Jack moved the spoon to the protruding snout, pulling the edges of his unfastened shirt forward a little with his free hand to help hide the dragon from view. "Well?"
Draycos's only answer was to keep sniffing. "Come on, come on," Jack said impatiently. This had better not be something stupid, like the kettlespice balance not being quite right. "What, is it spoiled or something?"
"No," Draycos said. "It is poisoned."
Carefully, Jack lowered the spoon back into the bowl. "You sure?"
"I am positive," Draycos said. "I cannot identify the exact type. But I am certain it is a poison."
Jack took a deep breath. So that was how Gazen planned to do it. "A squatter poison," he said. "Bet you aces to deuces it's a squatter poison."
"I do not know that term."
"It's a type of poison that gets into a person's system and then just sort of sits there," Jack explained bitterly. "Sometimes for years. They're mostly used for big-animal control, like that touring show with the reconstructed dinosaurs."
"What do you mean, it sits there?" Draycos asked. "Where does it sit?" "All through the tissues," Jack said. "Muscle fibers, lungs, maybe the heart lining. And as long as you take a daily dose of the right antidote, you're fine."
"And if you do not?"
"Then you're dead."
For a moment Draycos was silent. "That is how Gazen plans to keep you under the control of your new buyer," he said. "But can you not find your own supply of the antidote?"
"Sure," Jack said. "Problem is, I don't know which squatter poison it is. The wrong antidote could kill me all by itself."
"What then do we do?"
"We start by going hungry," Jack said, picking up the glass of water beside the bowl and holding it close to his chest. "Take a sniff. Anything here?"
Again, the snout rose an inch out from his skin. "No," Draycos said after a couple of sniffs. "It is clear water."
"Okay," Jack said, taking a sip. It tasted a little funny, but that was probably his imagination. "I just hope there wasn't anything in those pancake things Lisssa gave us."
"There was not," Draycos assured him. "I would have smelled it."
"I hope so," Jack said, taking another sip of the water. It still tasted funny.
"The buyer will have to be told the proper poison and antidote," Draycos went on thoughtfully. "Perhaps we can overhear that information, or else learn it from him later on."
"That's the second time you've mentioned a buyer," Jack said. "You know something I don't?"
"We are expecting you to be sold, are we not?" Draycos reminded him. "These precautions would indicate that time is near. And of course, there are also those military transports to consider."
A sip of water tried to go down the wrong way. "Transports?" Jack demanded when he stopped coughing. "Where?"
"On the west end of the grounds," Draycos said, sounding surprised. "Near the vehicle parking area, between the mansion and the main gate. Did you not see them as we were being brought to the kitchen?"
"I missed it completely," Jack muttered, feeling thoroughly disgusted with himself. "How many were there?"
"At least five," Draycos said. "Possibly more. I was only able to see glimpses of them between the bushes and trees."
"That explains the nice clothes, anyway," Jack said, reaching down and fastening his shirt the rest of the way up. "Looks like Gazen's got a demonstration planned for this morning."
"But Uncle Virge said the auction would not be for three more days," Draycos objected.
"Maybe Gazen got bored," Jack said. "Or maybe all the interested buyers were able to get here early."
He grimaced. "In which case, he might end today's demo by calling for bids."
"What is our plan, then?"
Jack hissed between his teeth, trying to think. "Okay. Step one is to somehow shake ourselves loose long enough to get back to the conference room where we stashed the recorder. Assuming we were lucky enough to get a clear view of Gazen's startup sequence, the next step is to get into his office and copy the Chookoock family mercenary data."
"And then?"
"We run like rabbits," Jack said, draining the rest of the water glass. "I haven't quite got that part figured out yet."
Heetoorieef reappeared at the edge of Jack's vision. "What is this?" he snapped.
"You are not eating? You were ordered to eat."
"I'm not hungry," Jack told him. "I guess the sight of shredded Wistawki spoiled my appetite."
Heetoorieef's ears twitched. "I see," he said in a more subdued voice. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, too," Jack said. How sorry, Heetoorieef would never know.
Or maybe he did. "Yes," Heetoorieef said, in a voice that seemed all too knowing. "It's time. Come with me."
CHAPTER 28
Gazen was alone in his office when Heetoorieef showed Jack in. "There you are," the slavemaster said. "All rested and fed, I trust?"
"I'm fine," Jack said.
Apparently the tone hadn't been slavelike enough. Gazen's expression didn't change, but in a single movement he scooped up the extendible slapstick from his desk and flicked it at Jack.
Reflexively, Jack flinched back, banging his left elbow against the wall in the process.
He needn't have bothered. With another wrist flick, Gazen stopped the tip of the weapon a foot in front of his face. "Nervous this morning, I see," he commented.
"Not too nervous to perform, I hope."
Jack felt his eyes narrowing. So this was it. The slave auction was indeed coming off early. "Perform?" he asked innocently.
"There are some men who have come to see what you can do," Gazen said. "I trust you'll make it worth their trouble."
"I think I can manage that," Jack said.
"Good," Gazen said. "Because I'd hate to see you embarrass yourself in front of such distinguished visitors."
"I understand," Jack said. "What are they, mercenaries? Other slaveowners?
Oversized rodents?"
Gazen smiled slightly. "Very good," he said. "Once again, you show how quickly you grasp the realities of a situation. You've realized that I can't twitch you the way I normally would at such a disrespectful tone. After all, we can't afford to upset those delicate finger muscles."
"Not if we want me to bring a good price," Jack agreed.
"Certainly not," Gazen said. "Still, it may be that no one wants you. Tell me, did you happen to notice a group of slaves come through the kitchen this morning?"
Someday, Jack promised himself darkly, he would find a way to sandblast that bland expression off Gazen's face. "Yes."
"Good," Gazen said. "Then we can both hope that you bring a good price. I trust I need say no more?" Jack swallowed. No, the implications were as clear as two feet of empty space.
He could impress the stuffing out of Gazen's prospective buyers, or he could end up with a shredded back himself. "No, sir."
"Good," Gazen said, standing up. "I do so like a quick learner."
Picking up his slapstick, he slid it into his belt pouch. "Come. Your audience awaits your performance."
He led the way to the banquet hall where they'd held Her Thumbleness's High Day celebration a few nights earlier. But the room had been so rearranged that Jack hardly recognized it. The center had been completely cleared out, with a rug laid down and the tables and chairs arranged in concentric circles around it.
Scattered through the empty center were a dozen different types of safes, door locks, and alarm systems. It was rather like a strange dinner theater set up to host a home security show.