by Джеффри Лорд
Blade was just about to shout to Mirdon when the Commander himself seemed to wake from his daze. His sword flashed in the moonlight as he whirled it high over his head. He swung his horse around toward the mounted Raufi.
Blade also pulled his horse around, considerably relieved. He would have followed Mirdon wherever the Commander had led him taking any risks involved. As Champion of the Gods, he had no choice. But he could hardly regret not having to commit suicide!
Somehow, Mirdon was managing to get still more speed out of his horse as they charged toward the Raufi. Blade found it hard not to fall behind. The thunder of hooves and the rank sweat of the laboring horses rose to fill the night and shut out the rest of the world. Now it seemed that they weren't just flying across the ground. It seemed to Blade that they might fly up and away into the sky.
They came up to the Raufi with bullets whistling about their ears, kicking up dust all around their horses, but not hitting them. The darkness and the battle and the strangeness of everything seemed to be unnerving the enemy and throwing off their aim.
The two rode straight in until Blade felt that he could practically reach out and touch the leading Rauf. He saw Mirdon drop the reins and reach down for the canvas bag that swung from his saddle. He saw Mirdon's arm whip out and over, hurling the bag out at the Raufi. He saw the Raufi scatter, spurring their camels frantically in all directions, some of them falling out of their saddles. Mirdon gave a great whooping roar of laughter at the spectacle the Raufi were making of themselves. Then a musket crashed out, and he reeled in the saddle as the bullet took him under his raised sword arm.
Mirdon's horse felt the rider's hand slacken on the reins, and it began to slow. Blade knew that in another moment it might panic and bolt, or hurl Mirdon helplessly to the ground. He frantically urged his own horse forward until he was riding alongside Mirdon. The Commander's face had gone as white as flour. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and pumped steadily from his wound.
Mirdon's arm drooped and his sword fell to the ground. Blade dropped his reins and guided his horse with his knees as he reached out for Mirdon. The Commander lurched and practically fell into Blade's outstretched arms. Blade gave one tremendous heave and Mirdon seemed to fly out of his saddle. He nearly flew right over Blade's horse and pulled Blade to the ground with him, but somehow Blade caught him. With the last of his strength Mirdon twisted himself into a sitting position in front of Blade. Then his head lolled back against Blade's shoulder, and his mouth opened in a gush of blood. Blade hauled his horse's head around toward the walls of Kano and dug in his spurs again.
The horse had less than half its strength left, and it was carrying nearly twice as much weight as before. Somehow Blade's spurs and curses pushed the horse along at a lumbering trot until they were out of range of the enemy. Then the horse slowed to a walk, and nothing Blade could do would push it along any faster. It didn't matter now, though. A squadron of cavalry and a couple of light guns came out from the Eighth Gate and escorted them in.
As they rode in through the gate, Blade heard the First Consecrated's trumpeters sound a long blast. So he was not surprised to see Tyan himself waiting just inside the gate. His sedan chair with its slave bearers stood behind him. Beside it stood two blue-draped litters. Blue, Blade recalled, was the color of mourning in Kano.
There were plenty of hands to lift Mirdon's body down off the horse. That was all anybody could do for him now. Without any orders, half a dozen soldiers carried the body over to one of the litters. Tyan himself bent over it, closed Mirdon's eyes, and drew one end of the draperies over his face.
The tension was draining out of Blade now. He saw a white-robed form stretched out on the other litter-Katerina. Slowly he walked over to stand beside Tyan. Their eyes met for a moment, in a wordless understanding that somehow said a great deal without saying anything Blade could grasp clearly. Blade noticed that there were tears in Tyan's eyes. Then, side by side, they followed the litters as the soldiers bore them off.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Whatever Tyan let himself feel at night, he was all business and grim determination by dawn.
«This may or may not be the end of the Raufi,» he told Blade over breakfast. «For all that Mirdon has done, that is still in the hands of the gods. But most certainly this shall mean the end of the Jade Masters. That is altogether in our hands, and our hands will be swift and just.»
