by Джеффри Лорд
Blade looked grim. «They will need more than fortune,» he told the girl. «They will need a miracle.»
At that moment one of the basket boats overturned. Blade heard a single shrill cry for help as he raced down and plunged into the sea, then there was silence. When he reached the overturned boat he saw that it was disintegrating, was nothing but a tangle of flotsam, and there was no sign of the occupants. Something touched his leg and
Blade went under and came up with a naked child. She coughed and spat water and clung to Blade with cold little arms. He cast a last look around and swam back to the beach. As he handed the girl child to Juna he said, «All gone. Kron was in that boat, I think.»
Juna wrapped her cloak about the little girl, who began to cry. Blade winced. It was a welcome sound, for the child lived, but he was thinking of the patrol boats. He combed out his sodden beard with his fingers and stared down in perplexity.
Juna sensed his thought. She gathered the wailing little girl to her breast. «Her name is Thamus and she is daughter to one of my ladies-I will not leave her.»
Blade grimaced at her. «Who said anything about leaving her?»
Juna cuddled the small bundle. «You had the thought,
Blade. I saw it in your face.»
It was half true and Blade knew it. He nodded. «She will come with us, then. Very like she will be our death. Sound carries a far distance over water and the crying of a child will alert them at once. But so be it.»
She regarded him stonily. «When that time comes I will know what to do. Let us go.»
Blade helped her into the boat and handed the child in. There was no trace of the others as he waded out into the slight surf. For better or worse they had vanished into the night.
He swam for a time, pushing the light boat ahead of him, giving Juna time to adjust to the precarious balance. He shoved the boat through the faintly creaming surf line and into deeper water. He headed for a point midway between the ship’s lanterns to his right; to his left, and too near for comfort, gleamed a third point of light. It moved. One of the patrol boats had left its position and was approaching another. Why? To hail a warning? Had one of the basket boats been sighted or sunk, or taken? Blade bore a little more to starboard. As they were about to pass between the stationary ships he crawled into the boat and took up the oar. He made a sign to Juna and whispered.
«Keep the child quiet now. For all our lives!»
Blade began to sweat. He cursed and raged inwardly.
Bad luck. A current caught them and bore the craft toward the nearest patrol ship in spite of anything he could do with the oar. He damned this most unstable of boats. There was no weight to it, hardly any draft, and the crude outrigger and center board did not work as well as he had anticipated. The boat bobbed and twirled and spun crazily, sucked down and driven up by every vague oreeze and current, and Blade could keep no way on her. there was worse-the tide, on which he counted heavily, had nearly reached the ebb. In a few ‘minutes it would turn and begin to carry them back to shore.
The child began to whimper.
Blade, sweat chilling on him, paddled with all his strength. They were so close to one patrol boat that he could hear the crew talking on deck and see cordage and mast revealed in the single light. The child made another sound, a smothered cry, an inward sucking of air as if readying itself to scream. Blade cast a beseeching look at Juna.
The child hushed. Their boat drifted past the patrol, just beyond the aura of light and in slack water. There was a faint luminescence, reflected light from water, and Blade smiled as he saw that Juna had given the child one of her lush round breasts. He nodded. The child was too old for suckling, no doubt, but seemed content enough. It was not, Blade thought, the most unpleasant way to be silenced.
As soon as they were safely past the patrol he went over the side again and began to swim and push. He did not really mind when the useless oar fell overboard and floated away. He hoped that Edym, or even some of the eunuchs, had brains enough to experiment and do as he was doing. His big body and powerful legs drove the little tub through calm water at a good pace. After a few hours, as he rested, he began to smell the effluvia from the land. It could only be the odor of Patmos, for he had lined up correctly with the Lancer in the sky. Never in his life, in any dimension, had he smelled the like of it. The air was. soft as velvet and bore a sweetness that could only be the mingle of millions of lush blooming plants. He could not isolate a single odor-it was like breathing a meld of roses and myrrh, of cinnamon and sandalwood and lilac, of clove and orange and coffee and tea with a dash of jasmine. A land breeze from Paradise.
