldn't betray her friends by describing them as her captors, but neither could she follow Sineta's advice to describe them thus until the initial flurry of interest had died down. Instead she turned the attention back on the islanders by asking them about the ville.

 

 The actual settlement was about half a mile from the sea, built on higher ground on the side of the island that faced the vast ocean. The ville had been located here to secure optimum shelter from the elements. There was a path that led to the inlet where Mildred could see the fishermen's boats. The inlet below appeared to be the only safe place for them to launch, information that Mildred stored in her memory as more than useful.

 

 But her immediate thoughts weren't of escape. Many of the stories she heard about the island echoed what Sineta had told her. However, she also learned through these exchanges that the people of the island had a strong sense of identity. They were linked by their skin color, and although they were all different—indeed there had been many who had differences between themselves that spilled into bloodshed—still at the end of a day they would band together at a threat from the whitelands. They knew that they and their ancestors had existed as a minority within the whitelands and had been treated as little more than animals during their history. They lived on the island because their ancestors had refused this way of existence and had chosen to live on their own, free terms. Petty personal differences counted for little when ranged against the fate of their people.

 

 And it was then that Mildred realized that it struck echoes of her own childhood within her, the days when her father had been a Baptist minister, always fighting against those who wanted his daughter, his family, his friends, his flock to use separate schools, restaurants, buses, washrooms…all because they were seen as somehow lesser. She had been using God's name because it was the strongest curse and the mightiest invocation she could use as a child, and the society in which she found herself reminded her of the one she had wished for when yet another driveby shooting or attack had stove in the windows of a neighbor's house, when yet another gasoline bomb had razed a church. As she had grown up and become a doctor, moving to places where things seemed much more laid back, as the sixties had given way to the seventies and eighties, it had seemed that things had changed, that there was equality.

 

 Yet the fact that she was black and the majority wasn't had never been that far from the surface. Some small incident would bring up comments. "You people would say that."

 

 "You wouldn't understand, being different…" Never outright insults or condemnation on color, but always the implication.

 

 Here, she found none of that. This was the society of which her father had dreamed, in which black people were just people. At last she felt a sense of kinship that went deep—deeper than the present, stretching into the past.

 

 When she saw Jak, and he raised the matter of freeing the rest of their companions, she had felt uncomfortable. She knew that rescue should be a priority, yet she mouthed platitudes at Jak about leaving things as they were for a few days while she gained the confidence of the baron's daughter. It would be a tricky matter to get them released, and escape would be difficult, leaving them with no chance to avoid buying the farm if they were caught.

 

 Even as she spoke, she could see the disbelief in the albino's burning red eyes. He knew she was stalling and couldn't work out why.

 

 Neither could she. Deep in her heart, she knew what the companions meant to her, and she knew from some of the things she heard the Pilatans say about the whitelands that there were things in this society that were merely the inverse of what they had left behind.

 

 Mildred was divided. The ideal for the oppressed that she had heard of as a child, and the sense of historical belonging that she had never thought to experience, raged against the ties forged by a life that toyed with the big chilling everyday…ties forged by fire that couldn't be broken, no matter the color of the skin or the historical antecedent.

 

 Right now, even Mildred had no idea what she could do to calm the raging sea within.

 

  

 

 Chapter Six

 

  

 

 "It is time that you met my father, but he is like the lion in winter. Where once he was tall, erect and noble, now he is bowed by the weight of years upon him, and responsibility only adds to the burden. He takes much more time to think in these days, and so you must not worry if he does not, at first, respond to you."

 

 Mildred chewed on her lip and nodded. She was keen to meet Barras, the baron of Pilatu, but knew that he was a man fading into the final dimming of the light. Everything that Sineta had told her over the past couple of days pointed to a man whose days were drawing to a close. It seemed that the ville's medic could do little to help, and Mildred was aware that it could only strengthen her position if she were able to assist his suffering in some manner.

 

 "You do realize why I want to meet him, don't you?" Mildred asked.

 

 "I have told you that there would be much opposition to releasing your friends. The untruth spoken to assist the albino will weigh against them in my father's judgment—and also in the opinions of many within the ville."

 

 "By which you mean Markos won't like it, right?" Mildred queried.

 

 Sineta allowed herself an indication of agreement. "I believe that you already know the answer to that question, Mildred. Markos will find it impossible to believe that people from the whitelands could treat a brother or a sister as equal. You have to understand that he is not a bad man—"

 

 Mildred raised a hand. "I know. I can appreciate that. He's a man who has always thought a certain way, and has no experience to teach him otherwise. But I figure that he's a good guy, and if he can take the time to learn a little about the others, he'll see beyond their pale skins."

 

 Sineta made a small moue. "If his brother allows him to think in another way from himself."

 

 "I had kind of noticed that." Mildred smiled. "We'll just have to see."

 

 "Then let us depart."

 

 The two women left Sineta's quarters and walked the short distance between her adobe hut and the larger premises where the ailing baron held court.

 

 As they covered the ground Mildred thought about the decision that had brought her to this. She had seen Jak when the gigantic wild boar he had helped capture had been carried into the ville. When she had tried to talk to him, he had simply asked her why the rest of the companions were still in jail while he and Mildred were free and she had the ear of the baron's daughter. It was a question that Mildred couldn't, in all honesty, answer. Her conscience was gnawing at her that her companions had been incarcerated while she had been free. And yet, since awakening in the Deathlands, her world had been almost entirely white, with little cultural recognition to the people she had left behind. Not all her friends had been black, but some certainly had, and it wasn't until she had awakened in Pilatu that she realized how much of her identity had been based on that cultural heritage. However, she had damn near bought the farm with Ryan and his people, and she was as much a part of them as of the people of Pilatu. When it came down to it, they may share a common heritage, but that was out of whack when you considered that she was, in truth, over a century older than anyone else on the island of the same skin pigmentation.

 

 It was a balancing act; she had to keep her eyes fixed ahead and her feet sure and true.

 

 As they approached the baron's quarters, she saw Markos go in ahead of them. The sec boss gave them a saturnine glare before entering, as though annoyed that his audience with the baron would inevitably be interrupted.

 

 Mildred felt a shiver run through her as Markos looked away. She had encountered the sec boss several times over the past few days—indeed, it seemed at times as though he were following her, for wherever she went, he would soon appear—and she could feel a frisson whenever he was near. The woman had wondered if he were keeping an eye on her, unsure of where her allegiance lay. Of course, he had a point, but she wouldn't admit that when considering how irritating he had become.

 

 They had spoken a few times, and on each occasion he seemed to probe her about her views on the island and the people who lived here. He was blunt almost to the point of rudeness, yet listened carefully and attentively to her answers. It was obvious to her that he had doubt about her—which was, after all, reasonable—but it also seemed as though there was something more. In his earnestness, and totally serious devotion to the cause of culture and separatism espoused by his brother, Markos reminded Mildred of Rodney Stone, an intern at the hospital where she had been resident before her operation and subsequent cryogenic stasis. An intense and dedicated man, Rodney had seemed at first to be completely immersed in his work to the expense of all personal relationships. He appeared completely disinterested in anything that fell outside of the definition of work. When he'd asked Mildred for a date, she had been astounded. In his ivory tower of medicine, Rodney had appeared aloof. In fact, this had masked his inability to communicate in any other way, a problem born of his dedication.

 

 There was much about Markos that was similar and Mildred was beginning to look at him in a different way. He was handsome, there was little doubt; and, despite his brusque manner, he burned with a passion for his world that bespoke of much hidden beneath the surface, perhaps reined in because of his brother. For she had learned that Chan was always the weaker, and their mother had died giving birth to him, leaving only their father to raise them. He himself had been chilled when the boys were still young, leaving the older, stronger Markos to provide for himself and his sickly brother. Chan was smarter, and he used this to dominate his older, stronger brother. Markos was smart enough to know that, but also felt an obligation that constrained him.

 

 It was this constraint that Mildred was sure she felt now. There was an attraction between herself and Markos, and a man such as he would be unable to hold his peace when his reserve was exhausted. For her part, she was unwilling to examine this attraction too closely when she thought of J.B. sitting in jail. Was part of the attraction to Markos because he was black and they were both in this ville? Was it part of a dream of belonging?

 

 Right now, she really didn't want to think about that too much. It was going to be difficult enough to obtain a release for the companions, without Markos interfering on personal or sec grounds.

 

 Sineta led them into the baronial quarters, acknowledging the greetings of the sec guard with a regal nod as they passed. Outside, it was warm and bright, but within the building it was dark and cool, with the shades drawn over the windows and only candlelight to illuminate the room. For, as all the houses in the village, the baronial quarters consisted of one room, with separated areas for kitchen, latrine and ablutions. These small areas didn't take away from the richly textured decorations and hangings on the walls of the main area, nor from the beautifully hand-carved furniture and ornamentation that stood on the rush matting. As with Sineta's abode, there were signs of status within the community, but no sense of ostentation.

 

 A healer stood in attendance a short distance from the baron's bedside, close enough to respond to his call, but not close enough to be a hindrance on either his guests or himself in speaking freely. Markos was seated on a chair by the side of the bed; the baron was propped up on pillows.

 

 It was Mildred's first sight of the baron, although she had heard much of him from his daughter. Her first thought was that Barras was dying. There was nothing she would be able to do, except make his decline easier. He was stick-thin as he lay on the bed, naked from the waist up, his lower half covered with a thin sheet. She could see his ribs sticking painfully through dry skin that held a gray pallor. His cheeks were sunken, almost as much as his eyes. His hair was white, with the odd streak of gray to remind people that once it had been more than the current sparse covering. His arms had lost all flesh, all muscle. He moved while talking to the sec boss, and his movements were stiff and painful, as though any movement at all was an effort. It looked to Mildred, even at first glance, as though the baron were suffering from a cancer that had eaten away at him and was now ready to claim that last spark that kept him alive.

 

 And yet, when he looked away from the sec boss to see his daughter and Mildred enter the room, the sunken eyes blazed with life once more and in the gaunt, drawn face Mildred could see echoes of the man he had once been. Echoes of the fine-boned structure this once-handsome man had passed down to his daughter.

 

 "Sineta, it is early. Even though the light pains me to watch now, I can tell from the lightness of the air itself that it is still the day. You do not usually come until the darkness has fallen and the shadows of imagining fill the room. There must be good reason to change the routine of one who, like her father, lives by the habits of the hunter."

 

 Sineta smiled, ignoring the barely disguised scowl that crossed Markos's face. She leaned over her father and kissed him gently on the cheek.

 

 "Sineta, I would bid you leave to wait until I have finished my business with your father," the sec boss said with a barely held politeness. "I am making my report and there is little to interest you."

 

 "I hope you will not feel this way if you have your wish and attain my hand in marriage. The consort of a female baron should not be so disrespectful…"

 

 Markos gritted his teeth and looked away. Sineta's barb had hit home. Without looking at her, he rose to leave. As he did so, his eye caught Mildred's and she could see within a discomfort at his position.

 

 "I would only marry for the sake of the people, to give them a baron who would try to do the right thing," he stated, looking at Mildred all the while. "There would be no disrespect to you, as that would be likening to spit in the eye of Pilatu."

 

 Sineta softened, placing a hand on his arm. "I know you only wish to do that which you think is best. But perhaps you should be open to other ways and ideas…and perhaps you should remain, as you will want to hear what I have to say."

