asked.
“Storms,” Frost stated. “And raiders from the sea. Not just the slavers, of course, though they’re our biggest menace now.”
Doc, who had been sitting with head back and eyes half-closed, as if wandering through the often-tangled pathways inside his head, shook himself, drew his brows together and leaned forward with his sky-blue eyes no longer unfocused.
“It is curious to me, Baron,” he said, “how the economics of the slaver raids work. They themselves appear to be many. By the very nature of predation in all its forms, they need to acquire far more numerous victims than their own host in order to thrive. How is it possible that they do so?”
“Good question,” Ryan said, straightening.
Baron Frost frowned and nodded ponderously, as if feeling the weight of the situation on the back of his neck. “Their numbers have grown markedly in the last ten years or so, all up and down the coast.
“As for how they make profit enough to sustain their growing operations, Dr. Tanner, I can’t really say. They haven’t exactly opened their books to me. I can say that, despite the fact that the enormous population concentrations along the Eastern Seaboard were hardest hit of anywhere in North America, and the plagues and starvation reduced the population to lesser numbers than in many areas originally far more sparsely settled, some of the same factors that led to the area being so thickly settled in the first place have led to a substantial rebound in the population, especially over the last fifty years or so. Not to anywhere near former levels, of course. And while trade across the Lantic’s no real factor—it’s far too rare and sporadic—the relative fertility of the environment here, along with the enormous amount of scavvy available in the ruined cities, has more than sufficed.”
He shook his head. “Not that life here is easy, by any means. Though we are far from the most desolate of areas, they still call these the Deathlands, and for good reason.”
The door opened. Caine looked a question to Frost, who nodded. The white-haired butler bowed Mildred into the room.
The stocky woman seemed shrunken and subdued.
“How is he?” Krysty asked.
Mildred lowered her head further for a moment. Then she drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders and raised her head.
Ricky clutched the silver crucifix he wore inside his shirt. He tried to feel guilty about avidly watching the rise and rebound of her enormous breasts as she breathed. He didn’t.
“Better than I expected,” the healer said in a voice frayed around the edges. “Their facilities here are surprisingly good. Better than I’d expect outside—outside some predark hospital.
“And while I almost hate to admit it,” Mildred went on, “this healer knows her stuff. She’s...well-schooled for the time. Remarkably so.”
“We have found her so,” Frost said, nodding.
Mildred stepped forward to the map table. “What’s going on here?”
“The baron’s giving us the rundown on the tactical situation,” Ryan said.
For a moment, the woman frowned down at the map, then she looked up at Frost.
“Okay, now, this is too good to be true!” she blurted. “Ryan, you always say we can’t rely on the gratitude of barons. What’s the deal here, really?”
“Mildred—” Krysty began.
Ryan cut her off by raising a hand.
“Might as well let her say her piece,” he said. “If what she says is going do damage, it’s done now already.”
“No damage,” Frost said. “You are prudent to want to understand the terms of our agreement fully.”
“I like to know where everybody stands,” Mildred said, not at all mollified. “In particular, I like to know for sure what the other side looks to get out of a deal. Isn’t this the Deathlands, where everybody’s always out for himself and eats the weak?”
“In the...circumstances in which you and I lived our early lives,” Doc said, “people were also out primarily for
“Storms,” Frost stated. “And raiders from the sea. Not just the slavers, of course, though they’re our biggest menace now.”
Doc, who had been sitting with head back and eyes half-closed, as if wandering through the often-tangled pathways inside his head, shook himself, drew his brows together and leaned forward with his sky-blue eyes no longer unfocused.
“It is curious to me, Baron,” he said, “how the economics of the slaver raids work. They themselves appear to be many. By the very nature of predation in all its forms, they need to acquire far more numerous victims than their own host in order to thrive. How is it possible that they do so?”
“Good question,” Ryan said, straightening.
Baron Frost frowned and nodded ponderously, as if feeling the weight of the situation on the back of his neck. “Their numbers have grown markedly in the last ten years or so, all up and down the coast.
“As for how they make profit enough to sustain their growing operations, Dr. Tanner, I can’t really say. They haven’t exactly opened their books to me. I can say that, despite the fact that the enormous population concentrations along the Eastern Seaboard were hardest hit of anywhere in North America, and the plagues and starvation reduced the population to lesser numbers than in many areas originally far more sparsely settled, some of the same factors that led to the area being so thickly settled in the first place have led to a substantial rebound in the population, especially over the last fifty years or so. Not to anywhere near former levels, of course. And while trade across the Lantic’s no real factor—it’s far too rare and sporadic—the relative fertility of the environment here, along with the enormous amount of scavvy available in the ruined cities, has more than sufficed.”
He shook his head. “Not that life here is easy, by any means. Though we are far from the most desolate of areas, they still call these the Deathlands, and for good reason.”
The door opened. Caine looked a question to Frost, who nodded. The white-haired butler bowed Mildred into the room.
The stocky woman seemed shrunken and subdued.
“How is he?” Krysty asked.
Mildred lowered her head further for a moment. Then she drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders and raised her head.
Ricky clutched the silver crucifix he wore inside his shirt. He tried to feel guilty about avidly watching the rise and rebound of her enormous breasts as she breathed. He didn’t.
“Better than I expected,” the healer said in a voice frayed around the edges. “Their facilities here are surprisingly good. Better than I’d expect outside—outside some predark hospital.
“And while I almost hate to admit it,” Mildred went on, “this healer knows her stuff. She’s...well-schooled for the time. Remarkably so.”
“We have found her so,” Frost said, nodding.
Mildred stepped forward to the map table. “What’s going on here?”
“The baron’s giving us the rundown on the tactical situation,” Ryan said.
For a moment, the woman frowned down at the map, then she looked up at Frost.
“Okay, now, this is too good to be true!” she blurted. “Ryan, you always say we can’t rely on the gratitude of barons. What’s the deal here, really?”
“Mildred—” Krysty began.
Ryan cut her off by raising a hand.
“Might as well let her say her piece,” he said. “If what she says is going do damage, it’s done now already.”
“No damage,” Frost said. “You are prudent to want to understand the terms of our agreement fully.”
“I like to know where everybody stands,” Mildred said, not at all mollified. “In particular, I like to know for sure what the other side looks to get out of a deal. Isn’t this the Deathlands, where everybody’s always out for himself and eats the weak?”
“In the...circumstances in which you and I lived our early lives,” Doc said, “people were also out primarily for
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