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“We’re a little suspicious of strangers, but that doesn’t mean we’re inhospitable,” Maynes said, waving a hand toward the trooper post. “You’ll just want to check in with the troopers, is all. They might want to take a quick look at everyone’s faces, unless you want to post a travel bond.”
Zihu turned and muttered something to the rat-faced man, who walked over to the troopers.
“If that’s an example of your muscle, I can see how your mines are so productive,” Zihu said, looking up at me. “Can I acquire another like him here?”
“He’s one of a kind,” Maynes said. “Let’s see what you’re taking across the Coal Country.”
Zihu lost gracefully. “Of course,” he said, showing a small smile. He led Maynes over to the armored car. “I’ve one paying customer in the bus, a trade delegate heading for a ship in Baltimore’s outer harbor. Brass ring. We’ve also fifteen benighted so
uls netted on the run.”
Home crowded up, eager for a view of the captives.
The rat-faced man returned. “They’re fine with the standard New Universal Church bond,” he told Zihu. “You’ll have to sign off.”
“Rota, open the bin, please,” Zihu said. “Our hosts might be interested.”
Home used his flashlight to pass over the faces of the poor captives huddled within.
A sickly, pale girl of about fourteen years was chained to the armored car bench, keeping to the lee of an older, heavier, dark-skinned female. Her hair was still a childlike white, but her body showed that she’d started the transition to adulthood.
“You can turn that one over to me,” Maynes said, pointing. The girl-woman tried to burrow into the fleshy breast of her protector.
“How much are—”
“I’m not buying,” Maynes said. “I just want use of her for an hour or so.”
“Oh, I hope she has puffy little nips,” Home said. “I love the puffy little nips.”
“Just remember, droits and all that,” Maynes said. “Wait your turn.”
“Let’s talk inside, shall we?” Zihu asked. “I hate discussing business in the wind.”
• • •
The NbW was filling up with drivers, mechanics, scouts, scavengers, and other assorted personnel of Zihu’s Assured. The woman in charge of the rooms was issuing orders for cots, soap, and laundry tubs for the men fresh from the Kentucky woods. Her scruffy staff moved quickly; they seemed to know how to convert the bar and upstairs rooms into a hotel in short order. A heavyset man with wary eyes was negotiating the exact price in labeled Kentucky bourbon of bullets, pharmaceuticals, and other light and easily negotiated items.
I’d long since grown accustomed to stares from strangers, so I ignored the curious eyes on me from the newcomers.
“Damn, there’d better be a bed available,” Maynes said. “I’d hate to have us welcome that girl to the Coal Country on a firewood bin.” Maynes, like many such deviants, believed that all men shared his sexual tastes—even if they wouldn’t admit it. In Home he had a man who enthusiastically shared them.
Maynes showed the good grace to buy his visitor a drink.
“Mr. Maynes,” Zihu said in his flatland drawl, “I feed my captives. If they’re hurt, I bandage them up. I have nothing to reproach myself about their treatment.” He let his voice rise to a level that could be heard throughout the barroom, and his men quieted. “What happens once I get rid of them is not my concern. I don’t let my men touch them. If you want to take her off my hands, we can talk price; otherwise we will seek another route to Baltimore.”
“Or,” Maynes said, “we could impound all your vehicles and confiscate your weapons while we call in the churchmen to verify your bond status. In fact—”
Zihu zipped up the red leather jacket.
The little rat of a man lashed out. Metal glinted on his knuckles, and Maynes caught it across the teeth. I reached out to block the blow but wasn’t fast enough. Though I couldn’t connect, I could still get my fingers around his throat.
A pair of hands attached to powerful arms grabbed my arm as I reached and thrust it down to the tabletop in an iron grip, like a man pinning a rattler before cutting off its head.
It never ceases to amaze me how matters among humans can turn so sour so fast. Even a dogfight is signaled by a few seconds of raised hackles and growls. Among humans, a mild disagreement can often escalate to violence, leaping by intermediate steps. I wonder if emotions were more under control when men fought duels and had an established protocol of offense, challenge, and answer.
“King, shut that door!” Maynes shouted through his split lip. The bloody ribbon of flesh wagged like a second tongue. Home had drawn a gun but hadn’t fired it yet, keeping a group of Zihu’s men away from Maynes’s other flank.
I needed my hands free to close the door. I dispensed with the biker in my hands by lofting him up. The wood in the high ceiling must have been a fair ways rotted, because he punched through, leaving a hole and a shower of dust behind.