 

 Markos nodded and regained his seat. "I suspect that I have some notion of your business. And it will be no hardship to stay in such a presence."

 

 Mildred frowned slightly. He had been speaking in response to Sineta, but all the while his eyes had been fixed on her. More to the point, although she knew he would soon be objecting to what he would hear, she wasn't upset that he had been studying her as he spoke.

 

 Barras looked up at his daughter and the ghost of a smile played across his lips. "I have known you since before you were born, as you have always been like your mother. I know that whatever you are about to say, I probably shall not like it."

 

 "Perhaps not, but it is something that I would wish you to give some thought. Since I have known Mildred, although it is but a few days, I have come to trust what she says. She is truthful and glad to find our society, but…" Sineta paused, trying to find a way to phrase her request so that Markos couldn't explode with anger before her father had a chance to speak. "The whitelanders who arrived with Mildred are not her masters, are not her enemy. They are her friends, and she wishes you to grant them their freedom, for which they undertake to help and work in the ville until such time as they can leave."

 

 This wasn't exactly what Mildred and Sineta had discussed, but there were reasons for the baron's daughter to deceive her father in such a manner.

 

 Sineta continued, holding up her hand to silence Markos who had risen angrily to his feet, eyes flashing fire at Mildred as though she had betrayed him in some way. "I know that the albino—Jak—led Markos to believe that he was their slave in order to attain freedom, a deception the one-eyed man encouraged and reinforced. But this was so that at least one more of them may go free. It was a small untruth, nothing more."

 

 "Nothing more, woman?" Markos roared. "By the Lord, the albino lied to myself, to my brother and to the whole island. He could have made any amount of sabotage while he was free—"

 

 "And has he?" Mildred asked calmly.

 

 Markos stared at her, fury tightening the muscles on his face, eyes narrowing. "No, he has not. But that is not the issue—"

 

 "Then what is? That a man should tell an untruth to attain freedom? That his companions should collaborate to grant him this even at their own expense? Surely that speaks of a greater nobility?" Sineta queried.

 

 Barras chuckled. "The girl has you there, my friend. Your hot temper lets you lead with your mouth rather than your brain. You have learned over the years to control this, but intense feeling lets you down, as ever. What makes you feel so strongly this time?"

 

 Markos shook his head. "Nothing…it is nothing."

 

 But the old man was still sharp in mind and noticed the quick glance his sec boss gave Mildred. Barras appraised her, then spoke.

 

 "Why did you not mention this before?"

 

 "I needed time to recover from my own injuries," Mildred replied. "I also needed time to gain the trust of your daughter. I had to explain things to her, try to show her how I am. I couldn't expect her to take me on face value."

 

 Barras nodded thoughtfully. "My daughter is a fair woman, and a good judge of character. But," he added shrewdly, "why now and not tomorrow, or even yesterday?"

 

 Mildred looked at Sineta. How could she tell him the truth? That they had chosen today because they had only struck their bargain in the morning?

 

 SINCE THAT FIRST NIGHT, when the baron's daughter had told Mildred about the island and her position, and how she wished to be free of the obligations of marriage and be the baron herself, Mildred had wondered if the woman was reaching out to her to be an ally. In return, once she had decided that she had to try to strike a balance between her companions and the almost idyllic society in which she found herself, and get them released, Mildred knew that she would need the assistance of Sineta in trying to persuade her father to authorize this release in the face of the strong opposition she expected from Markos.

 

 It had come to a head that morning when Mildred had explained to Sineta her decision. The woman had considered Mildred's words carefully before answering.

 

 "We must leave this island, that much you know. And the fact that you and the whitelanders have such a close bond should show all but the most intractable of the islanders that it is possible for us to live in peace on the whitelands, and that not all pale ones are the demons and ogres of legend. If they were to be released, and the islanders were to meet them and exist behind them for a short while, then it would perhaps help to reinforce this."

 

 "But there will be those who will disagree—"

 

 "There have always been people like that, in any situation," Mildred interrupted. "If they're not the majority, then their objections can be answered and overruled by the majority."

 

 "It is perhaps not that easy," Sineta argued. "There are those who have gotten to know you who will consider you a traitor to your skin for suggesting such action, wondering why you have chosen to do this after seemingly settling in with us, and these people will perhaps turn against me if I back you."

 

 Mildred shrugged. "That's a risk I'll have to take— you, too. If you help me, then I can help you. I'll support you as you need when the time comes to make your stand. I know that's what you want—shit, anyone would. You're going to take a lot of crap about your decision to assume the leadership yourself and maybe, me being an outsider, I can help you more than anyone caught up in the politics of the situation. I figure I would have done it anyway, because I feel you're doing the right thing. But just maybe having the others free will help for the reasons you say—it'll show your willingness to lead well by showing how 'pale ones' and the brothers and sisters can coexist." Mildred smiled deprecatingly. "I know I've got my own agenda, but that doesn't mean that I don't mean it, right?"

 

 Sineta came forward and embraced her. "I believe you, and I believe in you, Mildred Wyeth. You have your bargain. There is only one thing I would wish to know—why has it taken you so long to talk of this?"

 

 ALWAYS THE SAME question. Mildred had no idea how it could be answered, but the moment was saved by the sudden explosion of Markos, the sec boss being no longer able to contain his anger.

 

 "Barras, you cannot seriously contemplate such a ridiculous move," he yelled, springing to his feet. "Surely you can see that this would cause nothing but discord and disharmony—"

 

 The baron silenced him with a raised hand. The sec boss's respect for the baron was such that he ceased speaking immediately, although his staring eyes and heaving chest told of the emotion he fought to contain. "Do not tell me what I may or may not do for my own people. Until—if—you take the hand of my daughter, you are not the baron nor the heir to the responsibility. So do no presume to tell me my duty."

 

 "I'm…I'm sorry," the sec boss stammered. "I did not wish…1 wanted merely to—"

 

 "That is immaterial. The fact remains that you dare to speak across and against."

 

 "But what is your decision, Father?" Sineta pressed. The ailing baron beckoned Mildred to approach. Keeping an eye on the sec boss and noticing the way he stared at her as she moved near—a mixture of whipped-dog disbelief and anger—she approached the baron's bedside.

 

 "Mildred Wyeth," Barras began, as though it were a statement in itself, "I have heard much about you from my daughter. She says you are a medicine woman, and that you carry much with you. Is this so?"

 

 "It is," Mildred answered simply. "I carry what supplies I can find in my travels, and I know how to use them. But if you're going to ask—"

 

 "I am not," he interrupted. "I know that I am on the long walk to join the lands where my ancestors dwell, and I realize that the road is not long anymore. My end is drawing near, I only ask that I have peace along the way."

 

 Mildred nodded. "If that's what you want, I have medicine to ease your pain. And," she added with a glance at the sec boss, "I can instruct your healer, so that she can administer it. Just to make sure."

 

 The ghost of a grin crossed the old man's lips. "That is not necessary, but a revealing gesture. You should not distrust Markos. He is a good man, if headstrong. But he will learn the truth about your comrades soon enough, if they are free to show him."

 

 "You'll release them?"

 

 Barras nodded, then inclined his head toward the sec chief. "You will take Mildred and Sineta to the jail and release the prisoners. They are under the charge of my daughter. Also, find the albino and make sure he understands the situation."

 

 Markos breathed in heavily and slowly, as though suppressing the urge to comment, contenting himself with, "Your wishes will be complied with."

 

 Barras leaned back on the pillows supporting him, closing his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice seemed somehow smaller, weaker.

 

 "Now go, all of you. I will expect to hear from you later today, Mildred."

 

 "You will," Mildred affirmed.

 

 Sineta, Mildred and Markos turned to leave, the sec boss allowing the women to precede him out the door. However, when they were outside he pushed brusquely past Mildred, muttering, "Follow me now and we will get this madness over and done with."

 

 Letting him move on a few paces, Mildred stayed Sineta with a hand on her arm.

 

 "You've done your bit—lady, the deal is on."

 

 INSIDE THE JAIL, the air was no longer fresh. Even the adobe walls and the lack of windows couldn't keep the inside of the building cool. The most crushing element was boredom. The five inhabitants found their conversation moving in ever-decreasing circles until it reached the point where all they could discuss was when Mildred or Jak would attempt to break them out. It was that or try to sleep. Even thinking was impossible. Monotonously, the subject would always return to the subject of escape. What had happened to Mildred and Jak, and why had they heard nothing from either? The air was still and humid, the latrine in the corner of the room imbuing the atmosphere with a dankness. Their bedding was hard and made good sleep impossible and, although they had been fed and watered well, there had been little opportunity to bathe. They felt sweaty, itchy and in some discomfort.

 

 "Four people approaching," Dean said to no one in particular.

 

 "They're heading straight for here, and I'm sure I just heard Jak's voice!" Krysty exclaimed, sitting upright. Her red hair, lank with dirt, still waved around her head to indicate there was no danger in the approach.

 

 "Jak? With others? What the fireblasted hell is this all about?" Ryan questioned rhetorically, lifting himself up into a sitting position.

 

 They heard the footsteps and voices draw near, exchanging only the odd word, but enough to identify the sec boss Markos, Jak, and Mildred, along with a voice that none recognized.

 

 "Millie? With Jak and the sec chief?" J.B. queried. "This is going to be interesting, if nothing else."

 

 They heard the lock on the door turn and click after a few barked words from the sec boss. The door was flung open. At first the sudden sharp light of the midafternoon sun was blinding and it took the companions eyes a few moments to adjust. But when their vision cleared, they could see the doorway blocked by Markos's tall, muscular figure. Behind him, it was possible to see the confused sec guard standing with Mildred, Jak and a fine-boned, dark-skinned woman.

 

 "You are free to go," the sec chief said sharply.

 

 "Say that again?" Ryan muttered.

 

 "You are free to go. You are no longer to be held captive, but are to be freed into the care of Sineta and the sister Mildred." He stepped back to allow them to leave.

 

 As they stepped out into the light, Markos added, "I do not approve of this—she knows that. And I will watch you as the stooping bird watches the mouse. I am ready, should you choose to overstep any boundaries that are set for you." With which the sec boss turned on his heel and walked off, leaving the companions alone together for the first time since their landing, and in the company of Sineta.

 

 After a joyful reunion, Mildred introduced Sineta. When they learned that she was the daughter of the baron, it became clear to the prisoners why they had been granted release. At the behest of Sineta, the companions then walked the short distance to her home, where they bathed and changed into clean clothes Sineta had brought to them by women from the ville. Their own clothes were taken to be cleaned. The women returned immediately with food and drink.

 

 "You will be given quarters later, so that you may rest. But first you must eat and we will explain to you what has occurred."

 

 " 'We' ?" Krysty asked, looking from Mildred to Jak who shrugged helplessly, knowing that Ryan wouldn't like the situation any more than he did himself.

 

 "Yeah, it's not that complex, but it does need explaining," Mildred offered.

 

 And so, after they had eaten, the companions settled down to hear what Mildred and Sineta had to say. When they had outlined what had occurred and the conditions of their release, Ryan turned to Jak.

 

 "What do you think of this?" the one-eyed man asked the albino.

