Angry Lead Skies

51

"I found him," I told Playmate. "They had him stashed in some kind of locker. Marsha! Get everybody ready to hit the road. We're gonna move as soon as we can get the kid cleaned up. Playmate, take him to the pond."

My instructions inspired a hundred questions. I ignored them all, located my local buddy Mr. Thring. He had value under the new plan. He glared daggers once I removed his blindfold but he'd begun to understand that bluster and attitude weren't his best tools here. "Mr. Thring. Good morning. I've been talking with my associates about what we should do with you. Most of them think we should take you over to the pond and hold you under until you can't remember names or faces anymore."

Surprise and fear lit up the dusky round face of the estate manager.

"But it seems to me that you might be more use to us healthy. If you'll help us with a little something and can leave us comfortably assured that you wouldn't discuss your adventures with anyone later on."

Thring was eager to provide assurances. He couldn't by virtue of having been bound and gagged.

"What I'm looking for is a little-known path or road we can use to slip away from here." Inside I was kicking myself for not having pulled this together last night, when we'd had a lot bigger lead on the folks who'd be headed our way now.

That messenger was going to end up having to whistle for the second half of his stipend.

"You do know this country well enough to help us with that, don't you? Probably grew up around here? Came right back after you did your five? Right?"

The man nodded his head.

"Good. I'm going to take your gag off now. And we'll get started on making you one of the crew."

I scanned the group. This wasn't a promising crowd for making a running retreat. Kip was in no shape to travel. Neither was Mr. Thring. Dojango would whine a lot but he could walk. Limping. He'd soaked his feet. Playmate and Saucerhead would manage what they had to manage. Doris and Marsha would end up doing more than their reasonable share, as usual, probably by having to carry somebody. And I would want to take an elf or two along.

The females seemed the most promising hostages. They were lighter and from what little I could sense of what was going on inside them, they seemed more cooperative, more likely to talk about things none of the several crews wanted known.

Playmate, Saucerhead, and I could take turns pulling our prisoner cart.

Saucerhead approached. "What's up, Garrett?"

"I've decided not to wait for Colonel Block. Mr. Thring here has been generous enough to offer to guide us out of here by back ways so we can get out and go home without having to deal with those special people who're likely to show up here with the Guard."

"I gotcha. Good idea. You suppose he could guide us somewhere where we could get something to eat?"

"I'll talk to him about that."

A little hunger probably wouldn't hurt us nearly as much as leaving a clear backtrail. Once we put some miles between ourselves and the wrecked skyships, though...

I was ready for a snack myself.