by Джеффри Лорд
Blade managed to avoid holding his breath while waiting for Ornilan to answer this last speech. Here was the critical point. If Ornilan agreed and reported the agreement to Klerus, it would for the moment wipe out Klerus' suspicions of the Pendarnoth. And Blade had no intention of giving Klerus more than a moment after he returned to Vilesh. He would strike fast and hard and finally, and not even King Nefus or Princess Harima would know in advance. Besides, being in the good graces of Ornilan would make the escape and the return to Vilesh much easier.
Blade saw Ornilan walk the whole length of the headquarters several times before he replied. «Very well, Pendarnoth. I understand all the reasons you give me. I particularly like the last one. If you are treacherous, Klerus will indeed find ways of dealing with you. Ways you will not like.» Ornilan turned away from Blade and walked back to the table where his papers and maps were scattered. He picked up a pen and began writing on a piece of parchment.
«I will give orders for you to be kept in comfort here until I send a message to Klerus. We now have very reliable methods of sending messages to Vilesh, so it should take no more than a week.» Ornilan grinned, showing all his teeth, and for a moment Blade was reminded of a skull. Then the general shouted an order, and half a dozen Lanyri soldiers tumbled into the room and led Blade away.
Ornilan kept at least part of his promise to Blade. Blade's quarters were not merely comfortable, they were positively luxurious. They even provided him with a choice of bed companions. Of both sexes, he noted-homosexuality was a popular vice among the Lanyri. Blade turned the men out-politely, except for one who became so insistent that Blade finally kicked him through the door-but kept a number of the women. No doubt Ornilan had ideas of getting information from Blade. But Blade in turn had ideas of getting information about the location and layout of the camp from the women. After ten days, Blade suspected that he had been more successful than Ornilan.
On the eleventh night no women came. The guards came in to bring the evening meal and pour fresh oil into the pottery lamps. But that was all. Blade was just settling down for a solitary night's sleep when he heard a scratching noise on the window over his bed.
The Lanyri had given him no weapons, but he had hidden a broken chair leg that would make a useful club. He now drew this from its hiding place. Then he lay perfectly still, the club clutched firmly in one hand but concealed under the covers. The scratching sound came again.
Moving inch by inch, Blade slid out of bed, got to his feet, and flattened himself against the wall to the right of the window. With one hand he reached out toward the latch of the wooden shutter, with the other he raised the club. A quick twist of his wrist, the latch clicked open, and the shutter swung into the room. A moment later Blade heard the sound of someone scrambling clumsily up the outside wall of the hut. A head concealed in a dark blue hood thrust into the room, along with two hands gloved in the same color. Blade waited until the intruder was halfway over the window sill before he moved.
He grabbed one of the hands and jerked so that the intruder toppled onto the bed. With his free hand he raised the club, then flipped the person over. He jerked the hood off, then stopped, club still raised but his eyes widening in surprise.
A woman was staring up at him from the bed, a strikingly lovely woman, her face full and round, flushed with exertion, and framed with a mass of now-tangled blonde hair. Blade did not let go of the club, but he lowered it a little as he spoke.
«Who the devil are you? And why are you sneaking around my quarters at night? That isn't wise, woman!»
The woman laughed deep in her throat. «Ah, warrior, I know it is not wise, but I had to get to you. I have seen you from far away, but I had to see you close, to touch you, to…» her voice trailed off and she made an explicit and unmistakable gesture.
«So you say. But who are you?» There was more suspicion in Blade's mind than he let show in his voice. He didn't want to drive this woman away unless and until he was certain she offered no opportunities-for escape, perhaps.
«A woman who wants you, my warrior. Is that not enough? Or have you lived so long with the intrigues of those dirty Pendari that you suspect even a woman who is panting for you?»
This was getting almost silly. The woman's language was so wildly exaggerated that either she was joking or she took Blade for a fool. If it was the second-well, Blade had no objection to being taken for a fool if it would keep the woman off her guard.
