“It is,” Erica stated. “Most Helots have a hard time meeting their alloted quota, so there’s very little grain, vegetables, and fruit left over for their own consumption. An extra food ration can mean the difference between going hungry and a full stomach.”
Blade watched Grennell surreptitiously stare at the woman’s prominent breasts, and experienced a keen loathing for the man. He was tempted to slug Grennell in the mouth on general principles, but footsteps signaled the timely arrival of the Family’s preeminent practitioner of the martial way of life.
“Here’s the medicine bag,” Rikki announced, and stepped in front of the thin man. Slung over his left shoulder was a brown leather pouch. He gingerly inspected the wound. “The blood flow is already diminishing, which is a good sign. It means the shuriken didn’t slice a major artery or vein.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“I’m a Warrior, not a Healer. But I have considerable experience in administering herbal remedies and treating the types of injuries sustained in battle. On many an occasion I’ve assisted the Healers so I could hone my medical skills.”
“But you’re not a doctor?”
“No.”
“Are these Healers doctors?”
“Not in the sense you intend. Our Healers don’t rely on artificial substances.”
Grennell glanced at the giant. “I’d really prefer to have my sister take care of my arm. She’s a whiz with peroxide and a bandage.”
“We’ll bandage you,” Blade insisted. “Go ahead, Rikki.”
The man in black lightly touched his fingertips to the exposed part of the shuriken. Three of the silver points stuck out an inch above the skin.
“This will sting for a bit,” he cautioned.
“What will?”
Rikki suddenly gave a sharp wrench, pulling the shuriken loose. Blood dripped from the throwing star.
Grennell stiffened and gasped, his mouth opening to screech, but he caught himself and scowled. “Damn! Sting, my ass! That hurt like hell.”
“You must learn to control discomfort. Use your pain to mold your character.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
The small man knelt and deposited the medicine bag in front of him.
He lifted the flap and rooted inside. “I’m talking about self-control, the acme of human virtues. For a person who has perfected self-control, all things are possible. For a person lacking self-control, all pursuits of spiritual consequence are impossible. When persons have self-control, they are the masters of their destiny.” He paused to remove a handful of large leaves. “Pain, for instance, can be dominated and channeled. Instead of resisting it, you can use self-control to embrace the discomfort and subdue it.”
“I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean,” Grennell said.
“Cultivate genuine faith and give yourself a few hundred years. The answer will come to you.”
“You’re downright weird.”
Blade chuckled and rotated to scan the woods lining the highway.
“Hurry up, Rikki,” he directed. “I want to get moving.”
“As you wish.”
Teucer surveyed the forest. “What’s the rush?”
“I don’t like standing out in the open like this,” Blade responded. He didn’t bother to add that deep down he felt uneasy, felt as if unseen eyes were gazing upon them. After so many years of living on the edge, of constantly confronting the enemies of the Family and the Federation, he had learned to rely on his instincts, and his instincts now told him that something was amiss.
“Is anything wrong?” Erica asked.
“No,” Blade said.
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was busy grinding the leaves into powder using a small bowl and pumice stone he’d removed from the pouch.
“Were you alone?” Blade queried, his flinty eyes on Grennell.
The thin man hesitated, then nodded vigorously. “Yep. Sure was.”
Blade took hold of the woman’s elbow. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?” Erica inquired as the giant pulled her away from the others.
“It’s best if your neighbor doesn’t hear us,” Blade said, and led her a distance of 12 feet. He looked at Grennell, who stared suspiciously at them, and spoke in a hushed tone. “Tell me the truth. Is he a close friend of yours?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Do you even like him?”
“I wouldn’t say that either.”
“Then why did you stop me from running him down?”
“He’s a neighbor. My parents and his parents are best friends. I never liked him much because he’s always been more interested in my body instead of me. Once, about seven years ago, I went to a barn dance with him to please my folks. He spent the whole night trying to slip his fingers under my dress. The man is a crud,” Erica stated with obvious sincerity.
“Does he have any brothers or sisters?”
“Yep. Two brothers. Both younger than him.”
Blade observed Rikki adding water from a canteen to the crushed leaves. “Do you buy his story about being out here hunting?”
“It’s possible.”
“It’s also possible he saw you leave your farm.”
“What are you implying?”
“You’re no dummy. You figure it out,” Blade commented.
The woman gazed thoughtfully at her neighbor.
“One more thing,” Blade said. “Why would you go for a walk without a weapon? Isn’t that a bit risky with mutations roaming about?”
“The only weapons Helots are allowed to use are knives, and I just forgot mine. Besides, I wasn’t planning on going more than a mile or two.
And the Spartans have done a fine job of killing off most of the monsters in this region. They slay every mutant they come across.”
“I see,” Blade responded. Now he knew they were both lying. He had to decide whether to turn around and leave before the trouble began or to carry the mission through to the end. As the head Warrior and an official representative of the Federation he had no choice. He must contact the Spartans.
Damn.
Just once he’d like to be sent on an easy run!
CHAPTER FOUR
The two-story farmhouse and the barn were in need of a fresh coat of paint. A narrow dirty driveway led from a pitted, cracked secondary road up to the front lawn, which was bordered by a small picket fence, and a narrow cement walk ran from the drive to the front porch. Meticulously tended flowers bordered the base of the fence.
The wide door to the barn stood open. A black horse was visible in an inner stall, and a dozen chickens were walking about near the entrance and pecking at the ground.
Blade climbed from the transport, the Commando held at the ready, and stepped to the picket fence. “Where is everyone?” he inquired when the others emerged.
“My dad is probably out in the fields,” Erica said. “My mom might be in the kitchen.”
“Can I go home now?” Grennell asked, holding his bandaged left arm against his side.
“No,” Blade responded.
“When, then?”
“When I say you can.”
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi took hold of the waist-high gate. “Do you want me to check the house?”
“Go,” Blade directed. “Teucer, you take the barn.”
“On my way,” the bowman said, and jogged toward the structure.
“You guys certainly are professionals,” Erica commented.
Blade looked at her. “Know a lot of professionals, do you?”
A crimson tinge spread across the woman’s cheeks and she answered in a flustered manner. “Well, no, certainly not. But I know true professionals when I see them. I mean, I’ve seen the Spartans on parade and the like. In a way you guys remind me of them. You know. The Spartans and you are both military-like.”