Far more than twenty.

"Would you like to stay here, Dean?" Abe asked.

The boy shook his head, sullen. "No. Screw that! Stay with all of you." He sliced into the eggs, letting the lava of golden yolks flow down the side of the potato peak.

Jamie laid down his knife and fork in a perfectly symmetrical pattern.

"I would so like it if you could stay here, Dean. Even if it were only for a week or two."

"Can't."

"There's no real rush, son," Ryan said.

"We have to move on and go all over Deathlands," Dean insisted, glowering at his father.

"Nobody knows why the old United States of America came to be called Deathlands, you know," Jamie

informed them, steepling his fingers together in a habit that Ryan guessed he'd probably picked up from one of his teachers. "It became a current phrase sometime during what is known as the long winters. But there is no record of who came to use it first. I believe that it is now the name for our country, all over the world."

"How come you know so much?" Dean asked. "I was just taught things," the other boy replied, surprised.

"Weren't you taught things like that?"

"Dean never had much time for training to be a scholar," Doc said, wiping a smear of milk from his mouth with his sleeve. "So don't go asking him about Manifest Destiny or Watergate or Boston Common or any of those turning points in history. All right, laddie?"

Jamie nodded. "Of course. I'm sorry if I seemed to be pompous or arrogant. Truly I am, Dean."

He turned to look at Ryan. "Can we come with you on this reconnaissance, Mr. Cawdor? I could lend Dean one of my ponies."

Ryan considered the request. If it had been Dean alone, then he would probably have allowed his son to

come along. It wasn't a patrol that was likely to lead into a serious firefight, but Jamie Weyman was an unknown quantity.

Then again, Ryan didn't want to risk alienating the baron.

At that moment, Weyman himself came into the dining room, walking slowly and unsteadily, with the aid of a stick. His complexion seemed even more pale than usual.

"I am so sorry to have neglected you." One of the serving women approached him. "Nothing for me, I think, Dorita. Though perhaps I could force down a lightly boiled egg whisked into a beaker of warm milk. Thank you."

"Father" Jamie began.

The baron lifted his hands to his ears with an expression of distress on his face. "Quietly, child. You know how excessive noise is intolerable to my senses. I heard the discussion, and I think that this is not a party for young boys. Men of experience, only."

"Do you agree with me on this matter?" he asked Ryan.

"Yeah, I do."

"Then that is settled. Bill Rainey takes the lead of the hunters. Three of our best and most experienced men will accompany him. And you, Mr. Cawdor? How many of your party will you take along with you?"

Ryan looked around the table, knowing that most of the group would like to ride out for a morning's fresh air and exercise. "Risk of trouble," he said. "Guess I'll take the three most experienced of my men. Trader, J.B. and Jak."

"Chauvinist pig," Mildred said, not quite under her breath.

"Sorry." Ryan shrugged. "You know the rule about dividing your forces."

Trader answered. "If you just think about splitting your power, then don't do it. If you have to split your power, then cut it as near down the middle as you can."

"HOW COME THE BARON doesn't get himself better breeding stock?" Trader was bouncing unhappily along on a swaybacked palomino that looked as if it had seen better days. Around fifteen years ago. It was blind in one eye and had a deep sore weeping from the left front fetlock.

Rainey was in the lead. "Time was he would. Like I said, when he started to get kind of unwell he let the reins lie loose. It happens."

J.B. had his fedora tipped back to let the morning sunlight stream down onto his sallow cheeks. "Man lets the reins lie loose opens his eyes and finds his horse has just run away with him," he said.

Trader nodded. "Wish I'd said that, John Dix."

The Armorer grinned. "Oh, you will, Trader. You will."

A HALF MILE BEHIND THEM, a couple of nimble-footed ponies were picking their way along a parallel trail, a little higher up the face of the hillside, twisting and turning among the tall pines. The air was filled with the fresh tang of juniper and pinon, the path splashed with bright puddles of sunlight among the darker shadows of the forest.

