by Джеффри Лорд
The footsteps were louder now. Was it his imagination, or did Blade hear a gleeful chuckling? If he did, that could only be Durkas. And if the steward's mind was so filled with anticipation of future pleasures
Five hooded figures rounded the corner of the warehouse at a trot. Blade stepped out of the shadows and went down on one knee in a ceremonial bow.
«Greetings, Master.»
The five stopped dead but did not spread out. Blade noted that and smiled thinly. This might be very easy. His eyes searched the group, picking out one man stouter than the others and standing a little to the fore. Durkas.
«You have the wares?»
«We do.»
«In there?» A thumb jerked up, pointing at the warehouse door.
«Indeed, Master.» Blade took a deep breath. «And we bid you enter.»
That was the signal for Fturn and the men under the loading dock to lunge forward. They came out swiftly, silently, with only a faint padding of feet to give warning, swords and daggers blackened to give no betraying flashes of light.
Blade did not pay them any attention once he heard them on the move. His goal was Durkas. And he did not run. For a man trained like Blade, the steward was in easy range. Blade covered the six feet between them in a single leap.
His sandaled feet drove into the steward's stomach in a blow certain to disable the man but unlikely to kill him. The steward doubled up, then toppled to one side. Blade twisted in midair to avoid landing full force on the toppling man's chest, went down on the pavement, rolled on his shoulders, and came up.
As he did, one of Durkas's guards rushed him, sword raised for a downstroke. But the man had raised the sword a bit too high. He could not bring it down before Blade twisted again, bringing one foot hard against the side of the guard's left knee. Blade felt bone crack, saw the sword falter and swing down clear of him, then sprang to his feet. He grabbed the man by his sword arm, twisted it hard to disarm him, then heaved. The guard flew clear over Blade's shoulder so fast that he had no time to scream or even gasp. After that it was too late for him to do or say anything at all. He came down squarely on his skull. The crunch and crackle of skull and spine told Blade that at least one guard would never tell anybody anything about this night's work.
As he looked around, he realized that neither would the other three guards. Both the sailors and Fturn's men had obeyed his orders to kill, swiftly, silently, and without mercy. All except Durkas. But Blade hadn't been worried about him. The Sisters of the Night wanted him alive as badly as Blade did-at least for the moment.
He motioned to Fturn and gave orders in a quick whisper. «Roll those bodies under the dock. We don't want them found too soon. Do you have the carrying net?»
«Yes, Blade.»
«Good. Roll that»- he jerked a thumb at the sprawled Durkas-«into the net and have four of your men grab it.
Fturn was too concerned about getting out safely to be suspicious, let alone argue. Good. That was four of his men who wouldn't be able to react as fast as they should. Of course there was the risk they might panic and kill Durkas, but that was a small risk.
The men with the net spread it out on the damp stones. Fturn and Blade helped them roll Durkas into it. Blade pulled the man's hood down over his face and tied it around his neck. As long as no one recognized Durkas, no one would ask any questions about the group of silent men carrying a body through the street. It was a common enough sight-any time a master lost his temper with a slave too often or too thoroughly. Blade wondered if some of the girls Durkas had «used up» during his amusements had made their last journeys this way. He grinned savagely at the thought. If so, it was highly appropriate that Durkas should make his last journey in Nurn that way.
With half-stifled grunts and gasps, the bearers hoisted Durkas clear of the street. Blade looked up and down the alley, then nodded and set off at a trot. The other nine fell in behind him.
Down the alley, across the street, along the next alley, across another street, down another alley-they kept going at a steady trot. After the fifth street Blade threw a quick glance over his shoulder. Good. The three sailors had all drifted forward, to the head of the line. They were directly behind Blade and between him and Fturn's men. Only two streets more, and then-
The two streets passed as fast and as silently as if Blade and all the others had been moving in a dream-or a nightmare. They came to the corner and Blade raised a hand to motion them to a stop. Behind him the sound of feet faded away, as he looked down the street to the dock. Not a sound, not a movement was visible. The hull of a merchant ship threw the dock into an even deeper shadow than usual.
