Pearl Of Patmos

CHAPTER 6

The escape was greatly aided by the arrogance of the Samostan patrols. As the weather cleared and visibility improved, their running lights were as good as marker buoys to Blade. By this time he had completed half a dozen of the frail basket craft, as many oars, and his luck held in that the night was moonless. He put each of the emasculates in charge of a boat-castration had not affected their muscular development-and promised them dire punishment if they failed. None of the eunuchs chose to mention-if indeed they thought of it that if they failed they would not encounter Blade again.

Blade put himself and Edyrn in charge of the remaining two boats. Edyrn's was overloaded, with two children and two of Juna's ladies, but his was the strongest boat by Blade's reckoning. The last, and the smallest boat, he reserved for himself and Juna. If he made it to Patmos he would need her, whether as hostage or interceder only time would divulge, and he had no intention of losing her. He had the thought that, if worst came to worst, he might be able to swim to Patmos with Juna in tow. Even so it would be a long swim, even for Blade, and every mile gained was precious.

When the time came to depart he was not overjoyed to find Juna whispering to Edym on the beach. She gave him a mocking smile as he approached and the boy looked flushed and uneasy as he saluted with his lance.

Blade, having remarked this, chose to ignore it. But he scowled at the lad as he gave final instructions. He pointed to the lights of the patrol ships, three of them, at this time some two miles offshore and a mile or so apart.

«Only three things to remember, lad. There must be absolute quiet. No talking. You have my order to kill anyone that makes a sound. You must steer directly between the lights, so giving you the greatest distance on either side. Thirdly, and this is not important until you are past the patrols, you will guide on the end star of the Lancer. She has told you of this?»

Edyrn glanced at Juna-uneasily, Blade thought-and then at Blade. He pointed his own lance to a constellation just visible over the seaward horizon-it vaguely resembled a warrior carrying a lance.

«She has instructed me, sire. I follow the star at the end of the lance and it will guide me to Patmos.»

Blade regarded the lad for a moment, chin in hand, then nodded brusquely. «I hope so. Go, then. Go with good fortune, lad.»

Edym saluted and ran down to where his frail craft waited with its hapless cargo. Blade took Juna's arm and followed him. They watched as the five boats werespushed into the light surf. It could hardly be called surf, the sea having calmed so rapidly, yet even the small waves caught the crude little boats and spun them like corks in a whirlpool.

Blade looked grim. «They will need more than fortune,» he told the girl. «They will need a miracle.»

At that moment one of the basket boats overturned. Blade heard a single shrill cry for help as he raced down and plunged into the sea, then there was silence. When he reached the overturned boat he saw that it was disintegrating, was nothing but a tangle of flotsam, and there was no sign of the occupants. Something touched his leg and

Blade went under and came up with a naked child. She coughed and spat water and clung to Blade with cold little arms. He cast a last look around and swam back to the beach. As he handed the girl child to Juna he said, «All gone. Kron was in that boat, I think.»

Juna wrapped her cloak about the little girl, who began to cry. Blade winced. It was a welcome sound, for the child lived, but he was thinking of the patrol boats. He combed out his sodden beard with his fingers and stared down in perplexity.

Juna sensed his thought. She gathered the wailing little girl to her breast. «Her name is Thamus and she is daughter to one of my ladies-I will not leave her.»

Blade grimaced at her. «Who said anything about leaving her?»

Juna cuddled the small bundle. «You had the thought,

Blade. I saw it in your face.»

It was half true and Blade knew it. He nodded. «She will come with us, then. Very like she will be our death. Sound carries a far distance over water and the crying of a child will alert them at once. But so be it.»

She regarded him stonily. «When that time comes I will know what to do. Let us go.»

Blade helped her into the boat and handed the child in. There was no trace of the others as he waded out into the slight surf. For better or worse they had vanished into the night.

