Free The Sunset Warrior - 01 by Eric Van Lustbader Page A

has not awakened?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Good. Better for him to rest. And there is nothing he can tell you. You would be wasting your time.’ He turned to go. ‘Remember, as soon as you hear us leave—’ He went through the doorway and disappeared into the shadows of the surgery.
    Grey they were. But light grey, with golden flecks swimming in their depths like chips of bright metal. The muffled tramp of boots against concrete, diminishing. And then only the soft silence enshrouded them, with its fine susurration of breathing. The world reversed: the figures immobile, the pale flames of the lamps licking at the moving shadows they created. Still the eyes held him.
    And then as if through a force of will Ronin moved silently to the closed door to the surgery, put his ear to the cool metal. He could hear nothing moving out there. He returned to the Magic Man, sat on the adjacent bed, elbows on knees. He was aware of the other door, across from him, beyond which the daggam stood guard.
    ‘Borros,’ he said quietly. ‘Borros, can you hear me?’
    There was only the sound of his breathing, lips slightly parted. His eyes stared at the ceiling, seeing nothing.
    Ronin repeated the question.
    Silence. No movement of the pupils.
    Repeat the question: closer, louder, more insistent.
    Silent but: eye movement. Blink.
    Lips trembling.
    ‘What? What did you say?’
    He had to repeat it.
    ‘So blue—’
    He had to strain to hear, and thought: No sense, but contact. Repeat.
    ‘Impossible blue. I—know it is there, I—’
    Eyes focused now, golden flecks glinting. Breathing rapid. Ronin felt himself sweating, glanced quickly at the door to the Corridor. Had he heard a movement? He wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, turned back quickly. Too late to get out now. ‘Borros, what are you saying?’
    ‘An arch—yes, it—it must look like an arch, so vast, so—’ He jerked as Ronin touched him, head whipping around, eyes bulging. His lips drew back in a laugh that was more an animal snarl, bared teeth gleaming. ‘Ahahaha! But there is nothing there, you have nothing no notes and now no more head brain squeezed until it’s dry and that’s what it is dry so it’s no use why don’t you st—’ His eyes drooped momentarily, then the lids flew up and he started as if just coming awake. ‘No—no more I’—shake of the head—‘do what you want, all usel—ugh!’—he shivered down the length of his body—‘the land brown and rich and plants growing green and free with no tanks and the heat of the bare sun hang—hanging in all that space!’
    He stopped there like a mechanism run down and incapable of beginning again. And Ronin thought: It’s no good this way, no good at all. He does sound like a madman. His words are clear but they have no meaning. He wiped away more sweat, knowing that there was very little time.
    Missed something, he thought. But what? Think.
    He leaned forward, said urgently: ‘The land, Borros, tell me more about the land.’ The Magic Man had thought Ronin was one of the Security interrogators. So his approach had been wrong. Get into his mind: what if he was not mad? Only thing to try.
    And he saw Borros’s mouth working. ‘Yes, the land.’ The faintest whisper like a dry wind, and Ronin felt a surge of adrenalin. ‘The fields, food to eat, great flowing waters, new life for the people but—’ He gasped as if struck by a blow, and Ronin reached out to hold him.
    The long eyes were deep pools where golden fish swam frenziedly. ‘Oh, Frost, no! Not again!’ Eyes popping, face very pale, white lines netting the sides of the mouth, a living skull. As if staring into the face of Death—or a being more terrible.
    He strained to sit up but Ronin held him down as gently as he could, feeling the flight of forces within the thin frame. ‘Must, must!’ Beads of sweat clung to the tight yellow skin of his head. It gathered on his upper lip, ran into his mouth, and the tongue came out, licked