by Jeffrey Lord
Isma leaped to her feet. “I will not listen to this blasphemy! And I shall give orders to destruct Sutha immediately. Only he could have told you this.”
From the corner of his eye Blade saw that the Second Neuter had arrived and was lingering in the background, along with a Lieutenant and a squad of ceboid soldiers. Even the beasts were staring in amazement.
It was the moment of truth for Blade. Now or never. He needed Isma, for as High Priestess she could still exact absolute obedience, for a time, even without the Power.
He looked steadily at Isma. Their eyes met in combat and neither looked away. Blade said, very softly: “You can destruct Sutha. Yes. You can always get another neuter. But how about me, Isma? Can you get another Blade? Have I not pleasured you as never before? Do I not rule with you? Do I not value Tharn, and yearn to protect it, as much as you do? Would I do anything that is not for the ultimate good of Tharn? Ask yourself all those questions, Isma, and then see if you can still quarrel with me.”
Her stare was dark and unblinking. It gave nothing away, yet Blade knew she was thinking of the Pethcine men, of barbarian virility and novelty. He knew his Isma. He kept a careful eye on the squad of ceboids. They were armed only with teksin swords and he could kill them easily, but he did not want to do that. He needed, must have, unity in Urcit. Else he was already defeated.
Isma looked away. She went back to the chair and sat down again. Blade kept his face impassive and restrained a sigh of relief. It had been a narrow thing, but he had brought it off. At least for the time being. Zulekia’s name had not been mentioned.
“I will listen,” said Isma haughtily. “Explain exactly what it is that you intend to do, Lord Blade.”
Blade flicked a finger at the Second Neuter, who came forward. Then he took Isma’s arm and led her to the railing of the terrace. Overhead more blue was showing now as the curdled melancholy twilight gave way to a solitary shaft of crimson silver. Blade took a deep breath. The air was different. There was a sun in Tharn!
The neuter was staring fearfully at the changing sky. It looked at Isma, then at Blade, and said: “I have never seen this before. Not in all my kronos.”
“Get used to it,” said Blade.
He pointed to the flat, only slightly undulating land that lay in the direction of North Provo. Here, on the outskirts of Urcit, was a maze of ceboid hovels. Hundreds of them.
“We will level those shacks,” said Blade, “and make barricades of them. Honcho and Org will come in from this direction, I am sure. Urcit has no walls and so it does not matter where they attack. They will take the most direct route into the city. You, Second Neuter, will give orders at once for those hovels to be torn down and made into a long barricade. We will mass our main force behind it.” He looked at Isma “Your women were warriors once, I understand. They must be again. You will see to it, Isma, that they are all mustered out immediately. Fully armed.”
Blade pointed. “Assembly point will be there, in the Square of the Great Phallus. You will do this now, Isma.”
Her smile was faint, and lacking the mockery he had expected. She seemed perfectly serious. “Yes, Lord Blade. But how shall I summon them? There is no power.”
Blade laughed and pointed down to his sandaled feet. “There is power. Foot power. Have the Third Neuter form a group of runners. You will have to set up a message center in liaison with my command post here. I make you Commander of the People, Isma. Of all the homid women. You are second only to me, and will obey only my orders. That is understood?”
Her dark eyes narrowed at him, but she said only: “That is understood, Lord Blade. I go to obey.” The obedience was only in the words, not in her tone or her look.
Blade turned to the Second Neuter. “Sutha, your King, has bidden that you obey me absolutely. He, Sutha, will not be in this battle. He has a special and very difficult task and must do it alone. So you are in command of all neuters…under me, of course. You understand this?”
The Second Neuter was of middle kronos. He wore a chain of small teksin diamonds over his tunic. He made a slight slaveface and said, “Yes, Lord Blade. What do you require of me?”
“It is simple enough. I require a roster of all your neuters, of all ranks and grades. You will form them into an army. They are going to have to fight.”
“Fight, Lord Blade?” The Second Neuter looked startled. “Neuters cannot fight! We, none of us, have ever been trained for fighting. I am afraid that we will be of no use to you, my Lord Blade.”
