by Джеффри Лорд
Pen-Jerg started as though Blade had stabbed him, and his face worked. Then he actually spat on the polished floor. «That is for Nris-Pol. No, I am making the rounds on my own. Nris-Pol has been spreading strange rumors of stranger things happening among the Low People. I wanted to see for myself whether Nris-Pol was spreading tales or not.» He shook his head. «I am not sure what the answer is, now. What are you doing here, Blade?»
Blade told him, leaving out only the parts about raising the Low People in rebellion and about the great wands. He knew that Pen-Jerg would not stand for the first, and had best not know about the second. Not as long as he was going to be around Nris-Pol, who would probably have few scruples about torture.
When Blade had finished, Pen-Jerg stood in silence for such a long time that Blade began to get edgy. Suppose somebody else came along-somebody less sympathetic? Finally Pen-Jerg shook his head slowly. Blade braced himself, ready to try to jump Pen-Jerg and kill him quickly and silently. Pen-Jerg read the look in Blade's eyes, and smiled again.
«Be calm, Blade-Liza. If what you do is for Queen Mir-Kasa-with all her faults-and against the power of Nris-Pol, then I will not hinder you. In fact I will mount guard while you and your friend do your business in the work chambers. I think I will arouse less curiosity than that-«and he pointed to the body at Blade's feet.
Pen-Jerg hoisted the body on his own shoulders, while Blade and Kun-Rala darted into the work chambers. As they ran from room to room, Kun-Rala was looking nervously at Blade.
«Can we trust him?»
«Yes, as far as he knows what we're doing. He had no more love for Nris-Pol than we do. And in any case, do we have any choice?»
Kun-Rala had to admit that they didn't.
The particular chamber they were seeking was nearly a hundred feet in from the main door, and filled with strange-looking machines mounted on marble tables. Blade would have liked to spend more time looking them over, but time was one thing they didn't have. Pen-Jerg could be trusted for anything under his control, but some things would not and could not be under the warrior's control.
Kun-Rala darted to one of the machines, and turned it on. A low hum filled the room. Then she ducked under the table and Blade could see her hands going through the motions of twisting a combination lock. There was a faint click, and then the familiar hiss of a door opening. A tall cabinet in one corner and the section of wall behind it swung open, revealing a dark cavity. In the dim light Blade could see the sinister gleaming shapes of dozens of the great wands.
He joined Kun-Rala in the concealed chamber, scooping up great wands and piling them in the bag attached to the carrying frame. When he had as heavy a load as he felt he could manage and still be able to run and fight easily, he turned to Kun-Rala.
«I've got about a dozen. Let's go.»
«Wait,» she said. She was kneeling on the floor by the racks, tying a bunch of the cylinders from the great wands together. Then she fastened a wire to one end of the bunch, and ran it across the floor to the door sill.
She stood up and brushed her hands off. «There. Anybody who steps on that wire or pulls it will set off the power tubes attached to it. And that will set off all the power tubes in all the great wands in the room.»
Blade swallowed. «What will that do?»
«I don't know. Only the worker who invented them, and Queen Mir-Kasa herself, know for certain. It would probably kill everybody for several levels up and down. It might even blow the tower apart, but I don't think so. Certainly nobody will ever know what was in there, afterwards.»
«What about the wands we're carrying, in case we're captured?»
«I'll carry one under my robe. If it looks like we're not going to get away, I'll set off its power tubes. There won't be enough left of any of us to put down the disposal shaft.»
Blade swallowed again, then managed a grin. Kun-Rala might lack something as a lover, or as a swordswoman. But as a cool head in straight spy work, he had met few to equal her. He hoped she got out of this one safely. In a few more years a head like hers would be a valuable asset to the hoped-for new Melnon- He made sure the bag of wands was sealed tightly, then led the way out of the chambers.
Pen-Jerg was still waiting outside when Blade and Kun-Rala came out into the corridor, but the body was gone.
«Any trouble?» asked Blade.
«None that I couldn't handle,» said the warrior cheerfully.