He swam for a time, pushing the light boat ahead of him, giving Juna time to adjust to the precarious balance. He shoved the boat through the faintly creaming surf line and into deeper water. He headed for a point midway between the ship's lanterns to his right; to his left, and too near for comfort, gleamed a third point of light. It moved. One of the patrol boats had left its position and was approaching another. Why? To hail a warning? Had one of the basket boats been sighted or sunk, or taken? Blade bore a little more to starboard. As they were about to pass between the stationary ships he crawled into the boat and took up the oar. He made a sign to Juna and whispered.

«Keep the child quiet now. For all our lives!»

Blade began to sweat. He cursed and raged inwardly.

Bad luck. A current caught them and bore the craft toward the nearest patrol ship in spite of anything he could do with the oar. He damned this most unstable of boats. There was no weight to it, hardly any draft, and the crude outrigger and center board did not work as well as he had anticipated. The boat bobbed and twirled and spun crazily, sucked down and driven up by every vague oreeze and current, and Blade could keep no way on her. there was worse-the tide, on which he counted heavily, had nearly reached the ebb. In a few 'minutes it would turn and begin to carry them back to shore.

The child began to whimper.

Blade, sweat chilling on him, paddled with all his strength. They were so close to one patrol boat that he could hear the crew talking on deck and see cordage and mast revealed in the single light. The child made another sound, a smothered cry, an inward sucking of air as if readying itself to scream. Blade cast a beseeching look at Juna.

The child hushed. Their boat drifted past the patrol, just beyond the aura of light and in slack water. There was a faint luminescence, reflected light from water, and Blade smiled as he saw that Juna had given the child one of her lush round breasts. He nodded. The child was too old for suckling, no doubt, but seemed content enough. It was not, Blade thought, the most unpleasant way to be silenced.

As soon as they were safely past the patrol he went over the side again and began to swim and push. He did not really mind when the useless oar fell overboard and floated away. He hoped that Edym, or even some of the eunuchs, had brains enough to experiment and do as he was doing. His big body and powerful legs drove the little tub through calm water at a good pace. After a few hours, as he rested, he began to smell the effluvia from the land. It could only be the odor of Patmos, for he had lined up correctly with the Lancer in the sky. Never in his life, in any dimension, had he smelled the like of it. The air was. soft as velvet and bore a sweetness that could only be the mingle of millions of lush blooming plants. He could not isolate a single odor-it was like breathing a meld of roses and myrrh, of cinnamon and sandalwood and lilac, of clove and orange and coffee and tea with a dash of jasmine. A land breeze from Paradise.

Blade breathed deep and saw that Juna was doing the same. The child was asleep at her breast. When she saw him looking she took the teat from it and arranged her sift to cover herself. Blade gave her a wide smile.

«I think I am going to like your island, if smells are any auger.» He sniffed again. «I can almost forget the sewers of Thyme.»

Cautiously, careful not to tip the wayward boat, he crawled aboard. «The land is not far novt?»

At that moment a beacon flared yellow on a headland. She pointed to it. «Yonder is the master flare that points to Cybar, our capital city. I think we are awaited.»

Blade, now paddling with his hands, shot a look at her. «How is that? Your messenger did not get through.»

The moon, coming late, had vanished early. It lacked an hour until dawn and the star sheen was blurred by milky clouds. He could see the white smudge of her face, nothing more, yet it seemed that she smiled.

«Izmia, my grandmother, is not a fool. She has other spies in Thyme and will know what has happened-and this part of the coast is always well guarded. It will be especially so now that Hectoris is victor over Thyrnehis agents will be as thick as lice on a beggar.»

Blade took another deep breath. He was weary and hungry and caked with brine. On Patmos, in the city of Cybar, surely there would be a chance to rest and bathe and eat his fill, a time of surcease so that he could recoup for the new tasks and dangers that must lie ahead. To this end he was counting heavily on Juna.

He told her so. «I trust that your grandmother, Izmia, Pearl of Patmos, will be a friend to me. I think I have earned that, and I count on you to speak for me when the time comes.» He stifled a yawn. The silken scented air was making him sleepy. «And that time can come none to soon for me, Juna. And you-you must also be weary.»

