“It was nothing,” Teucer said, walking up to her.
“Are you kidding?” she replied. “You were magnificent.”
The bowman grinned and slid the arrow into the quiver he had slung over his back while exiting the transport.
“I guess I was, wasn’t I?”
“Oh, brother,” Rikki mumbled, replacing the katana in a smooth, practiced motion.
“Who are you men?” the woman inquired, and looked at the SEAL. “And what is that vehicle of yours? I’ve never seen one like it.”
“Our transport is unique,” Blade disclosed. “As for our names, I’m Blade. This is Rikki,” he said, and nodded at the man in black. “And the man who lucked out and hit the mutation named himself Teucer.”
She stared at the bowman. “You named yourself?”
“Sure did, my dear. After a bowman in The Iliad. It’s common practice at the place we’re from to have a special Naming Ceremony on our sixteenth birthday. We’re encouraged to select any name we want, from any source, as our very own.”
“I never heard of such a thing.”
“What’s your name?” Blade questioned.
“Erica. Erica Johnson.”
“Do you live around here?”
“Less than a mile away, on the outskirts of Dorchester. My dad has a farm.” She paused. “I was out for a walk.”
“Would you take us there?” Blade queried.
“No,” Erica said, shaking her head.
“We’ll give you a lift,” Blade offered. “I promise no harm will come to you.”
“It’s not that. You’re strangers. You must leave, and leave quickly.”
“Why?”
“Just go, please,” Erica advised, and began to head to the south.
“Wait,” Blade said. “Explain the reason we should leave.”
“I told you. You’re strangers.”
“So?”
The woman was almost abreast of the dead deviate. She looked back.
“Please go. I feel I owe you for saving me, and I’m trying to return the favor.”
“Hold on, fair maiden,” Teucer stated, and beckoned for her to return.
“We need information and you’re the only one who can provide it.”
Erica stopped, “All right. But be quick about this. If they find you, you’ll be taken into custody.”
“If who finds us?” Teucer asked.
“The Spartans, of course.”
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi took a step toward her. “Then we’re near Sparta?”
“You’re close. You have to go another ten miles on this highway, then take a gravel road to the east about four miles. But you don’t want to go there.”
“Yes, we do,” Rikki informed her. “We’ve traveled a long distance to find the Spartans.”
“Then you’re crazy. They aren’t very fond of strangers. If you’re lucky, they’ll escort you far, far away and tell you to never come back. If not, you could wind up in chains,” Erica warned. “Please leave. Now.”
“Are you a Spartan?” Blade inquired.
“I wish. No, I’m a Helot.”
“What’s a Helot?” asked Teucer.
“One of the farming class that raises all the food for Sparta. Each Helot is allotted fifty acres on which to grow the required quota. Any extra the Helot gets to keep.”
“How many Helots are there?” Blade wanted to know.
“I’m not sure. Over two thousand, I think. Maybe three thousand.”
“And how many Spartans?”
“There you’ve got me. Last I heard, about nine hundred. Probably more by now.”
“Only nine hundred?” Rikki said.
“What did you expect?” Erica answered, and gestured at the van.
“Please, for the last time, get out of here. A patrol could show up at any minute.”
“We can’t leave,” Blade declared. “We’re emissaries from the Freedom Federation, and we came to extend an invitation to the Spartan people and their leader.”
“Leaders, you mean. The Spartans are ruled by two kings.”
“Then we must present our message to them.”
The woman shook her head. “You’re just asking for trouble.”
“It won’t be the first time,” Blade stated. “And since we’re going no matter what, and we’re heading the same direction you are, why not ride with us? You’ll get home that much faster.” He pointed at the mutation.
“What if that thing has a mate? You wouldn’t be safe by yourself.”
Her brow furrowed in contemplation, Erica gazed at the carcass, then nodded. “All right. I’ll let you take me to the farm. I can take the time to talk you out of visiting Sparta.”
Teucer promptly stepped to the SEAL and held the door open. “After you, lovely one.” He gave a little bow. “Your chariot awaits.”
The Helot climbed inside, bestowing an affectionate smile on the bowman.
“Here we go again,” Rikki said as he walked on Blade’s heels toward the van.
“What do you mean?” the head Warrior responded.
“Do you realize how many of us have married women from outside the Home? Hickok married Sherry, and she’s from Canada. Geronimo wed Cynthia, who hails from the Cavalry. Sundance popped the question to Bertha, who hails from the Twin Cities. And I took Lexine in eternal union. She’s from St. Louis.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Teucer could be next, which would be highly appropriate.”
“How so?”
“Doesn’t Cupid use a bow?”
Blade laughed all the way around the front of the transport. He clambered into the driver’s seat, listening to the muted whine of the engine, and waited for Rikki to get in before resuming their interrupted journey, carefully bypassing the dead deviate.
“Wow!” Erica said excitedly. “I’ve never ridden in anything like this!”
“Does your family own a vehicle?” Blade probed.
“Heavens, no. None of the Helots do. Many years ago the Spartans allowed our ancestors to use tractors, but eventually the tractors wore out.
So now we just use horses and oxen.”
“Do the Spartans possess vehicles?”
“A few. They have a few jeeps that they only use on special occasions. I was told it’s hard for them to obtain fuel. They receive a little now and then in trade with the Scarlet Clique.”
Blade had heard of the Clique, a sophisticated network of smugglers and thieves who supplied anything a client wanted provided the price was met. He’d tried to learn more about them, where their headquarters were located and the identity of the party or parties running the operation, but so far he’d not uncovered the information. All he’d managed to discover was the fact that the Scarlet Cliques stole a substantial quantity of merchandise and military items from the Free State of California and the Civilized Zone, both allies of the Family. “What can you tell the about the history of Sparta?” he asked.
“Not a great deal. My grandfather claimed Sparta was formed about the time of the war. A bunch of college professors from back East came to this area to hide, to get away from the mobs and the looters. They were the ones who wrote the Spartan constitution and set up the system of government. They also forced some people to become Helots,” Erica said, stressing the last word bitterly.
“I take it you don’t like being a Helot?”
“What was your first clue?”
“Why not?”
“Would you like to be a second-rate citizen? Helots are good enough to grow food to feed the Spartans, but they’re not considered good enough to have the right to vote or take control of their own lives. The Spartans are the lords and masters, and any Helot who doesn’t toe the line winds up sentenced to work in the quarry for life.”
“What quarry?”
“Where the Spartans mine the granite and marble for their buildings. No one sent there ever comes out alive.”
Blade regarded her reflection in the rearview mirror. “Do all of the Helots feel the same way you do about the Spartans?”