Pathspace
Page 89
Chapter 89
Lester: “The deceitful face of hope and of despair”
He awoke from a nightmare, in which a leering Brutus in a ridiculously huge tank stood on a hill surveying the smoking ruins of Denver. For a moment he lay there on the couch, shivering even though Xander's everflame on the table had been warming the suite as usual, driving out the chill of winter. Then he forced himself to roll to his feet and paced in the main room, trying to get a grip on his thoughts. It had only been a dream, he told himself. Just a dream. So why is it so hard for me to shrug it off and fall asleep again?
He look out the narrow window and saw it was snowing again. He ducked his head into Xander's bedroom, intending to see if the old wizard was up for some late-night conversation. But Xander was gone again. He had been doing that a lot lately, but mainly during the day, off on some private project. On impulse, Lester went to the door to the corridor and tried the knob. Had The Governor summoned her court wizard for a late-night consultation on strategy? Maybe the guards knew what was happening.
He turned the knob and the door swung open, unbolted. The guard was gone.
Surprise gave way to worry. What could have pulled them away from their post? He hurried down the hall to the stairwell and dithered for a moment before heading upstairs, to the roof. Maybe the old man had been restless and they had escorted him to the roof.
Emerging onto the roof, he strode over to the signal observer, intending to ask if he had seen the mage. But before he could open his mouth to speak. A flash and a distant boom grabbed his attention. “The Texans are here!”
The guard, who had been staring in that direction already, half-turned at the sound of his alarmed cry. “You think? We found out a few minutes ago when they started blasting. I guess he was too busy getting down to street level to wake you.”
“But why are they wasting ammo over there?” Jeffrey suppressed the urge to duck as another flash exploded against a building in the distance. He found himself counting off the seconds, reaching five before the sound of the blast reached him. “It's over a mile away.”
The guard shrugged. “Better there than here.” Another flash preceded a delayed boom. “Maybe they're trying to get our attention, put the fear into us by showing us what they can do before they get here.”
“Well, it's working,” said Lester. I can't believe he didn't have someone wake me.”
BOOM! “I guess he figured you'd hear them soon enough.”
Lester dashed back to the stairwell and fairly flew down the steps, while a tiny part of his awareness tried to keep him from descending even faster, head first. By the time he was down to the twentieth floor, he had to stop to catch his breath. It was too soon! They weren't ready. Why hadn't the lookouts signaled the approach of the Honcho's forces?
He staggered down the last few steps, emerged into the stables on the ground floor, and stumbled into a soldier who was buckling his sword belt. “Have you seen Xander?”
The guard bounced off a wall, straightened himself, and seemed about to shout a reply until his expression changed as he seemed to recognize Lester. Horses were whinnying and pawing the straw on the floor of their stalls, startled by the sound of the explosions. The soldier led him to the front gate and pointed. “He's down there.”
Lester winced as a frigid gust from outside whipped around his face. He squinted through eyes reflexively tearing up at the sudden change in temperature, and eventually saw the gray robe and staff. The man was standing about half a block down the sidewalk, looking at the street.