«I am a suspicious man, for if I were not, I would not be alive today. And you could do nothing with me. As it is-«but the woman was already rising to her feet and undoing the belt of her robe.
Standing up and watching the woman undress, Blade realized she was nearly as tall as he was, and her complexion almost as fair as his. Fairer, in fact. Blade's skin had weeks of suntan and accumulated grime darkening it. This woman's skin suggested a pampered and self-indulgent indoor existence. A lady of noble rank among the Lanyri? Perhaps, if there were any such in the huge camp. Or the mistress of some high person? More possible. The Lanyri were given to carrying their lovers of both sexes along with them, even on campaign.
The robe and hood came off and dropped to the ground. Under them she wore her golden hair under a filet set with jade and on her body a short white silk tunic. Her feet and her legs to the knees were bare. Blade noticed that the legs were long and well-turned, a perfect balance of grace and substantial flesh.
Then the woman reached down for the hem of the tunic. Slowly, with sinuous writhings of her hips, she drew the tunic up over her head. It rose up her thighs, revealing short silk panties, pale blue embroidered in dark red. It passed her stomach, with its impudently small navel peeping out from a gentle curve of white flesh. Then it whipped up the rest of the way over her head. Her breasts were full and round and as pale as the rest of her skin, so pale that Blade could see the network of blue veins surrounding the small pink nipples.
Giving a good imitation of a man drawn irresistibly forward, Blade stepped up to the woman and put both his palms on her breast. He felt the nipples quiver and then harden from one second to the next, pushing out against his palms in stiff points. Well, the woman seemed to be telling the truth, about her wanting him at least.
As her nipples hardened, he saw a moan pulse in her throat, and then her mouth opened to let it out. Her hands went around his body and pulled him against her so hard that he felt her breasts flatten against his chest. They stood locked together for a long moment. In that moment Blade could feel the heat almost radiating from her body. Even in the dim room light he could see that her skin was flushed. Why shouldn't she be aroused? God knows he was-he could feel his erection, rigid and jutting out against the woman's pubic hair.
Then she knelt down before him and for a moment he half expected those red lips to close around his swollen organ. But instead she twisted away suddenly, throwing herself on her back on the bed. This was clearly a woman who wanted no tenderness, delicacy, or preliminaries. If all there was in her was a rutting passion, why worry? He swung himself onto the bed and with, practiced ease entered her.
She jerked and stiffened as he entered her tight wetness. For a moment Blade wasn't completely sure whether she had reached climax so soon, or was feeling pain as he drove into her. But soon the gasps and moans and little whimperings that came from her writhing mouth told him she was responding. Her response mounted rapidly, and Blade knew that he would not need to bold himself back. He could thrust and withdraw, thrust and withdraw, in a furious, mounting rhythm.
In minutes her body arched and the muscles of her stomach jerked and contracted in a long, fierce spasm. It faded for a moment, then swept on into another, a third, a fourth as Blade kept thrusting with vigor. Vigor, but rapidly fading control. His own body began to arch with the strain of holding back, his teeth clenched, his throat contracted to suppress a groan. Then the last of his control faded and his own spasm mingled with the woman's final one.
The woman sagged back onto the bed, all the vi
gor gone out of her body. It seemed to Blade that even its full ripe curves lost some of their roundness. The sound of her breathing roared in his ears like a blacksmith's bellows. The only movement other than the rise and fall of her breasts was a slow tossing of her head.
As her head swung back and forth, Blade saw something white glittering half-concealed in the blonde hair. He watched and waited for it to become more visible. Bit by bit it worked itself out of the woman's hair and finally fell onto the pillow. Slowly, so the woman's glazed eyes wouldn't notice his movements, Blade reached for it. A final quick motion of his own hand, and it was tucked up behind his ear. It seemed to be a small white cake of some kind, no larger than his thumbnail.