The two boys were riding quietly along, Jamie leading the way.

They had slipped away as soon as the main group had left through the gates on their recce patrol. Dean had been surprised how easy it had been for them to leave the ville. Jamie had told the careless sec man

on guard that they were going out for an hour or so to exercise the ponies. The sentry had blown his nose, then opened the heavy gates for them without any further questions.

"Poor security, Jamie," he'd said when they were a few minutes into the woods.

The boy had been taken aback. "Do you truly think so? I must admit that I've never really thought about

it. Father says that when I'm a few years older, then he'll get Bill Rainey to teach me about things like that."

"You don't have a blaster?"

"No." Jamie looked enviously at the big Browning Hi-Power on his companion's hip. "Can I carry that and have a shoot with it, please, Dean?"

"You greasing my pipe?"

"No. I've hardly ever seen such a beautiful piece of engineering workmanship."

"It'd break your wrist if you fired it. If you weren't ready for it."

Jamie looked wistful. "Oh, I do wish that you and your family could stay awhile with me. There's so

much that you could teach me, Dean."

" Me teach you !"

"Of course."

Dean rode in silence for the next mile or so, locked into his own thoughts.

JAK'S HORSE STUMBLED over some loose rocks, nearly throwing the albino, but he kept his balance. The animal was less lucky, the accident resulting in a deep gash on one of its hind legs.

They stopped for nearly an hour until the horse seemed to be recovered.

Ryan had gone into the woods off the path to take a leak. Standing in the stillness, he was aware of the deep gouges on the bark of a nearby beech tree, where some animal had been sharpening its claws. Or its tusks. It was about the right height for a large mutie pig.

He realized suddenly how quiet the forest had become, and he stopped pissing, quickly doing up his pants and drawing the SIG-Sauer. The birds had ceased singing and vanished, and there was a sinister total silence.

Several minutes passed before the noise came creeping back again and he relaxed, rejoining the others.

Jak saw him coming and strolled over. "Hear something?" he asked.

"Sounds stopped."

"Heard it here."

"See anything, Jak?"

The youth shook his head, a stray beam of sunlight breaking through the foliage and illuminating his hair

like a napalm flare. "Nothing. You?"

"No. We passed a trail turning a little while after leaving the ville. Looked like it might run in the same direction as this one. Higher up the hill."

"Think someone riding on that?"

"Mebbe." He laughed at his own fears. "Mebbe not."

"SHOULDN'T WE HAVE SEEN some sign of the main party?" Dean asked. "We've been riding for over two hours now. Must've covered twelve to fifteen miles since we left the ville. Could we've passed them?"

Jamie shook his head. "Doubt it. This trail joins the main track soon. By the old burned-out water mill. Look, you can see it through the trees."

The gloomy, isolated building was made from quarried stone, covered in dark green lichen, almost the same color as the ville's livery. The roof had fallen in years earlier, showing the jagged stumps of beams and joists beneath tumbled slates. The great iron-bound waterwheel had toppled from its mounting, lying on its side, water foaming past it in the narrow millrace.

The glass had gone from all the windows, and the dark rectangles peered suspiciously at the two boys as they heeled their nervous ponies nearer.

"I believe that it's the sound of the river that frightens the animals," Jamie said.

"Yeah," Dean agreed warily.

He peered down at the damp mud. "How come there's no tracks from their horses?" he asked.

Jamie looked down vaguely. "Are there not any?"

"You can see there aren't, you stupe! Don't you even know what horse tracks look like?"

"No. Sorry, Dean. I mean I'm really sorry, but I wasn't ever taught that sort of thing."

Dean shook his head in disgust. "Look, we're going to be in some seriously deep shit when we get found

out. Best we can do is go and hide in that old mill and keep watch. You reckon they'll come this way?"

Jamie seemed to be on the edge of tears. "I think so. Yes."

They tethered the ponies around the back where there was a cobbled yard, slick with spray from the

millrace. Dean led the way inside the ruined building.