Blade breathed deep and saw that Juna was doing the same. The child was asleep at her breast. When she saw him looking she took the teat from it and arranged her sift to cover herself. Blade gave her a wide smile.
«I think I am going to like your island, if smells are any auger.» He sniffed again. «I can almost forget the sewers of Thyme.»
Cautiously, careful not to tip the wayward boat, he crawled aboard. «The land is not far novt?»
At that moment a beacon flared yellow on a headland. She pointed to it. «Yonder is the master flare that points to Cybar, our capital city. I think we are awaited.»
Blade, now paddling with his hands, shot a look at her. «How is that? Your messenger did not get through.»
The moon, coming late, had vanished early. It lacked an hour until dawn and the star sheen was blurred by milky clouds. He could see the white smudge of her face, nothing more, yet it seemed that she smiled.
«Izmia, my grandmother, is not a fool. She has other spies in Thyme and will know what has happened-and this part of the coast is always well guarded. It will be especially so now that Hectoris is victor over Thyrnehis agents will be as thick as lice on a beggar.»
Blade took another deep breath. He was weary and hungry and caked with brine. On Patmos, in the city of Cybar, surely there would be a chance to rest and bathe and eat his fill, a time of surcease so that he could recoup for the new tasks and dangers that must lie ahead. To this end he was counting heavily on Juna.
He told her so. «I trust that your grandmother, Izmia, Pearl of Patmos, will be a friend to me. I think I have earned that, and I count on you to speak for me when the time comes.» He stifled a yawn. The silken scented air was making him sleepy. «And that time can come none to soon for me, Juna. And you-you must also be weary.»
She pointed to the beacon flaring on a point of land. «There will be time to speak of these things later. Get us ashore, Blade. We are not safe yet. Patmos has no ships and those of Hectoris approach our shores at will. I beg you to hurry.»
Blade slipped over the side again and began to kick the little boat inland. Juna busied herself with the child, awake now and squalling in hunger. She did not offer her breast again.
He skirted a reef and found that he could touch bottom some two hundred yards out from a rocky beach. They had been seen now and a knot.of men, soldiers as best he could make out in the first dawn, came to the water’s edge to greet them. Blade began to walk ashore, pulling the boat behind him. As he grew closer he could make out archers and lancers, a dozen or more in the charge of an officer. They clustered near a tall pole on which the beacon flared. Blade stopped for a moment, considering, then reached into the boat for his sword belt. It was gone.
Blade halted abruptly in water up to his waist and glared at Juna. «Where is ‘my sword, Goddess?»
She clutched the crying child to her breasts and, in the rapidly paling light, he saw that she smiled in triumph. She met his stare defiantly.
«As to that, Blade, you will have to ask among the sea creatures. I gave them your sword some time back.»
And very slyly, too, for he had not seen her move nor heard a sound. He glinted his teeth at her and gave the fragile boat a great shake.
«You presume too much, Goddess! I am not your slave, nor yet a believer in your divinity. In short, I am not a fool. 91
She laughed
at him, a tinkle of sound, a clear little bell in the morning. «You are not, Blade? I disagree. I think you look much like a fool at the moment. But be not alarmed. What I do, what I have done, is for your own good. And for mine.»
Blade could have smiled, but he restrained the impulse with no great difficulty. She needed another lesson, and in time he would give it to her, but for the moment he had been outsmarted. And there was always the chance that she knew what she was doing. This was her country and her people. He was the stranger. Nevertheless he gave her a scowl and a growl, saying, «I still have you=and — the child. I could wring both your. necks before your friends could reach us.»
Juna laughed in his face. «You will not, Blade. I know you better than that. You are a demon, no doubt of it, but you will not harm me or the child. Now do you listen to me-I sent a message with Edyrn, to Kador and Smyr, asking that this thing be done and-«
Blade scowled again. «So that was the whispering on the beach! And just who are Kador and Smyr?»
A hail came from the beach. «Junal Juna, Goddess of Thyrne. We are bid by the king, and by, his gracious sister, the queen, to make you welcome to Patmos.»