Strong bands of soldiers and armed civilians scoured Kano all day, rounding up the families of every man known to be a Jade Master or one of their servants. The families were crammed roughly into the prison tower. Then Tyan called the Jade Masters, their chief craftsmen, their stewards, and the officers of their guards to the House of the Consecrated. Blade was there in full armor when Tyan delivered his message.
Tyan wasted no words. «The Jade Masters stand guilty of treason to Kano. By the laws of this city, by the laws of the gods, by common human wisdom you deserve to die. Yet many of you are fighters, which Kano needs. If you live and fight through the days ahead, you may yet be forgiven.
«I do not trust you, however, to fight merely in the hope of forgiveness. So I have taken your wives and children. I shall keep them until the fate of Kano is settled.
«If any among you prove treacherous again, your families will die. If the Raufi storm the city, your families will die. But if you go to the walls and help beat back the Raufi, your families will live, whether you do or not.»
Once more, Blade was glad that good luck and good management had made the First Consecrated Tyan of Kano his friend instead of his enemy. As an enemy, that old man could have been more dangerous than the Raufi, Jormin, Geddo, Stul, and the Gudki all put together. As a friend, Tyan had done everything Blade could have hoped for. Tyan hadn't saved Katerina, but that was simply wretchedly bad luck. Katerina had died the way she must have expected to die when she had entered her chosen profession-that is, violently, and before her time. She had not died before knowing the happiness of caring and being cared for, and that was something she probably hadn't expected.
In any case, Blade did not have much time to mourn Katerina. Two days later, the Raufi attacked the walls of Kano with all their strength.
It was not a battle that day, it was a massacre. The Raufi came against intact walls manned by soldiers inspired by the Champion of the Gods and determined to revenge the Champion's slain woman and Commander Mirdon. Aiding the soldiers were the fighters of the Jade Masters, more frightened for their families than for themselves, and many thousands of eager and determined civilians of all ages and both sexes. The Raufi were mad with rage at the death of their great war chief, but their rage didn't help them. As Mirdon had planned, it simply drove them on to an even worse defeat than they could have suffered otherwise.
Afterward Blade couldn't recall that he'd ever been in a great battle where he had so little to do. He and Tyan spent the day in the Gardens of Stam, encouraging the fighters and giving occasional orders. Blade only had his sword out of its scabbard once, when a handful of Raufi managed to get into the Gardens.
The battle went on all day, with no quarter given or asked for. By sunset there were no more Raufi attacks, because there were hardly any more Raufi. Dahrad Bin Saffar led close to fifty thousand warriors out of the desert against the city. Less than ten thousand rode away. It would be generations before the Raufi could again threaten Kano. It would probably be centuries before they would want to try.
In Tyan's private chambers everything was as silent as ever. Outside in the street, there was noisy rejoicing at the victory and equally noisy mourning for the dead. Not a sound crept through the massive walls of the House of the Consecrated. Nothing disturbed the First Consecrated and the Champion of the Gods as they sat across the table from each other. On the table between them lay the great jeweled staff of the First Consecrated.
When the last servant had vanished, Tyan raised his wine cup.
«To Kano.»
«To Kano,» replied Blad
e. He added as he drank, «A city with a future.»
«A future it owes to you,» said Tyan.
Blade shrugged. «Perhaps. Also much to Katerina and Mirdon.»
There was a long silence. Then Tyan spoke quietly. «Mirdon was my son, Champion. Against all the laws and customs that bind the Consecrated, I was the father of a son. So I think I can say that I feel with you in what you have lost.»
Blade nodded without speaking. He couldn't think of any response that needed putting into words. Tyan had explained much and offered sympathy. What more was necessary? He drank again, emptying his cup, then poured more wine from the silver jug.
Another long silence. Then Tyan heaved a sigh. With an almost visible effort, he set aside his memories and smiled his usual thin smile.