 

 Jak shrugged. "Good people here—some little crazy, but most fair. Good to me, mebbe not you. Mildred in for trouble, I think. But probably no real danger."

 

 "And do you reckon Markos'll play this one down the line?" Ryan added.

 

 "Good man," Jak affirmed. "Listen albino brother too much. Weird shit ideas, there. Not about people at all, but some kind of self thing."

 

 Sineta interrupted. "Jak's right. Markos listens too much to his brother, and for all his talk I have often felt that Chan uses ideas as a shield and mask for his real self. I would not trust him, but I would trust Markos." Ryan chewed his lip, then fixed his eye on Sineta. "Okay. Look, I don't want you to think that we're not grateful for what you've done for Mildred or for us, but we don't belong here. I figure the best thing is we get the hell out as soon as possible."

 

 There was a general murmur of agreement from all except Mildred. She looked Ryan in the eye and spoke low and clear.

 

 "No, Ryan. If you want to go, you go alone. I can't. I made a promise."

 

 "But, Millie! We can't leave without you!" J.B. exclaimed.

 

 "Yes, you can, John, and you'll have to if you want to go right now."

 

 "You know we can't do that. You'll be ripped to pieces if we disappear and leave you. It'll confirm everything that worries Markos and the others like him," Krysty said softly.

 

 "I can't help that. I've given my word, and I want to stay," Mildred asserted.

 

 "But why?" Dean asked, although he thought he already knew. He needed to hear this for his own reasons.

 

 "Because I've never been in any place where I felt I belonged, and now perhaps I do," Mildred began.

 

 They sat and listened while she explained to them about her background and the lack of identity she had sometimes felt since awakening in the postdark world. All the thoughts that had whirled around her head over the past few days now came tumbling out, taking better shape for her as they were spoken. She told of things that they had spoken of when they were first imprisoned: of the prejudices they had seen in the oil wells and the division of people based on skin and race they had seen in other places during their travels.

 

 All of it made sense to them, but there was one vital question that remained unspoken and unanswered. It was a question that J.B. put to her when she fell silent.

 

 "So who's more important, Millie—us or them?"

 

 It was a question that Mildred couldn't immediately answer.

 

 The atmosphere was strained for the rest of the evening and Mildred was glad when a sec man arrived to show the companions to the quarters they would share in the ville. Jak was told he would be relocated with his compatriots.

 

 As they started to leave, J.B. noticed that Mildred made no attempt to move. "You coming with us?" he asked her.

 

 Mildred avoided his gaze for a second, then decided that she couldn't opt out in this way. She met the Armorer's eye with a level gaze.

 

 "I'm staying here, John. That's part of the deal."

 

 "Guess that mebbe answers my question," he said, looking away as he joined the others.

 

 "And maybe it's just not that simple," Mildred murmured as they left.

 

 DAWN BROKE with a clear sky and a light breeze that was chill but refreshing. Certainly refreshing enough for Ryan and Krysty to be out before many of the ville's inhabitants were awake. However, those who were up greeted the appearance of the couple as they walked through the streets with a mixture of curiosity and outright hostility.

 

 "Remind me again why we're doing this?" Krysty whispered to Ryan as they passed a sec man who made a point of sliding the catch on his blaster, either as a totem or a reminder not to step out of line.

 

 "Because we need to take a look around ourselves before we get assigned our work tasks," Ryan replied. "When Mildred and Sineta were talking about the ville and where it's situated on the island, they mentioned an inlet."

 

 "Yeah and they also made a point of saying how it would be real hard to get down there unobserved," Krysty pointed out.

 

 "True enough, but I'd just as soon check it out for myself. If Mildred reckons it's a no go, then normally I'd trust her—"

 

 "Normally?" Krysty queried.

 

 "Ninety-nine percent," Ryan answered. "Trouble is, this is that one percent. This ain't easy for her, but I sure as shit do not want to be trapped here at the mercy of a people that may turn against us."

 

 "That shouldn't happen," Krysty said.

 

 "Yeah, operative word being shouldn't," Ryan replied. "But this isn't a normal situation for Mildred, or for us. We've already talked about this, and last night did nothing to change my view on it. I don't blame Mildred—figure I'd feel the same if I was her. But I'm not."

 

 By this time they had left the ville and were walking down a path, beaten smooth by constant use over the years. A path that led to a sandy strip of beach that marked the small bay formed by the inlet.

 

 "Yeah, this would be fireblasted difficult to run an escape from right now, especially as we don't have any blasters," Ryan speculated as he turned and looked back up the hillside toward the ville. "Even more so as we've been followed."

 

 "I thought as much," Krysty mused, turning to follow his gaze. Her hair coiled around her in warning, as she squinted up into the trees to see a sec man lurking among the undergrowth. His stance was nonaggressive, but he had obviously been deputed to keep watch on them. "Wait, there's someone coming," she added. They could hear Mildred before they saw her. She appeared at a bend in the path, coming toward them. Even at a distance, they could tell from her body language that she felt uncomfortable.

 

 "Ryan, Krysty, what are you doing?" she asked as she approached across the sand.

 

 "Stupe question, Mildred. You know what we're doing," Ryan replied.

 

 "I had hoped that asking you not to escape but to help me, and help Sineta, would be enough," Mildred stated.

 

 The one-eyed man shook his head sadly. "Come on, what did you really expect? Most of the people here are going to be suspicious, some hostile, and a few might just decide to deal with us. We've got no blasters and only the word of your new ally that we'd be okay. If you were me, what would you do?" He waited, but Mildred didn't answer. Ryan continued. "You were right. If this is the only way to insure getting safely out to sea, then it'll be too difficult for us to crack without a major firefight. And I don't want it to come to that any more than you do. But I've got to check it out, have a backup plan if it all fucks up. After all, while you're helping Sineta we're going to be weaponless—"

 

 "Only our blasters," Mildred countered. "You, John and Jak still have knives."

 

 "Good you said 'our' blasters," Ryan noted, "but the situation is still basically the same. We're still going to be workers, at the mercy of others."

 

 "Join the club, Ryan—that's what my ancestors were," Mildred said heatedly.

 

 "Fair point." The one-eyed man shrugged. "I'm just worried that someone will get over excited and try to get some retroactive vengeance using us as the pawns."

 

 Mildred sighed. "Ryan, there's no real way of winning here, is there? Look, I don't figure that's going to happen. You know why I want to help Sineta. I haven't felt like this since I was a kid. And you know I don't want to let you guys down. Yeah, I'm torn here, but I need your help to help me. Prove to the idiots here that not all whitelanders are against them. As for those that would try to chill you to prove their point… Shit, there's fools like that trying to chill us every day."

 

 "That's fair," Krysty murmured. "We should help Mildred. That way we all get to the mainland and all get what we want."

 

 The one-eyed man pondered that. Finally he said, "Yeah, okay. I can't pretend to understand how you feel, but I know you realize why I feel like I do. But I warn you—if the shit hits, then we'll have to go in hard and for our lives."

 

 "Wouldn't expect it any other way, Ryan," Mildred told him.

 

 Krysty looked up at the waiting sec man, who had stepped onto the path at Mildred's entrance. She indicated his presence to both Mildred and Ryan before she spoke.

 

 "Come on, let's get back to the ville to see what we're supposed to be doing, before Markos and that brother of his start getting reports that'll give them ideas."

 

  

 

 Chapter Seven

 

  

 

 "Father, now that we have the opportunity, we must act," Sineta pleaded, holding the old man's hand while his healer administered the injection of morphine, supervised by Mildred.

 

 "You push me when I cannot think straight. My mind is traveling ever more like a maze, like the path of a half-crazy snake. Perhaps that is what I now am—" Barras halted as another spasm of pain racked his body, biting hard to try to prevent crying out in agony.

 

 "Just hang in there," Mildred said softly. "It'll take a few moments to start working."

 

 She indicated to Sineta to follow her to the far side of the room. She didn't want the baron to hear what she had to say, although, looking at the hard lump protruding from his stomach, the only sign of anything other than skin and bone on his wasted frame, she knew that inhisheart he already knew what shehad to say.

 

 "Mildred,I know he is notlong for this world and will soon join our ancestors, but that is why I must press him," Sineta said quickly, preempting Mildred.

 

 "Sineta, I can't remember the last time I saw cancer like that. The tumor inside him must be huge, and it looks like it has spread over his whole body. He must be in immense pain. Any shots I can give him are not going to be strong enough. Pretty soon, he'll be too resistant to the dope to get any relief. How can he make any decisions like that?"

 

 "But he must. He is the baron, and we cannot move without his word."

 

 Mildred closed her eyes and sighed. "Okay, but don't be hard on him. It must be all he can do to keep lucid right now."

 

 They returned to the baron's bedside. From the expression on his face and the misting in his eyes, the morphine had kicked in enough to give him temporary relief.

 

 "Father—" Sineta began, but was cut short.

 

 "I know. I have a brief time of calm in which to gather my thoughts. Find Markos quickly and bring him here."

 

 Sineta rushed from the room, leaving Mildred and the healer alone. The baron dismissed the healer with a wave, then extended his arm, offering Mildred his hand. She took it and felt how weak his grip had become.

 

 "Listen to me, Mildred Wyeth. I have two things that I must do before the long night draws in on me. I must authorize the evacuation of our now-barren home, and I must decide between Elias and Markos for a husband." He smiled weakly, catching a look in Mildred's eye. "You think I should let my daughter rule alone, as she wishes? Ah, if only it were that simple. I would trust her to be a good leader, but the people of this island believe that a baron should be male."

 

 "If you trust her that much, why not make the precedent?" Mildred asked gently, interrupting him.

 

 Barras shook his head gently. "Another time, perhaps. But this is a crucial point in our history. We have to take to the whitelands to survive, and there would be too much fragility in a change of convention at such a time. Surely you can see that?"

 

 "I can't say I agree totally, but I do see where you're coming from," Mildred admitted.

 

 "Markos is a good man, but distrusts the pale ones because of his brother's teachings. Elias is more open, but does not have the people's respect. This delicate balance I must use for my decision. And at a time when I cannot think. There is something else that colors my mind and makes the choosing hard. A secret that is passed down the baronial line and must rest with Sineta before I go into the darkness. Something that is made the more important by the fact of our leaving the island."

 

 "Then maybe you should tell her now, while you still have the lucidity," Mildred counseled.

 

 Barras clicked his teeth and shook his head. "Again, not that simple. It could be awkward for this to be known when we—they—are preparing to leave. I will stay here, for I will be gone. But the secret cannot. I must trust you with this, Mildred Wyeth, so that you may carry it with you and tell Sineta at the right moment."

 

 "And what will be the right moment?"

 

 "You will know. You have enough wisdom for that." The old man looked away from Mildred, toward the doorway, as he heard the approach of Sineta and Markos. He said hurriedly, "It would be impolitic to tell you now—another time, when you administer my painkiller. Now I must prepare for my final great decree."

 

 The door to the adobe hut opened and Sineta entered with Markos respectfully at her heel. The sec man shot Mildred a glance that was curious. Was it because he wondered what had been said while she was alone with the baron or was it because he still couldn't figure her out? The baron had sat himself upright on the pillows and looked from his daughter to the sec boss. He sucked in a breath that was constrained and painful, then began. "I had my daughter bring you here because I have a decree. You will not like it, but it is a necessity. From today, we ready the islanders to leave our home and transport all our wealth, belongings and our spirits to the whitelands."

