by Джеффри Лорд
«The Emperor does not trust anyone with weapons, except the nobles and those who serve them, the soldiers, and the constables. All others cannot even have spears or swords, let alone bows or muskets. All they can have is kitchen knives.»
«What about blacksmiths?»
«They all serve either the soldiers or the army. If they sell a single weapon to someone who cannot have it, they are killed. Melted iron is poured into their mouths, or-«
Blade held up a hand to stop her. He was no longer interested in catalogs of the ghastly punishments handed out to lawbreakers in Saram. What interested him was the military problem this law must create for the Empire.
«That means that towns without a garrison have no defense against the Steppemen except their walls.»
Haleen nodded. «That is true. Sometimes they do not even have their walls. You saw the walls that were falling down?»
«Yes. I couldn’t understand why the people of the towns would let that happen.»
«Two years ago a town did rebuild its walls when they were falling down. Kul-Nam decided that the town was plotting against him. He had a dozen of the leading people tortured to make them confess that they were going to rebel.»
«They confessed, of course?» After a certain amount of torture, anyone would confess to anything. That was a basic fact of life Blade had learned years ago, long before he’d ever heard of Dimension X.
«Of course. The Emperor’s army surrounded the town and stormed it. He even sent in the Corps of Eunuchs, who are the fiercest of all his soldiers. Everyone in the town was killed. Then it was burned. Kul-Nam does not trust the people of the towns.»
The Emperor was probably right. Unfortunately for Saram, that was his own damned fault! After the massacre, what else could he expect?
Blade knew by now that it was not only pointless but dangerous to say anything concerning a matter about which Kul-Nam had already made up whatever he used for a mind. Certainly His Magnificence had landed his Empire in a messy situation. Only a small fraction of the people of military age had weapons or any knowledge of how to use them. His army and the nobles’ fighting men were spread very thin. Behind them was nothing-no reserve, no local-defense forces, nothing at all. The towns could not even delay the Steppemen by closing their gates and holding out until the Imperial army could move to rescue them!
It was a stupid situation. It was also a waste of time to worry about it. The thing to worry about for the time being was keeping his own head on his shoulders. If he could do that long enough, perhaps he might be able to do something for somebody else in Saram.
Chapter 8
The ride north across the plain toward the Emperor’s castle took five days. On the morning of the sixth day a haze of smoke and dust on the horizon ahead told Blade that they were approaching another town.
It was not a town, but an army camp as large as a town. Thick clouds of black smoke coiled up from a row of brick chimneys, telling of a large arsenal hard at work. There were rows of wooden barracks with tile roofs stretching for almost a mile, and numerous guns lined up outside the walls. All the lamer guns were mounted on heavy sledges instead of wheels. Such guns would be useful for knocking down the walls of a rebellious town or a rebellious noble’s castle, but in the field against fast-moving horsemen they would be useless. In fact, they would slow down the movements of any army that tried to use them. In spite of this, they were all polished and painted and on display like so many blooded horses.
Kul-Nam was obviously proud of them, whatever use he might expect to get out of them.
The duke’s party rode on past the camp without stopping or even approaching the gates. A score of riders came out to join the duke’s party as an escort-or guard. From the riders’ plump, hairless faces, Blade assumed they were from the Corps of Eunuchs.
They looked like good soldiers. They rode well, and their weapons had the appearance that comes with careful maintenance over many years. Their helmets sat square and their armor fit well, with no odd pieces missing or laces dangling. Their horses looked alert, tough, and well fed. Like most of the other Imperial soldiers Blade had seen, the Corps of Eunuchs would be formidable opponents in battle. If Kul-Nam’s judgment had been as good as his soldiers, the Empire would have been in no danger at all. As it was, Saram had an army that was worthy of better leadership than they were likely to get from their Emperor.
