History was repeating itself; there were moats and nobles in Pennsylvania and vassals in Manhattan and the barbarian hordes were overrunning the land.
aying anything about it.
"There she is," The Barbarian said in a husky growl. Geoffrey peered through the brush at an armored trailer whose flat sides were completely undecorated except for a scarlet bearpaw painted on the door. A lantern gleamed behind the slit windows, and The Barbarian grunted with satisfaction. "She's still in there. Fine. We'll have this done in a couple of seconds."
In spite of the incongruity, Geoffrey asked curiously: "What's a second?"
"A division of time, lad--one sixtieth of a minute."
"Oh. What on Earth would you want to measure that accurately for?"
"For getting women out of trailers in a hurry, lad. Now--let's look for sentries."
* * *
There were two guarding the trailer--men-at-arms from Dugald's holding, Geoffrey noticed--carrying shotguns and lounging in the shadows. One of them had a wineskin--Geoffrey heard the gurgle plainly--and the other was constantly turning away from the trailer to listen to the shrieks and shouting com