 

 Markos's eyes widened and his mouth fell agape. It took him a moment to regain his composure before saying, "Is this wise?"

 

 "You dare to question me?" Barras snapped. For the briefest of moments Mildred could see the strength of the man shine through, an insight into how he had to have been before the cancer ripped through him.

 

 "No, I would not presume to contradict the word of a baron. I would, however, wish to understand why such a decision—one that will meet with much opposition within the community and inspire resentment that will be divisive in some quarters—has been made." Barras gave a wry grin. "Very politic. In truth, I would not wish to leave this island unless it was necessary. And in truth, you know that it is. Take your head from the sand and look around you, Markos. This island can no longer support us. Successive generations have drained it dry, and now we have to find a new home. It will not be easy to wrench ourselves away from here, but it must be done. I shall not see it, but it is important we set matters in train right now, lest it be too late."

 

 "You mean that the word would be better received from you than from me," Sineta said bitterly.

 

 "That is not a stain on you, but rather an acknowledgment of fact. We shall talk of this another time, when we are alone. For now, all that remains to be said is that it is up to you and Markos to inform the people of my decision and to implement the necessary measures for the people to move. Now leave me. I feel tired, and have to rest…"

 

 Barras lay back on the pillows and closed his eyes.

 

 "The morphine's really taken effect now," Mildred whispered. "It'll put him out for a few hours."

 

 "Then we should leave," Markos said in a clipped, strained voice. "I have matters to attend, but I shall be at your home in two hours, if that is acceptable, to discuss arrangements."

 

 Sineta acknowledged the sec boss. "In two hours, then." When he had left, she said to Mildred, "Although it was the decisive action I wanted, I feel this is going to be fraught with problems."

 

 Mildred looked back at Barras, thinking of the secret he would be imparting to her trust. "Oh, yeah," she said slowly, "that's for sure."

 

 THE MEETING at Sineta's dwelling was short and far from sweet. Markos made it known that the move would bring nothing but trouble and that he, personally, was far from happy about living on the whitelands. However, he had a job to do and he would discharge his duty to the best of his ability. Having made his position clear, Mildred noticed that he seemed to relax and shift into a different gear, acting with a clearness of head and clarity of purpose that she wouldn't have thought possible. Plans for the evacuation were drawn with speed, the sec boss pointing out areas of difficulty and overcoming them with ease. It was hard to believe that this was the same man who had started the meeting by voicing such objections.

 

 He left in the still watches of the night, the plans complete. It was agreed that they would hold an island meeting the next morning to make matters clear and to begin the process. As he left, the sec boss ordered the night watches to prevent early rising hunters, miners, farmers and fishermen from beginning their tasks. Everyone had to be present in the main square when the meeting began. For Sineta and Mildred, it meant a night of little sleep. The reaction of the people was an unknown that worried the baron's daughter.

 

 As for Mildred, she wondered how her companions would feel, hearing this from someone else while she stood beside the baron's daughter. She knew that if it were her, she would feel in some way betrayed, and made wary. Yet she couldn't go to tell them now, for there could be no risk of the news leaking before the next morning. It was an untenable position.

 

 "I WONDER WHAT THE HELL this is about," Ryan said as the companions gathered in the main square with the rest of the Pilatans.

 

 "Whatever it is, Millie's got a hand in it," J.B. mused, seeing her enter the square with Markos and Sineta. "Which kind of makes me wonder why she didn't tell us about it."

 

 Doc laid a hand on the Armorer's shoulder. "I fear that is something on which you dwell too deeply, John Barrymore. Dear Dr. Wyeth is walking a very fine line at the moment, and we have to allow for this."

 

 "Yeah, but how far do we do that before it gets to be a problem?" Dean asked.

 

 Krysty shot him a puzzled look. "You're doubting Mildred?"

 

 Dean grimaced. "No, not really. It's just that… well, she kind of belongs here, and I figure that stuffs important. Mebbe more important."

 

 Doc raised an eyebrow. "You've been unsettled since we landed here, young Dean. What is it that ails you?"

 

 "Nothing," Dean muttered, shrugging off the memories of dreams that haunted him.

 

 "This still more interesting than waiting next hunt," Jak murmured.

 

 There was a raised platform in the middle of the square that was used for speeches and celebrations, and the trio of Markos, Mildred and Sineta mounted it to a hum of speculation that stilled as the sec boss raised an arm.

 

 "People, it is very rare in our history that we have to meet in such a way. And it is beyond such that we meet today, for we have something unprecedented in our history of which to speak. Our beloved Barras is too ill to come to speak, but he has given me orders and requested his daughter to speak to you. Pray be silent and listen well, for what Sineta has to say is of the utmost import."

 

 He stood back and made way for the woman. She stepped forward and looked over the sea of faces in front of her. Never before in her life had the reality of being the baron—the leader and focal point of so many—become so apparent. It was several moments before she found her voice.

 

 For many in the gathering it wasn't long enough. Markos's brother Chan stood in the crowd, instantly distinguishable because of his pigmentless skin, and listened in growing disbelief and anger to what Sineta had to say. She told the people of her father's decision to authorize a mass exodus to the whitelands and why. Their resources were all used up. It was a simple case of move or buy the farm. She explained that her father, herself and Markos were aware that many would be against mixing with the pale ones. These people had to face the reality of the situation.

 

 The plan was to find a place where they could live in relative isolation, so that they wouldn't have to mix with anyone—of whatever descent—if they didn't wish to. But there would be pale ones, and there would be no point in fighting it. She hoped that the presence of Mildred's companions would help to show that not all pale ones were the enemy. As for those who just did not wish to leave the island of Pilatu—they just needed to look around. The harvests were lessening; the game was harder to hunt; the mines were running dry. The island had served them well, but now it was exhausted. The time to reenter the world their ancestors had left behind had finally arrived, and truly they were the chosen ones for undertaking this momentous task.

 

 It was a good speech; a true speech. All the things that Sineta touched upon were true, albeit that they were angled to make her point seem more irrefutable. To many in the crowd, it seemed to make sense. Even those who were saddened by the thought of leaving the island could see that it wasn't a question of choice any longer.

 

 Watching the faces as Sineta spoke, Mildred felt it was going better than she might have expected. There were some that looked unhappy, even angry: not least among these being the instantly recognizable visage of Chan. Markos, too, had spotted his brother, and when Mildred glanced at the sec boss she could see the mixed emotions that boiled within him.

 

 But the faces that caught Mildred's attention most of all were those of the companions. At the back of the crowd, they stood out immediately and clearly by virtue of their skin color. She could see the amazement at the revelation, and also the disappointment. Her eyes locked with J.B.'s and, despite the distance between them, it seemed as though she could actually hear what was running through his head. His stare was accusatory. He felt that she had in some way betrayed them— could she be trusted?

 

 It saddened and angered her that he could feel that way. Of course she could be trusted. It was just that she was caught between two loyalties, two ideals. Both were right, but neither could be completely served. Instead, she had to juggle…and sometimes the ball was dropped.

 

 "SHIT, THIS IS GOING to make things very hot for us," Ryan muttered to his people.

 

 "You can say that again, lover," Krysty conceded as she watched some in the crowd turn to them. Most were curious, but others were outrightly hostile. "We're really going to have to watch our backs. There's going to be some who want to use us to prove a point, and they're going to be out to chill us."

 

 "By the Three Kennedys, one would have wished Mildred to have given us some warning." Doc sighed.

 

 J.B. answered this without taking his gaze from the platform. "She would have, once."

 

 Jak tapped the Armorer's arm. "Not real danger— look there," he said, pointing into the crowd.

 

 J.B. followed Jak's finger, the rest of the companions following suit. The albino Chan was no longer looking at Sineta or his brother on the platform. Instead, he was facing the back of the crowd, his eyes scanning for signs of the companions. Two other men had barged through the crowd and were now urgently talking to him. The albino held up his hand to silence them, then smiled slowly as he located the white faces at the back of the crowd. He spoke to the two men at his side, and they, too, directed their gazes toward the companions. They listened as he spoke. When he had finished, they indicated their agreement.

 

 "That something worry about," Jak said slowly.

 

 "We're really going to have to be triple-red from now on," Ryan mused. "Shit, I wish we could get our blasters back. Mebbe Mildred could—"

 

 "Mebbe she won't," J.B. interrupted coldly. "Figure that just mebbe we'll have to get the blasters ourselves."

 

 "You think it'll come to that?" Dean asked, alarmed.

 

 J.B. was about to answer when Krysty cut him off. "Don't say anything you might regret, J.B. And listen, I think this concerns us."

 

 On the platform, Sineta was detailing the way work at the ville would be divided until the migration. It was important to keep the land and hunt in progress, so that there would be plenty of food. Yet there was also much to do in the way of preparation and storage. One of the most important tasks would be to ready the transportation that would take them to the whitelands. New boats were to be built, and those on the fishing fleet would be rotated so that they could be adapted to take larger cargoes of people and produce and the livestock and wags that would carry the population once they hit the mainland.

 

 "Mildred's companions have much experience of such matters, and so they will work with us on the conversion of the boats. They will also help to oversee the storage of foodstuffs and belongings for the journey. They will work closely with us, and you will see the true qualities of the pale ones."

 

 Ryan cast his eye over the expectant crowd that had turned with curiosity to view them. He particularly noticed the hostile faces, especially those grouped around Chan.

 

 Sure, it would give them a chance to prove both themselves and also the point Sineta—and presumably Mildred—wanted to make.

 

 But it would also put them right in the firing line for the fanatics.

 

  

 

 Chapter Eight

 

  

 

 "Fireblast! How tough are these damn trees?" Ryan grunted as the ax stuck yet again in the fibrous wood of the trunk. Sap oozed over the ax head and down the handle, almost like glue to seal the metal into the body of the tree. The trunk gave easily at the swing of the head, but was loathe to loose the metal, making it hard and time consuming to fell even a single tree.

 

 And there were many to be felled. Wood was needed for the reinforcement of existing craft and the rapid building of more. Hard labor was required to gather this wood, and among the few islanders felling trees, the companions were set to the task. That was, all the companions except Mildred, who was still aiding Sineta. Although this decision made sense, it still rankled J.B. that Mildred hadn't been to see them while they set about their task.

 

 The islanders who joined them in tree felling were among the least friendly on the island. Many of those who had spoken openly after the meeting about not wishing to travel abroad had been rounded up by Markos's sec men and put to work out of harm's way. There was little they could do in the way of sabotage and damage to the evacuation plans while they were merely chopping trees. There was one exception—

 

 Elias, the man who was Markos's rival for the hand of Sineta.

 

 "Though I wish the move to take place smoothly, I also know my strengths—perhaps literally," he had answered when Ryan, discovering his views and identity, had questioned his being on such a 'punishment' detail. "You just have to look at me to see why I am suited to this."

 

 Ryan had to agree. Although he was softly spoken, Elias was a giant of a man. Around six feet four or five, he was broad shouldered, with a thickly corded neck and biceps and pectorals that showed a great upper body strength. He seemed to be top heavy, as his legs weren't as well muscled. However, this was only comparatively, and served to emphasize his upper body development. He was felling trees near the companions, and in work breaks had spoken with them, keen to discover more of the world beyond Pilatu. They had learned, in return, of his desire to integrate the community in the outside world, something he felt essential for its long term survival, and of his quest for Sineta's hand to further this. Taken with what they knew of Markos and his brother Chan, it made the giant Pilatan a sympathetic figure who may be a good ally.

