"Not all women."

"Most women. And I suspect that very few could resist you."

Blade ignored the flattery. "A queen might. Tressana isn't the sort to babble just because she's been served well."

Sikkurad laughed. "Probably not. But I think you have been summoned for more than keeping her happy in bed. Curim is not going to be captain of the Men's Guard much longer. He is brave and a good fighter, but his foul temper has made him enemies even among his own men. You might find yourself the new captain of the Men's Guard."

"And then?"

There was no mistaking the desperate sincerity in Sikkurad's voice. "Learn what she plans for the Elstani, Blade. Learn whether she will accept them as free men, or wants them all made slaves. We do not know. We must learn, before the army marches into the forest."

Suddenly Blade began to understand what was making Sikkurad desperate. "If she wants to make slaves of the Elstani, that means killing their leaders. And their leaders are the Masters."

Sikkurad almost giggled with relief. "Then you understand? You are with us? You are not deceiving me? If you are..." He apparently couldn't think of any punishment awful enough for Blade if he was lying.

Blade shook his head. "I am on the side of the Keepers. If Tressana wants to slaughter the Masters of Elstan, she ought to be stopped. Too much knowledge which both peoples can use would die with them."

Particularly now that the Keepers have just rediscovered the scientific method. With the two peoples and everything they know united....

It would save this Dimension generations, possibly centuries, on the way back to being a modern civilization. Blade knew he'd do anything he could to help things along. He also suspected that he'd be risking a knife in the back from people who didn't understand what he was trying to do.

Chapter 10.

This was all Blade learned from Sikkurad. The Keeper obviously had more to say, but was too afraid of making his household suspicious by staying in the library with Blade long enough to say it. At times the Keeper seemed one of the bravest men Blade had ever met. At other times he seemed ready to start at his own shadow. Blade wondered which would get him first, Queen Tressana or an ulcer.

Blade had learned enough, fortunately. He now knew what he had to listen for and most of what he had to guard against. Sikkurad might have told him a little more about Queen Tressana herself, but would it have been reliable information? For all his intelligence, the Keeper obviously had trouble accepting women who ruled or rode into battle. Jollya would probably be able to tell him more about Tressana, but when would he be able to talk to her? When he did, could he avoid getting Jollya dangerously involved in the Keepers' plotting? Even if Tressana didn't become suspicious, what about Curim? He might be willing to attack Jollya as a way of attacking Blade.

Blade considered all this while he took his bath, then put it firmly out of his mind. If there were any answers, he'd find them more easily after a good dinner and a night's sleep. This might be the last dinner in quite a while he could eat without having to worry about poison in his food, and the last night he could go to sleep without barring his door against a.s.sa.s.sins.

Dinner was so good that Blade couldn't entirely avoid stray thoughts of "the condemned man's last meal." He ate soup, roast lamb, and honey cakes, washing everything down with plenty of good red wine. He finished the meal with a cup of herb-scented tea, then went back to his room.

He'd just finished locking the door and was sitting down on a footstool to pull off his boots when he heard a low growl from outside the shuttered window. Before he could move, the shutters flew open as if they'd been hit by a cannon ball. With a snarl one of the hunting cats sprang down into the room.

The wine at dinner hadn't slowed Blade's reflexes. He drew his knife with one hand and s.n.a.t.c.hed a heavy candlestick off the table with the other. He wasn't sure whether this would stop an attack or provoke one, but he wasn't going to face one of the cats bare-handed!

The cat saw Blade's readiness and crouched, tail lashing ominously and wide green eyes glowing. Blade saw that the cat wore a leather collar with Sikkurad's house badge on it in silver thread, and also another badge he didn't recognize. The cat snarled again and Blade braced himself to meet its spring.

Then a voice came from behind the curtains around the great bed. It sounded sleepy and angry at the same time.

"Hoyo, no! Didn't I tell you about this man?"

It was Jollya's voice. Before Blade could wonder what she was doing here or what she was talking about, the curtains flew open. Jollya leaped out at him as gracefully as her pet.