Juna ignored the call. She was whispering urgently to Blade, her fingers reaching to touch one brawny arm.
«There is no time for detailed explanations now. Kador and Smyr are king and queen of Patmos, and some kin to me. There is no time to explain all that, either. But Edyrn has landed and carried out my bidding and we are met by the proper party. I had feared for your life else, Blade, for the soldiers of Izmia are a rough lot. And I greatly fear for you anyway, for this is Patmos, not Thyrne nor any land you,have been in, and you will be as a babe in arms at first. I-«
Blade roared with laughter. «A babe in arms, is it?» He nodded toward the beach. «Hah-I do not need a sword to handle that lot! By the looks of them the child there could do it. Ho-if there is trouble my fists will be enough.»
Juna moved close to him. She struck with her little fists at his great chest. «Will you listenl It is just as I fearedfor I know your temper and your strength. I warn youdo not put too much faith in that strength. This is Patmos, where children are born knowing more of intrigue than a great rogue like you can ever know. Believe me in this, Blade. I beg you. Bide your time, and keep your temper in check, until you can see matters for yourself.»
He fingered his beard and eyed her. «And if I do all this-if I play the weakling and submit to whatever you, and this king and queen of yours, have in store for me? What then?»
Juna smiled at him. «Then all will be well, my love. In time you will come to understand. You will be happy in Patmos for so long as we have, for invasion is coming, and I shall be happy with you. See-they are coming to, escort us in. I have your promise?»
His look was dour. He had already decided. He did not want trouble, certainly not bloodshed, and for the moment he was at a disadvantage. No point in trying to figure out her motives. Impossible. He had best look to himself.
Still, at that very moment, he would almost have surrendered his hopes of returning to Home Dimension for his sword.
A splendid and rather dainty officer-or so Blade thought-was first to reach the boat as it was pulled onto the beach by soldiers. The officer ignored Blade for the moment and bowed to Juna. Blade had some difficulty in repressing a smile, for he had never in all his military service in Home or X Dimensions seen anything like this popinjay.
The officer doffed a silver helmet decorated with gay plumes. His hair was of shoulder length and in tight ringlets and emitted a strong perfume. Blade wrinkled his nose. The officer’s chest armor was of gold, chased with silver, and the slender rapier slung on a bejeweled baldric could only have been intended for ceremony. He wore a kilt of gold cloth and greaves of polished gold. His shoes were high laced and bound with thongs about the calf, and had long pointed toes that turned up and were tipped with rosettes of colored ribbon. Blade wondered how the man could walk in such footgear, much less fight in them. The latter speculation, he told himself as he studied the rest of the little troop, was idle and beside the point. These men had never fought a battle in their lives, nor would they. These were «show» soldiers, a palace guard, spit-and-polish men. Blade thought of Hectoris, and of the invasion that was forthcoming, and thought that only God could help Patmos.
And not even that-if the legend beneath the circled snake bore any truth. A is Ister. I act for God!
The thought brought Blade a new awareness of his own peril. Lord L had warned him to expect a longer stay in Dimension X this time. In escaping from Thyrne to Patmos he had gained a little time and not much else; Hectoris would come, and the false priest, Ptol, and Blade did not care to think of his fate if he were taken alive.
Juna and the child were carried ashore by soldiers. The officer touched Blade on the shoulder and said, «You will come with us, please. It is the wish of the Goddess Juna, and of our king and queen. Any time you are ready, sir.»
The fellow was polite enough. He was obviously bored and had better things to do. He fiddled with a drooping yellow mustache and regarded Blade with sheer ennui, obviously in no hurry, awaiting Blade’s pleasure. The escort, a half dozen soldiers carrying dress lances with ribbons bedecking them, looked on with equal boredom. Blade nodded and shrugged his huge shoulders. If this was being a prisoner it might not be so bad. He glanced to where Juna was being helped into a two-wheeled ‘cart drawn by a dozen men in gray breeches and blouses. They stood as docilely as the horses they replaced, their heads drooping, gazing at the sand glittering in the sun’s first rays. Men as beasts of burden. In that moment Blade understood a little of the Patmosian truth-it was a slave society.