 

 And good allies were what they would need. Even from the attitude of those around them, they knew that there would be problems. A couple of times there had been axes or knives that flew mysteriously through the air to embed themselves in trunks near where the companions worked. The sec, being dismissive, had ordered everyone back to work, thus none of the companions had been able to pinpoint the origin of the hostility. So they were constantly on triple-red, and glad for an ally among the island population. What worried the companions more than anything was that they were unarmed. Ryan's panga, J.B.'s Tekna, Dean's knife and even Doc's silver lion's-head swordstick, had been taken away by the sec. They still had Jak's leaf-bladed knives, but to keep these secret, the albino kept them about his person, which meant that he couldn't swiftly distribute them in time of trouble. There would always be a crucial delay.

 

 On the third day, Mildred came to the area where the felling was taking place to check on the progress for Sineta. She was accompanied by Markos.

 

 "There really isn't the need for you to cover me like this," Mildred snapped at him as they followed the swath left by the already felled wood. "I can look after myself, you know."

 

 "I would not suggest that you are helpless, like the rabbit caught in the snake's gaze," he answered stiffly. "On the contrary, I would be more like to compare you to the snake."

 

 "Shit, thanks," Mildred replied.

 

 Markos grimaced. "Once more you misunderstand my intent. I would almost believe that you purposely misconstrue my words so that they appear false and damaging to you."

 

 Mildred looked at the sec boss's expression and laughed. "Lighten up, Markos. I was being funny."

 

 "I am not good at being… 'funny,' as you put it," he replied with an almost too solemn dignity.

 

 "I had noticed," Mildred pointed out, followed by, "That's better," as she saw a smile of genuine amusement cross his face. "But it's true. I can look after myself."

 

 "I realize this, but factions against you may not. My presence may make them think again about attack, or at the very least give another pair of eyes to keep watch."

 

 "You really think someone may try to chill me?"

 

  He shrugged. "You are an outsider who aids change. We are going where the majority of workers have been placed out of harm's way because they oppose change. You figure it out."

 

 Mildred glared at the sec boss. "Okay. By the way, for someone who isn't funny, that actually wasn't bad. Guess I asked for it. But you didn't want change, and I don't have to fear you. Do I?"

 

 "I accept the inevitability of change and the tide of history as it ebbs and flows."

 

 "That still doesn't answer my question."

 

 "I repeat—you figure it out. But we are almost there," he added as the sound of tree felling became more apparent. They rounded a bend in the path and came upon the edges of the work party, who stopped when they saw Mildred approach. Among the workers in this section were the six companions and Elias. The dark giant stiffened on seeing the sec boss approach. "Your posture would suggest you have a problem— and quite a large one—with our friend Markos," Doc murmured.

 

 "You know him—and his pernicious brother. If you wish reinforcement for my views, just ask Jak," Elias muttered.

 

 However the companions—especially J.B.—were too preoccupied by seeing Mildred again to dwell on that.

 

 "Millie, good to see you here," J.B. said with an understatement that was obvious. "It's been a while. We wondered what was going on."

 

 "John…" Mildred returned. "I've been busy. There's a lot to do."

 

 "Plans going well for the evacuation?" Ryan asked.

 

 Mildred was about to answer when Markos stayed her with a gesture. "Remember where we are. Perhaps that is a question that should not be answered here. Mebbe later."

 

 "Yeah, perhaps you're right," Mildred agreed.

 

 J.B. spit angrily on the ground. "When later?" he said, with barely controlled anger. "We're billeted here while you're with the baron's daughter. So what happens when we get over to the mainland, eh?"

 

 "I can't even think that far ahead," Mildred replied. As she spoke, she realized what she was saying.

 

 "Well, isn't that interesting?" J.B. said, a deceptive mildness to his voice.

 

 "J.B., leave it," Ryan counseled. It wasn't an order. There was a rare softness and an understanding in the one-eyed man's tone.

 

 Krysty moved across to J.B. and took his arm. "We can talk about this later," she said softly. "Right now we've got work to do, and I'm sure Mildred has, too." With which the redhead shot Mildred a look that asked her what the hell she meant, before leading the Armorer away.

 

 "Yeah, mebbe weshould talk about this after we get across to the mainland," Ryan said quietly. "Seems to me that you've got some decisions to make."

 

 Mildred chewed her lip thoughtfully before answering. "Yeah, maybe I have," she said simply. She turned to Markos. "We should get on. Sineta wants to know how the whole of this operation is going."

 

 She turned away to follow the sec boss through the clearing to the next sector of the felling operation. She didn't see Dean follow until she felt his hand. She whirled, ready to defend herself and wondering why she suddenly felt it necessary.

 

 "Whoa, easy!" the youth exclaimed.

 

 "Sorry, Dean. You just surprised me," Mildred replied.

 

 "It's okay," he said. "Look, I just wanted to say that, well, I guess the others just haven't thought of it, but this island… Well, I just figure that mebbe you don't feel so lonely anymore."

 

 "Lonely?" Mildred queried, puzzled.

 

 "Yeah. Mebbe that's not what I mean," he answered, struggling for the right words. "I don't know, mebbe I mean more like… Well, you don't feel so alone."

 

 Mildred sighed. "Yeah, I think I see what you mean. You might be right. But in some ways, I'd be alone without you guys. It's a difficult one to call."

 

 Dean shrugged, then looked past her to where Markos was waiting impatiently. "He's waiting, and he's not happy about it. But I just wanted to say it, that's all."

 

 Mildred grasped Dean's arm. "Okay, thanks."

 

 "What was that about?" Markos asked her when she joined him and Dean had returned to the work party.

 

 "Nothing to concern you," Mildred answered. "Let's get on with this."

 

 They moved away through the trees, and the sec boss turned to Mildred with the intention of speaking. However, he froze, causing Mildred to stop dead.

 

 "What—" she began, but he cut her short with a gesture. Indicating that she stay quiet and wait. He moved sideways from the path and into the denser growth of trees.

 

 Mildred was suddenly very aware that she was alone in the woodlands and unarmed. Since working with Sineta, she had taken to not carrying her Czech-made ZKR, which was stored safely in the home of the baron's daughter. She scanned the lands around and listened intently. There were the sounds of the work parties, but little else she could differentiate.

 

 No, to the left of her she could hear someone coming through the trees. She moved around and fell into a combat stance, crouching to prepare herself for an oncoming attack. She almost laughed with sheer relief when Markos appeared out of the trees, particularly when she saw the expression of surprise on his face when he took in her defensive stance.

 

 "I thought I heard someone follow—stealthy like a true stalker, but still clumsy enough to trip some roots and move the undergrowth," he said.

 

 "But who—" Mildred began, only to be cut off by the piercing sound of a man in mortal agony.

 

 Mildred and Markos moved as one. Both were able to pinpoint the direction of the cry, and both ran toward it. Markos had his H&K drawn and in his hands, ready for any attack. Mildred may have had no weapon for whoever had been attacking, but her thoughts were with whomever had been attacked: to offer assistance if she could.

 

 The cry had come from the area they had just left. Mildred felt a qualm of apprehension. Was that one of her friends? She hadn't recognized the voice that screamed, but it had been distorted by pain, forced high and keening.

 

 Markos and Mildred burst into a clearing to find one of the Pilatan workers, back against a tree as though resting, an initial impression belied by the pool of blood in which he reclined and the spray of crimson that spread in front of him. Markos held out his arm to keep Mildred in cover at the edge of the clearing, scanning the area for the attacker; but Mildred pushed past him to reach the afflicted man.

 

 Crouching in front of him, she could see by his blank eyes that he had already bought the farm, his life spilt onto the ground from a wound in his throat. His throat had been expertly sliced, right through cartilage and artery to the vertebrae, which showed through as Mildred tilted the head. His lifeblood had been pumped through the gaping wound in less time that it took them to locate and run to the sound of his scream.

 

 It was then that the weapon caught Mildred's eye— a leaf-bladed throwing knife had been embedded in the tree to one side of the corpse's head.

 

 Jak? It couldn't be. But the knife… Mildred's head whirled.

 

 "Stay there and don't move," Markos's voice commanded. Mildred turned sharply to see who had arrived on the scene. It was Ryan and Jak, with Elias close behind. Markos narrowed his eyes. "You're here quickly," he said with suspicion. "You don't work near here."

 

 "Don't be a fool," Elias panted. "We heard the scream and are just the quickest." He turned his attention. "The brother?"

 

 Mildred shook her head. "No way. Sliced clean through."

 

 "I see no ax. The murderer must still have—" Markos began.

 

 Mildred cut him short with a curt shake of the head. "This was no ax. Far too clean. Besides…" She pulled the leaf-bladed knife from the tree and held it out. She looked cold and hard into Jak's eyes as she revealed the weapon. The albino returned her gaze with an equal iciness. Was he masking guilt or expressing disgust at the implied suggestion of her action? Mildred couldn't tell.

 

 "I have seen no workmanship of this kind here," Markos said softly, taking the knife and examining it carefully. He kept his voice low as the clearing was now ringed by several workers from nearby, including the rest of the companions and some Pilatans who had responded to the cry of agony.

 

 "You wouldn't," Mildred replied in the same soft tone as the sec boss. Markos followed her eyes and fixed his gaze on Jak.

 

 "Now just wait a minute, Mildred," Ryan said in a level voice. "Think about this."

 

 "No need think," Jak said. "Lost two, three knives when we were taken. One of those."

 

 Markos raised an eyebrow. "And someone found it in the undergrowth on the other side of the island and brought it over here to do this?" he intoned sardonically.

 

 Jak looked around him, aware of the sudden swell of voices. The Pilatans—not best disposed to the companions in any case—had turned hostile in a matter of moments. The other companions moved close around Jak, their body language subtly changing as they tensed for an attack.

 

 "Wait!" Elias stepped into the clearing, turning to look at the gathered islanders. He turned back to Markos and Mildred, a look of contempt clouding his visage. "You really would condemn this man without thinking? Even you, who are supposed to be his friend?" he added directly to Mildred.

 

 "The knife—" Markos said.

 

 "No! That proves nothing," Elias shouted. "You would not believe Jak's friends, I know—but would you also accuse me of lying?"

 

 "What do you mean?" Markos snapped. "I mean I was with the pale ones from the time that you both left until this poor unfortunate screamed," he said, gesturing to the corpse. "Jak could not have used the knife—nor any of his friends, for that matter—as they were in my sight the whole time. You will have to look elsewhere for your sacrificial lamb, my friend," he added with heavy sarcasm.

 

 "WHAT THE HELL HAVE WE become that Mildred is no longer one of us and doesn't even trust us?" J.B. asked bitterly as they returned to work.

 

 "Not her fault," Jak replied.

 

 "Jak's right," Elias added. "It was made to look like Jak. You have some pretty powerful enemies, ones who will got to the length of taking a discarded weapon and using it to incriminate you."

 

 Ryan nodded. "That's what worries me. If you hadn't been able to vouch for Jak's whereabouts back there, I figure we would have had one hell of a fight on our hands. They wanted to lynch us."

