by Джеффри Лорд
It was all Blade could do to keep from exploding in frustration and rage. Goddamn lordell and jay-for who else but Lord L and J had he called to in his sleep-and goddamn the computer. They had done it now. His brain was so altered and twisted, so restructured, that a single blow on the head sent him into deep amnesia.
A fearsome thought came then and he would not face it because he could not bear it-suppose, just suppose, that the blow, the resultant amnesia, so affected his brain structure that the computer could not make contact again! He would be doomed to spend the rest of his life in this Dimension X. Patmos?
It did not bear thinking about. His only remedy was action. Move forward. Keep going. Finish whatever it was that he had set out to do. Whatever it was! Piece it together, bit by bit, and feel his way along until he had his bearings.
«I will attend to Ptol later.» Ptol? Blade fretted. For an instant the name had nearly assumed meaning. Now it was gone. Ptol? Someone who was being tortured on his orders. Blade did not like that, for normally he was not a man who found pleasure in inflicting pain, but if he had ordered it he must had good reason.
He disengaged himself from Izmia and stood up. His legs were weak and he stumbled a bit. Izmia watched him, still seated crosslegged on the floor, her yellow eyes narrowed, teeth showing, her skin gleaming like pale fire.
It cost him, but Blade stood erect and squared his big shoulders. Perhaps the bluff was a foolish one, and did not deceive her, but it was Blade’s way.
«I am hungry,» he said brusquely. «A man can nigh starve in three days. And if it has been that long I am very late in all matters and had best get moving. I will be shown quarters, Izmia, and have food and be bathed and shorn and newly clothed. Later I would have Edym and Nob sent to me. Nob first, I think.»
Izmia touched a gong with a baton. «I will send him now. He has been anxious about you and has been hanging about plaguing my maids. You had best warn him that it is forbidden to cohabit with Gray girls.»
Blade nodded, for all the world as though he knew what he was doing, and was led to a smaller cavern by a girl dressed in a gray smock. She kept her eyes downcast and did not speak to him. It seemed to Blade that they went ever downward, along winding passages on which moisture glistened. Once he clapped a hand to a wall and drew it back with an oath. It was hot!
She drew aside an ornate hanging and Blade entered the little cavern. It was well furnished with bolsters and rugs and in a corner was a large tub carved out of black stone. From a bung set into the wall came steaming hot water. A large and roguish-looking character, with a patch over his left eye, looked up from sprinkling salts into the bath. He gave Blade a wide and toothless grin. Most of his front teeth had been broken off at the gum line.
«Aye, master, it is good to see you recovered. That was a hot enough brawl, for a time, and the rascal fetched you a good clout on the sconce afore I put my iron through him.»
He glanced past Blade at the movement of the drape. «Who ‘twas brought you here, master? A pretty little Gray thing by name of Ina?»
Might as well get it over with, Blade thought. He studied the big fellow, arms akimbo, scowling. The man wore the leather and metal armor of a foot soldier. On his shoulders were black tabs-the black pearl insignia.
The man was a bit too familiar, Blade thought, and no harm in putting him in his place. He made his voice harsh: «Izmia tells me that it is forbidden`to cohabit with Gray women. You will not do so. And what is that you pour in ‘my bath?»
Nob, for so Blade supposed the servant to be, dropped his lantern jaw and stared at Blade. He looked at the salts he was still pouring into the steaming water, then back at Blade. He gulped and appeared to choke on an Adam’s apple obscured by whorls of dark stubble. At last he found his tongue.
«It be naught but a potion to make ye smell pretty, sire. What did ye think-a magic to rob ye of manhood?» And Nob again showed his guns in an uncertain grin.
Blade nodded and began to disrobe. «Fair enough, but keep in mind what I said about women.»
Nob rubbed a hand over his scarred face. «Oh, aye, of course, master. ‘Twas nothing but a bit of fooling, like. But yon Ina, she did smile on me-and not many does on old Nob-and I thought that-«
«Don’t,» said Blade curtly. «Now I will bathe whilst you lay out fresh things. I will talk and you will listen and, when called on, answer me to the point. This is understood?»