Some energy was coming back to the woman now. Her eyes focused on Blade's face and she smiled and raised her hands high over her head. «Ah, warrior, that was… it was such as I never get from that damned soldier.» She started as she realized she had let something slip out. Blade did not start. The prospect of escape was keeping his mind almost unnaturally clear, ready to note everything that might help him.
«Would you like some wine, my lady?»
«Wine?»
«Of course. General Ornilan has ordered that I be well treated, and his orders have been carried out.» He was looking for some reaction to the mention of General Ornilan, but this time her control was back. «I have every luxury here.»
«Then wine by all means.» No, her control wasn't back completely. It couldn't keep a smile of anticipation off her face. The wine definitely had something to do with her plans.
Blade went over to the cupboard and pulled out a leather wine bottle and two wooden cups. «Not elegant, my lady, but this is an army camp, not a palace. There will be better in Pendar when I have my own palace and retainers. Perhaps you will accept an invitation to… visit me there, let us say?» Was he moving too fast? No, it was all a question of studying people.
The woman seemed to quiver all over at the prospect Blade held out to her. He poured the wine into the cups and then almost, but not quite, turned his back. He was fairly adept at observing a person without seeming to. It was one of his skills that had turned out to be as much a lifesaver in Dimension X as in Home Dimension. Dimension X was a rougher game than any he had ever had to play as a secret agent, but the rules were often the same.
Blade saw the woman pick up one of the wine-cups, then in a quick flicker of long fingers raise her other hand to her hair. Those fingers probed into the blonde mass where the little white tablet had been. The woman started suddenly as her probing fingers found nothing-or at least not what they had been seeking. Even with only half an eye, Blade could see the woman's expression change. Her eyes widened-in surprise or panic-her full breasts heaved as her breathing quickened, and a touch of frenzy came into her movements. Both hands danced in her hair now, as if she were trying to pull it out, by the roots. Her mouth opened and shut, but no sound except her rapid breathing came out. Finally her hands tightened in her hair, seemingly frozen there. Her face sagged as if she were about to cry.
Then Blade reached up into the hair behind his right ear and pulled out the little white tablet. He held it out to the woman between his thumb and forefinger. He could not keep a thin smile off his face as he said.
«Is this what you were looking for, my lady?»
At that point she did start to cry. In fact, she sobbed so hysterically that Blade began to be afraid the guards outside would hear and come charging in to interfere. Any kind of interference was the last thing Blade wanted right now. He went over to the woman, sat down beside her on the bed, and put his arms around her until she calmed down. Then he gently turned her head toward him and said:
«All right, my lady. Who are you?» His voice was low but firm. He didn't want her to be in any doubt that he was in charge, or that he knew most of what she had planned. But he didn't want to frighten her any more either.
Her voice was so low when she answered that he had to strain to hear it. «My name is Raza.»
«And you are General Ornilan's mistress?» She nodded. «He sent you here to find out what I was really thinking and planning, didn't he?»
«Yes. I was going to put the cake of tkul in your wine and then. and then…»
«And then I would answer all the questions you asked me truthfully. I would not be able to lie.»
«N-n-no.»
«Well, then, Raza, what are you going to do now? I have the tkul, and it seems to me the best thing to do with it would be to give it to you and have you answer my questions. Shall I do that, or will you answer my questions without it?»
«Oh gods, why… why?»
«Why you, Raza? Because you aren't a very good spy. Why did you do this anyway?»
«Ornilan thought… thought you were weak for women. A woman could… get closer to you. He threatened to… beat me if I didn't do what he wanted. And now he'll beat me because I've f-f-failed.» She began crying and Blade had to comfort her again. He was getting impatient though. It showed in his voice when he spoke to her again.
«Do not worry, Raza. I will tie you up so that it will look like I overpowered you. Ornilan will not hold that against you, surely. In return you will tell me-quickly-where this camp is and how to get out of it without anybody knowing.» She stared at him as though he had just sprouted purple fur all over his body. «I said quickly, Raza. Otherwise I will tie you up anyway and try to escape on my own. But I will probably be captured. Then I will say that you helped me to escape. I doubt if Ornilan will like that very much.»
