The Jade Warrior Page 10

  "I saw."

  "He did not await his time," said Baber. "He struck too soon. We Caucas have a saying - revenge which is longest in coming is the sweetest. Do not forget that, Blade."

  After a moment Blade said: "There is a dwarf by name of Morpho. Do you know him?"

  For a long time Baber did not answer. When he did his tone was curt and the friendliness had gone. "I know of him. I have seen him. What of it?"

  It was clear enough that Baber did not wish to speak of the dwarf, yet Blade plunged ahead. "He is a strange little man. He came to me, when I was first taken, and hinted that he would like me to live. He said he came from Sadda, as perhaps he did, but I think there was something else. I have not seen him since, except for the night I faced the knife, and then he did not know me. I have been wondering if he is friend or enemy, or neither? And if he is Sadda's man, or the Khad's? After hearing you speak I wonder even more."

  The sun dropped out of the sky. From the wall the giant cannon boomed, the muzzle flash a huge blossom of red flame in the sudden darkness. The jade ball keened far over them to splinter itself harmlessly into shards that, and Blade smiled grimly, would be priceless back in H-Dimension.

  "We will not speak of the dwarf," said Baber at last. "I know of nothing to his credit, nor anything against him. He may even be his own man, a rare thing."

  Blade took the hint and did not mention Morpho again. Presently guards came with their evening meal in wooden bowls. It was still horsemeat and coarse bread and a great tankard of the powerful bross. After drinking it all Blade felt sleepy. He closed his eyes as Baber talked on. Torches had been lit in the stockade, one at each corner, and when the night wind came it tinkled the warning bells along the top of the stockade. As sleepy as he was, Blade noted this, and stored it away for use in the future.

  The bross had no effect on Baber, except to keep him wide-awake and talking. Blade drowsed and listened and was not surprised to learn that Baber had once been a great poet among his own people, as well as a warrior. Poets were highly regarded among the Cauca. It accounted for the man's fluency and gift of imagery, which Blade had wondered at, and also for his laughter and sonorous voice, even though - and here Baber's laughter was rueful - it had been many years since he had stroked a jadar, which, Blade judged, was some sort of lyre.

  Presently Blade was half between sleep and waking. Baber's voice was a lulling drone in the torch haunted gloom, with the words slurring now and making no distinct sense. Blade posed himself a question.

  Would he be glad or unhappy if Lord L were to snatch him back to H-Dimension now. At this moment? Before he had seen this adventure through. He could not really answer himself. At best he was ambivalent. He knew his peril. Death and torture were as real in this dimension as in his own natural one. Yet to seek out, to know, to persevere and above all to conquer, was in his nature as cruelty was in the Mongs. The adventure, the search and solving, beckoned like a lantern on a mountain. Besides, he was an Englishman to whom a task had been entrusted. That it was a shocking and weird and unbelievable task, so fantastic that only five men in the world knew about it, made little difference. It must be done.

  Strangely, for Blade was not an intellectual, he found himself thinking of hope. In his mind he capitalized it. HOPE. He had seen the superficial and cynical splendor of the Caths; he understood the mindless cruelty of the Mongs. There was no hope in either.

  Yet how often had he thought the same back in H-Dimension, when you only had to read a paper to feel disgust! Blade began to see here what he had not seen there. There was hope! Things did change. Six steps forward and five back left a net total of one step gained.

  With a strange sense of personal enrichment, and oddly comforted, Richard Blade fell asleep.

  Chapter Nine

  A week passed. Blade, the great collar dragging at his neck, worked like the slave he was. He worked in the women's quarters, emptying night soil and scrubbing the pots afterward, and was taunted by dark eyes flashing over veils. Not once did he see Sadda or the dwarf, though once he thought he heard Morpho's voice coming from her quarters.

  Rumor had it that the Khad was approaching a new season of madness. Every day the Mongs attacked the wall, sometimes luring the defenders to sally out, sometimes not, but always losing men and retiring in defeat.

