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Authors: Charles Ingrid
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he did the same.
Chapter 5
Lady caught Quinones by the elbow. The administrator turned about and blinked at her with his extra set of eyelids. The effect was incredibly owllike, bolstered by the round-lensed glasses he wore. She dropped her hold on him quickly.
"I was told Sir Thomas is back," she said. "Have you seen him?"
She watched as Quinones fought to control his trembling. He had a peculiar nervous system, one that went into convulsions if shocked and he'd been known to fall over in a dead faint, harmless though spectacular, on a regular basis. "He c-came in late last night," he stuttered. "He's already been through the kitchen and bathhouse this morning."
"That's all I need to know." She spun about, her skirt hem kicking up with the movement. As she trotted briskly in the other direction, he called after her, "T-tell him that Denethan's ambassador is looking for Mm, t-too. It's urgent!''
Lady hurried down the pathway, wondering what could have lit a fire under Shankar, Denethan's ambassador, whose usual approach to life was as uncannily lizardlike as his appearance. Shankar's preferred activity for the day was to bask in whatever sunny spot he could find, but Lady had noticed that the ambassador had a profound ability to eavesdrop when he appeared to be comatose in the sunshine.
It was only late September and yet the early morning rays seemed to slant a little off the Palos Verdes peninsula, heralding the cant of the earth toward winter. She lifted her chin a little to catch the smell of the ocean on the breeze. A brief image drifted across her senses, a vision of herself and Thomas strolling in a pink-hued sunset along the beach, just the two of them. . . . Lady skirted a group of arguing farmers en route to the Warden manor, her daydream vanishing. She looked to the ridge above, where sentries were on duty, more as a formality now than as a necessity. Raiders from the Mojave were a thing of the past. She scanned for Thomas who, cautionary as ever, was likely to be out testing the sentry line.
She did not catch a glimpse of either Thomas or Shan-kar. Her next bet, then, was the school. The children loved Thomas, for reasons he could not fathom, and that amused Lady. He was always bringing back tidbits from the ruins, toys or gadgets they would pore over and guess the uses of. The entire laser disk library was due to Thomas' efforts. The children adored him for Mickey Mouse alone.
She paused on the slope. From where she stood, she could see the classrooms. Doors stood open, dark openings into what she liked to think was the soul of the Seven Counties. The classrooms were empty, quiet. The realization sent icy fingers across her Intuition. The Counties were changing, shifting. The Warden dynasty had been a glue that held them together. Now many were complaining the Warden manor and Torrance County were too far north and west of the others and that the county seat should be shifted accordingly. Few parents wanted to send their children such an inconvenient distance to be fostered. Only the orphan wards would have no choice, but Lady foresaw that changes were coming.
She stirred uncomfortably. She was a creature of habit, of nesting. She did not like the idea of change, particularly when it seemed to be a destiny she could not guide.
Where she stood now overlooked the road leading to the manor house, the lone house left standing on this block, with its massive, crescent driveway. The '98 Caddy convertible rested in the front, preparatory to being hitched up. Its metal and chrome frame, massive in its antique beauty, caught the gleam of the early morning. The car was one of several that had been restored by
Charles Warden, inasmuch as he could, the last of a century of behemoths. Later decades saw cars and other vehicles made of biodegradable materials which were useless to the survivors. Her glance flicked over the car, then came back. Someone was slumped quietly in the front seat.
Lady broke into a run,
Chapter 5
Lady caught Quinones by the elbow. The administrator turned about and blinked at her with his extra set of eyelids. The effect was incredibly owllike, bolstered by the round-lensed glasses he wore. She dropped her hold on him quickly.
"I was told Sir Thomas is back," she said. "Have you seen him?"
She watched as Quinones fought to control his trembling. He had a peculiar nervous system, one that went into convulsions if shocked and he'd been known to fall over in a dead faint, harmless though spectacular, on a regular basis. "He c-came in late last night," he stuttered. "He's already been through the kitchen and bathhouse this morning."
"That's all I need to know." She spun about, her skirt hem kicking up with the movement. As she trotted briskly in the other direction, he called after her, "T-tell him that Denethan's ambassador is looking for Mm, t-too. It's urgent!''
Lady hurried down the pathway, wondering what could have lit a fire under Shankar, Denethan's ambassador, whose usual approach to life was as uncannily lizardlike as his appearance. Shankar's preferred activity for the day was to bask in whatever sunny spot he could find, but Lady had noticed that the ambassador had a profound ability to eavesdrop when he appeared to be comatose in the sunshine.
It was only late September and yet the early morning rays seemed to slant a little off the Palos Verdes peninsula, heralding the cant of the earth toward winter. She lifted her chin a little to catch the smell of the ocean on the breeze. A brief image drifted across her senses, a vision of herself and Thomas strolling in a pink-hued sunset along the beach, just the two of them. . . . Lady skirted a group of arguing farmers en route to the Warden manor, her daydream vanishing. She looked to the ridge above, where sentries were on duty, more as a formality now than as a necessity. Raiders from the Mojave were a thing of the past. She scanned for Thomas who, cautionary as ever, was likely to be out testing the sentry line.
She did not catch a glimpse of either Thomas or Shan-kar. Her next bet, then, was the school. The children loved Thomas, for reasons he could not fathom, and that amused Lady. He was always bringing back tidbits from the ruins, toys or gadgets they would pore over and guess the uses of. The entire laser disk library was due to Thomas' efforts. The children adored him for Mickey Mouse alone.
She paused on the slope. From where she stood, she could see the classrooms. Doors stood open, dark openings into what she liked to think was the soul of the Seven Counties. The classrooms were empty, quiet. The realization sent icy fingers across her Intuition. The Counties were changing, shifting. The Warden dynasty had been a glue that held them together. Now many were complaining the Warden manor and Torrance County were too far north and west of the others and that the county seat should be shifted accordingly. Few parents wanted to send their children such an inconvenient distance to be fostered. Only the orphan wards would have no choice, but Lady foresaw that changes were coming.
She stirred uncomfortably. She was a creature of habit, of nesting. She did not like the idea of change, particularly when it seemed to be a destiny she could not guide.
Where she stood now overlooked the road leading to the manor house, the lone house left standing on this block, with its massive, crescent driveway. The '98 Caddy convertible rested in the front, preparatory to being hitched up. Its metal and chrome frame, massive in its antique beauty, caught the gleam of the early morning. The car was one of several that had been restored by
Charles Warden, inasmuch as he could, the last of a century of behemoths. Later decades saw cars and other vehicles made of biodegradable materials which were useless to the survivors. Her glance flicked over the car, then came back. Someone was slumped quietly in the front seat.
Lady broke into a run,
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