The eunuchs divided into two lines and flanked the duke’s party, one line on each side. The camp vanished behind; the horizon ahead began to swell into a range of green hills. After another half hour they were riding along a road that wound through scattered estates, with whitewashed, tile-roofed houses laid out around lush gardens and artificial lakes. The breezes that blew across the road brought the smell of flowers and rich earth. They also brought the smell of too many hard-worked, unwashed people crammed together in the slave barracks behind each of the great houses.
At a crossroads stood a great pyramid of stone painted a glossy red, and on top of the pyramid rose a heavy timber frame. The frame was studded with spikes, and on each spike was stuck a human head. Some were fresh — Blade saw the head of a young girl, no more than twelve, that seemed still to wear an expression of agonized surprise. Others were blackened, rotting masses of decay, eyes and tongues plucked out by carrion birds, exuding foul stenches into the warm air. Still others were bare skulls, with only a few shreds of sun-dried flesh adhering to the whitening bones, the teeth bared in monstrous grins.
Gradually Blade realized that the road was taking them toward one hill in the middle of the range. Squarely on top of the hill sat an enormous castle. Its walls formed a perfect circle nearly a mile in diameter. Twelve tall, round towers studded the wall, and in the center four even taller ones rose in a square.
Every visible part of the castle was a dull black that sucked in all the light and gave back none. It squatted uncompromisingly on the earth, seeming to weigh it down, visible, defiant, and terrifying from many miles away. If Blade had known nothing at all about the character of His Sublime Magnificence Kul-Nam, the castle would have told him a good deal. He wondered how many slaves had worked for how many years to raise it on that hilltop, and how many of them had died before the final stone was set in place.
Closer up, Blade could see that another towered wall circled the base of the hill, with several clusters of buildings just inside it. Duke Boros drew up beside Blade and pointed.
«We will dismount at the base of the hill, report to the house master, disarm, bathe, and don proper garb. Then we will wait for His Magnificence to summon us to the House of Blood.»
«That is the castle on top of the hill?»
The duke nodded. «His Magnificence Kul-Nam is not ashamed to be the slayer of many he calls-of many enemies. So he calls his castles by such names as the House of Blood, the House of Death, the House of the Sword, and so on. His principal castle is named the House of the Eagle’s Claw.»
Boros hesitated, obviously reluctant to discuss the Empire’s military strength with Blade, even in the most general terms. Then he shook his head and laughed. «It is no secret that the House of Blood is the strongest castle in the land. It was finished only three years ago, after ten years of work by five thousand men. The Emperor himself has boasted of its strength. With a strong and well-furnished garrison, it could stand off an army of fifty thousand for a year. The others are not quite as strong, but none of them would be easy to storm, or quick to starve out.»
«It was said even in England that Kul-Nam made it hard for his enemies to come at him,» said Blade. «I see that what was said was true.»
«Indeed it was,» said the duke. «But here we are, coming to the gate. We would do well to talk of this at another time and place, if we have the chance.»
The preliminary formalities for a visit to the Emperor took several hours. There were horses to be stabled, the fighters and servants to be assigned quarters, scented baths to be taken, and ceremonial clothes to be unpacked and put on.
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When Blade disarmed, he asked Dzhai to take charge of the belt and commando knife. This was intended to honor the man; it was also intended to put the knife in the care of someone who would have some reason to take care of it. It was as much as Blade could do to keep the knife safe.
The house master did not seem to care where Blade was from or what he might or might not be. Duke Boros of the noble House of Kudai had taken the stranger under his protection and wished to bring him before the Emperor. So be it. That placed the matter in the hands of His Magnificence, and none below him might now presume to decide upon it.
«The will of the Emperor shall be done,» said the house master, bowing his head. Duke Boros and Tulu also bowed their heads. All the non-nobles within earshot knelt, eyes on the floor, and thumped the floor three times with their clenched right fists. After a moment’s hesitation, Blade imitated the duke and his son.
«However, that is not the end of my duties in this matter,» the house master went on, with a severe look at Blade’s clothes. They were dirty, travel-stained, and generally disreputable. «If he is a prince of England, he must appear before His Magnificence in something more suitable to his rank!»