For a moment it looked as if Raza was going to break down a third time. But somehow she found a few bits of self-control. She began to talk, rapidly and clearly enough that Blade could pick all the information he needed out of what she was saying. In a few minutes he knew he had learned all he was going to learn, and the time for action had come.
He pulled on his clothes and slung his sandals from his belt. Then he pulled Raza's robe and hood over his own clothes. He checked the impression in a mirror. In the darkness, with the hood pulled well down to cover his close-cropped hair, he would pass. At least he would pass as long as he kept his mouth shut, and as long as the sentries weren't too inclined to question anybody wandering around in Raza's cloak.
Blade left Raza well tied up as he had promised, and gagged as well. He arranged her so that to anybody peeping in, it would look like Blade was still in the bed. Then he scrambled out the window and slipped away into the darkness.
The gamble paid off. In the dead of the night most of the well-disciplined Lanyri were asleep in their tents. Those he met were sentries or members of punishment details, the first unwilling and the second unable to challenge him. Striding freely through the camp with an air of «I've got a perfect right to be here,» he reached the horse lines within a few minutes.
The horse lines were more closely patrolled than the rest of the camp because the Rojag allies were notorious horse thieves. Blade got through the sentries without betraying himself, but not completely without trouble. Only a little trouble for him, but much trouble for the sentry who challenged him.. Two swift strides forward, a knife-hand chop to the man's neck just below his helmet, and a body was sprawled in the dust.
It was all that Blade could do then to keep himself from breaking into a run. But he forced his feet to move one step at a time across the well-trodden ground among the horses. They were all trained war horses; they kept silent. They even kept silent when he untethered one and swung himself onto its bare back. The soft clop of hooves was the only sound as he rode slowly out of the camp. When he saw its watch-fires vanish behind a spur of hill, he dug his heels into the horse's side. It swept forward into the darkness at a gallop.
He was still galloping when dawn broke over the hills. In the clear rose and gold light he saw an abandoned Pendar village. Outside its walls stood a tall stone pillar on which were marked the direction and distance to Vilesh.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It took Blade less than five days to co
ver that distance to Vilesh, for he literally did not spare the horses. He kept the first one going at a gallop until it dropped, well into the afternoon of the first day. He was within a mile of a village, small and poor, but it had a few horses. After Blade slipped into the village stables that night, the village had one less horse.
That horse still had a good deal of life in it at sunset the next day. Then good luck brought Blade up with one of the Royal Scouts. The man was carrying messages from one of the patrols keeping watch on Lanyri. Blade was careful to pick up those messages, along with the scout's clothes, badges, weapons, gear, and horse. The scout himself he deposited, stunned, bound, and gagged, within easy reach of the next village. Here the people had not fled. Apparently they were determined to go on tending their flocks and fields through Lanyri invasion, natural disaster, or the end of the world itself. They would find the scout when they came out the next morning. But they would learn little from him. Blade had toppled him out of his saddle with a well-aimed stone from an improvised sling.
Blade was determined to keep his identity concealed from everybody whose loyalty to the king he didn't trust. At least until the moment he had his sword at Klerus' throat, he added to himself. And there was nobody outside the palace itself he trusted.
Blade succeeded, thanks to the scout's badges and gear. A Royal Scout was a man privileged to ask and receive help in any form he might need from any subject of the King of Pendar. To refuse a scout's request for aid or delay him in his passage, even through negligence, was treason.
So stable doors opened and the best horses were led forth and saddled and bridled for Blade. Saddlebags were packed full of the choicest food the villages could offer. Leather bottles of wine and water were pressed on him. In some of the villages he might have received baths and even girls if he had been willing to stop. But he was not. All the girls saw of him was his back as he vanished down the road to Vilesh in a cloud of dust.