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returned to their homes, sworn to secrecy.
Chances were, they were too scared by what they had seen to raise the subject.
For a while Mildred, Krysty and Doc had been on their own in the med building,
tending as best as possible to those who were ill. There were three new cases,
all with the mildest of blisters and a high temperature. A casual observer
would have put it down to chicken pox, and none was more surprised than the
patients themselves when they had been detained.
However, the mounting problem was causing the conscientious ville healer acute
anxiety, and it was only a few hours before he returned to the fray.
"You'll make yourself ill if you don't rest," Mildred said when he first
returned.
He gave her a crooked grin. "Chances are I'll get ill anyway, being around
here all the time."
"Fair point," Mildred agreed, allowing a silence to fall. On the far side of
the med building, Krysty and Doc were arguing about the contents of a poultice
that the red-haired woman wanted to use. Doc, despite his distrust of
whitecoats, had an almost religious faith in the use of plundered medical
supplies, and was
arguing his corner while Krysty attempted to use her herbal skills, learned
from Mother Sonja in her home ville of Harmony.
From the corner of her eye, Mildred noticed Hector deriving some amusement
from the exchange between the two, and she judged that now was the moment for
her to ask.
"Hector," she began in a tone that immediately made him look up, "I want to
ask you something. We heard something about a tribe that camps near here and
keeps itself to itself."
"Could be," he replied carefully.
Mildred pursed her lips. "A tribe where the women are the fighters small,
don't wear many clothes& beat the living shit out of men twice their size."
"Yeah, I'd be a liar if I said I didn't know who you were talking about," he
answered, amused.
Mildred nodded. "We've come across them before. We were allies, but got
separated. It'd be good to meet with them again, if we knew where they were
camped& "
Hector shook his head. "I don't get out enough to know for sure, but I do hear
they're in the more densely wooded parts, southwest of here. That's what I'm
told."
"That's very interesting," Mildred said slowly. "Maybe we should check that
out. One other thing. We were allies because of a group real heavy blaster
freaks who lived underground.
We got separated trying to follow them. I don't "
Mildred stopped dead. Hector was looking at her with an expression that could
only be described as fear.
"I don't No, I know nothing about anyone like that. And if you don't want to
find yourself having accidents in the middle of the night, I really wouldn't
go around asking about things like that too widely."
With which the ville healer turned and walked away from
Mildred rapidly, leaving her staring after him with a thoughtful
Page 27
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gleam in her eye.
THE MIDDAY SUN was beating down on the plowed fields.
Dean, Jak and the rest of the ville workers who toiled the lands had broken
for food and drink, and were gathered in the shade afforded by the side of the
stables housing the plow horses.
"Best part of the day," one of them said as he took a long drink of water
before passing the canteen to Jak.
"Now then, I always figured that the best part of the day for you was when you
spent your paycheck in the gaudies by night,"
commented an older, more weather beaten farmhand.
The first a young man, little older than Jak or Dean, and as whip thin as the
former laughed. "That's the night," he said between bursts. "I was talking
about the day."
The comment caused a general wave of good humor, and Jak gave Dean a swift
glance. Was this the right time to raise the matter?
"Yeah, I hear it can get real wild here after dark," he said carefully. "My
dad is on bar sec, and although he hasn't seen them yet, he's heard about
these wild women that live outside and only come in to trade. Apparently they
can stand up in a fight with any man and best them."
The young farmhand whistled. "Whoa, yeah. I seen them in action, all right.
Real tiny, most of them. But they can chill any man that tries." He shook his
head. "I heard they live down to the south somewhere, but " he shrugged " I'm
just glad I don't have to deal with them!"
In the general good humor, Jak judged it was time for him to take things a
stage further.
"Ryan and J.B. also tell us about fighters with weird shit clothes, wear
helmets and fight with odd blasters. They hear these pass through "
The good humor suddenly ceased, and a cold silence
descended on the party. Slowly, all of the farmhands except Jak and Dean rose
to their feet and headed off to their work without another word with the
exception of the young farmhand, who turned back for a second.
"Just a word, friend," he said to Jak. "You and your people shouldn't talk of
that. There are those around here who would rather forget."
He left Dean and Jak to exchange glances and ponder the meaning of his cryptic
words.
J.B. AND RYAN WERE ALSO finding it hard to get a reaction. On their sec duties
along the strip of bars and gaudies that formed the main drag and the main
trade of Crossroads, they had asked a few questions of both their fellow sec
and also of passing trade convoy workers who had befriended them in the bars.
So far, all they had asked about was the Gate, and the response had been the
same as that received by their companions: the Gate tribe was looked on as an
oddity, hard to best and fair to trade, but content to keep themselves to
themselves. Consensus seemed to put their camp out to the south or southwest
of the ville. But things had been different when they had tried to bring up
the matter of the Illuminated
Ones. Deliberately keeping their descriptions vague, they had both noticed
that those who passed through either knew nothing, or had only heard a few
wild rumors, and those who came from the ville were quick to shut up and claim
to know nothing.
"One thing for sure," Ryan commented. "If we carry on and we rattle enough
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