Dragonback 03 Dragon and Slave (4 page)

And as he did so, the darkened room suddenly blazed with light.

Jack spun around so fast that he almost lost his balance,
remembering to look startled and terrified. "Wha—?" he gasped, his
voice breaking off into an astonished squeak.

That last part didn't take any acting at all. Suddenly, it seemed,
the whole room was filling up with Brummgas. Each of them wore a
close-fitting helmet and a sort of armored tunic done up in a bright
pattern of red, black, and white. Some of them were waving slapsticks
his direction; others had handguns out and pointed.

There was only one thing to do when facing that many weapons. Jack
froze into a statue, making sure his hands were open and in full view
of everyone.

The next few minutes were a swirling tangle of movement and noise
and confusion. The two Brummgas who got to Jack first grabbed him and
pulled him away from the safe. They ran their large hands over his
whole body like bread-making machines gone crazy, pulling off his
jacket and comm clip, emptying each pocket, even tearing off his belt
with the hidden money pockets on the inside.

Then they passed him off to another pair behind them and began
gathering up his backpack and the rest of his equipment. His new
handlers searched him again, then handed him off to the next in line,
who passed him to the ones behind them. Jack wondered if he was going
to make it all the way around the room before someone figured out what
exactly to do with him.

But then this last pair of Brummgas spun him around, and Jack
found himself face to face with a human male.

He was a big man, muscular, with shoulders nearly as wide as those
of the Brummgas standing around him. His face was lined and unshaven,
his hair cut short in military fashion, and his clothes looked like
they'd been thrown on hastily in a very dark room. The effect was
almost comical.

Until Jack looked into his eyes.

They were cold eyes. Hard eyes. Eyes that held no mercy, no
kindness, not even a hint of human feeling.

An eerie sensation tickled between Jack's shoulder blades. He'd
seen eyes like that before, on some of the most vicious criminals Uncle
Virgil had known. A man with eyes like that was hardly even human
anymore.

"Well?" the man asked softly.

It was the slavemaster himself. Gazen.

Jack took a deep breath. He'd had a whole spun-rainbow excuse all
set up and ready to go, a tangly story full of tears and panic about a
bet with school friends, and how he would never, ever do it again if
they let him go. It was the sort of story a professional thief would be
able to launch into on a second's notice, just that much more evidence
that he was worth the price Uncle Virge was asking for him.

But as he stared up into those eyes, it suddenly didn't feel like
a good idea to spin such an obvious lie for this man. "I guess I picked
the wrong house," he said instead.

Gazen's lips might have twitched. "I guess you did," he agreed.

His eyes flicked to Jack's Brummgan handlers. "Bring him," he
ordered.

Without waiting for a response, he turned his back and headed for
the door. Wrapping their hands around Jack's arms, the two Brummgas
dragged their prisoner after him.

After the crowd that had burst in on him inside the house, Jack
had rather expected the yard to be crawling with Brummgas, too. But
aside from a pair of long, squat cars parked in front of the house
everything looked the way Jack had left it. Apparently, Gazen had
decided there was no point in waking up the whole neighborhood over
this.

The Brummgas stuffed Jack into the back seat of the first of the
cars, wedging him between them. Gazen got in the front beside the
driver. They made a tight U-turn, and with the second car following
closely behind they headed toward the white wall.

Jack had caught glimpses of the wall on his way to the
gatekeeper's house. But it had been dark, and the wall was set far
enough back from the street that he hadn't gotten a close look.

Sitting pinned between two Brummgas, his view wasn't that much
better. Still, it was the best he was likely to get, at least from the
outside. Slouching down as far as he figured he could get away with, he
peeked out the window.

The wall was more impressive at ground level than it had been from
several thousand feet up. For one thing, its thirty-two-foot height
seemed taller now that he was looking up at it. For another, although
Uncle Virge had been right about the wall's X-shape, he'd missed the
fact that the top part curved over and downward, nearly circling up
underneath itself again.

The effect was like facing a huge, mile-long wave that was getting
ready to break over the approaching car. Not the most pleasant image
Jack could think of.