«Let's get down onto the waterfront. There's a place I know where we can rest and nobody will bother us.»
Fturn nodded without saying anything and motioned to the bearers. Blade could hardly keep back a sigh of relief. If Fturn had decided to balk-well, here and now would have been a bad place. As soon as they got down on the dock, however-
Two minutes later they rounded the corner of the last warehouse onto the dock and slipped into the shadow of the merchant ship. All except Blade. He stepped close to the edge of the dock, turned his back on the dark waters of the harbor, and raised his left hand to his right temple.
He held it there until Fturn stepped toward him, a worried look on his face.
«Blade, is-are you ill?»
Blade shook his head, without lowering his hand. «No, I-«Behind him he heard a faint but unmistakable splash.
Blade stiffened slightly but did not move. Fturn was still out of easy striking range. And a single, splash did not have to mean anything. A single splash could be accident or coincidence.
Then Blade heard two more splashes, and Fturn took the step that brought him within range. Together, that meant something-that the moment for action was at hand.
Blade took a single step forward, his right arm rising in a deceptively slow, flowing motion. The heel of his hand slammed up under Fturn's jaw, snapping the man's head back. Blade could kill with that blow, or compress a man's spine just enough to drop him in his tracks.
Fturn shot back, then dropped. As he hit the stones, a whole chorus of splashes sounded behind Blade. Then slim, fast-moving shapes were darting past on either side of him and hurling themselves on the Sisterhood's guards.
There were five of them-Sea Masters armed with strangling cords and knives, their pale skins darkened with grease. But their golden eyes flashed as they struck like hunting cats, as fast, as silent, and as deadly. Behind them charged Blade's three sailors and Blade himself, swords drawn to deal with any guard who panicked and drew steel.
None of Fturn's six had time to do that, even if they had the will. The five Sea Masters swirled around the two not holding the netted Durkas. There was a flurry of fast-moving bodies, a thud, two groans, and then two more thuds as the two guards collapsed.
The other four dropped Durkas onto the dock with a crash and stood openmouthed. They stood staring, unable to decide whether to fight or run. They kept standing until the matter was decided for them. Five Sea Masters, three sailors, and Blade swarmed over them, clubbing, punching, and kicking.
Blade drove his fist hard into one guard's jaw, saw the man crumple, ducked a sword stroke from a second, then stumbled over an outstretched arm. He went over backward, but converted his tumble into a backflip and came up with a knife in his hand. The guard cut at him with a clumsy sword-stroke. Blade's knife rose to block it with a clang and a shower of sparks. The guard raised the sword to strike again. Then a golden-eyed figure sprang up behind him and wrapped a padded leather thong around his thick neck. The guard's eyes bulged, his tongue thrust out between his teeth, and his face turned purple. The Sea Master whipped the cord away, and the man crumpled as limply as a jellyfish onto the dock.
Blade stepped back from the fallen man and looked around him. Fturn and his men were all down, but a quick check showed they were all more or less alive and breathing. With luck, they would stay that way.
The slimmest of the five Sea Masters stepped forward, golden eyes wide. Blade reached out and stroked Alanyra's cheek and shoulder. But his voice was crisp.
«You have the masks?»
«We do.»
«Give them out and let's be off.»
She nodded and darted off to snap orders to her fighters. Swiftly they bound Durkas's hands and feet and tied an air mask over his face, then gave masks to Blade and the sailors. Netted, bound, masked, and unconscious, the steward of mighty Duke Tymgur was lowered over the edge of the dock like a dead fish. A faint splash from below told of his hitting the water. Louder splashes in rapid succession told of the Sea Masters and the sailors following Durkas into the water. When Blade had finished adjusting his mask and looked up, only Alanyra stood gracefully on the edge of the dock.
«Coming, Blade?»
«A moment.»
He unbuckled his sagging pouch from his belt and opened it. He took out a leather bag bulging with silver and gold coins and a letter. He read the letter over one final time:
Sister Brigeda
We mean the Sisterhood no harm. But what is best for the Sea Cities will also be the best for the Sisterhood and in time for Nurn. Fear not. Durkas will not live long or die easily, though he escapes your hands. This money I leave for Sister Clarda, a gift from the Sea Cities.