She pointed to the beacon flaring on a point of land. «There will be time to speak of these things later. Get us ashore, Blade. We are not safe yet. Patmos has no ships and those of Hectoris approach our shores at will. I beg you to hurry.»

Blade slipped over the side again and began to kick the little boat inland. Juna busied herself with the child, awake now and squalling in hunger. She did not offer her breast again.

He skirted a reef and found that he could touch bottom some two hundred yards out from a rocky beach. They had been seen now and a knot.of men, soldiers as best he could make out in the first dawn, came to the water's edge to greet them. Blade began to walk ashore, pulling the boat behind him. As he grew closer he could make out archers and lancers, a dozen or more in the charge of an officer. They clustered near a tall pole on which the beacon flared. Blade stopped for a moment, considering, then reached into the boat for his sword belt. It was gone.

Blade halted abruptly in water up to his waist and glared at Juna. «Where is 'my sword, Goddess?»

She clutched the crying child to her breasts and, in the rapidly paling light, he saw that she smiled in triumph. She met his stare defiantly.

«As to that, Blade, you will have to ask among the sea creatures. I gave them your sword some time back.»

And very slyly, too, for he had not seen her move nor heard a sound. He glinted his teeth at her and gave the fragile boat a great shake.

«You presume too much, Goddess! I am not your slave, nor yet a believer in your divinity. In short, I am not a fool. 91

She laughed at him, a tinkle of sound, a clear little bell in the morning. «You are not, Blade? I disagree. I think you look much like a fool at the moment. But be not alarmed. What I do, what I have done, is for your own good. And for mine.»

Blade could have smiled, but he restrained the impulse with no great difficulty. She needed another lesson, and in time he would give it to her, but for the moment he had been outsmarted. And there was always the chance that she knew what she was doing. This was her country and her people. He was the stranger. Nevertheless he gave her a scowl and a growl, saying, «I still have you=and — the child. I could wring both your. necks before your friends could reach us.»

Juna laughed in his face. «You will not, Blade. I know you better than that. You are a demon, no doubt of it, but you will not harm me or the child. Now do you listen to me-I sent a message with Edyrn, to Kador and Smyr, asking that this thing be done and-«

Blade scowled again. «So that was the whispering on the beach! And just who are Kador and Smyr?»

A hail came from the beach. «Junal Juna, Goddess of Thyrne. We are bid by the king, and by, his gracious sister, the queen, to make you welcome to Patmos.»

Juna ignored the call. She was whispering urgently to Blade, her fingers reaching to touch one brawny arm.

«There is no time for detailed explanations now. Kador and Smyr are king and queen of Patmos, and some kin to me. There is no time to explain all that, either. But Edyrn has landed and carried out my bidding and we are met by the proper party. I had feared for your life else, Blade, for the soldiers of Izmia are a rough lot. And I greatly fear for you anyway, for this is Patmos, not Thyrne nor any land you,have been in, and you will be as a babe in arms at first. I-«

Blade roared with laughter. «A babe in arms, is it?» He nodded toward the beach. «Hah-I do not need a sword to handle that lot! By the looks of them the child there could do it. Ho-if there is trouble my fists will be enough.»

Juna moved close to him. She struck with her little fists at his great chest. «Will you listenl It is just as I fearedfor I know your temper and your strength. I warn youdo not put too much faith in that strength. This is Patmos, where children are born knowing more of intrigue than a great rogue like you can ever know. Believe me in this, Blade. I beg you. Bide your time, and keep your temper in check, until you can see matters for yourself.»

He fingered his beard and eyed her. «And if I do all this-if I play the weakling and submit to whatever you, and this king and queen of yours, have in store for me? What then?»

Juna smiled at him. «Then all will be well, my love. In time you will come to understand. You will be happy in Patmos for so long as we have, for invasion is coming, and I shall be happy with you. See-they are coming to, escort us in. I have your promise?»