«Champion, I promised when we first began this game that I would one day ask how you escaped from the Mouth of the Gods. You are certainly a warrior such as neither the Raufi nor Kano have known since the days of ancient legend. It is just as certain that the ritual of sacrifice is designed so that no one can escape as you did, except by a greater miracle than we have seen these past few days. How did you do it Champion?»
«I-Tyan, will there be any danger to anyone if I tell you?»
«Well, if it turns out that there was weakness or corruption among the servants of the Consecrated-«He broke off. «No, I will give you my word. No one shall suffer, regardless of what you tell me.»
Blade nodded. He'd gained a few seconds to think by his delaying tactics. Now he would have to give the alarmingly shrewd Tyan a convincing natural explanation of an escape that indeed had been a miracle! He shook his head and absent-mindedly reached out to lay a hand on the great staff of office.
Before Tyan could rebuke him or he could say a word, Blade felt a faint dart of pain in his head. He started to rise, his hand still on the staff. The pain came again, three times in rapid succession, each time stronger. Blade sat back down again, a great sense of relief welling up in him. The computer had reached out to his brain again and had gripped it. This time there was no one he needed to help. This time he would be going back Home, back to London, away from this nightmare in Dimensions. He did not know how he knew this. He only knew that it would be so.
The pain roared and thundered. Blade staggered to his feet, both hands now clutching the great staff. Across the table he could see Tyan leaping up so fast that his chair went over backward, eyes staring in total disbelief. The First Consecrated's mouth was open, but Blade could no longer hear anything except the roaring in his own head. Then the chamber started fading before his eyes. The last thing he saw as it faded out was Tyan throwing himself facedown on the floor, hands toward Blade and lips moving frantically. Curses, prayers, what? Blade didn't know, and he would never know.
The chamber vanished, and Blade was on his horse again, riding across the moonlit land toward the Raufi, clutching the great staff. Underfoot there was nothing but moonlight, and the horse struck silver sparks as it galloped.
Another horse was galloping beside him, but it was not Mirdon who rode it now. It was Katerina, naked, with a sword in her hand. She reached out with the sword toward Blade, and Blade stretched out his free hand to grasp the tip of the sword.
The air glowed and sparked between his fingers and the sword. Golden fire burst out into tiny balls that sailed away on the wind, then swelled upward. It swelled up until the flames reached out toward Blade and blotted out his view of Katerina. Fire went on swelling until there was nothing around him except the swirling golden fire.
Then the fire was gone, and in its place a great blackness that swallowed him up between one heartbeat and the next.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Several people were not particularly happy after Blade returned to Home Dimension.
Lord Leighton and J sat in the living room of J's London flat. J found himself extremely tempted to just go on sitting there, until cobwebs formed over him or at least until the maid came around in the morning to clean up the room. He suspected that Lord Leighton felt exactly the same way. He'd never seen the scientist look so red-eyed, haggard, and generally wretched after the conclusion of one of Blade's trips into Dimension X.
Well, it was hard to blame the man. He himself didn't feel much better. It was absolutely maddening to consider what had happened-and it was also slightly chilling to consider what might have happened. They'd found a method of passing two people at once from one Dimension to another. They'd found another person fully equal to Blade in her ability to enter Dimension X and survive. They'd lost her, too, but however maddening that was, it was the luck of battle. It would have been almost as awkward to have her back as it had been to lose her with much of the information she could have provided. Katerina had lived, she had survived in Dimension X, and in doing so she'd proved conclusively that Blade was not unique. Somewhere in the world there were other people who could survive the trip into Dimension X. The problem, though, was finding them. There nothing was new, nothing was changed. The long search would become longer still, and there was no helping it.