She was barefoot and bareheaded, with her hair unbound and flowing down over her shoulders. Otherwise she wore her full riding leathers, with a knife so long that it was practically a short sword in her tooled and studded belt. She looked so formidable that Blade found himself measuring the distance between himself and his sword.

Then the cat flowed out of his crouch, padded over to Jollya, and rubbed against her ankle. She bent down and scratched him behind the ears. He started purring, sounding like a badly tuned outboard motor. His eyes closed to slits, and his tail stood up as straight as a flagpole.

Blade put the candlestick back on the table, belted on his sword, then turned back to Jollya.

"Why are you here?"

"To see you."

"About what?" His voice was deceptively mild. He was in no mood for either mysteries or practical jokes.

She swallowed. "I had to see you. You are going away tomorrow, to-to Tressana."

"How did you know that?" Blade said sharply.

"My father told me." Blade breathed more easily. Jollya went on. She was nervous, and her words tumbled over each other the same way her father's did. "I came home this afternoon. He met me, told me about you then. I had to see you. I waited until everyone was at dinner, then climbed up the vines. No one saw me. Hoyo followed me. I hope no one saw him."

"That doesn't tell me why you came in the first place." There was always the obvious explanation for an attractive woman coming to a man's room and hiding by his bed. However, when the woman was fully clothed and carrying a large knife, the obvious explanation might not be the true one.

"I-" She swallowed again. "I needed to speak to you about-Tressana." Blade said nothing. He merely looked at her until she looked away. He thought he saw tears in the corner of each eye. It seemed that the obvious explanation for her being here really was the true one. It was hard to mistake the look in her eyes and the way she held her body. Any other questions Blade might want to ask the girl could wait.

Blade put down his sword and knife, then stepped forward. Jollya stood motionless as he approached, as he reached her, and as he took her in his arms. Then she stiffened so violently that for a moment Blade wondered if he'd made a mistake. A moment after that her hands were running up and down his back with clumsy enthusiasm, and her face was tilting up to meet his. She didn't have to tilt far, even though she was barefoot and he was wearing boots.

Blade quickly stopped noticing details like that. Jollya was still clumsy, but her enthusiasm grew like a fire in dry gra.s.s. She gripped his shoulders, the small of his back, his b.u.t.tocks-anywhere she could get a firm hold to pull herself against him. Her lips roamed everywhere they could reach, from the corners of his eyes over to his ears, then down to his lips and his throat.

Blade returned all her pa.s.sion with more skill. He would have let his own enthusiasm run wild too, but there was still room in his mind for the thought that Jollya might be a virgin. He wanted to be easy, gentle, tender, letting her set the pace as long as possible.

When she started squeezing his erection between her thighs, he wondered how long he could continue to go slowly. He knew that if he didn't take her clothes off now, he would be tearing them off a little later. Although he nearly groaned with the frustration, he pulled away. His hands went to the top hook of Jollya's riding tunic, and slowly undid it. A second hook, and there was bare tanned skin running down to the beginning of the cleft between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Blade kissed the cleft, tried to slide his fingers in under the leather, discovered he still didn't have room, and undid the third hook.

Releasing the third hook seemed to release a spring in Jollya. She pulled free of him so violently that the fourth hook snapped off. Then she jerked the tunic over her head. Under the tunic she wore a linen shirt that clung so tightly that it was almost more erotic than her bare skin. It also clung so tightly that she couldn't jerk it off the way she'd done with the tunic. She fumbled with it, until Blade knew that it was desire rather than fear making her clumsy. He gripped the shirt at the throat with both hands and tore it down to the waist.

Jollya had almost a fashion model's body, tall and large-boned, with not too much flesh covering the bones. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s looked much better bare than they did clothed. Blade did more than look. He stroked and kissed and fondled them until the large dark nipples jutted out like miniature lance joints against the palms of his hands. Jollya closed her eyes, wound her fingers into Blade's s.h.a.ggy dark hair, and moaned softly.

When Jollya started shaking all over, Blade knew she was as ready as she needed to be. So was he. In fact, by now he was afraid he'd be almost too ready. He turned his back on Jollya and tried to make a long slow business of pulling off his clothes.

