The Court of a Thousand Suns (Sten #3) by Allan Cole Chris Bunch

Author:Allan Cole, Chris Bunch [Bunch, Allan Cole, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ingram Distribution
Published: 2011-12-15T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE BIG MAN lolled on the beach, lazily watching the mollsk hunters plod across the bed. He was surrounded by half-a-dozen lovelies who were sunning themselves, but keeping one eye out in case Chetwynd should want something. Chetwynd barely stirred when he heard the flitter dust up behind him. And he pretended not to notice the whine of the engines cutting off, then bootheels grounding through the sand.

“Chetwynd?”

“Yar.”

“Get up when I talk to you!”

Chetwynd slowly turned his huge head, then pretended surprise when he saw the two guards. Just as slowly, he creaked to his feet and struck a mock pose of respect.

“Sorry, mister — I didn’t know . . .” He let his voice trail off in pretended nervousness. “We wasn’t expecting a visit.”

“Yeah, well too bleeding bad. Hate to inconvenience an important villain like you.” Sten measured the bulk that was Chetwynd with his mind. Only the insolence in his eyes gave Chetwynd away. Everything else was as humble and respectful as any guard could wish from a villain of Dru. A very dangerous man, Sten thought.

“We’re lookin’ for a villain,” Sten snapped.

“Came to the right place, mister,” Chetwynd drawled.

Sten ignored the subtle rudeness. “Name’s Dynsman.”

“Dynsman . . . Dynsman . . .” Chetwynd puzzled, then he let his eyes brighten. “Yar. He’s still alive. We got a Dynsman.”

“Where?”

Chetwynd pointed, and Sten turned to see their target at the shoreline cleaning out a flat-bottomed skiff.

“Useless bugger, if you don’t mind me saying so, mister. Can’t do a clotting day’s decent work. I’d put him washin’ pots if I didn’t figure he’d poison us all with his carelessness.”

Sten and Alex ignored Chetwynd and began stalking across the beach, their bootheels grating heavily.

Dynsman barely had a chance to see them coming. Just as he raised his head, Alex grabbed him by the base of the neck and lifted him off the ground.

“Villain Dynsman?”

“Yeeeesss, mister.”

“Wanna talk wi’ y’, lad.”

Alex tossed the little man into the boat, gave Sten a glance, caught the nod, and climbed in after him. He picked up the oars as Sten tossed off the tie, and clambered in after him. Alex began rowing out into the sea.

“Honest, mister,” Dynsman wailed. “I didn’t do nothin.” Then in a flash of inspiration, he pointed an accusing finger at the receding mountain that was Chetwynd. “He made me build that bomb!”

“Is that right?” Sten said. “You’re a bomb builder, are you?”

Dynsman was in instant terror. Maybe they didn’t know . . . oh, clot, what was he into?

“Tell us aboot it, lad,” Alex soothed.

“Well, see, he asked me . . . And . . . and I said I had some experience at explosives . . . And . . .”

“Shaddup,” Sten hissed. “We don’t give a clot about Chetwynd.”

Dynsman just stared at Sten as it occurred to him that something terrible was about to happen.

“Tell us about the Covenanter,” Sten snapped.

“Oh, my god,” Dynsman breathed.

Alex gave him a cuff. “Ah canna abide blasphemy.”

“Forget it,” Sten said. “Let’s just kill him now.

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