The «might have beens» were even more unsettling, even if none of them had happened. There were so many of them that it was impossible to describe them, or even to count them all. But the total added up to one conclusion-this time they had come closer to losing Blade than ever before. They hadn't lost him, but that was because their luck-and Blade's-hadn't run out. A dozen unknown factors had been thrown into the whole affair, and that none of them had killed Blade or trapped him forever in Dimension X was as big a miracle as Kano's defeat of the Raufi!
Leighton, of course, was feeling particularly bad because he was responsible for some of these unknowns, without being able to say a word to explain any of them! He felt he was failing in his duties to the Project, to Richard Blade, and to his own reputation as a scientist. Which of the three failures preyed on his mind the most was impossible to tell. But J was quite sure that they added up to a grisly burden. For once he felt totally sympathetic toward the scientist, and he made a mental promise to do everything he could to help Leighton. The man was past eighty, close to the end of his life and career, and here his greatest achievement, the Project, had turned around and bitten him!
At least, J added mentally, he would do everything to help Leighton that wouldn't endanger Richard Blade.
Meanwhile, there was a decision to be made. Push on with the next mission, or defer it until-until what? That was the question. Blade was in fine shape physically and mentally, although he was certainly angry, and he seemed somewhat depressed about something he hadn't mentioned. The two women, Arllona and Katerina, were both dead. There was nothing more to find out from or about either of them. There really wasn't any reason for delaying, except perhaps objections from Richard, and their own nerves. But there wouldn't be any objections from Richard-there never were. And as for their own nerves-well, if they'd given in to those at all, the Project would have come to a halt years ago. This was no time to start.
J rose, went to the sideboard, and brought back the whiskey decanter, the soda water, and two glasses. He prepared two very large whiskies-and-soda and handed one to Leighton.
Leighton did not pick his up. But he did raise his fatigue-reddened eyes and look at J.
«Well, what do you think we ought to do?»
«In what sense?»
«Should we defer the next mission, or proceed on schedule?»
J couldn't help laughing. Leighton's mind had been working along the same lines as his.
«Well, what have you concluded?»
«We might as well push on.»
J laughed again. For this moment at least, they were two minds with a single thought.
«I quite agree,» he said. They raised their glasses and drank.
Richard Blade sat in a West End bar and contemplated ordering another in what was already a long series of whiskies. He finally decided against it. He did not feel particularly good, and from here on drinking would make things wor
se rather than better.
He'd left something out of his report on the mission, and he was wondering if he'd been wise to do so. Not what he felt about «being buggered about from Dimension to Dimension like a bloody table-tennis ball»-he'd let them know his feelings on that at great length. He was angry about that, although not really angry at anyone, since Leighton himself seemed to be almost completely at sea over what had happened.
What he'd left out was everything about what he and Katerina had felt for each other. For all that J and Lord Leighton knew, the two of them had been an effective partnership of two professionals, allies by necessity. They didn't and they wouldn't know about partnership of two lovers, or about what Blade had felt as he knelt beside the dying Katerina.
He'd loved Katerina, but he'd fought off saying it even to himself until it was too late. He was not proud of that. He couldn't be. So he would never mention that.
He wasn't bothered about having fallen in love with a KGB agent, at least not one who'd been in love with him too. He saw clearly that the very strengths and gifts that had let Katerina travel into Dimension X and survive made her the kind of woman he could love. It hadn't been inevitable that they would fall in love-but there had always been a good chance of it.
Yet could he expect even J to see things that way? J would bend over backwards not to pass any judgments. But, for the first time in his life, Richard Blade had let his professional behavior be affected by a woman. It probably would be the last time, too, but in his profession once could be too often.
No, J should not learn of it, and he would not. It would be a strain never to mention it, but it would not be as much of a strain as any of the alternatives.
Blade decided that he would order another drink after all, to celebrate the decision.
On the outer wall of Kano, Tyan sat and looked out over the land beyond. Smoke rose from the fires where the bodies of the Raufi were being burned, hazing the landscape, but Tyan would not have seen it clearly in any case. His vision, like his thoughts, was on things much farther away.