It didn't help much. When he turned back toward the bed Jollya was lying there on her back, completely naked. Her hair spread out across the quilts like a dark glossy fan, her legs were slightly apart, and her eyes were half-closed. At that moment they reminded Blade very much of the hunting cat's eyes. Suddenly he was on fire all over again. He had to force himself not to simply hurl himself onto Jollya and lose himself in the welcome her body promised. Instead he lay down and started to caress her, starting with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s but planning to go on to the rest of her.

Suddenly Jollya rolled toward him, gripped him by both shoulders, and pushed him hard down into the quilts. Blade didn't have time to resist, even if he'd wanted to. He could only grip Jollya's arms to pull her down on to him. The moment he was inside her he knew that she was no virgin and that she was incredibly ready. Blade heaved upward with his hips, going all the way into her. At the same time he pulled her down until he could stroke her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Silently Jollya exploded, heaving up and down on Blade until he was feeling pain as well as pleasure. Her breath rasped and hissed, but she bit her lip so hard that blood came and the screams and cries stayed inside. Then she fell forward onto Blade, so limp that she didn't even try to resist when he slid out from under her. Her eyes were shut, and stayed shut until she felt Blade entering her from above. Then they opened wider than ever, as she clamped her arms around Blade's shoulders and her legs around his hips. She was eager to take him any way she could get him.

Blade didn't try to hold back this time, and before long he couldn't have held back if he'd tried. Jollya's nails clawed at his back, her tongue was a tiny flame dancing along his throat and over his face, the musk of her body was an exquisite perfume. When she cried out he was so close to his own release that he barely heard her. Then he was pouring himself into her, so furiously and for so long that it seemed life itself might go out of him into her. He felt dangerously helpless as he rolled off her, but a quick look told him that there was no danger from Jollya. She lay as if she'd been stunned. Blade didn't quite fall asleep, but it was a while before he moved or heard anything.

When he was clear-headed again, he saw Jollya resting her head on his thigh, her rather sharp chin digging into his flesh. He cupped her chin with one hand, stroked her hair with the other, and smiled.

"All right, Jollya. Did you come here just for this, or for something more?"

Jollya sat up so abruptly she nearly fell out of bed. "I'm not a prost.i.tute, selling my body for favors from men," she snapped. She tossed her head angrily, so that her hair flew in a dark cloud.

"I didn't say you were a prost.i.tute. I wanted to ask what comes next, because we may not have too much time. That cat of yours may have been seen and followed, even if you weren't. We'll have even less time if you don't keep your voice down."

Jollya stiffened, took a deep breath, which did interesting things to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and clenched her fists in her lap. She sighed, and seemed to be trying to control her giddiness, but she was unsuccessful and gave a soft laugh which turned into something suspiciously like a giggle.

"You're right, Blade," she said, finally becoming serious. "I should shut up. And I should have caged my cat." She hesitated. "You are going to spy on Tressana for my father, aren't you?"

"It isn't your affair." Blade suspected she had her reasons for wanting to know, and they might even be good ones. He also knew that the fewer people who knew a secret, the better-particularly when the secret's getting out might kill them.

"Are you no better than a man of Jaghd after all?" she said angrily. "One who thinks women are only a little better than slaves or rolghas and can't be told anything of importance? You didn't seem to be like that a few minutes ago."

"I'm not," said Blade, as sharply as he could without raising his voice. "England itself is ruled by a woman. I merely object to talking about matters which could get me killed to people who don't have to know about them."

He sat up and gripped her by both shoulders until she had to turn and stare at him. Before she could resist, he went on more gently, "I'd also ask you not to be so thin-skinned and quick-tempered if you're going to jump into some sort of plot. If anyone can get you angry this easily, they may be able to get your secrets out of you as well. I suspect that could get you killed too, and I don't want that." He kissed her, and felt her relax slightly. He kissed her throat, and felt her not only relax but reach up to embrace him. He stopped himself there, remembering his own warning about their not having too much time.