— Blade
There was much else he could have added, but someone might come along and read the letter before Fturn or any of his men awoke. Blade shoved both letter and purse inside Fturn's tunic, then turned toward the water. Alanyra was gone, and it was high time he joined her and the others.
He ran lightly to the edge of the dock, took one swift look, then plunged into the harbor.
Chapter EIGHTEEN
A war-trained yulon in good condition could easily tow twenty men at a good clip all night. The one waiting in the depths of the harbor had been hard worked, but it could easily tow a dozen men and women and one inert body twenty miles offshore by dawn.
An hour after dawn Blade stuck his head up through the crest of a swell and saw Sea Fox's white-painted mast on the horizon. An hour after that, they were aboard her and pumping stimulants into the unconscious but still-living Durkas. And before nightfall, Durkas was conscious, full of Truth-Finder, and pouring out all he knew of Duke Tymgur's plans.
That was quite a lot. Blade suspected that Krodrus would find his report most interesting.
Krodrus did.
The Autocrat for Finance would have found it even more interesting if he had been able to confront Stipors with the full tale in open council. However, word had apparently reached Stipors that his dealings with Duke Tymgur were about to see the light of day. His choices had then become very simple-try to kill Blade or flee at once. He had chosen to flee. In fact he had fled two days before Sea Fox picked up Blade and his prisoner off the coast of Nurn.
This balked Krodrus of having his colleague tried and executed for treason. But it did solve one problem literally overnight. With Stipors no longer concerned in the matter, the execution of the Conciliators was quietly dropped. In fact, they were all pardoned and released the day after Blade's return. The proclamation of pardon had to be rather weasel-worded, of course. Blade's mission was still a closely guarded secret. But at least there was no more danger of Svera's losing her head.
There was some danger of Captain Foyn's deciding that Blade would make a perfect son-in-law and heir. The fact that Blade was obviously a man who would rise high in the Sea Cities, whatever his origins, didn't help matters. Blade had to find a way to avoid saying yes, no, or maybe without giving any hint of why. He knew that his time in this dimension must be drawing to a close. But there was still one large item of unfinished business before he could go home with a clear mind-Duke Tymgur. So he was as eager to speak to Krodrus as he had been after his return from the Reefs of Clan Gnyr.
This time he didn't have to wait.
Neither Krodrus's officer nor the man himself had changed much. But the little Autocrat's expression was harried. It was obvious that Blade's discovery had brought him no real peace of mind.
«You have done marvels,» he said to Blade. «You and all those who helped you. But I cannot see that you have solved our problem. Duke Tymgur still lives. We have weakened him both here and in Nurn, but a man such as he can always find other trusted stewards, other traitors in the Sea Cities and elsewhere.»
«Not if what we have learned is revealed to-all concerned,» said Blade.
Krodrus shrugged his narrow shoulders. «How can that be? There is still too much hatred built up from centuries of war. And even if such a revelation would cause no trouble among us, it would not weaken Tymgur's power in Nurn. That power is so great that I think he could push the Empire into a war of conquest. We cannot stand against it. Not now. We have-both-lost too many ships, too many fighters in the past few months.»
«Suppose there were no Duke Tymgur?»
«Eh?»
«One kills a yulon most easily by cutting off its head. A conspiracy can be killed the same way.»
«Yulons have only one head, Blade. Conspiracies-«
«Conspiracies differ, I know. But this one has only one head. Duke Tymgur has been careful not to let any of his supporters become over-mighty in their own right. Kill him, and the danger from his faction ceases. There are none among it with the skill and power to rebuild it, at least not before Tymgur's enemies move in. Perhaps even the Emperor himself would take a hand in that case. He is weak, but not fond of over-mighty subjects.»
Krodrus made a vague noise that suggested he was considering the matter. After a short silence he shook his head. «How could you chop off this-head? Tymgur's seat we know is a castle with a garrison of at least a thousand. We could hardly surprise and take it in time to catch the Duke. And even if we could, to raid the coast of Nurn would bring instant war with the Empire. All the nobles would rally around Tymgur. Even the Emperor's hand would be forced.»