Blade stared at the neuter grimly. “Then I will use you for cannon fodder. If you cannot fight at least you will make good targets for Pethcine arrows.”
“Cannon fodder, my Lord Blade? I do not understand the term.”
“You will,” said Blade. “You will. Go and gather all neuters together. Assemble them in the square before the neuter dormitories.”
The Second Neuter was leaving as Blade called him back. “One moment. Who commands the ceboids?” He gestured to where the squad of ceboid soldiers waited near the stairs.
“We command them, my Lord Blade. The neuters. The lowest order of neuters, of course. I have never had anything to do with the ceboids myself, naturally.”
Blade pointed to a chair. “Sit, Second Neuter.” The neuter obeyed. Blade stoked his beard.
“You say neuters cannot fight. What of the ceboids - will they fight?”
“They will obey, Lord Blade. That is the only function of a ceboid, to obey.”
Blade remembered something Sutha had told him. “Yet I have heard that there is always danger of revolt among them. Is this true?”
The smooth impassive face of the Second Neuter twitched. The long green eyes narrowed. “That is only the opinion of an old…” The words ceased abruptly. The neuter made slaveface. “I am sorry, Lord Blade. It is not my place…”
Blade held up a hand. “Enough. I am not interested in your opinion of Sutha. Just answer my questions.” He sighed inwardly. He had enough trouble without a power struggle among the neuters.
The Second Neuter thought a moment, then said: “The ceboids will fight. As well as their intelligence permits, and if they are whipped enough. That is the secret with ceboids, my Lord, whipping. And a public execution every now and then. It is all they understand.”
Blade studied the creatures waiting near the stair. These were soldier-ceboids and they all had tails. Their origin still baffled Blade. He watched now as they chittered among themselves in their coarse, guttural language. Every now and then one of the long dog-baboon heads swiveled in his direction. Blade knew they were watching and listening. How much did they understand?
Blade knew that the Second Neuter, no matter his level of conditioning, was a fool. It could not be helped. He must use the neuter as best he could, depend on him as far as he dared.
“Who actually oversees the ceboids?”
“The ceboid-masters, Lord Blade. Neuters of the lowest level. They live among the ceboids and speak their language. This is necessary because the beasts cannot learn Tharnian, therefore the ceboid-masters must speak their language. It has always been thus, for all the kronos on record.”
Blade regarded him grimly. “I see. Well, a great many things are going to be changed in Tharn. That is all for now, Second Neuter. Go and start organizing your neuters as I bade you. And find Xeno, he is my servant, and send him to me. At once.”
“At once, Lord Blade.” The Second Neuter made slaveface and glided away. Blade watched him disappear down the stairs followed by the ceboid squad.
Blade strode back to the railing once more. There was a great blue patch directly overhead now, widening as he watched it, and toward the northern horizon, from whence Honcho and Org and the Pethcines would come, there was a scatter of small clouds like sheep in a pen. As Blade watched the clouds a single lance of sunlight struck through from somewhere and gilded them, transforming each separate cloudlet into a golden fleece. Blade tugged at his beard and smiled, a slow smile. In his other life
he had never believed in omens. Now he was not so sure.
Xeno arrived breathless and fearful. He had in fact been off attending to some business of his own, neuter business, and neglecting his duties. He did not know what to expect. Perhaps he would even be destructed, and he of only 16 kronos! He made deep and humble slaveface, his slitted eyes on the great sword at Blade’s side.
“You sent for me, Lord Blade?” He was still breathless from running. And very nervous and upset. Nothing worked in Tharn any more. There were horrible rumors that the Power was gone forever.
Blade was stern. “I did. Sit down.”
“Sit down, my Lord?” It was unthinkable. Sit down! In the Lord Blade’s presence!
Blade roared suddenly. “I said to sit down, Xeno. That is a command!”
Xeno sat. Blade regarded him. He needed an aide, an ADC, that was intelligent and trustworthy. Intuition told him that Xeno was his man or, rather, his neuter.