  When there was no work in the women's quarters Blade was put into the field to labor. He dug latrines and carried great timbers and repaired the high sided wagons, discovering that the Mongs had no clue to using grease on the wheels. No one had thought of it yet. He helped corral and tend the enormous herds of shaggy little horses on which the Mongs depended.

  In all this he was guarded like the image of the God, Obi, which sat in a wagon apart. A huge black-painted wagon that only the Khad could enter. Not even Sadda was permitted to gaze on Obi.

  In a perverse way Blade enjoyed the work away from the women's quarters. He was free of Aplonius' whip and did not have to struggle to keep from killing the man. For Aplonius whipped him well, many times a day, and always in front of the women.

  At night, when he was taken back to the stockade, he and Baber talked. Or rather Baber talked and Blade listened and questioned. And grew wiser and wiser.

  As the second week began, and as Blade sat in the dirt eating leavings which Aplonius had thrown him, Sadda left her great tent and approached them. Aplonius, as pomaded and perfumed as ever, brave in his gaily colored clothes, immediately began to fawn. Blade was sickened and, in that moment, could almost feel pity for the man.

  Aplonius saw Blade glance at the woman as she drew near and slashed him across the face. "Eyes down, swine!"

  Blade cast his eyes down, but contrived to watch just the same.

  Sadda was bare breasted and veiled, as always. Aplonius bowed low and saluted with the whip. "Good day, my lady Sadda. How lovely you are. You enhance the day. You perfume the air. What can I, who wear your golden collar with gratitude, do for my lady Sadda?"

  "You can have him bathed, Aplonius. He stinks! He smells like a corpse left too long uneaten by the carrion apes. Have him well scrubbed - and give him suitable clothes. My women will give them to you."

  She turned and walked away without another word.

  When Aplonius turned back to Blade his eyes were swimming with terror and he was wet with sweat. Blade stared at the man and said, "Your time ends, Aplonius. Mine soon begins."

  Aplonius lashed him in a frenzy, lashed him until he could no longer raise his whip arm. Blade endured it stoically, knowing with a fierce certitude that this was an ending and a beginning.

  He was put into a great tub of near boiling water and scrubbed by the same women who had been taunting him. Their attitude had changed, and there was much laughter, many sly glances and crude jokes. They, as well as Blade, knew what was coming. They were marvelously impressed by his muscles and, though none dared touch him, he knew the wish was there.

  Blade was perfumed and his hair and beard trimmed. He was dressed in a leather jacket and loose leather breeches that ended at the knee, and given a pair of horsehide boots that came to mid-calf.

  During all this he adroitly managed to steal a short-bladed knife.

  That night, when he was taken back to the stockade, the cumbersome wooden collar was removed at the gate.

  As the guard pried the lock away with his sword point he winked at Blade. "Orders from the lady herself. You climb in the world, Blade. I do not care for that, for you will not last forever, but I am glad to see that Aplonius is cast out. I only hope I have a chance at him."

  Blade, who always planned ahead, stooped to pick up the wooden collar. "I would keep this if I can."

  The guard shrugged. "Keep your collar? You have grown so fond of it, then? Keep it. Wear it in your sleep if you will. You are a strange one, Blade."

  The guards had apparently received new orders, for that night they did nothing to prevent Blade and Baber from talking in Baber's sty.

  Baber, when he saw the new
finery and smelled Blade, laughed and nodded his bald head. "I told you. It comes. But why do you carry your collar about? I would have thought..."

  Blade passed him the stolen knife beneath the straw. Baber, keeping the knife hidden, felt it and glanced at Blade in awe and admiration. "You are a fool, my friend. You risked everything when you stole this. And to what purpose? What am I, without legs, supposed to do with a knife?"

  Blade pushed the wooden collar toward him. "You use it, Baber, to carve wheels from this wood - four small wheels. I will somehow find more wood for a platform and axles. We will make you a little cart which you can use for legs."

  Baber nodded. "That is good. I would not have thought of it. But even when I have a cart for legs, then what?"

  Blade regarded him steadily. "Did we not speak, once, of things that might come to pass? Changes. Perhaps they come sooner than you think. You must be ready."