Jollya slid out of his embrace and lay back on the bed. "True enough, Blade. I'll try, but.... Well, you can have my life story some other time. For now, I must tell you that my father and I are not the best of friends. He has never approved of me being one of Tressana's guards, and I have always suspected him of being cowardly, greedy and deceitful. Some of his fellow Keepers don't think much better of him than I do. I want to help them, and at the same time show my father what I'm made of."

"Would you explain?"

Jollya explained herself clearly and intelligently. Blade could almost see the woman in need drop away and the warrior take her place. It was mildly disconcerting, and he suspected it would be thoroughly unnerving for most Jaghdi men. Maybe that explained why Jollya had found so few satisfactory lovers that she was both inexperienced and desperately hungry.

Sikkurad was the leader of the Keepers in opposing Tressana if she wanted to destroy the Masters of the EIstani. His fellow Keepers were willing to trust him up to a point, particularly since he now had Richard Blade, the English warrior, working with him to find out Tressana's real intentions. They weren't willing to trust him completely, though. They were afraid his courage might fail him in a crisis, and also that he might use his information against his fellow Keepers.

"The Keepers want to share the new empire with Tressana. They're afraid my father wants most of the Keeper's share for himself."

Blade nodded. A man who sometimes seemed to be frightened of his own shadow was an unlikely candidate for that kind of l.u.s.t for power, but not an impossible one. Mouselike little men sometimes made formidable tyrants.

"So they want to be sure of learning everything your father learns, and just as quickly?"

"Yes."

That meant learning it from Blade. If Jollya was able to convince Blade that he should tell her everything he learned, she would probably be richly rewarded. Sikkurad would also be furious, which would make Jollya happy and wouldn't bother the other Keepers.

"I'll be happy to work with you," he said. "No, wait!" he said, as she started bending over to kiss him. "I will, as long as Tressana does intend to slaughter the Masters of Elstan and enslave their people. I won't risk my life or help the Keepers overthrow the queen otherwise. And I certainly won't do anything against the queen just to help you in your quarrel with your father."

In the darkness Blade could see Jollya wince. Then she said quietly, "Blade, I wouldn't ask you to do anything else. I would die to defend the queen, or even kill you. But-she must not be allowed to make slaves of the Elstani. So much good will come of making them friends; She must not!"

"I agree, I agree," said Blade, laughing softly. "You don't have to convince me." He sat up and took Jollya in his arms, and her lips came up to meet him. This time they both let things take their natural course, not caring any more about how much time they might have. So it was quite a while before they got back to discussing how Blade should send his messages to Jollya.

Jollya was planning to give Blade one of her hunting cats as a farewell present. The cat, named Lorma, was Hoyo's mate and she'd been taught to see Blade as a friend, defend him as she would Jollya, and obey any of Blade's orders. The cats were intelligent creatures and they could easily carry messages. Between bouts of lovemaking, Blade and Jollya worked out a simple code of marks that could be cut on Lorma's collar. To anyone else, they'd look like natural scratches.

"I don't trust my father too much more than I do Queen Tressana," said Jollya. "The hunger for power makes men-and women-treacherous. So the more we can keep hidden from my father, the better."

"Including this?" Blade ran his hands lightly down her back and squeezed her firm b.u.t.tocks.

"Especially this," she said, bending over so that her nipples brushed Blade's chest. He pulled her down on top of him so that she sprawled clumsily for a moment. Then she pulled free, gripped Blade's erection in one hand, and started gently nibbling on it.

When they'd first made love, Blade felt in Jollya a great deal of enthusiasm but not much experience. He thought she might need some teaching, and even welcome it. By morning, Blade wasn't completely sure who was teaching whom.

When they saw the room turning gray, they knew it was time for Jollya to leave. She rolled out of bed and began pulling on her clothes. "Do you want me to give you that wire bracelet?" she said as she pulled her tunic over her head.

"Yes." Now that he was no longer a prisoner, he could keep it as safe as she could. More important, he could keep it out of reach of the Keepers. The fewer opportunities the Jaghdi scientists got to study it, the better.

She reached into one boot and pulled out the wire, wound tightly around a wooden rod. Then she bent over the bed, kissed him soundly, and turned away. Blade managed to stay awake until she'd vanished out the window.

Chapter 11.