The house master would not be budged from his decision. For a while it looked as if protocol would stand like an iron gate across Blade’s path to the Emperor. This was not just embarrassing; with the whimsical and blood thirsty laws and customs of the Empire, it could become dangerous at any moment.
Eventually they had to borrow clothes for Blade. This took several more hours, but when Blade finally looked at himself in a mirror of polished bronze mounted in a silver frame, he had to admit the results were impressive. He wore black silk trousers bloused over the silver-embroidered tops of white kidskin boots. Above the waist he wore a white linen shirt, a short red tunic, a vest so stiff with gold lace that it could stand by itself, and a long blue coat that reached to his knees.
The sun was setting as Blade, Duke Boros, and Tulu left the outer wall to climb the hill to the House of Blood. The way up the hill lay up an immense flight of white marble steps with a gilded bronze railing on either side.
Blade noticed that the steps of the great staircase were too wide to climb in any sort of dignified fashion. A man had to climb them with a sort of scuttling movement that destroyed his dignity and also wasted his breath. As a man climbed, above him stood the terrible black castle, growing larger and more grim as it loomed higher and higher over him. Blade was quite sure that Kul-Nam had deliberately planned all this, to make sure that his visitors arrived in a properly intimidated frame of mind.
The black walls ahead were studded with glistening, elaborately carved cannon muzzles, and more cannons peered down from the tops of the towers. A deadly and continuous rain of stone and iron and lead would fall on the heads of any enemy trying to climb the hill. As long as the ammunition in the inner castle held out, any attacker would be lucky to get past the outer wall.
They came up to a ridiculously small gate in the base of one of the corner towers. Duke Boros pulled the silver knob that jutted out from the center of the gate. Incredibly faint and far away, a bell tinkled. Then the gate slid aside, opening on a dark tunnel. It slanted upward, and Blade could see light at the far end, so distant that it seemed no brighter than a firefly.
They strode forward into the tunnel and began to climb. As they did, the gate swung shut behind them and they were in total darkness except for the pale speck of light far ahead. Kul-Nam was obviously going to leave nothing undone to keep his visitors nervous and unsure of themselves right to the end.
They moved up the tunnel slowly, feeling their way a step at a time. The floor seemed smooth and regular underfoot, but none of them was willing to trust it. Blade could not believe that the Emperor had built his impregnable castle with a tunnel running straight up into its heart. Doubtless there were spyholes, traps, gates that fell, pits that yawned, shafts for boiling oil or stones. It would be best to move slowly and make sure that those who watched took no alarm.
Whatever traps may have lain in wait, none were sprung. After what seemed like hours, the three men came to the end of the tunnel. Boros and Tulu stepped to either side and let Blade look out upon what lay beyond.
The chamber was square and nearly a hundred feet on each side. The floor was entirely covered with polished, blood-red tile separated by strips of black marble. The walls were gleaming white, set with great swirling, glittering mosaic patterns done in slivered glass. The roof swelled out of sight into what seemed to be a dome. Some complicated array of mirrors high in that dome caught the last remaining daylight and focused it down in a vertical, glowing, reddish shaft into the center of the chamber.
On the floor in that center stood a black marble throne, and on that throne sat a broad, totally immobile human figure. Blade looked from Boros to Tulu and back again. Their eyes answered the question he didn’t dare put to them aloud. Then Duke Boros straightened himself and strode forward, leading the way out into the chamber, toward His Sublime Magnificence, Kul-Nam, Emperor of all Saram.
Chapter 9
The Emperor sat squarely on the black marble throne, as solid and unmoving as if he himself were part of the marble. His feet in cloth-of-silver boots with black spurs were spread slightly apart, his hands rested on the arms of the throne, and his large, dark eyes stared straight at the three men approaching him.
