James Axler - Ice and Fire

A small cloud sailed into view and settled itself in a tiny furrow between the baron's eyes. "Yes, there is... Mustn't upset the... But a token of food and lodging for Mr. Cawdor and his comrades? Surely no objection to that." A sudden thought struck him. "Not mercies, are you? Mercies?"

"No," Ryan said simply.

"Where is Layton?" He turned to his visitors. "Layton is my nephew. My heir. I have never married, and he is now my only living relative. A series of accidents have... Accidents. Yes."

"Layton's out having lunch at the Qiksnak, Edgar."

"Course. Thanks, Carla. I didn't realize how time was passing. Passing. Lunch. Three eggs over easy with a double ham and hashies. Double slice of Mom's apple pie to follow. My nephew is a well-grown lad, folks. But kindly and brave. Only person in Snakefish who'd take up the air wag when it was found. Uses too much precious gas, but..." He smiled the smile of an indulgent uncle.

"Perhaps our visitors would care for something to eat?" the woman suggested, standing and moving toward the door of the office.

"Course, course, course. That's a three course meal, you see." He waited for the ripple of polite laughter at his small joke. "Give them each enough jack for a couple of days, Carla, my dear. They can stay at the Rentaroom. Have it charged to the civic friendliness fund."

His assistant hesitated. "There'll be a service, tomorrow, won't there? Might be best if they all turn up. Otherwise..."

"Otherwise the Motes could name them undesirable and then it would be a short walk into the sagebrush and a short encounter with Azrael and his brothers and sisters. Yes, they must attend. Tell them about it, Carla, there's a dear."

Outside the building everyone heard the angry whining of the two-wheel wags racing past. As the sound began to fade, a cloud of dust rose toward the window, pressing against the glass as though it sought admission.

"Come this way, folks," Carla directed brusquely.

"Thanks for the meeting, Baron," Ryan said. "And thanks for the kindness."

"Welcome, welcome, welcome." He beamed broadly.

Outside the coolness of the shadowy building, the sun struck like the slap of a glove. Doc coughed, doubling over, eyes popping like the stops on a mission harmonium. They waited for him to recover his breath a little.

"Sorry, my dear friends. A small piece of California dust found its way down into my aged windpipe, I fear. I'm better now."

"Breaking down, Doc," Lori said, but it was said affectionately, and she took his arm and kissed him on the cheek.

Carla attached herself to Ryan, glancing around to make sure that J.B. was also close to them.

"Rentaroom's cheap and clean. Not many visitors come to Snakefish. You'll have to check in any blasters, but not handguns. Never seen anything like that rifle, Mr. Cawdor."

"It's a G-12 Heckler & Koch. Fires caseless rounds. Saves a lot of weight and waste."

"Leave it at the desk. And that cannon of yours, Mr. Dix."

"Sure thing, Miss Petersen."

"Carla, please."

This time Ryan was absolutely certain. They were in the shade, but J.B.'s face definitely flushed.

"I'm J.B., short for John Barrymore. You can call me John, if you like, Carla."

"John!" Jak exploded, overhearing the conversation.

"Yeah, John! You want to make something out of this, kid?"

The Armorer stood, braced, his whole body fighting tense as he faced the boy. Ryan knew better than to interfere with J.B. on a matter of blood.

"You don't call me that," Jak said quietly, his right hand slithering toward the back of his belt, where he kept one of his throwing knives.

"Then button up about my name, Jak. Take my meaning? Just..."

The teenager grinned suddenly. "Sure, J.B., I understand. Real good."

"My goodness," Carla said. "That seemed to be rather a nasty moment."

"Just play," Krysty replied. "You get used to their ways."

Carla left them in the lobby of their small hotel, having made sure the rifles were checked in safely. Before going she'd called the seven friends around her for a last, urgent word.

"The baron is a beautiful old man, but his grip is not what it once was. There are those in Snakefish who whisper that he is too generous with the ville's gas. Too easy in trading with other villes in the area. He knows of the talk, but believes that his nephew will take over from him soon."

"What about the bikers?" Doc asked. "Those angels from hell?"

"They're the ville's sec patrol," she admitted, "but their hearts aren't with Edgar. They're allied with those who bring true power."

"The Mote family," Ryan asked.

"Yes." She dropped her voice even quieter, glancing around to ensure nobody could overhear. "Guard yourselves against the Motes, outlanders. And when you attend their service, take the greatest care. The greatest. If they perceive you as any sort of threat they can be quite ruthless."

"I don't suppose there's any chance of something to eat now, is there?" Rick asked plaintively. "I'm famished."

"Of course. Through that door into the eatery. Now I must go. Remember what I said. Take care with the Motes."

"You chosen?"

"Sorry?"

The thin lips parted for a moment, then snapped shut once the sentence had been hissed out. "You been saved?"

Ryan shook his head. "Don't think so. How would we know?"

The narrow face of Ruby Rainer, owner of the Rentaroom, broke into an approximation of a beatific smile. "I guess you'd know. You ever feel an inner heat?"

"No, not often. Except..." He looked across at Krysty, who struggled to conceal a giggle.

"I have," Rick said. "And I've seen light in the darkness. Warmth in the middle of winter. Floods during a drought. Manna in the wilderness. And salvation in the darkest night of the soul. Amen to that."

"Amen," Ruby added, clasping her bony hands to her even bonier bosom. "I'm well pleased to see that at least one of you outlanders has some spark of the Lord's blessings lighted within the lamp of his innermost heart."

"Hallelujah, sister," the freezie shouted, clapping his hands together. "And?.."

"Yes, brother?"

"Was there not some talk of a dessert to follow that admirable bowl of spiced stew?"

"Oh, oh, yes. Course. Pecan pie or some iced cream with strawberries."

She got orders for five pies and two helpings of the fruit with iced cream.

After the dessert Ruby served them some acorn coffee, ground fine, with added herbs. "Best y'ever tasted," she boasted as she poured each of them a brimming cup.

Rick sipped suspiciously at his, pulling an appalled face. Fortunately Mrs. Rainer had left the dining room and didn't see, or hear, him.

"She call this coffee?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "I've tasted better, but I've surely tasted worse."

"I recall once eating in a restaurant in some place like Bucksnort, Idaho. They served me a soup that was their special delicacy. I learned afterward it was made from dogs' spleens, with mustard added. Up till now that was the most foul thing that I ever tasted. Up till now..." He gently replaced the cup on the table.

After the meal Rick said he'd like to just go up to his room and rest. The others agreed that they'd split up and walk around Snakefish, checking the place out.

There was a minor spat when Lori tried to insist that she be allowed to go on her own.

"I'm not a shit-assed girly! I'm older enough to go without you having to hold my hand all the hours, Doc."

Ryan settled the argument. "Listen, Lori. Right now you're behaving like a double-stupe snotnose! In a strange ville like this nobody walks these streets alone. Not Doc. Not you. Not me. Stick together in pairs. Safest. Meet back here for the evening meal around six."