«Several people came by, but none of them knew that I wasn't the regular guard. But there will be trouble as soon as somebody finds the chamber door unguarded.»
«Then we'd better hurry,» said Blade. «Pen-Jerg, you lead the way. That way it will look like you're part of the escort.»
With Pen-Jerg in the lead, they hurried back to the shafts. As they reached the master's shaft, the door hissed open, and four warriors in full gear strode out. Pen-Jerg fixed them with a cold stare.
«What are you doing wandering around at this hour?»
«We-I-«stammered one of the guards.
«If you can't explain why you're roaming the corridors at night like a cleaner from the Low People, I'll have to take your names.»
One of the other warriors found his voice at this threat. «We are inspecting the special guards ordered by Nris-Pol. Here is our permission.» He fumbled at the closure of his belt pouch.
«Never mind,» said Pen-Jerg briskly. «Pass on to your duties.» He led Blade and Kun-Rala into the shaft car, and the door hissed shut behind them. As it did, Pen-Jerg breathed a sigh of relief. «That was close. Now-pray to the Wisdoms, Blade, or whatever you English believe in. If they raise the alarm before we're out of this shaft…»
The car reached the balcony level before they heard a single sound from above. But just as they started out the door, a harsh rattling noise filled the car and the corridor both. The car door began to slide shut as Kun-Rala darted out, then it slammed shut on the trailing hem of her robe. Without losing step, she jerked the robe off and left it and her administering wand lying on the floor. Under it she wore her other belt with swords and the great wand, but nothing else except a pair of sandals. Neither Blade nor Pen-Jerg had the time or inclination to stare. Pen-Jerg turned toward the corridor to the balcony and broke into a pounding run, with Blade and Kun-Rala hard after him.
Blade was carrying more than sixty pounds on his back, but the adrenalin pouring into his system gave wings to his legs. He kept up with Pen-Jerg all the way to the door to the balcony. As Kun-Rala darted up, the warrior flung the door open and motioned Blade and the girl through.
«The alarm's up,» he said unnecessarily. «You know how to operate the lifters?»
Both nodded.
«Good. Get down into the Waste Land, and may the Wisdoms be with you.»
«What about you?»
«I'll be all right,» said Pen-Jerg. He drew both his swords and turned to face the corridor. «Now move!»
Blade and Kun-Rala both knew that Pen-Jerg was staying behind to face almost certain death, but both obeyed his final order. They dashed out on to the balcony and ran along it to the nearest cluster of lifters.
The lifters were normally operated by reel servants, mostly for reasons of pomp and ceremony-and also to degrade the Low People further. But the warriors of Melnon were not such utter idiots as to depend entirely on the reel servants. Each of the lifters was fitted with a full set of electronic controls that could be operated by the man on the lifter. In fact, once these controls were switched on, the reels above could no longer raise or lower the lifter. A handy feature for two people trying to escape from pursuers who sought their lives. But the lifter cords, tough as they were, could be cut. And Blade knew they would be cut if Nris-Pol's men got past Pen-Jerg.
As they reached the lifters, they heard the sound of feet running and voices raised in anger behind them. There was silence for a moment, in which Pen-Jerg's voice rose, high and angry. Blade could not make out the words, but he could not mistake the tone. And neither could he mistake the ne
xt sound-the clang of sword on sword. Pen-Jerg was starting his last fight, a fight for people who were determined to destroy the way of life the warrior had loved and served all his life.
There was no time to contemplate ironies, however. Blade's fingers flew over the controls of the lifter, setting them. Beside him Kun-Rala was doing the same, more clumsily. She had only learned the sequence from books.
But the clash of swords was still rising into the night when she finished. She stood beside Blade, staring down into the blackness below. There seemed to be nothing but night left in all the world, except the faint glows of the night-lights on the balconies of the other towers. Blade saw her shudder.
«Don't look down,» he said quickly.
She nodded, a faint jerk of her head on stiff neck muscles.
«Ready?» he asked.
