Tor (Women of Earth Book 2) by Rhoades Jacqueline

Author:Rhoades, Jacqueline [Rhoades, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2016-09-02T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

"Ish!" Just that one word and the panel slid closed. A succession of locks was unbolted and the door opened.

Ish pushed inside and began slamming locks back into place as soon as Mohawk cleared it.

"Peacekeepers," was Ish's terse greeting.

"Peacekeepers? Here? Where's Tor?" The woman's soft voice cracked with concern. "The others?" she added as if to deny she cared only for him.

Ish was already moving along the short corridor. "Safe for now. This is Mohawk and Wynne. They're ours. You know about our troubles?"

"Some. Come. If they're here, we haven't much time."

Wynne had no chance to see the woman's face, but if her figure and clothing were any indication, she would be lovely. Not much taller than Wynne, but oh so slender, she wore a long tunic colored with a dozen different shades of green. It fell to her trim ankles and was slit up the sides to the tops of her thighs. Beneath it, she wore a pair of trousers, deep green and silken, that swayed and clung to her shapely legs as she walked. Her hair was as dark as Wynne's and woven into an intricate design that drew it upward into a lustrous crown of curls. Iridescent earrings that caught all the colors of the tunic hung from delicately formed ears. All this could be seen through the head covering she wore. It, too, was deep green, but so sheer it covered her like a cloud trimmed in a wide band of gold lace.

The whole outfit was a study in understated elegance and expensive taste. It shimmered subtly in the light of the open doors they passed. There weren't many; a bedroom, beautiful and feminine, a small kitchen with something that smelled delicious bubbling on the stove, and a closed door that Wynne assumed was the bath.

"Are they searching for you?" the woman asked in the same soft voice.

"Not directly, but they won't mind finding us."

They entered a large workroom that Wynne immediate recognized as a seamstress's. The machines were different than Mrs. Pulaski's back home, but there was no mistaking the spools of thread set on rows of pegs along one wall. Beneath them, other, larger spools held yards of lace, strings of pearls, and other expensive looking trimmings. Bolts of cloth were neatly stacked on shelve beneath the thread and trim. Other, more expensive looking fabrics hung from racks.

The woman went to the corner that held a computer console. Her fingers flew over the keys and pictures rose into the air. Two were of the alley, the pictures still clear in the dying light of day. Uniformed figures stood at attention at either end. There was another picture of the hallway through the arch though little could be seen except the soft glow above each doorway. The fourth picture was of a narrow street lined with shops, all closed with windows dark. More uniformed figures walked in both directions, though none looked as if they were searching.

"No doubt they have sentries on the rooftops as well.

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