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СКАЧАТЬ light grew as the woodland thinned out and they found themselves walking past a clearing where fenced-in livestock watched them idly. Ahead they could see a collection of adobe buildings, immaculately maintained and freshly whitewashed, some decorated with paintings and others left bare. All were illuminated by oil lanterns that hung on the sides of the buildings and were strung across the beaten earth paths that ran between the buildings.

      It was difficult to judge how large the ville could be, only that it was a thriving area that was kept hygienically and with a sense of pride in the surroundings. As the companions were led through the streets, sec guards acknowledged the passing patrol and its captives in silence, as though unwilling to disturb the sleeping inhabitants of the adobe buildings. They were eventually stopped in front of a building that was smaller than many of the others. It had barred metal windows where the others were open or covered with wooden shutters or cloth curtaining.

      One of the warriors—obviously a sec patrol, or this ville’s equivalent—opened the door, and from the dim illumination of the light on the outside of the building, they could see that the interior consisted of a beaten-earth floor with no furniture. There was a latrine dug into one corner.

      “I fear it will not be as luxurious as the fruits of exploitation with which your people have always surrounded themselves, and it will be cramped—we do not usually have as many offenders as yourself at one time—but it will suffice. You will leave the sister and enter, if you please.”

      The words were polite, but the icy tone of the last sentence belied them, as did the manner in which the warrior leader hefted his H&K. The companions reluctantly laid Mildred down and entered the cell. J.B. lingered and was rewarded with an unfriendly prod from the barrel of an H&K wielded by another of the sec men.

      “You’d better take good care of her,” the Armorer said quietly as he acquiesced, following his companions into the cell.

      Once more the warrior leader raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Strange. It’s almost as if you genuinely care about the sister. But that would be absurd.”

      Upon which he indicated to a couple of his men to close and bar the door and turned on his heel to walk away in the lead of the remainder of the pack, who lifted Mildred and carried her off down another alleyway and out of sight.

      “Shit,” J.B. swore softly as he watched through the barred window until the unconscious Mildred was out of sight. “Where are they taking her?”

      “I don’t know,” Krysty replied, “but one thing’s for sure, she’ll be safe.”

      “I hope so,” J.B. said softly. “They seem to have this thing about us being white, but—”

      “But what they think of Mildred being with us?” Jak finished.

      The Armorer nodded.

      Dean, pacing the floor, suddenly spoke. “But what I don’t get is how come they’re against us.”

      Ryan shrugged. “I figure it’s ’cause we’re not the same as them. Put it this way—every one of them we’ve seen so far has been black. Odds are that everyone else in the ville is, as well.”

      “How did you work that out?” Dean frowned.

      “Think about it,” the one-eyed man said as he winced and tried to get comfortable on the hard earth floor. “When was the last time you saw a sec patrol that was all the same? Wherever I’ve been, I’m damn sure I’ve worked beside black, brown, yellow, all kinds of skin.”

      “I don’t know. What about when we were on that oil well? They kept apart then,” Dean countered.

      “True enough, but they’d still work together, and know there were other colors, remnants of predark races. And there’s still shit about one being better than another, but this is different. Can’t explain how, just a feeling I got off the big man.”

      “There will always be pernicious and specious ideas about skin pigmentation,” Doc said sadly.

      “Say again?” Jak furrowed his brow.

      “People hating you because you’re black, or white, or an albino,” Ryan said pointedly. “Like he was giving you back when they captured us.”

      “That’s an interesting point,” Krysty mused. She walked over to the barred window and looked through, mindful of the fact that the guards were close. She didn’t speak again until she had moved away from the window. “When I was a little girl, back in Harmonyville, there were stories. I figured they were old myths to teach us about the shit we’d get for being mutie in some way, but one of them was about a place called the Carolinas, and an island there. Years before skydark, they used to bring black people across the seas just to use as slaves. Only some of them didn’t take too well to this and they managed to escape. There was an island in the Carolinas where they settled. A whole community of none but black people, with no other skin. They lived in seclusion and kept away from everyone else, even after the days of slavery were over.”

      “And you think this may be that island? That they still exist, and made it past skydark and prospered?” J.B. queried.

      Krysty shrugged. “I’m not saying that this is that island…but mebbe it’s one just like it.”

      MILDRED OPENED her eyes. Slowly she had emerged from the fog of unconsciousness, driven onward by the throbbing of pain at the back of her skull. A wave of nausea swept through her with each throb and she wondered in some part of her mind that had started to function why it was that she hadn’t already vomited and choked as a result.

      There was little noise around her, apart from the rustling of fabric and the soft footfalls of one person, moving quietly. The clink of a bowl or cup against a jug and the sound of pouring liquid indicated that she was somewhere with a degree of civilization. She was apart from her companions. She could tell by the lack of ambient sound, with no breathing, speech or movement apart from the single person in the room with her. Yes, she was sure that she was in a building or shelter of some kind, as it was warm and dry, with no discernible breeze. Other feelings: she was aching all over, that much was for sure. Muscles felt torn in her stomach and in her left leg and arm. Then there was that lump on her head that was causing so much pain. Lying on it, she could feel it was about the size of an egg. No concussion as far as she could tell, though, as she was thinking clearly, wasn’t delirious, and despite the waves of nausea she wasn’t actually vomiting continuously. An ominous ache in her ribs on the right side increasing in intensity when she took breath. Muscles torn or bones cracked? She couldn’t be sure.

      One thing that she could be sure of was that she was lying on a bed of some kind. It had a hard base, but there was softness laid on top, as though the board was covered with blankets. And she could also feel the weight of blankets on her, itching her skin.

      Where were her clothes? It suddenly occurred to her that she had to have been undressed and her clothes removed somewhere. She should be wet through, but instead she was dry.

      What the hell was going on?

      The room was delicately perfumed with herbs and there was the scent of burning sandalwood. So she was lying naked in a bed, separated from her companions and in the company of an unknown person.

      Dammit, this she had to get straight, and soon. But she would have to open her eyes. And in truth, Mildred was a little scared to do that. Not because of where she may be, or who she may be with. Rather, because she knew that the light, however СКАЧАТЬ