Blade took a tentative step toward the cart, his fists clenched and ready. He vowed to keep a curb on his temper, and meant to keep it so, but it was just as well that the officer stepped aside with a smile and a slight bow.
«I would have a last word with the goddess,» said Blade.
«By all means, sir. But if you would be brief? It is a long ride to the prison and it is nearly time for first music.»
Blade made no sense of the last word. The sound of «prison» was enough. He was frowning as he pushed through the soldiers to reach Juna in the cart. She was still holding the little girl.
He seized a cart stake and shook it. «What is all this talk of prison?»
She glinted a row of dainty white teeth at him. The first sunlight burnished her hair like a golden helmet, but revealed lines of fatigue, and little pools of shadow beneath the violet-gray eyes. He knew her to be near exhaustion and still thought her as lovely a woman as ever he had seen-if only she were not such a bitch! Or a goddess.
Juna tugged her cloak over her breasts. «It will not be for long, Blade. Trust me.»
«Trust you? That is exactly what I do not do, woman!» He was angry again, but kept his voice down.
She raised a finger and glanced around at the guards. They, in all their finery, appeared as bored as their officer. One said, «We are going to miss first music.»
Juna said, «It will not be so bad, Blade. Go quietly and see for yourself. Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth closed-if that is possible. Soon you will begin to understand and many of your questions will be answered. As for trusting me-what else can you do?»
She had him there. Blade took it with as good a grace as he could manage. A sub-officer gave a command and the men in harness obeyed dumbly, putting their shoulders to harness attached to the long tongue of the cart. Blade nodded toward them. «Who are they-these men who serve as horses?»
Juna shrugged. «The Gray People? Pay them no attention. They are of no importance. They-they are only the Gray People.»
The cart moved off. Juna waved. «Goodbye, Blade. I will see you as soon as I can arrange matters. Meantime-heed my words and bind your temper.»
The officer in charge, still courteous, waited until the cart vanished from sight among the dunes of white sand. Then he touched Blade’s aim.
«By your leave, sir. We have already missed first music and I would not like to miss the second. Nor would my men.»
Blade followed to where a second, and smaller, cart stood concealed by dunes. Six of the men in gray breeches and blouses waited in the harness. Blade nodded to them and looked at the officer.
«Slaves?»
The officer, who said that his name was Osric, touched a dainty finger to his perfumed mustache and smiled. «There are no slaves in Patmos, sir. These are. Gray People, eaters of penthe. They are happy and content and would not change their lot if they could. If you would be so kind as to enter the cart, sir, we can be on our way.»
Blade shrugged and obliged. The officer followed him into the cart and they lurched away as their escort fell into place on either side. Blade saw how they straggled along, out of step and with lances tilted every which way, and thought again that Patmos was doomed if these were the men who must face Hectoris and his hordes. They could not even march! He made a sour face and forgot these sad soldiers as he concentrated on the journey into Cybar. Observation! He must see, really see, everything and store it away in his memory file.
The cart left the dunes and began to follow a lane of red cobbles. The lane ran arrow-straight through vast fields of flowers that stretched away on either side as far as Blade could see. The odor was overwhelming, the same mingle of fragrances that Blade had sniffed at sea. The stalks reminded him of sunflowers, tall and sturdy, but each stalk supported a dozen dish-sized blooms of various colors-blues and yellows, reds and greens, brown and purple and orange. Blade breathed deeply and again felt sleepy and lethargic. The world was a softer and warmer place, the sun more comforting and pleasant than he had ever known it, and he began to experience a well-being, a stultifying low key happiness, that he had never known before in a difficult existence. His fears of the future vanished, his anxieties fell away, and he found himself smiling broadly at the officer. Osric, thought Blade, was not such a bad fellow after all. He had been wrong to be surly and rude to the man. The chap was only doing his job, and being very nice about it, too.