 

 "Yeah, and in a way I don't blame them," Krysty said thoughtfully. "That would have been a pretty good argument against going to the mainland, if we were the example of what it was like."

 

 "How true, dear girl, but surely our priority should be to find whoever is responsible for such actions, lest the situation be allowed to worsen."

 

 "It is easier to say than to do," Elias mused. "After all, many of the work parties are separated from each other, and it is easy to move about undetected in these woods. Come to that," he added after a thoughtful pause, "do we know that Mildred and Markos had each other in sight the whole time?"

 

 Ryan frowned. "You think that Markos may have had something to do with this?"

 

 Elias shrugged. "He was quick enough to point the finger of suspicion, and was he not in charge of the party that took you prisoner on the far side of the island? What better opportunity to have retrieved the knife—perhaps only for a trophy or to study—or to know where such a weapon may be."

 

 It gave the companions pause for thought. If their enemy was the sec chief, then they would have to keep close counsel and watch one another with the utmost care.

 

 The oppressive thought killed all conversation and each was lost in his or her own thoughts as they returned to felling trees. The work was hard and there was a plentiful supply of water. However, the humidity was such that they drank far more than intended, leaving them dry, as J.B. discovered when, with a loud curse, he turned the empty canteen upside down. "Dark night, nothing about this pesthole is good."

 

 "River there," Jak commented, indicating through the trees. "Mebbe fill canteen."

 

 "Is it drinkable down there?" Ryan asked Elias. The dark giant shrugged. "It may be a little brackish with this density of wood—the river gets blocked too frequently to flow fresh—but it will still be drinkable."

 

 "Better than nothing," the Armorer commented in a taciturn manner as he took the canteen and headed toward the river that ran parallel to the area being felled by the work parties. As he made his way through the trees, J.B. could hear the other tree fellers at work. But his attention wasn't on his surroundings. Spinning around his head were thoughts that he didn't want to consider. If they managed to get off this island in one piece, without either being chilled by separatists or lynched by those who felt they were responsible for the death, then it was highly possible that Mildred may part company with them. Although there was a part of the Armorer that could understand Mildred's dilemma, for the most part he could only think of traveling on without her. It wasn't something that he wished to contemplate. He wasn't a man for expressing his feelings, but he had always assumed that she knew their depth. Perhaps he was wrong.

 

 He had reached the bank of the river, which was little more than a stream, that ran sluggishly. He bent to scoop up a palmful of water to taste it and to appease the dryness in his throat. He grimaced as it hit his taste buds. It was sour and brackish, tainted by the leaves and twigs. But it wasn't poisonous and better than nothing. J.B. uncorked the canteen and dipped it into the flowing stream.

 

 It was as he lowered himself to his full extent to reach out to catch the water at its fullest flow that he heard the snap of a twig behind him. It was a sharp crack, suggesting a heavy footfall and no small animal following its own path.

 

 Cursing to himself, the Armorer threw himself forward into the river. The realization that he had been so wrapped up in thought that he hadn't been observing the slightest caution angered him. He couldn't believe that he'd been so stupe, so soon after they had been under threat. He had to have been simple to track, and he was relieved that whoever was in his wake had been so careless as to give him unintentional warning. He gasped in as much breath as he had time before he hit the surface of the water, flat and hard. The leaves and branches stung with the force of his flattened impact, the surface hard to him like a stone being skimmed across it.

 

 That wasn't the only sting he felt. Before his ears were filled with water, he heard the harsh bark of a blaster. From the tone, he figured it was a Glock, and his stalker had time only to loose off a single shot. Just the one, but enough to catch him as he entered the water, a burning needle entering his hip. It felt like a graze. He had to have made the water in time to prevent a better shot. It still hurt like hell, though, the residual impact and the shock making him turn in the water. Somehow his glasses stayed on, although his battered fedora floated past his eyes as he rolled over. He felt his backside and legs hit the muddy bottom of the riverbed, soft and clinging. He kicked, churning up silt as he freed himself from the mud's grip. He reached out and grabbed his hat, not wanting it to hit the surface.

 

 The dirt in the water stung his eyes and he could only see light reflected against the opaque surface of the river. If he couldn't see out past the scum and detritus on the surface, then it was a fair bet to assume that whoever was after him couldn't see in past the same. So unless they wanted to take another random shot, he was safe for the time being.

 

 But not for long. His descent had been too swift for him to do anything other than take a regular breath, and he could feel his lungs burn and burst. He had to let out air and somehow break surface enough to take in more oxygen. He spasmed and coughed, bubbles of carbon dioxide exploding from his nostrils and heading for the surface, giving away his position. He ignored the pain in his hip and the dark stream of blood that colored the water around him. If he was going to break surface soon, he needed to move so that he would be harder to resight and fire upon.

 

 Following the flow of the river, he turned and kicked, propelling himself downstream until he had no choice but to surface and gasp more air into his lungs. He hoped that the others had heard the report of the Glock, and would have headed to the riverbank to investigate. They might not catch whoever had fired, but at least they would scare him away, leaving J.B. to escape the river in safety.

 

 He could hear the blood pounding in his ears and see the black stars exploding in front of his eyes as he stroked, trying to keep low in the water. It was no good, he would have to surface now, before it was too late and his lungs exploded, expelling carbon dioxide and taking in the brackish water instead of fresh air.

 

 Kicking up, careful not get his feet caught in the mud, J.B. broke surface, the air light and fresh after the heaviness of the water, his mouth hungrily sucking in air as his lungs, shot through with the agonies of relief. He couldn't tell how far downstream he had traveled, and right then he didn't care. Neither was he mindful of the hidden marksman taking another shot at him. He could breathe again and that was all that mattered.

 

 Spluttering, brackish water running from his nose, J.B. set his feet lightly on the bed of the river. It was chest deep at that point and it buoyed him enough to prevent his heavy boots becoming bogged down in the mud. His ears popped as water ran from them, the sound now piercing and painfully clear and bright.

 

 "J.B.! Fireblast, man, are you okay?"

 

 Ryan was running along the riverbank, leaping over the foliage and twisted tree roots that sprung out into the water in his attempt to reach the Armorer. Krysty was close behind, her hair flailing free behind her, suggesting that the moment of real danger was past. Farther along the bank, back where he had dived into the river, J.B. could see Dean and Doc holding down a struggling man, while the giant Elias, and Jak—who looked even more deceptively small and frail next to the muscular Pilatan—stood guard, holding off a small cabal of wood cutters who were clustered around.

 

 J.B., still clutching his fedora, struck out for the bank, hauling himself up with the help of the one-eyed man's outstretched hand. As his right leg hit the bank, no longer supported by the water's buoyancy, he felt a sharpness as pain seared through the muscle and the leg buckled beneath him.

 

 "Fuck, that stings," he hissed. "I figured the bastard caught me as I hit the water. My own fault. Should have heard him coming before, but—"

 

 "It doesn't matter," Krysty said, joining Ryan in helping support J.B. as he took his. weight off the damaged leg. "You need to get that dressed as soon as possible. We'll have to get back to the ville."

 

 "If we can. They might have other ideas," Ryan added, indicating the men gathered around the companions and the prone attacker.

 

 As they approached, they could hear Elias trying to reason with the crowd.

 

 "You do not have the ears of the deaf. You heard the shot for yourselves, and now one of the pale ones is missing, while we find this man with a blaster in his hands."

 

 "Where is this missing man?" one of the crowd demanded.

 

 "Here," J.B. yelled, "and that bastard shot was good enough to hurt."

 

 Jak and Elias turned to see the Armorer hobble back toward them with the help of Ryan and Krysty. A brief smile flickered across the albino's face. It was soon erased by the words of the crowd.

 

 "They chill one of ours, why shouldn't they pay?"

 

 Elias shook his head. "That is not right. You heard me say that I was with them when that murder occurred. Do you still not believe me? Truly, you have worse heads than the boar you closely resemble in temper."

 

 "John Barrymore, it is a relief to see you. I feared that perhaps we had lost you when there was no sign."

 

 "Just keeping my head down, Doc," the Armorer deadpanned.

 

 "I don't want to spoil the moment, but I figure we'd better get J.B.'s leg looked at as soon as possible," Ryan broke in. "We need to get back to the ville, and take him with us," he added, indicating the man still being held down by Dean and Doc.

 

 "Why should you have any help when our people are left to buy the farm?" asked one of the crowd, a hard-faced man whose eyes were alive with hate. "One of our people is chilled by a weapon of yours, and our ville is in the hands of one who allows herself to be defiled by you. It is a pity that he did not drown."

 

 Ryan felt J.B. stiffen at this reference to himself and Mildred, and stayed his friend with an increase of pressure in his grip on the Armorer's shoulder. "Easy, J.B. Don't let him rile you," he whispered.

 

 Elias spit on the ground in front of him with contempt. "Is that all you can think of, when we are at a crucial moment in the history of our people? You should be left here to rot when the rest of us move on." He turned and took the Glock from where it lay on the ground, then swung around to face the group in front of him. "I will carry this blaster, so that even you cannot protest about the weapon being in the hands of the pale ones. We will leave now and head back to the ville. You—" he inclined his head briefly to the man on the ground "—will come with us, and if you try to escape I will blast you myself. Come, let us go."

 

 As Elias leveled the blaster at them, the crowd of disgruntled Pilatans moved back to allow the companions and their captive to pass through. Dean had the Pilatan captive's arm up behind him in a hammerlock, with Doc at his side, one of Jak's knives in the older man's grasp, poised for the captive's ribs to strike if necessary. Jak led the way, and behind Dean, Doc and the captive came J.B., supported by Ryan and Krysty. The Armorer gritted his teeth and tried to put as much weight as possible on his leg to save the energy of the duo who supported him—there was some way to go before they reached the ville. The wound, which stretched from his thigh up to his hip, was still bleeding, and he could feel his leg starting to stiffen. It wasn't deep, but this was partly why the wound refused to stop bleeding, despite the effort Krysty had made to pack it to staunch the flow.

 

 Elias covered them, walking backward, until they had rounded a bend in the path and it was no longer possible to see the Pilatans gathered by the riverbank. The giant turned so that he could walk in a more regular manner, but still kept vigilant for attack from the rear or the sides.

 

 "Don't need to tell you, I know, but keep your ears open, Jak. I don't think we can trust them," he said.

 

 "Already there," the albino replied. He had a leaf-bladed knife in each hand and was alert for the slightest sound.

 

 "This is really gonna let the shit hit the wall," J.B. said through gritted teeth as they progressed. "What the fuck will Markos and Mildred make of this one?"

 

 COMPLETELY UNAWARE at that moment of what was going on in the woods, the sec boss and Mildred were about to part company. After leaving the wood felling sites, they had walked down to the beach where work was progressing on the refashioning of the boats. From here, they had moved into the ville itself, where there were moves afoot to pack up as much of the ville as possible for transportation while still keeping it running until such time came for them to depart. Both at the beach and in the ville, Mildred was aware that there were sections of the community that resented her presence as an overseer and were more inclined to talk to the sec boss than they were to her directly. She wondered if Sineta would have been wiser to make the round of the works herself with the sec boss rather than send Mildred, for the doctor had heard some talk among sections of the populace concerning herself and J.B., and also talk of resentment that such a mere interloper should be acting as a liaison between the baron and the Pilatans.