The gate was as impressive as the wall itself, made of more of the
wall's white ceramic and laced with gold-colored metal straps. Six more
armed Brummgas were waiting there, all dressed in the same
red/black/white as the group in the gatekeeper's house. The Chookoock
family colors, he decided. As the two cars drove up, the gate swung
open.

"Stop the car," Gazen ordered sharply, sliding down his window.

The vehicle braked to a hard stop beside the guards. "Who ordered
the gate opened?" Gazen bit out.

"I did,
Panjan
Gazen," one of the Brummgas said, taking an
eagerly lumbering step forward. "I knew you were in a hurry—"

"You opened the gate without checking identification?" Gazen
demanded.

The Brummga stopped short. Too late, his walnut-sized brain was
starting to realize that Gazen hadn't stopped to compliment the staff.
"But—"

He ground to a halt, whatever excuse he was about to make
apparently getting lost somewhere between brain and mouth. Gazen stared
at him in silence for a few more seconds, long enough for even a
Brummga to work out that he was in big trouble. "You will check my ID,"
Gazen continued, his voice quiet. "You will check the IDs of those in
the car behind me. You will then secure the gate. After that, you will
report to the Guard Master."

The Brummga's mouth was hanging slightly open now, his breath
coming in heaving surges like a drowning man coming up for the third
time. "Yes,
Panjan
Gazen," he managed. "Uh . . . your
identification?"

Gazen waited another two seconds, then slid a wallet from his
inside pocket and handed it over. The guard opened it, looked inside,
then handed it back. "Thank you,
Panjan
Gazen," he gulped. "You
may proceed."

Still staring at the guard, Gazen gestured the driver forward. The
car pulled through the gate and headed down the winding driveway.

Jack studied the terrain carefully as they drove, looking for the
hidden guard stations Draycos had pointed out from the air. With only
muted accent lights scattered around the garden, though, they were
completely invisible.

"And what about you?" Gazen asked, half turning to look at Jack.

"Sir?" Jack asked.

"You like our wall, do you?" Gazen said. "You were studying it on
our way in."

Jack had thought he'd been subtle enough in his examination that
no one in the car would have noticed. But even from the front seat,
Gazen had caught on.

That made him both very observant and very smart. Not a good
combination to go up against.

Definitely not a good combination to lie to. "It's very
impressive," he said. "Kind of looks like a really big ocean wave. I
don't think I've ever seen anything like it before."

"And just like a really big ocean wave, it will kill you if you
try to challenge it," Gazen said pointedly. "Remember that."

"Sure," Jack said. "What . . . uh . . . what are you going to do to me?"

Gazen turned back around to face front. "We'll discuss it inside."

Like the wall, the main house was more impressive at ground level
than it had looked from the sky. Earlier, Jack had noticed that the
place had been designed to look like a section of rocky cliff face.
Now, up close, he could see that it had also been designed to be a
fortress. The front door was flanked by armed Brummgas, most of the
windows were protected by thick rock overhangs, and a dozen gun barrels
peeked out from slits just below the roof line.

Either the guards at the door were smarter than the ones at the
gate, or else the word had been hastily passed ahead of the incoming
cars. Whichever it was, Gazen and his whole group were made to show
their IDs before they were allowed inside.

The entryway was huge, extending two stories up, with nearly
enough floor space for a small freighter like the
Essenay
to
fit inside. The walls and angled ceiling were covered with paintings,
layer-portraits, light-twists, and other works of art. Sculptures and
elaborate decorated pillars were scattered around the floor, their
weight sinking into a thick blue carpet. At the far end a double-curved
wooden staircase led up to a second-floor balcony.

He caught glimpses of other expensively decorated rooms leading
off the entryway, but Gazen didn't pause long enough for him to get a
good look at any of them. He led the boy across the room, up the
staircase and across the balcony, and down a corridor that was only
slightly less elaborate than the rooms downstairs. Coming to a plain,
unmarked door, he pushed it open and gestured Jack inside.

The room was just as plain as its door. A small desk, a padded
desk chair, a metal guest chair facing the desk, and that was it.

