Deathstalker Honor by Simon R. Green Page A

opening, and they were all filled to capacity with the refrigerated dead of Virimonde. Owen tried to estimate how many bodies there were, but even guessing at the massive size of the caves, he couldn’t grasp it. The numbers were just too big. He stopped before the opening to the last cave, and couldn’t go any farther. All the strength just went out of him. Hazel stood beside him and put a comforting hand on his arm, but he hardly felt it.
    “I feel like I ought to do something,” he said quietly. “But I don’t know what. They were my people. They’re still my people. Even if they are dead. But I don’t know what to do.”
    His hands had clenched into helpless fists. Hazel moved in close beside him, trying to support and comfort him by her proximity.
    “I don’t suppose this means much to you,” said Owen. “After all, you were a clonelegger.”
    “I never saw the bodies,” said Hazel. “But sometimes I had nightmares . . . Why do you suppose Valentine . . . ?”
    “Who knows why Valentine does anything anymore?”
    Hazel hesitated, hearing the cold, bitter rage beneath his words, but pressed on. “The Wolfe’s crazy, but there’s always a method to his madness. He must have had a reason. Or else why bother refrigerating them?”
    “Knowing Valentine, it’s probably a very disturbing reason.” Owen let his breath out in a long sigh, and his fists unclenched. “I say we find the bastard and ask him. And if I don’t like his answers, I’m going to bounce him off the castle walls till his ears bleed.”
    “Sounds like a plan to me,” said Hazel.
    Owen led the way to the back of the flyer cave, and opened a hidden door in the wall to reveal a narrow stone passage leading upward. Lights came on in the tunnel, showing the way. Hazel was quietly impressed.
    “It leads to another secret door in what used to be my old bedchamber,” said Owen. “From there we have access to all the main areas of the castle. Internal security is mostly human rather than tech. Aristocrats don’t like being spied on. Keep your hand near your sword, but leave your guns alone. The sound of a gun would bring guards running from all directions. And I don’t want a war. I just want Valentine.”
    Anywhen else, Hazel would have snapped at Owen for lecturing her on something so obvious, but she kept her peace. Talking helped distract him. She followed him into the tunnel, and the door swung shut behind them. Their footsteps seemed very loud in the quiet. And then Owen stopped suddenly, turning his head back and forth.
    “What is it?” Hazel said quietly.
    “Something’s wrong,” said Owen.
    Hazel looked up the tunnel. “I can’t see anything.”
    “Neither can I. But I can feel it. Can’t you?”
    Hazel concentrated, trying to reach out in the strange directions her mind was capable of, and then Owen grabbed her roughly and threw her to the floor. She landed hard, driving the breath from her lungs. Owen hit the ground beside her a moment later, one arm flung across her to hold her down. And from every side disrupter beams filled the tunnel from hidden gun ports. If they’d stayed standing, they’d have been shot to mincemeat.
    “So much for your secret passage, Deathstalker,” Hazel hissed, trying to burrow down into the solid stone floor.
    “They must have got it out of David before he died,” said Owen. “Try to wriggle backward toward the door.”
    “Hell with that,” said Hazel. “I have my dignity. Wait till the beams shut off, and then we’ll make a run for it while they’re recharging.”
    “One, they’re staggered. They’re not going to cut off. Two, the beams are angling lower. Now wriggle, dammit.”
    They moved back down the tunnel to the door as fast as they were able, the disrupter beams passing barely an inch or so above their bodies. The lowering energy beams seared through the air just above them, filling the tunnel with the stench of ionized air. Owen’s clothes rucked up around him as he