 

 They couldn't know the truth. Barras was approaching the end of his life. Despite the painkillers she had given him, Mildred had known from the first that the baron's condition was critical. What had surprised her was the sudden worsening of that condition. It was as though the old man had been grimly hanging on, waiting for the deadlock in his people to be broken. The arrival of Mildred and the rest of the companions had been the catalyst and now action had finally been taken. With nothing left to live for, and the knowledge that any attempt to move him would hasten his demise, the old baron had let go and was rapidly approaching the crisis point. So his daughter was spending as much time with him as possible, deputing Mildred to fulfill her tasks. But the people couldn't be told, as they couldn't be distracted from their purpose at this time.

 

 Mildred and the sec boss arrived back at Sineta's quarters and entered. As Mildred had expected, the baron's daughter wasn't there.

 

 "You'd better get on with your own tasks," Mildred said wearily. "I've kept you from them enough. Lord knows, if I'm tired, you must be exhausted by the time you finish your working day right now, having to nursemaid me, as well."

 

 Markos lingered for a moment, as if shaping the words that he spoke. "On the contrary, I would argue that it is a vital part of my duty—and a part from which I derive great satisfaction—to work alongside you."

 

 Mildred allowed herself a smile before answering. "It's good of you, but it must be a real pain in the ass to have to follow me around."

 

 "It is something I would do from choice," the sec boss returned.

 

 He was looking at her intently, and as her eyes locked on to his, she felt a wave of emotion sweep over her. Qualms she had felt about consequences of any actions on the companions were swept from her mind.

 

 Markos crossed the room and embraced her, bending so that his lips could meet hers. Mildred responded eagerly, pulling him to her fiercely.

 

 As Markos's hands slid down Mildred's back to cup her buttocks, the couple was distracted by the sounds of a gathering crowd outside. He broke the embrace, shot Mildred a puzzled glance, then rushed to the door.

 

 Mildred followed and was astounded to see J.B., supported by Ryan and Krysty, hobbling across the main square, his wound still bleeding, while the growing crowd stared at their captive fellow Pilatan, with Elias holding the Glock steadily trained on him.

 

 "Mildred, J.B. really needs some attention," Ryan yelled as he caught sight of her.

 

 "And I have something that I think, equally, is in need of your attention," Elias added, gesturing with the Glock.

 

  

 

 Chapter Nine

 

  

 

 "Millie, where are you going?"

 

 Mildred turned at the sound of J.B.'s voice. It was the afternoon following the blaster incident by the river, and after she had dressed his wound and shot him full of painkiller, it was decided that he would be unable to return to tree felling until it had healed. In fact, with the time scale under which they were now operating, it was likely that J.B. wouldn't be able to take part in the evacuation procedures.

 

 It was Mildred's suggestion that he remain in the ville, where he could make himself useful by utilizing his skills to supervise the cleaning and packaging of the Pilatan armory. It would also give him a chance to restore to full working order the companions' own blasters, which were currently lying idle. Markos had bristled when she outlined the plan, but as the Pilatan armorer, a man named Simeon who was known to be sympathetic to integration, had raised no objection, Sineta had overruled the sec boss's objections.

 

 Mildred had just left Sineta's quarters on her way to a meeting with Barras. She was spotted by J.B. as he left the armory to fetch more packing cases while Simeon went through the spare H&Ks.

 

 "John, I can't stop right now. I've got to see Barras." she said in a bright tone, one that sounded false to her as soon as the words left her mouth. From the change in the Armorer's normally taciturn expression, she could see that it was equally obvious to him.

 

 "Guess if it's that important," he replied, not even bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

 

 She changed direction and walked toward him. "It's not like that, John, and you know it. But I'm under a lot of pressure here."

 

 "We're all under pressure," J.B. answered quietly. "You're not alone. How do you think it is for the rest of us, being in such a minority?"

 

 "You know my views on that," she snapped, then sighed as she realized how it had to have sounded. "Shit, you know that's not what I mean. Look, if this is going to come off, then I've got a thin line to walk, as Sineta has left it all to me while she looks after her father."

 

 "Quite convenient for her," J.B. mused. "If it turns to shit, then who'll get the blame?"

 

 Mildred shrugged. "Yeah, I know it looks that way, but trust me when I say that it isn't."

 

 J.B. mirrored her shrug. "Whatever you say, Millie. Point is, we don't actually see enough of you to actually be kept in the picture."

 

 "It's hard, John. There's so much to attend to." As she spoke, she looked around the square and could see Markos talking to a sec guard outside the baron's quarters. His eyes kept flicking across to her and she became acutely aware that she was being watched. "Look, I can't stop to talk now. I really have to be getting on with things. After all, he is still baron, and I can't afford to piss him off…for all our sakes."

 

 "I guess not," J.B. said, sounding far from convinced. "I suppose I have my own work to do."

 

 There was an awkward pause and finally Mildred said, "Look, I'll tell you what we can do. Meet me here at about nine tonight. I'll fill you in on what's been going down, and you can let the others know what plans have been made." There was also the unspoken subtext that she would be seeing J.B. on his own. Right now, she wasn't sure how she felt about that, but she didn't want to hurt the Armorer at a time when they all had to pull together.

 

 When they all had to pull together? Who? The Pilatans? The companions? Which camp was she in, and who was she thinking of when she used the term "we"? Issues that she had pushed to the back of her mind came bubbling to the surface. Issues with which she didn't wish to deal at the moment.

 

 "Yeah, okay," J.B. agreed, snapping her out of her reverie. "That sounds good. I'll tell the others when I see them, but I guess I'd better be going. Till later…" The Armorer moved off and Mildred watched him go, aware that Markos was watching her. She turned and walked toward the building, trying not to meet the sec boss's eye.

 

 "So you will be meeting with him later?" Markos questioned as she approached.

 

 "Is it necessary for me to answer?" she returned.

 

 He winced at her tone. "Yes, I believe it is. Partly because of what is between us, and partly because I have larger concerns to oversee. What will you be telling him?"

 

 "Nothing that will have any bearing on your responsibilities in either sphere," Mildred replied. "Now, if you have no objections, the baron is expecting me."

 

 "I know. I have been informed."

 

 "Is that why you've personally taken this watch?"

 

 He shook his head briefly. "I dismissed the guard so I could speak with you in some degree of privacy. Now I shall have to cover until the next watch."

 

 "So you don't lose face or appear human in the eyes of the men you command?" she asked.

 

 Markos didn't answer.

 

 Mildred knocked on the baron's door and heard his feeble voice bid her to enter. She left Markos resolutely looking away from her so as not to betray any feelings.

 

 The baron's quarters were in almost complete darkness. One oil lamp, suspended from a bracket near the door, lit the interior and the shutters on the windows were covered with thick curtains to prevent any leakage of light. It took Mildred's eyes awhile to adjust, during which time she made her way unsteadily and carefully across the room.

 

 "It takes a few moments," Barras's healer said as she appeared from the shadows, her hand gently taking Mildred's arm to guide her to the baron's bedside without bumping into anything. "I am almost blind for the first minutes of duty. Thankfully there is never anything of any importance during those minutes," she added. When Mildred was seated by the baron's bedside, and her eyes had become accustomed to the low level of light, she was able to see that Sineta hadn't exaggerated when she had described how ill her father had become. Barras's eyes were wild and bloodshot, staring out into the darkness with an almost scary intensity, seemingly fixed on some distant point. It was almost as if he had swathed the room in Stygian gloom because the river and the boatman were already fixtures on his horizon. His eyes, with their hallucinatory air, had sunk even farther into his skull, which seemed to be now devoid of flesh. He had grown, if anything, thinner than the first time she had seen him, and the painkillers were no longer of any use as anesthesia. They could keep the level of pain such that he could bear it, but they no longer dulled or deadened it. His skin held a ghostly gray tinge and had started to break out all over in sores as the cancer broke through as if fighting its way out of his body and taking him over, transforming him into something alien.

 

 "Mildred, I'm glad you came," he said in a hoarse croak. "I fear I cannot hold on to my reason for long. Even now, it would seem that I drift in and out of this world. Sometimes it is as though my dreams become flesh, or I become a dream. I see my mother and father…my wife…they wait for me, as beautiful and noble as they were in their prime. Perhaps they will see me in that way when I finally arrive and not as I am now. Layla," he added, trying to turn his head with a painfully slow rotation, "where are you?"

 

 "I am here, my baron," the healer whispered, coming close.

 

 Barras nodded slowly. "You may leave us for now. Mildred is able to care for my needs while I talk, and we must have privacy. She will call for you when I am done. Perhaps," he added with the sudden reappearance of a mischievous glint, "Arun will be on duty. I know you have feelings for him from the way you mention his name."

 

 "Thank you, my baron." The healer giggled, leaving them alone. Mildred watched her go, thinking she would be disappointed when she saw Markos outside. But it did, in a flash sadly growing rarer, show her again how the baron had to have been in his prime, and why he had been a popular leader.

 

 Barras waited for the door to close before grasping Mildred's hand tightly. He spoke rapidly and with urgency.

 

 "I must say this, and quickly, for I do not know how long it will be before the dream time once again descends upon me. And the next time may be the final time, and I become as a dream once more. Now, I am lucid, and I want you to listen carefully."

 

 "You've got my full attention. But why can't Sineta know this?" Mildred couldn't help but ask.

 

 Barras shook his head impatiently. "In the regular course of events, it would have been told to her and her husband before the time came for me to die. But I do not know if she will take the hand of Markos, or Elias, or will opt to continue alone. If alone, and at such a time, the knowledge of this secret would put her in more danger than a wild bore with the hunt on its tail."

 

 "Why? Why now?"

 

 Barras grasped her hand harder, his bony fingers indenting her flesh. "Listen, and you will understand. When this ville was first built, and the island first inhabited by those escaping bondage, they did not come empty handed. The concept of money and riches have meant little on the island as we are insular, but our forefathers came from an outside world where such values were paramount. They knew these things meant much to those who had enslaved them, and they knew that to survive in such a world they would need riches of their own. So they took from their masters whenever possible, when they were to escape. Arriving, it soon became obvious that these things were superfluous here, and that they would have no practical use. So they were gathered and kept in a secret place known only to a few, as they would serve if we should ever need to leave the island to deal with the whitelands again.

 

 "The store of such riches was added to when people arrived with more stolen treasures. It was always presumed that these things would be useful one day.

 

 "And then came skydark and the hard years after. In the struggle to survive, the store of whiteland riches— for that is what they were, having no meaning to us outside of that—was largely forgotten, the location becoming a secret that was passed only from baron to baron, so that it would be known if ever a time came when the treasures of the whitelands became needed. "So it would have continued. I would pass the secret on to Sineta and whoever became her husband, and they would pass it on to their children, and it would always be there for times of need.

 

 "But that has changed. Now the Pilatans must move to the mainland, and the riches may be needed. I am no fool—I know that some of the treasures will mean nothing and have no value in the whitelands. Priorities for all have changed since the nukecaust and the long darkness that followed. The value of things is relative to need and desire, I know this. Those treasures have only a fraction of the value they may have held at the time they were first brought here. But they still have value at least to barons, and I have seen the horde. I have seen it, and I will tell you that it will still have value in the whitelands, and that this is the time for it to be disinterred and taken with the islanders into the whitelands."