That, plus a pair of rings set in the floor for anchoring a
prisoner's legs. The whole place had the unpleasant look of an
interrogation room. "Sit," Gazen ordered, circling the desk and sitting
down.

Gingerly, Jack sank into the other chair. "The rest of you wait
outside," Gazen added to the guards, his eyes steady on Jack.

The Brummgas obeyed without comment. Gazen waited until he and
Jack were alone, then leaned slightly forward, his arms resting on the
desktop. "Well," he said, his tone almost casual. "I don't suppose I
have to tell you the kind of trouble you're in. Breaking and entering
is a serious crime on Brum-a-dum, good for five to twenty years in a
penal colony."

His eyes hardened. "Breaking and entering Chookoock family
property is even more serious," he went on. "That one can earn you an
immediate death penalty."

"I didn't know," Jack said in a low, pleading voice. So here he
was, all alone with Gazen. No leg cuffs, no handcuffs. And as far as he
could tell, Gazen wasn't even armed.

Of course, the big man
did
outweigh him by at least two to
one. Still, a panicked, desperate kid might still take the chance.

Which meant that this was a test. Gazen was trying to see just how
cool under pressure Jack could be.

"Of course you knew," Gazen said calmly. "Don't play stupid. Your
partner sent you there specifically to try to steal the gate codes."

"No," Jack protested. "No, he didn't tell me what I was supposed
to get. He didn't tell me any of that. He just said to get whatever was
in the safe. He never even told me whose house I was breaking into.
It's his fault, not mine."

Gazen's expression didn't change, but Jack could see a slight
tightening at the corners of his mouth. First Uncle Virge had offered
to sell Jack to him, and now Jack was trying to shoot all the blame
straight back at Uncle Virge. Both of them perfectly willing to sell
out the other at the drop of a biscuit.

It was exactly the way Gazen should expect a couple of
self-centered criminals to behave. Probably the way he would behave
himself in the same situation.

At least, Jack hoped so. This whole thing hinged on Gazen
believing the situation was exactly as Uncle Virge had presented it.
The minute he suspected there was something more going on, Jack was
dead.

"It doesn't really matter who knew what," the big man said. "You
were the one caught with your fingers in the fudge mix. That makes you
the one skip-dancing on eggs."

Jack swallowed hard. "Is there anything I can do to, you know,
make things right?"

"Such as?"

"Well—" Jack shrugged slightly. "Maybe I could . . . you know, work
off my punishment?"

"And how exactly do you propose to work off twenty years worth of
prison time?" Gazen countered. "Are you suggesting you work for me for
the next twenty years?"

Jack grimaced. "I was hoping I could pay it off a little faster
than that," he said. "Maybe I could help you with a job or two?"

Gazen lifted his eyebrows. "Are you suggesting I hire you to
commit crimes for me?"

"No, no," Jack said hastily. "I just thought I could maybe help
you out in some way."

Gazen leaned back in his chair again, studying Jack's face. "All
right," he said at last. "Perhaps there is something you can do. I'll
look into it."

He got to his feet. "And while I do, let's put you somewhere safe.
Guards?"

Jack slowly let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
So it had worked, exactly the way he'd told Uncle Virge it would. Gazen
would now lock him up somewhere, he and Draycos would escape and get to
one of their computers, and with luck they would be able to track down
the mercenary group they were looking for.

Behind him, the door swung open. "Yes,
Panjan
Gazen?" one
of the Brummgas asked.

Gazen gestured to Jack. "The boy needs a lesson," he said. "He
needs to know the cost of crossing the Chookoock family."

He looked back at Jack . . . and for the first time since the two of
them had met, the big man smiled.

Not a pleasant, cheerful, human smile, but something dark and
vacant and as cold as a penguin's footprints. "Take him," he ordered
softly, "to the slaves' hotbox."

The Brummgas led Jack out the back of the house to a row of
open-topped cars. They shoved him into one, three of them piled in
around him, and they turned onto a smooth road built of dark stones
fitted neatly together like pieces of an extra-long puzzle. With the
soft clicking of stone edges beneath their tires, they headed off away
from the mansion.