Again she nodded. He wound both hands firmly into the straps, braced both feet on the bottom bar, watched her do the same.
«Let's go.» His thumb caressed the «lower away» switch, and with a faint hum the lifter began to slide down into the darkness.
As they passed below the edge of the balcony, the noise of the sword-fight rose to a crescendo. Blade wondered how many men had come against Pen-Jerg. It sounded like at least half a dozen. But the warrior was a good fighter. Perhaps he would beat them all off and make it to a lifter. Perhaps-
Blade's hopes died abruptly as a strong man's death-scream sounded in the darkness above them. It was followed by a thud and a scrabbling sound. Then a dim shape hurtled down past Blade, vanishing in a second into the darkness below. Another few seconds, and a faint thud floated up from below.
Blade had a momentary urge to send his dinner after Pen-Jerg. The warrior had chosen to hurl himself down to his death, rather than risk being nursed back to health and tortured by Nris-Pol. And Nris-Pol's men now roamed the balcony above without opposition. Did they have anything that could cut the lifter cords? Blade knew that an ordinary sword could not, but there were special cutting tools kept beside each lifter. How long would it take the men on the balcony to see the moving lifter reels, realize what was happening, and break out those tools? If they waited only another minute or two, he and Kun-Rala would be safe on the ground. Then they-
A bright orange flash in the darkness above. And suddenly Kun-Rala was no longer where she had been, a dim shape descending through the darkness beside him. Instead there was a white flicker below him-far below him-vanishing into the darkness. And another faint thud floating up from below.
Blade let out a yell of surprise and horror, and clutched the straps until his knuckles stood out white even in the darkness. He waited, expecting with every heartbeat and breath to suddenly plunge down after Kun-Rala. But the plunge did not come. Instead the cord kept running out, with its quiet whine, until suddenly his feet touched solid, stony ground.
Blade let go of the lifter at once, and the sudden loss of its support and the weight of his pack drove him to his knees. In that position, he finally did lose his dinner, and went on losing it for a long time.
When there was nothing more inside him, he rose to his feet and looked up. Dim figures were moving on the balcony, faintly silhouetted against the night-lights, and a distant buzz of voices floated down to Blade. He had to fight back a temptation to snatch one of the great wands from his pack, and hurl its deadly pulses upward at the balcony. But common sense overcame that first impulse. He stepped to the very base of the tower and flattened himself against the stone until the voices above died away.
Apparently Nris-Pol's men had not noticed that there were two lifters in use. And Blade's yell as he saw Kun-Rala fall had convinced the men who had cut her cord that they had finished off the only person escaping. It had saved Blade.
But it hadn't saved Kun-Rala, and Blade did not feel at all good about that. The girl would never have a chance to really learn to be a woman now. Nor would she ever be able to use her sharp wits to build a new Melnon. For the first time since he had arrived in this dimension, Blade felt a deep commitment to doing something about the rule of the Wisdom in Melnon. Two good people had died tonight helping to destroy it. Blade would like to see a few of the people like Nris-Pol die also.
Chapter SIXTEEN
It was just after dawn when Blade staggered up to the base of the Tower of the Leopard. He was staggering because he was carrying Kun-Rala's body in his arms, as well as the massive load of great wands on his back. Kun-Rala had been dead when he found her, her head twisted at an unnatural angle. But somehow he could not bring himself to leave her lying there where she fell. So he had picked her up and brought her with him.
Not far away he had also found Pen-Jerg, lying on his back in the middle of a patch of blood-soaked grass, his eyes staring sightlessly upward. The warrior must have been dead from his wounds even before he hit the ground. There was nothing at all to do for him. So Blade took a new, firmer grip on Kun-Rala, and staggered away into the darkness.
He was relieved to find that Bryg-Noz's entire band of two hundred had made the night's journey without trouble or detection. They were already sitting around on the grass on the outer side of the Tower of the Leopard. And he was further relieved to see lifters rising and descending steadily. The Tower of the Leopard was giving the refugees the friendly reception they had hoped for-at least for the moment.
