The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [139]
A sharp whistle blew.
Out of nowhere, a dozen heavily armed men—people; Eileen realized half of them were women—appeared on every side and above them on top of the pillars, rifles cocked and trained on the wagons. They wore light cotton pants, heavy steel-tipped boots, and identical collarless white tunics; each one equipped with a belt of bullets slung around their waists.
Something else odd about them: They were all smiling.
A tall woman, the only one without a rifle—she wore twin-holstered sidearms and a whistle around her neck—stepped forward to the gate and spoke to Rymer in the lead wagon.
"Welcome to The New City, friend," said the woman cheerfully in a loud, clear voice. "What is your business with us today, please?"
"We are the Penultimate Players," said Bendigo, with a grand sweep of his Tyrolean hat. "Theatrical vagabonds. Come to entertain, amuse, and, one hopes, humbly, to please."
The woman smiled at him. "One moment, please."
She opened and consulted a list in a leather-bound folder she carried and apparently found a corresponding entry.
"And your name, sir?"
"I am Bendigo Rymer, director of our happy band; entirely at your service, madam."
"How many in your party, Mr. Rymer?"
"We are seventeen, uh, nineteen of us, in all."
"Thank you, sir; you are expected," she said, closing the book. "We will have a look in your wagons, and you can go right on in."
"By all means," said Rymer. "We have nothing to hide."
The woman gave a signal, and the guards on the ground moved swiftly forward, throwing open the wagon flaps, while the ones stationed on the pillars held their rifles pointed and ready.
"Good afternoon," said Jacob to the handsome young black guard who took hold of the bridle on his mules.
"Good afternoon, sir," said the man, well-spoken, smiling broadly.
"You have a tremendous amount of heat out here in your desert this afternoon," said Jacob, mopping his brow.
"Yes, sir," said the guard, still smiling, never taking his eyes off' him.
The canvas yanked away from the rear of their buckboard: Kanazuchi had pulled himself into a sitting position, swords hidden under the skirt of his coat. Startled, Eileen turned to look at the face of the guard; a slight young woman, no more than twenty, pony-tailed and freckle-faced, but she moved with the sharp assurance of a well-trained soldier. Her eyes darted methodically around the empty wagon—what is she looking for? Eileen wondered—and settled on Kanazuchi for a moment. He nodded and smiled, betraying no uneasiness. The girl smiled in return, a gaptoothed grin that suggested no undue curiosity.
"Hello," said Eileen.
"Have a glorious day," said the girl, and dropped the canvas cover.
The guards on the ground stepped back and signaled to the woman at the gate; she leaned on a stone counterweight and the log barrier rose up smoothly, clearing their path.
"Please proceed, Mr. Rymer," she said to Rymer. "Do not attempt to leave the road. When you reach The New City, someone will meet you with further instructions."
"We are most grateful, madam," said Rymer.
With sweat covering his body, Bendigo congratulated himself on the unflappable coolness of his performance—authority figures outside the theater paralyzed him, particularly when heavily armed—but the woman hadn't noticed even the slightest uneasiness. What an actor he was! He urged his mules through the gate. The other wagons quickly followed.
"Have a glorious day!" said the woman at the gate, smiling and waving at each passing wagon.
"Thank you," said Jacob, returning her wave. "You, too!"
Eileen peeked out of the back as the log gate closed behind them; the guards on the pillars watched them roll away, rifles still in hand, while the others disappeared back to their hiding places.
"What do you make of that?" asked Eileen.
"I detect the fine hand of religious fanaticism," said Jacob from the front seat.
As he joined