Kul-Nam was a good six inches shorter than Blade, but he must have been nearly as heavy. All of that weight was bone and muscle. Blade could see this clearly. The Emperor wore black trousers with a gold sash and above the waist only an embroidered red vest that left most of his massive torso visible. His olive-brown skin was tanned and weathered even darker, and seamed and corded with a warrior’s muscles and a warrior’s collection of scars. His head was shaved completely bare above the eyebrows, except for a long, black pigtail caught up in a silver ring. The emperor’s bare skull gleamed so brightly that Blade had a moment’s ludicrous thought that it might be waxed to give it that high polish.
Against one side of the throne leaned a long, curved sword in a jeweled scabbard, within easy reach of the Emperor’s right hand. Against the other side leaned three short throwing spears with razor-sharp, silvered heads and red tassels on the butts. Three daggers were stuck in the Emperor’s sash. He looked well equipped to deal with any armed opponent, ready to turn from emperor to warrior in the blink of an eye.
In each corner of the chamber stood four of the Corps of Eunuchs, in black tunics and red trousers. Three of each four carried two swords apiece, one long and one short. The fourth carried a crossbow slung across his chest. They stood as motionless as groups of statues, no sign of life showing in any of the sixteen except for an occasional flicker of an eyelash.
Duke Boros strode toward the throne, Tulu fell into line behind him, and Blade brought up the rear. Twenty feet from the throne they stopped, spread out, and prostrated themselves on the tiles of the floor. Blade was only seconds behind the other two men in going down on his face.
The Emperor’s sharp eyes caught Blade’s slight delay. A chill, harsh voice rang out, sending echoes chasing each other around the vast chamber.
«Who is this clumsy fool who knows not the proper forms of obedience to us? And why are you, Boros, so unwise as to bring him before us at a time when you should make all efforts to please us?»
The duke quivered, not in fear but in an obvious effort to restrain his anger at these lashing words. Without raising his head he spoke quickly. His words were muffled and distorted by his chin pressing against the tiles.
«This man is a stranger. He came to us in the borderlands, while we journeyed toward Your Magnificence. He told a tale of being a prince of a distant land, beyond the Steppes.»
«There is no such land. We would have known of it if there were.»
«Your Magnificence, I only repeat what this man said to us the night he came from the forest to meet us. Have I your gracious permission to continue?»
The Emperor made a fly-shooing gesture with his left hand. «Very well. We shall hear you out. It will be interesting to see how the House of Kudai has come to harbor strangers who tell monstrous lies.»
Both the duke and his son visibly winced at those last words. Blade suddenly felt a sensation like a hundred thousand ants with very cold feet marching up and down his spine. There was deadly danger in this room, danger for all three of them. Kul-Nam was not just bloodthirsty, whimsical, and tyrannical. He was mad or close enough to it to be a constant threat to those for whom his lightest word or whim meant life or death.
Duke Boros had the immense courage and coolness required to get through his whole story without stammering, hesitating, or leaving out a single detail. When he’d finished a long silence descended on the chamber like a weight. Blade could almost feel it pressing him against the floor until he began to find it hard to breathe.
The silence continued. Then suddenly the Emperor clapped both hands together. After the silence the clap sounded like a crash of thunder. Blade half expected the walls and ceiling of the great chamber to shatter and crash down on everyone inside.
Footsteps echoed around the chamber as four of the enuchs ran out from the far left-hand corner. As they approached, the Emperor picked up his sword, drew it, and laid the naked weapon across his silk-clad knees. As the eunuchs came up, he raised the sword and pointed at Blade.
«This man is a stranger come within the Empire. He says he is a prince of England, come to learn of the Empire. He lies. There can be no such land as England, therefore no princes from it. Kill him.»
Blade had only a moment to realize that he was about to die. Then he heard a cry of surprise from Duke Boros. The duke sprang up, dropping back onto his knees and reaching out both hands in a begging gesture toward the Emperor. Blade saw Kul-Nam’s drawn sword swing around until its point was aimed directly at the duke. Light ran up and down the engraved steel like fire. The four eunuchs stared now at Blade, now at the duke, shifting their feet uneasily and keeping their hands on their weapons.