Nob was wide-eyed and his jaw still hung askew. He nodded. «Aye, master. But for one thing-what is the word you used to me? This cohabit-what do it mean?»
Blade told him. Nob roared and slapped his leathernclad leg. «Do it now! By Juna’s golden tits! I would never have called it that in a million years-but once you have the meaning of it there is no doubt. I mean to say, sire, it is the doing of the thing that is important and not the calling of it. 1-«
«You will shut up,» Blade said calmly. He kicked away a pile of blood-and sweat-stained clothing and stepped into the steaming tub. Ahhhhh-it was goodt
Nob finally got his mouth closed and handed Blade a box of fragrant powder. «For scrubbing, sire. Or so Ina tells me. And plenty of hot water, as you.see. Comes from the volcano, it do, and if a man does not temper it with cold it will scald-«
Blade repressed a smile. Instead,he frowned and said, «You are still talking too much. I said for you to Usten.» He balled his massive fist and showed it to the man. «Or must I convince you with this?»
Nob was arranging clothing and armor on a table. He shook his head as though in sorrow. «You are not yourself, master. I feared as much-for after taking that axe blow on your head, and sleeping all this time, I did not think ye would come so quickly to be well again. I-«
«Silence!» Blade’s bellow set the door hanging to waving. He made a sign to the astounded Nob and dropped his voice. «Look to see if there are any listeners.»
Nob snatched a long sword from a rack in a corner and swept the tapestry aside. There was nothing.
«Now listen,» Blade commanded. «And hold your loose tongue.»
He told Nob what had happened to him. The man’s eyes grew wide again and his jaw fell farther aslant than before. But when Blade had done talking, and after a moment of frowning and scratching his from, Nob smiled and said, «So there is no great harm done, sire. You are well and 1 remember all that happened. From the day we met in Thyme and-«
«Thyme? Tell me of it. I have no recollection.»
Nob sank to a stool and shook.his head. «None at all, master? Not even of Juna?»
Blade scrubbed beneath an arm. «Who is Juna? Or, should I say, what is Juna?»
Nob stared at the floor, his big gnarled hands dangling between his legs. He shook his head sadly. «A horrible and misbegotten blow it were, sire, as could make you forget Juna! Aye-I am more glad than ever that I killed the bastard that gave it to you from behind.»
Blade was washing his hair now and he winced as he touched the sore spot. Half to himself he said, «If the blow was such a bad one, and I took it from behind and off guard, I cannot understand why I still live.»
«Aye, master, I can answer that.» Nob was all agrin. He went to a closet and brought back a battered helmet. The crown was bashed in but the metal was unbroken.
«I took it off a Samostan corpse,» Nob explained, «and begged that ye. wear it. For ye had none of yer own. Aye-those bastard Samostans make gobd helmets and armor. That ye must give them. No helmet of Patmos, nor even of Thyme, would have taken such a blow and kept ye alive.»
Blade took the misshapen helmet from Nob and examined it closely. The plume, shaven to a mere tuft, was blue and the insignia, the medallion in front, was of a snake with its tail in its own mouth. There was a stirring in the curdled mists of Blade’s mind and for a moment the circled serpent nearly had meaning. Then it vanished. He read aloud the legend beneath the snake.
«Ais Ister.»
He frowned at Nob. «What meaning has it?»
Nob scowled in his turn. «Hectoris is not o
ne to hide his brag, master. `I Act for God’-that is the meaning of it.»
Blade held out a hand as he let the helmet drop and roll on the floor. «A towel, if you please. `I Act for God.’
Hmmm you are right, Nob. This Hectoris, whoever he may be, is not a man of becoming modesty. I would like to meet him one day.»
Nob bent his big body and laughed. He could not stop. He laughed and laughed and Blade, who had come to like the rascal so soon after rediscovering him, did not know whether to laugh also or curse him. He did neither and waited for the spell to pass.
«You will meet him,» Nob could say at last. «No fear there, master. We have sent his scouting party running in defeat and disgrace, and we have taken his pet priest, and in the bargain you sent him such a message of defiance as no man could hear without his ears scorching. And Hectoris is a proud man and nothing has ever stood before him-as ye know from what happened to Thyme when you and I first met and-«
Blade held up a hand. «That,» he said, «is just what I do not knowl Try to get it through that thick pate of yours-I remember nothing. Tell me. Tell me all of it.»