  The older man's glance sharpened. "You have heard something?"

  "I have heard nothing. But now I am to have a little freedom and I will know what to do with it."

  Baber frowned. "Not too soon, Blade. Not too soon! The golden collar does not mean that you are free. It makes you even more a slave! Sadda is like wind, and as unpredictable. She may use you one night and have you killed."

  Blade, who knew his own sexual prowess, smiled and said, "I think not. I shall teach her what a real man is like. So will I gain time. You could help me, Baber, if you would tell me what you know of Morpho the dwarf. Do not lie to me or turn close mouthed. We are not friends? I know that there is something about Morpho that you do not tell me."

  Baber's face closed like a blank door and he would not look Blade in the eye.

  Blade waited a moment, then said: "We walk a dangerous path, you and I. And the Captain Rahstum. And, I think, the dwarf also. I must know everything I can, Baber. Is the dwarf friend or foe?"

  The old man scratched his scalp and frowned. At last he said, "I cannot tell you that in truth. But this I can tell - the dwarf is his own man. As is Rahstum, and you and me. I say only this, and then no more, that if Morpho comes with a message for you, trust him! I may be wrong, and that mistake mean our deaths, but sometimes a chance must be taken. Trust the dwarf if he comes to you. But do not go to him. Never!"

  An hour later the guards came for Blade. Baber saw them coming and whispered in the dark. "They come to take you to Sadda. It is your time. Spend it wisely so there will be more of it for both of us."

  Blade stood up and brushed the straw from his fine new clothes.

  "Carve your wheels, old man, four of them. I will not forget you."

  They took him to a small tent near the women's quarters. At a table a guard sat polishing a gold collar with a bit of cloth. The cloth was blood stained and Blade knew he would never have his revenge on Aplonius.

  The guard held up the collar and squinted at it. Torch light glinted on the golden ssssses. S S S S S.

  The guard tossed the collar to another man. "Put it on him. He is now bed slave to the lady Sadda."

  There was muffled laughter among the guards. One of them cursed and said, "That creature Aplonius lasted longer than I had wagered. He cost me two good ponies."

  More rough laughter. The man who had been polishing the collar began to count on his fingers, frowning as he did so. "Eight - nine - ten! As many as my fingers exactly." He stared at Blade. "You are the tenth bed slave in two years. If you believe in Obi you had better start praying now."

  Blade stood silent as the little gold collar was clasped around his brawny neck. It was too tight and one of the guards plucked at it with a finger.

  "He has a neck like an ox. Sadda will have to get a new collar."

  "Or a new slave," laughed another guard. "But come. His mistress will be getting impatient."

  He was taken to the great black tent where Sadda had her quarters. A single guard ushered him in through a maze of carpeted corridors, for the big tent was subdivided into many apartments. The guard sniffed at the perfume and prodded Blade with his lance butt. He grinned. "If I were not such a coward I would like to break loose in here one day. But I am a coward and so must go to the whores - or get married. Which is the worst not even Obi knows."

  They came to an entrance covered by a golden cloth. Before the entrance was a thick rug. Blade pulled aside the golden cloth and entered the domain of Lady Sadda. A single tall candlestick stood in the exact center of the apartment. It was six feet high, of carven wood and with a flat base. Atop it one long taper cast a wavering light.

  Blade stood for a moment adjusting his eyes and senses. The room was carpeted and the wall hangings glimmered gold and scarlet. Off to one side was a thick floor mat, not unlike the bed he had shared with Lali except that this one was square instead of circular. The whole apartment reeked of musky perfume, and incense that had a sweetish charred wood odor to it.

  For a long time he did not see her. Then he heard her breathing and saw her sitting on a small chair in a corner, near the entrance to an inner apartment. She was naked except for the veil. The candlelight gleamed on her body. Her thick black hair was twisted into a coronet, as Blade had seen it once before, but now she wore painted wooden combs in it. Her nails were as blood red as ever, both fingers and toes, and she wore golden bangles on each ankle.

  She moved at last and the gold bangles chimed like muted clocks in the silence.