 

 Mildred said nothing for a moment. Barras fought for breath, exhausted by his efforts to tell his story, forcing it out while he was still lucid. She found it sad that he referred now to the islanders and the use of the treasure in the third person, as though it no longer had any direct meaning for him. It was, she supposed, an acknowledgment of impending chill.

 

 "I still don't get why you're telling me and not your daughter about this," Mildred said finally.

 

 Barras allowed himself a small smile. "The timing is all wrong. She has no husband, no ally to watch her back. This is the perfect time for the treasure to be taken from the people for private gain, when the whitelands are reached. There are too many possibilities for it to be snatched away. No, it must not be revealed until the Pilatans are settled upon the mainland and there is order restored after the chaos of travel. Sineta will be established as baron by then, no matter what, and it will be harder to resist her status in taking the riches.

 

 "I want you to take the treasure…you and your companions. You are outsiders and will be able to take the treasure and protect it until the whitelands are reached. And you, Mildred, will then be in the perfect position to reveal the secret to my daughter."

 

 "You would trust me…trust my friends, who are pale ones…you would trust us with the riches of Pilatu?"

 

 "Perhaps I am a stupe old man whose mind is muddled by the long chilling, and you would take the riches and run, using them for yourselves. Perhaps. But I think that is not the case. I have seen you, have heard about you…and your friends. They have been misjudged by many in this ville because of their skin, but that is an attitude that will have to be changed when my people are out in the whitelands. Things are not as they were. On the whitelands, much has changed—although I grant you that much will always remain the same—whereas on this island we have been enclosed in a bubble of our making where almost all has always remained the same. Perhaps your way is better."

 

 "Perhaps," Mildred said softly, "but if you knew my history—my real history—then you would know why this island has cut so deeply with me."

 

 "That is good for you, Mildred Wyeth, but I must look forward to the future for my people, even if I will not be there to see it. You must promise me that you will do this for me," the old man said.

 

 Mildred sighed. Things were getting more and more complicated at a time when she least needed it. But at least she would be able to discuss this with J.B. when she met with him later tonight. ,

 

 "Very well, tell me where it is, and I promise you that it will be done."

 

 The old man squeezed her hand. "I knew that I could rely on you. You have a nobility that runs deep. In many ways, you remind me of the woman I married." For a moment a twinkle lit his glazed eyes. "But that was all a long time ago. I must dismiss these thoughts from my mind so that I may tell you. Past the point where the trees are being felled for boat building, you will find a river—the river where one of your friends was wounded yesterday. Go upstream for half a mile and you will come to a rock cluster that has a cave entrance. Inside the cave is a fork. To the left, it becomes so narrow that only a slender man or woman may squeeze through. Once through, there is a simple lever system that lifts this shelf of rock so that many may enter, and move the treasures within freely."

 

 "It sounds simple enough—as long as we aren't followed."

 

 "That is your province. It is simple, true, and has only remained undisturbed for so long because none except the barons have known of its existence."

 

 "We'll do it. In the next day or two. I'll tell you when it's accomplished. And, believe me, I'm honored that you've trusted me with this. I'll do my damnedest not to let you down." With which, she leaned over and kissed the old man on the forehead, a gesture heavy with respect.

 

 "Go now, for I feel I am slipping into the dreamworld, and I am ashamed to let any except my healer or my daughter see me when I am like such."

 

 "I understand. Until the morrow or day after," Mildred said gently, taking leave of the ailing baron. Looking back as she made her way to the door, she saw his eyes glaze over, becoming unseeing as he entered the world that was his gateway to the beyond.

 

 She had no time to dwell on this, however, as more earthly matters took the imperative. As she neared the door, she could hear voices on the other side. They were whispering, but the door wasn't of a thick wood and she could hear them clearly. One was Markos, and the other—similar in timbre, but slightly higher in tone, she couldn't place.

 

 "Things are as they are and that cannot be changed," Markos was saying.

 

 "But you are changed, and the changes are like those of the snake that sheds skin as it grows fatter."

 

 "You dare to say such things to me, with their implications?"

 

 "I do, and gladly. You know that her influence will pollute the purity of the idea and moral that I have—"

 

 "You dare to speak of purity?"

 

 There was a silence. Then the speaker broke the silence with a low hiss pregnant with suppressed menace. "That is the matter of which we never speak. Indeed you are lower than the snake to bring that into the argument. I cannot reason with you when you are in this temper and I feel so disturbed. We will continue this later."

 

 Mildred heard the speaker move away, his footsteps fast and heavy, obviously agitated. She had paused by the door, uncertain as to whether she had been heard, but unwilling to walk into the middle of the argument. Now she judged that it was safe to open the door and exit.

 

 As the light flooded in, she squinted at its sudden violence. The heat of the words she had heard from behind the door, mirrored in the thickness of the atmosphere.

 

 Markos turned to her, the anger of the argument still written on his face. But he softened his tone with a visible effort. "Mildred—all went well with the baron?"

 

 "Uh, yeah," she replied with caution.

 

 "You do not wish me to pry?" he questioned. His tone was sharper than his expression implied, which she put down to the discussion he had just concluded, the argument that gave her a feasible excuse to change the subject.

 

 "No, it's not that… It's just that I couldn't help hearing as I came to the door…" She shrugged, not knowing what to say.

 

 Markos allowed a wry, sad smile to flit across his face. "My brother. He grows more and more agitated at the notion of moving away from the island, and he wants merely to pick at his agitation like the wounded animal picks at its sores. I do not even know what he was doing here, apart from trying to pick yet another argument with me."

 

 Mildred furrowed her brow. "How the hell did he know you'd be here? You aren't supposed to be."

 

 Markos shrugged. "It couldn't have been difficult. He had merely to go to where I should have been and ask questions."

 

 "I guess so. Do you want me to go find you a relief for this post, so you can continue?" It was not merely from the goodness of her heart that Mildred wanted to do this. It would also enable her to escape before the sec boss reverted to a line of questioning about her meeting with the baron.

 

 "I would appreciate that," he returned, adding as she turned to go, "But tell me just one thing. Why do you wish to meet with J.B. tonight?"

 

 Mildred stopped. She turned to him, deciding to hide her newly discovered reason behind a curtain of the personal, hoping it would dissuade him from prying further. "Because not everything is always cut and dried. Matters overlap, and there are loose ends to be tied. And that's all I want to say on the matter. Is that permissible?"

 

 Markos thought for a moment, chastened. Finally he said just one word. "Yes."

 

 "Then be happy with it," Mildred told him before leaving.

 

 J.B. CHECKED HIS wrist chron. It was a little before nine and the ville was lit by oil lamps that glowed in the deep blue of late twilight. He had spent the day cleaning the companions' weapons until they were back in working order, although they still reposed in Pilatu's armory. He and Simeon had also inventoried and packed much of the Pilatan weaponry, leaving out only spare blasters for the sec men to carry on the journey. J.B. had counseled this as a precaution, as there was always the likelihood of running into trouble as soon as they landed on the mainland. Simeon had been only too pleased to have advice from someone who had knowledge of the whitelands, and the disposition of the Pilatan armorer had made for a more congenial atmosphere than J.B. had encountered in the woods with the other companions.

 

 When the day's work was complete, he had eaten with the others and told them of his meeting with Mildred. Ryan was glad to let the Armorer go alone, knowing that although it would be vital for the group, there would also be matters that would be nobody's business but J.B.'s and Mildred's.

 

 There were few people around at that hour, even though it was still early. Work for evacuation, and the preparation of personal effects, kept people inside their dwellings. Only those with business abroad, or the regular sec patrols, could be seen.

 

 J.B. perched on the platform used for public events, waiting, uncomfortable to be alone with his thoughts at this time, and relieved when he saw Mildred approach from the direction of Sineta's quarters.

 

 "Dark night, you look exhausted, Millie!" was the first thing he said as she came near.

 

 "Thanks, I'll see if I can find something nice to say about you," she returned, embracing him.

 

 He could sense some distance in the embrace, but decided to say nothing until they had spoken further. Perhaps it was just exhaustion.

 

 "I didn't mean… It's just that you look like you've got even more weighing on you than you did this morning," he said by way of apology.

 

 "I have. Shit, you wouldn't believe it, John. I thought things were complicated enough, but this is one hell of a curve ball."

 

 "So you gonna tell me about it, or is it another thing that you keep in the dark?" he asked spikily.

 

 "Oh for God's sake!" She spit the words out angrily. "I've tried really hard not to do that. Try to see it through my eyes."

 

 The Armorer shook his head. "Can't. Don't know what there is to see," he said simply.

 

 Mildred screwed up her face and looked around. There were few people around, sure, but for what she had to say, she needed somewhere much more private.

 

 "Look, there's more going on than we could talk about tonight, but when I met Barras this morning, after leaving you, he told me something—asked us something—that I can't talk about here."

 

 J.B. nodded. "Then let's get some privacy."

 

 Without waiting for her to comment, J.B. led her out of the square and through to the outskirts of the ville. As they passed the wildlife pens, she noticed that he was still limping quite heavily: not on the side he had been shot, but on the other, where his old injuries had been aggravated by his overcompensation as he sought to keep weight off the fresh wound.

 

 It got darker and quieter as they neared the woods. J.B. led her into a clearing and sat her in the center.

 

 "This should be far enough. Anyone who wants to eavesdrop on us now will have to make enough noise getting here for us to know they're coming."

 

 "I know that. I haven't forgotten everything," she said angrily.

 

 The Armorer took off his spectacles and started to polish them. "Sorry," he said quietly. "So, why don't you start at the beginning?"

 

 Mildred began. She filled him in on the background to the hidden horde, and why it had to remain a secret from Sineta. She detailed how they could find it, and added that Jak would be the best bet to gain ingress to open up the hidden part of the cave where the riches were stored. She finished by explaining why Barras felt that they would be best equipped to find and transport the horde until it could be given to Sineta.

 

 When she had finished, J.B. pushed back his fedora, scratched the top of his head, then whistled softly.

 

 "And we're supposed to be flattered that the old baron trusts us?" he said finally.

 

 "Why not?"

 

 J.B. gave a short, barking laugh. "Think about it, Millie. Mebbe you've not noticed, but we're not exactly popular around here. Someone tried to chill me yesterday, and another man was chilled so that we could be blamed. If Markos or anyone close to him or his brother gets a sniff of this, we'll be lynched."

 

 "Markos wouldn't do that," Mildred said in a way that made the Armorer look at her shrewdly.

 

 "That's as may be," he said, opting not to argue. "Mebbe you trust him, but how do you feel about that brother of his?"

 

 Mildred took a deep breath. Should she mention the argument she had overheard between the two of them that morning? How could she without it leading to matters that would cloud the issue?

 

 "Exactly," the Armorer said, reading her pause the way she had hoped. "He's going to be a big problem."

 

 "But we'll do it, right?"

 

 The Armorer shook his head. "I don't know. It's up to Ryan. I'll tell him everything you've told me, and then we'll see. Problem is, if we do it, then how do we all get out of the ville or away from our work parties, get the treasure and hide it without anyone becoming suspicious or noticing we're gone?"

 

 Mildred sighed heavily. "Yeah, you've got me on that."