It seemed to Blade that he'd barely fallen asleep when the high-pitched tooting of Jaghdi trumpets and the thud of drums woke him. He peered through the shutters and saw a line of cavalrymen and chariots bearing the royal badge trotting into the courtyard. The queen's men had come for him.

The house servants came for his baggage while he was still dressing. They also brought the cat Lorma and tethered her to the foot of the bed with a braided silk leash. She seemed to be rather doubtful about the whole business, but lay quietly and even purred when Blade spoke to her and scratched her head. When he untied the leash from the bed and led her out into the hall, she went as obediently as a well-trained dog.

The whole courtyard was hazy with dust kicked up by the rolghas and chariots when Blade and Lorma came down. He saw Sikkurad on the balcony over the main door, but there was no sign of the Keeper's daughter. She was probably still asleep, and Blade rather wished he could be too.

The commander of the party stepped forward. He was obviously someone with high rank, wealth, or both. The fine tooling and heavy metal fastenings of his armor were visible even under their thick coating of dust. He was about to greet Blade when he caught sight of Lorma.

"Lord Blade, is that yours?"

"She is now."

"You know she was Warlady Jollya's hunter?"

The commander seemed ready to be suspicious. Blade's talent for lying with a straight face came to his rescue. "She was. But Sikkurad decided I should have a guest gift. He chose Lorma."

"I don't imagine Jollya liked that much."

"She didn't. But she obeyed."

The commander laughed. "Good! Time Sikkurad started reining in that mad b.i.t.c.h of his. Oh, she's good enough in a fight, but what good's a fighting woman?"

"I suppose that depends on where she does her fighting," said Blade, grinning.

The commander laughed again. "You might say that." He raised a hand in salute to Blade. "I'm Efroin of the Red Band. I'm to take you to the palace. We've got your baggage. Will you ride or do you want a chariot?"

Blade would have preferred a chariot, but after his duel with Curim's guardsmen he had a reputation for toughness to maintain. "I'll ride."

A spare rolgha was led forward, and Blade mounted. Lorma climbed into one of the chariots and lay down on top of Blade's baggage. Then the drums and trumpets sounded again. Blade looked up at the balcony. Sikkurad was still there, but now he could also see Jollya peering out through the shutters. Then she pulled her head back quickly, before her father could turn and see her.

Efroin seemed to have orders to get Blade to the palace as fast as possible. The rolghas swept along at a bone-shaking trot, while the trumpeters cleared the road ahead and a cloud of dust hid it behind. By noon Blade was wishing he'd chosen a chariot. He was saddle-sore and half asleep, caked with sweat and dust, and his mouth felt as if it were packed with hot sand. Sheer determination was about all that kept Blade in the saddle until the first stop. When he dismounted it was a moment before he was quite sure his legs were going to hold him up. The only consolation was that his fellow riders didn't seem to be in much better shape.

He felt better after lunch, and by the time they reached the palace Blade and Efroin were the only two riders who didn't seem ready to collapse. The rolghas, Blade noted, were gray with dust but apparently ready to go on for hours more. They must have a good deal more endurance than horses, who would have collapsed from thirst and heat if pushed this hard on a hot summer day.

Green-clad servants led Blade through a labyrinth of streams, gravel paths, and carefully shaped hedges to a surprisingly small whitewashed stone building. Blade was reluctant to believe that this was the palace or even the guest house, until he saw that the doors, shutters, window gratings, front stairs, and roof decorations were all made of iron or bra.s.s. n.o.body but the monarch could have afforded such a display of metal. Blade saw that Lorma had food and water, refused a meal for himself, and fell asleep across the foot of his bed without even taking off his clothes. His last thought was that if he'd done nothing else today, he'd learned how to keep a rolgha going at a good speed on a long march. This might turn out to be a useful skill.

The royal palace of Jaghd was a whole series of small buildings scattered through a park nearly a mile on a side, rather than a single large building. This let the kings practice the Jaghdi national hobby of building, and also do most of their entertaining outdoors. Jaghd had a mild climate which reminded Blade of Southern California, so he wasn't surprised to find its people fond of outdoor living.