Nob looked at him. His jaw was hanging again. «Aye, master, I suppose I must. But it is a long story and there is little time-our lives and that of Patmos is in the balance, or I do not love Juna’s Reece, and Hectoris will not bide his coming. But I will-«
«You will be brief,» said Blade fiercely. «Now get to the matter. Everything that is important, nothing that is not important, and from the beginning. Briefly!»
Nob did not do so badly, for Nob. Scarce an hour had elapsed before Blade knew all that he must. Some of it appalled and frightened him. Of some of it he was proud, and of a very little he was ashamed. But one thing was certain-he had set a great many wheels in motion and now time flitted away and he had best look lively or those very wheels would crush him.
When he had heard Nob out he said, «Go find Edyrn and ask him to meet me in the place where Ptol is kept. As soon as may be. Then see that Izmia receives this message-that I will see her when I can and I cannot say when that will be. Repeat that.»
Nob did so. Blade nodded at him, then smiled, and clapped him on the shoulder. «It appears that you and I have sworn friendship, Nob, and so bound our lives, or our deaths, together. So you tell ‘me and so I take it to be, for though I am sure you are a great liar when it is required I do not think you lie to me.»
The man showed his gums. «Aye, sire, that is the truth of it. We swore an oath each to the other.»
«Then be about your tasks, man. And I will be about mine. I must find out what I have been doing, rightly or wrongly, to save our lives and defeat this barbarian Heatoris.»
«Ye have done a great deal, master. Some of it, mind ye, I did not approve of-such as enlisting the Gray People and taking away the penthe and-«
Blade pointed at the door. «Go.»
Nob had the last word as he brushed aside the door hanging. «If ye want to see Ptol alive, master, ye had best hurry. He has not so much blood in him as a fat man might be thought to have. And he is a stubborn wretchhe has spoken nothing yet of import.»
«I will see to it,» said Blade. «Ptol will talk.»
CHAPTER 9
Blade marveled at his own cruelty. He knew that the Richard Blade of Dimension X was not the gentlemanly Blade of Home Dimension; still he wondered. And wondered also at the Patmosian idea of torture. They had merely locked the fat priest into a dungeon and there, after bleeding him a little, and touching him lightly with hot irons, had left him for Blade to deal with.
Ptol cowered at the sight of Blade. He whimpered and lisped and clutched his leather-cuffed right stump to his flabby chest. Blade, accoutered all in black leather and metal harness, wearing a gleaming helmet with the medallion of Izmia on it, loomed near seven feet tall. He drew his great sword and, leaning easily on it, surveyed the priest. He remembered nothing of Ptol save what Nob had told him. Ptol did not know that.
Blade prodded with his sword at the leather bandage. Ptol screamed and tried to squirm away.
«What happened to your hand, priest?»
Ptol had lost weight. His flabby jowls swayed as he raised his head to stare at Blade. Blade credited him his due-there was still a hint of defiance in-the man.
«You ask that?» Ptol was sullen. «You who struck it from me?»
Blade touched his sword to the man’s remaining hand.
«So I did. And it occurs to me that, since I have taken one of your hands, I may as well have the other. What say you to that, priest?»
Ptol thrust his left hand at Blade. «I say strike it off and be damned! Kill me. Juna will revenge me.»
Blade smiled. «You are hardly one to call on Juna,
priest. But keep your hand. There are other ways. But first will you talk? I would know everything you hide in that fat little carcass. Everythingl The plans of Hectoris,
his numbers of men and ships, his landing places and, not least, the intrigue you were sent to carry out in the Pal ace.»
Something flickered in Ptol’s eyes, then was gone. Blade turned on his heel and stalked out. «You have five minutes, priest.»
It took ten minutes for Blade to make his arrangements. When he returned to the dungeon Ptol was still defiant. To Blade’s vast amusement he offered Blade a deal.