«I wasn't thinking of a raid on his castle.»
«No?»
«The. Duke travels from Mestron to his castle and back again by sea. A ship at sea is a much easier prey to a surprise attack than a castle. And a ship at sea can be made to disappear much more easily than a castle, as well. If Duke Tymgur vanishes from the face of the sea as though the Goddess had whisked him away-«
«I see,» said Krodrus. There was an uncertain smile on his face. Then it became firmer. «Very well. How is this to be done?»
Blade pulled out a map of the coast of Nurn and began to explain.
He had the plan well worked out and Krodrus was a good listener. Furthermore, he was a man who did not delay making up his mind when there was a vital decision to be made. When Blade had finished, Krodrus nodded.
«It shall be done as you wish, and you shall have everything you need. I confess I would not have thought of it myself. But one doubt remains. If so many Fishmen-excuse me, so many Sea Masters-are involved with so many of our people, how can we keep the secret of the peace between the two peoples?»
«We can't,» said Blade flatly. «It would be a waste of time to even try. But if Tymgur is dead and gone, it won't matter any more. Even if the Emperor decides on war against the two peoples, he will not plunge Nurn into it the way Tymgur would. There will be several years at least for trust to grow, for plans to be made, for new warriors to be trained.» Several years which I shall not see, Blade added to himself. As much as I would like to.
Krodrus was silent for a very long time. «Then so be it,» he said. «We seem to worship one Goddess, although under different names. Perhaps in truth we are one people or once were. If so, I am sure she will bless this undertaking and all that flows from it.»
The idea that Sea Masters and Talgarans had a common origin was one that had also occurred to Blade. But the reasoning that lay behind that idea was not something he could explain to Krodrus, even if he wanted to.
«Perhaps you are right,» was all he said.
; Nineteen days had passed. Again Blade was off the coast of Nurn. In fact he was only a few miles offshore from the cove where he had arrived in this dimension. But instead of fighting a yulon, now he was riding one. In fact, he was sitting astride its neck, just behind the small head. He prodded the base of the skull with a stone-pointed goad, and the creature lifted its head still higher. Blade stared at the southern horizon, toward Mestron.
Coming over that horizon was a ship with a single sail — a green sail with a black bull's head on it.
For once a simple idea had also been simple to carry out. It had involved a good deal of work and planning, of course. But it hadn't been hard to explain it to any of the people involved-Sea Masters or Talgarans.
Duke Tymgur's yacht never went more than twenty miles offshore. It didn't need to. The land dropped off sharply into the sea along the coast of Nurn, with deep water only a mile or two offshore. Water more than deep enough to hide a yulon-or for that matter six yulons, or a hundred.
So Blade set up a patrol line off the coast. Six yulons, each with three Sea Masters and three Talgarans and everything they needed to remain on station for days or even weeks. Both Sea Masters and Talgarans were more than tough enough to stand it. The only problem had been persuading the Talgarans to mount the yulons. But the spectacle of Alanyra herself leading one of them around like a house pet had solved that problem.
Eighty miles offshore, Green Mistress sailed back and forth. Aboard her were extra food and weapons, Captain Foyn, Oknyr, and more warriors of both people. Hopefully she was far enough out that no one would connect her with what was about to happen.
As Blade had told Krodrus, there was no hope of keeping the alliance secret now. But so far there was peace among the two peoples. And the secret would certainly last until Duke Tymgur was no longer around. That sail was approaching fast. The Duke had two more hours to live, if he was lucky.
Blade reminded himself not to get his hopes up too high too soon, and used the goad again. The yulon lowered its head into the water once again. Blade let go of its neck and swam down fifty feet to where Alanyra waited, astride the neck of a second yulon. Fifty feet farther down were the remaining four and their fighting teams-six yulons, thirty-six picked fighting men and women. That would probably be enough, with surprise on their side. If there had been time to get more men in from Green Mistress-But there had been no time. Oknyr would not like being left out of this fight, but there was no helping that.