Bryg-Noz was still on the ground, and hurried over to greet Blade. His face was grim as he stared down at Kun-Rala lying on the grass. Then he stripped off his own cloak and covered her with it. After that he was all business as he quickly drew out of the exhausted Blade the story of the night's doings.
«You say that Nris-Pol seems to be much feared and hated?» he asked when Blade came to the part Pen-Jerg had played.
«I don't know any more than what Pen-Jerg told me,» said Blade. «But he was a wise and honest man who kept his eyes open. I think we can believe what he said.»
«Good,» said Bryg-Noz. «Attacking a united Tower of the Serpent is not something the Leopards will care to try. But attacking one divided, hating its most influential warrior-that is another matter. I hope the Council of Leaders in this tower will hear us soon.»
«The Council of Leaders?»
«They do not call it the Council of Wisdom, Blade. That is one of many things you will find different in the Tower of the Leopard. But do not question them too closely. They are a proud people, who will not take kindly to being told how things are in England. And we must give them no offense.»
Blade nodded.
He had plenty of time to find «different things» in the Tower of the Leopard, because it was nearly a week before the Council of Leaders even heard the pleas of the refugees. During that week the refugees had nothing to do but eat large meals, take frequent baths, gossip with each other, and watch the life of the Tower of the Leopard go on around them.
It was impossible to call the Tower of the Leopard «democratic.» Its people ran a variation of the normal system of Melnon, but with most of the silliness and brutality that had so disgusted Blade left out. There were certainly High People, who did all the responsible jobs, and there were certainly Low People, who did all the menial work. But a person from among the Low People could rise to be a warrior or a scribe or a surgeon among the High People, just as Pen-Jerg had said. And even those who remained Low People did not have to put up with being administered to horrible deaths for minor violations of etiquette. They were expected to show polite deference to the High People, but they were not expected to grovel, and abusing one of the Low People was a serious crime. Blade could hardly say that he would enjoy living in the Tower of the Leopard. But he could at least say that living there would not drive him mad, the way living elsewhere in Melnon would.
The Tower of the Leopard was also much closer to a matriarchy than any of the other towers, from what Blade could see. The Council of Leaders consisted of ten women, who had to vote unanimously in crucial matters such as the war against the Tower of the Serpent. There was no queen. Instea
d the ten women who served on the council for life rotated the chairmanship among themselves for a year at a time. The First Warrior, First Surgeon, etc., existed, but did not sit at the council table except by invitation, and had no voting rights. On the other hand, the male officials had much more freedom to run their offices according to their best judgment. Nobody that Blade met in the Tower of the Leopard gave the War or the Peace Wisdom much more than lip service.
That, as Blade had suspected, was the reason behind the spruce and disciplined appearance that the tower's warriors made in public-and their deadly efficiency in fighting. The Tower of the Leopard knew that it was a minority of one among neighbors who hated it and its ways. Its sole salvation lay in making sure that it could fight as well as they could-or better. And it had succeeded. For at least the past five generations the other towers had agreed that there was nothing they could do about the Tower of the Leopard and its strange customs. Not, that is, without themselves throwing the War and Peace Wisdoms to the four winds. This was an even more appalling idea than letting the Tower of the Leopard strictly alone.
Understandably, the Council of Leaders took a dim view, of an all-out war against another tower, particularly a war that would inevitably lead to a social revolution all over Melnon. Bryg-Noz made no effort to hide his planned final goal, in spite of Blade's advice that he conceal it. In fact, if it hadn't been for the great wands and the threat of Nris-Pol's getting his hands on them, the whole notion of aiding the Serpent revolution would have been turned down.
If Nris-Pol did try to get his hands on the great wands he would solve everybody's problems. And the solution would be heard and seen all over Melnon. But that was not Bryg-Noz's choice of solutions. He did not want to see his native tower smashed by Nris-Pol's mad ambitions. He wanted to smash Nris-Pol first. And so did Blade.