  "You still do not kneel to me, Blade?" He was prepared. There had been enough of kneeling and groveling. It was another risk, but his life of late had been nothing but risks.

  Blade crossed his arms on his massive chest, the muscles rippling, and smiled at her. "I do not kneel, my lady Sadda. I do not think that you really want me to kneel. I think you seek a man and not a cringing animal. That is what I think. If I am wrong I must pay for it."

  She considered him gravely, the brown eyes lucent and yet fathomless over the veil. He saw a flash of white beneath the gauzy stuff as she smiled at last.

  "So that is what you think, Blade? You dare greatly, I think. But you are right. This time you are right. I have watched you closely, closer than you know, and it may be that you are a man of all men. We will see as to that. But first be warned. There will be no second warning."

  She clapped her hands once, suddenly and sharply, and somewhere in the shadows curtains parted and two of her personal bodyguards appeared, the young and handsome Mongs who laughed so much. They were unsmiling now as they approached and bowed, choosing not to see Blade. Sadda said, "They are always near me, Blade, always. A change in my tone of voice will bring them. Remember that."

  He would remember. He saw something now that had not occurred to him before. This woman was a little afraid of him! It might be in that fear that part of his fascination for her lay.

  Sadda made a sign, and the guards left. When they were once more alone Blade stood waiting. That she was puzzled was obvious. At last she stirred in the chair, the bangles chiming, and said: "I have not been able to think of a slave name for you, Blade. Maybe it is because you are so strange. So I shall call you Blade. Not Sir Blade. I do not think a slave should have a title."

  "Nor I," agreed Blade. "Anyway I have given up my title while I am a captive."

  It was the first time he had heard her laugh. To his amazement it was a pleasant sound, a full deep contralto full of genuine merriment. Her teeth glistened beneath the veil.

  Blade smiled and bowed slightly. "I am glad you find me amusing, my lady."

  She laughed again, then said, "Of course you must amuse me, Blade. That is why you are here. To amuse me in any way I choose, as long as I choose. When you cease to amuse me will be time enough to worry."

  She was serious again, staring at him with her chin cupped in one hand. "I saw you kill the warrior Cossa, with my own eyes. My brother thought me under guard in this tent, but I dressed as a common kitchen slave and mingled with the crowd. It was I who had the snares laid in the earth. I saw you kill Cossa, our champion, and I saw no
mercy in you then. Now I detect a softness. How is this?"

  "No softness," he said gruffly. "But why do we speak of these things, my lady Sadda? You have sent for me. I am here. I am your slave. Why do we waste time?"

  She threw back her head and laughed at him. "You are impatient, and impertinent, Blade! I decide what we do - talk or other things. That you must understand. You will never touch me unless I command it."

  "I do understand it." He pretended to sulk, but was well enough satisfied. He had found the key. Boldness - but not too bold. Be a slave - but not slavish. If he could hold her interest, feed her curiosity, and titillate and dominate her sexually when the time came, he would gain precious time. Like the wizard in Baber's story he had everything to gain and nothing to lose.

  Sadda left her chair and approached him. She held up a hand. "You will remain where you are. Do not move."

  "As you will." Blade crossed his arms and waited. He was well aroused and more than ready for her, but he had always been able to control that. The one exception had been the first time with Lali in the Temple of Death.

  Sadda stopped and preened before him. She struck a pose, a dancer's pose with her arms high and her fingers pointed at him. The motion pulled her small round breasts up tight and taut and he saw she had painted her nipples red. She did a slow pirouette, standing on tiptoe, watching him over the veil.

  Her skin glistened like dark golden honey. She had oiled herself and her belly was a flat mirror that caught the candle flame and flung it back. Shadows half concealed a triangle of dark hair. Her haunches flared wide from an incredibly small waist into slim thighs and delicate well-turned ankles. He guessed her at an inch or two over five feet.

  "Do you like me, Blade? Do you desire me?"

  Here was something he could answer truthfully. He was finding it hard to breathe and the tension in him was unbearable. It took all his self-discipline to keep from taking her and to hell with the consequences.