“You have 16 kronos?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Blade nodded in satisfaction. Still a very young neuter.
“What is your level, Xeno?”
“Of the 12th level, my Lord. I was apprenticed as a Maiduke monitor until Sutha appointed me to serve you.”
Blade could have wished the level higher, but it would have to do. He remembered that Moyna, the first neuter he had ever seen, had only been 4th level and Moyna managed pretty well until Honcho had destructed him.
“I would have you serve me,” said Blade.
Xeno made another slaveface. He was puzzled. “But of course, my Lord Blade. What else am I for?”
Blade started to scowl, then his white teeth glinted through the black beard. Of course Xeno did not understand. It would have to be explained.
Blade was wearing an authority chain. It was of golden tinted teksin with a small pendant phallus. He took it from his own person and placed it around Xeno’s neck. The young neuter stared down at it in fascinated puzzlement. What did it mean? Everything in Tharn was changing so fast!
Blade pointed a big finger at the neuter. “I did not mean exactly that. Listen well. When I have finished you will tell me what you understand and what you do not.” Blade half smiled. “If you do not understand enough I will take the chain back and send you to live with the ceboids. Now.
“I have appointed you my ADC. Adjutant. Lieutenant. Translate it into Tharnian as you wish. You will remain with me constantly, unless I send you on a task. You will take orders from me alone. Only me! That is most important, and that includes the High Priestess Isma and King Sutha of the neuters. Remember that - only I give you orders!
“I place you in command of all the ceboid-masters. And the ceboids, of course. About them I will give you more specific orders later.
“You will collect all the food in Urcit, and all the water, and you will have them stored where I tell you. You will do the same with all the unprocessed mani. You will also gather, in a place I will designate, all the stocks of raw teksin. That is important. I will need every bit of it. As soon as you leave me you will begin to do these things. But this is only the beginning, Xeno. We are going to have to work hard. And then fight hard. Now, is there anything you do not understand?”
Xeno was regarding Blade with eyes that reflected mingled perplexity and adulation. He fingered the chain Blade had bestowed on him.
Before the neuter could answer Blade added what he hoped would be the clincher. “Serve me well, Xeno, well and faithfully, and intelligently, and when Sutha is finished I shall see that you have his place. Now I ask again - what do you not understand? Do not be afraid to ask. It is important that everything be perfectly clear to you.”
“I understand all that you have said, Lord Blade. But there is something…”
“What is it?”
“That.” Xeno pointed to the sky. “It makes me afraid, Lord. What is happening?”
The curdled skim of Tharnian sky had cleared in the west. A single star glinted silver, pinned on a background of rose-blue. The sun was going down.
Blade smiled at Xeno. “Do not be afraid.” he told the neuter. “The sky is not falling down.”
Chapter Thirteen
Blade had calculated, by converting Tharnian kronos into hours, the time it would take Honcho and Org about four days to bring the Pethcine host to Urcit. Blade did not sleep in those four days.
He managed to check incipient chaos before it could set in, but for a time events were in precarious balance. For the first time in millions of kronos Urcit, and all Tharn, was without the Power. Blade, almost literally, had a mob of bewildered children on his hands. For one thing he was grateful - they were not frightened. There was no panic. Tharn, Urcit especially, had lived so long in indolence and luxury, had been so long guarded by the magveils and other technical marvels, that they had forgotten the meaning of fear. They had also forgotten how to fight. There was a dim folk memory, among the People and the older neuters, of a long ago Pethcinian invasion; there was memory also of a revolt or two by the ceboids, but these had been quickly suppressed and memory scabbed over, and for a great many kronos now none of the People had actually witnessed murder and rapine. Ceremonial killing did not count, nor did the rare executions of ceboids. The latter had, in any case, been kept down to a minimum by order of Sutha.
The upshot of it all was that while Blade did not have an army - it was more of a semi-disciplined mob - he did have a corps eager to fight, if only someone would show them how. Many of the People had been bored without knowing it, and the emergency was an outlet. It did not take much, Blade noted, to arouse blood lust among a group of beautiful woman who, by law, were permitted everything but sex. Coi.
