Only two areas differed from the rest of the ville. A cleared space on either side of the blacktop, fenced in and guarded, offered parking for the wags of the trading convoys. The ville’s baron figured that the convoys would spend more jack in the ville if they could leave their wags protected by his force—for a small consideration, of course.
The other area lay to the right of the blacktop from the direction they had entered. The fenced-off area, with three old buildings inside, represented the baron’s personal dwelling and trading space. It was the only place where people weren’t allowed to walk freely. A trickle came in and out to conduct business of one kind or another, but they were regulated by the two sec men who stood, in dusty fatigues, at the only gate in the fence.
This was where Sim and Hafler headed, carrying their prize. J.B. was still unconscious, had remained so throughout the journey. Somewhere deep in his subconscious he knew that he was on the move, but his pain and injuries were so great that his body had shut down to recover from the trauma.
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