«We should be friends,» Rol lisped. «I come bearing an offer of great honor from Hectoris-he has heard of you and wants you for his friend and companion in arms.» He stared bitterly at his leather stump, then added, «I will forgive this, Blade. Come over to us. Patmos is doomed and you cannot save her. The king and queen have declared war on lzmia and have fled to the safety of Thyrne, which Hectoris now rules. They-«
A faint memory stirred in Blade’s mind. A will-o’-thewisp, yet he thought it of something physical remembered, something physical and emotional. He broke in.
«What of Juna, priest?»
Ptol did exactly the wrong thing. He smiled craftily and, with spite, said, «She is taken along as hostage, naturally.» Again the crafty smile.
Blade leaned on his sword and frowned. «What value could she have as hostage?»
Ptol’s small eyes were lewd. He nodded and a thread of spittle dribbled from a corner of his pursy mouth. «We have many spies in both Patmos and Thyrne-there was a spy in the party you took through the salt marshes, Blade. We have heard that the goddess Juna, or Vilja, if you will,
is very fond of you. And you of her. It is rumored that you have lain together and were seen thus.»
«A lie,» said Blade. Or was it? He did not know the truth himself. If it had happened he had not confided it to Nob, so could not hear it back. And yet Nob must have guessed, or suspicioned.
Ptol touched his stub with dirty fingers. It must be painful, thought Blade.
«We do not think it a lie,» said Ptol. «But no matterthere is lzmia and she is grandmother to Juna. Yet another string to our bow. Would she see Per grandchild torn apart and fed to dogs? For such it may come to.»
Blade fingered his beard. «You mistake lzmia,» he said. «I think she would do just that. But enough of talk. You have had your chance. Bring him along, guards.»
By this time Blade well knew that he was inside a living volcano. The quakings. and the rumblings, the jets of steam and scalding water, and ever and anon a thunderous explosion, all bore witness to that. It did not take him long to find what he — sought.
When they reached it the pulley and scaffold had been rigged as Blade ordered. The crevice was deep and jagged, irregular, and some hundred feet down was the terrible surge and writhing of molten lava. The heat and stink of it spewed from the crevice. Some of the guards, brawny men wearing the black pearl, looked fearful and tried to hang back. Blade urged them with the flat of his sword.
He pointed to the priest. «Rig him by the heels, and mind you do it securely, and swing him out over the pit. Hurry.»
Ptol cringed back and began to whimper. «No-no-«
Blade bared his
strong white teeth at the sniveler. «You are a priest. You should welcome a chance to gaze into hell, if only to avoid it. And you can avoid it, for a time, if you talk. Well?» 0
Ptol began to sob and shook his head. Blade motioned to his men.
The priest was lowered head down into the pit. Blade pointed his sword at the guards manning the tackle. «Drop him and you will follow. And be alert-I do not want him dead. Quite.»
He alone would venture to the edge of the pit. And he alone could bear the sight of the white hot caldron seething and bubbling and sending up its stinking vapors. He did not reckon Ptol to last long, and soon raised a hand. The priest was drawn up. Cold water was douched into ‘his face. For a moment Blade feared he had overdone it and bent to listen. The heart was still beating.
When Ptol opened his eyes Blade knew he had won. The priest was finished. He had come back from hell and would not venture again. He nodded and gasped. «I–I will tell you. I will tell everything. Everythingl»
It was no time to show mercy or compassion. Blade put the point of his sword against the priest’s throat. «Mind you do. One lie, just one-and I will know-and next time there will be no rope to fetch you up.»
He gave Ptol no chance to recover his nerve or to think of lies. He summoned a council at once of all officers. He invited Izmia, as he knew he must, but she did not appear and he was thankful for it. And he made reacquaintance with Edyrn, whom he now proposed to use as chief liaison with Izmia until he had matters well in hand and could cope with her. If Edyrn, as cool and capable as ever, had suspicions of Blade’s loss of memory he avoided mentioning it.
The counsel lasted for hours and Blade gave none of them any respite, least of all Ptol. When he was satisfied, and he had good reason to be, he ordered that the priest’s stub be seen to and that he be well treated so long as he behaved. He was to be closely guarded. Then he dismissed them all but Edyrn and Nob, who had not been bidden to the gathering of.his betters, but had come anyway and gained entrance and had been hovering about Blade with the nervous air of a man with something to impart.