Isma surprised and pleased him by the manner in which she took over the command of the 927. At the first assembly in the Square of the Phallus, Isma appeared in a complete suit of golden-teksin armor. She carried sword and spear, a shield barely larger than the one Blade had used at the Sacer of the Pethcines, and a helmet with a magnificent panache of feathered jewels. She was impressive, and Blade was especially impressed when he found that she could use the sword.
Isma’s manner toward Blade was now cool and remote, and he knew that there would be a later reckoning. He did not concern himself with it and, after telling Isma what she must do, he stood aside as much as possible. And approved of the manner in which she appointed her officers and began to put the women through drills that were arduous enough.
Blade was curt, as stern as he had to be, and he did not have to repeat many orders. Discipline was no problem among the ceboids and the neuters, and not much of a problem with the Bearer Maidens and the Maidukes. They had all been educated and conditioned to obey. It was only from the People that he expected trouble. When the trouble did come he was thankful, and pleasantly surprised, that it was minor and that Isma handled it with alacrity and firmness.
One of the women had missed muster several times. At last she was found concealed in the Lordsmen’s Cage, reeling with soka, and intent on working her way through the entire roster of the young Lordsmen in a sort of communal coi.
Isma did not ask Blade for advice. She had the erring woman dragged to the square, where she personally cut off the blonde head and showed it to the remaining 926. The women all seemed to get the message. The head was impaled on one of the many phalli gracing the square, where they could all see it as they drilled.
There were nights now in Tharn, with a moon and stars, but Blade hardly knew the difference. He kept driving. He was everywhere, inspecting and suggesting changes and snapping out orders. He ran Xeno nearly to death. Now and then Blade would receive a slate from Sutha, or send one, but there was not really much to say. Sutha remained at his post in the Power Cubicle, awaiting the word to restore the Power to Tharn, and only Blade knew that the word was never going to come.
At the end of three days and nights Blade knew that he had wrought a miracle. Whether it would bear up under duress was another matter.
On the
northern side of the city the ceboid hovels had been torn down and made into barricades. Blade, personally supervising this, had built his crude forts as near a long teksin plant as possible, thus providing some protection for his rear. On the roof of the teksin plant he mounted the dozen catapults he had been able to make. These were manned by the Bearer Maidens, even those who were in advanced stages of insemination, under the command of a neuter chosen by Xeno. The catapults hurled great jagged chunks of teksin, flaming oil of teksin in bags, and two of the machines could fire a dozen long arrows at a time.
Blade, with a cunning eye, had chosen the one spot where the ground sloped sharply away to the north. A natural glacis. Into this he set long stakes of teksin, sharpened and barbed. Between the stakes he spun a web of very fine filaments of teksin, invisible until the sun caught them. He also bastioned the forts as best he could, and left adequate sally ports. He had one intent, one clear battle plan, and inherent in it was a large element of chance, of gamble.
He intended to bleed the Pethcines to death. He meant to goad and tempt them into a frontal attack. He was sure of Org. Org was a barbarian and knew only one way to fight. Direct attack. Totha might be more intelligent, but Org would be running this battle. Blade was counting on that because, while he did not see how Honcho could know much about actual fighting, he was still a most intelligent neuter. Honcho would see the trap and guess at Blade’s strategy. Let him. So long as he could not override Org. King Org was going to come roaring against the forts in a frenzy of blood lust.
Blade was prepared to offer Org a number of tempting targets. His scouts had not yet returned, they were on foot and Blade greatly damned the technical prowess that had long ago deprived Tharn of horseflesh, the wheel, and even metal. But for his great sword there was no trace of metal in Urcit. It did not appease him that teksin was superior to metal in many ways, and had a million uses, that it was flammable and malleable and under certain conditions could even be eaten. Blade would gladly have settled for the crude iron weapons of the Pethcines if he could also have had horses. He had sent a score of scouting parties out soon after the Power had died, and not one had returned.