His look was dour. He had already decided. He did not want trouble, certainly not bloodshed, and for the moment he was at a disadvantage. No point in trying to figure out her motives. Impossible. He had best look to himself.

Still, at that very moment, he would almost have surrendered his hopes of returning to Home Dimension for his sword.

A splendid and rather dainty officer-or so Blade thought-was first to reach the boat as it was pulled onto the beach by soldiers. The officer ignored Blade for the moment and bowed to Juna. Blade had some difficulty in repressing a smile, for he had never in all his military service in Home or X Dimensions seen anything like this popinjay.

The officer doffed a silver helmet decorated with gay plumes. His hair was of shoulder length and in tight ringlets and emitted a strong perfume. Blade wrinkled his nose. The officer's chest armor was of gold, chased with silver, and the slender rapier slung on a bejeweled baldric could only have been intended for ceremony. He wore a kilt of gold cloth and greaves of polished gold. His shoes were high laced and bound with thongs about the calf, and had long pointed toes that turned up and were tipped with rosettes of colored ribbon. Blade wondered how the man could walk in such footgear, much less fight in them. The latter speculation, he told himself as he studied the rest of the little troop, was idle and beside the point. These men had never fought a battle in their lives, nor would they. These were «show» soldiers, a palace guard, spit-and-polish men. Blade thought of Hectoris, and of the invasion that was forthcoming, and thought that only God could help Patmos.

And not even that-if the legend beneath the circled snake bore any truth. A is Ister. I act for God!

The thought brought Blade a new awareness of his own peril. Lord L had warned him to expect a longer stay in Dimension X this time. In escaping from Thyrne to Pat-

mos he had gained a little time and not much else; Hectoris would come, and the false priest, Ptol, and Blade did not care to think of his fate if he were taken alive.

Juna and the child were carried ashore by soldiers. The officer touched Blade on the shoulder and said, «You will come with us, please. It is the wish of the Goddess Juna, and of our king and queen. Any time you are ready, sir.»

The fellow was polite enough. He was obviously bored and had better things to do. He fiddled with a drooping yellow mustache and regarded Blade with sheer ennui, obviously in no hurry, awaiting Blade's pleasure. The escort, a half dozen soldiers carrying dress lances with ribbons bedecking them, looked on with equal boredom. Blade nodded and shrugged his huge shoulders. If this was being a prisoner it might not be so bad. He glanced to where Juna was being helped into a two-wheeled 'cart drawn by a dozen men in gray breeches and blouses. They stood as docilely as the horses they replaced, their heads drooping, gazing at the sand glittering in the sun's first rays. Men as beasts of burden. In that moment Blade understood a little of the Patmosian truth-it was a slave society.

Blade took a tentative step toward the cart, his fists clenched and ready. He vowed to keep a curb on his temper, and meant to keep it so, but it was just as well that the officer stepped aside with a smile and a slight bow.

«I would have a last word with the goddess,» said Blade.

«By all means, sir. But if you would be brief? It is a long ride to the prison and it is nearly time for first music.»

Blade made no sense of the last word. The sound of «prison» was enough. He was frowning as he pushed through the soldiers to reach Juna in the cart. She was still holding the little girl.

He seized a cart stake and shook it. «What is all this talk of prison?»

She glinted a row of dainty white teeth at him. The first sunlight burnished her hair like a golden helmet, but revealed lines of fatigue, and little pools of shadow beneath the violet-gray eyes. He knew her to be near exhaustion and still thought her as lovely a woman as ever he had seen-if only she were not such a bitch! Or a goddess.

Juna tugged her cloak over her breasts. «It will not be for long, Blade. Trust me.»

«Trust you? That is exactly what I do not do, woman!» He was angry again, but kept his voice down.

She raised a finger and glanced around at the guards. They, in all their finery, appeared as bored as their officer. One said, «We are going to miss first music.»

Juna said, «It will not be so bad, Blade. Go quietly and see for yourself. Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth closed-if that is possible. Soon you will begin to understand and many of your questions will be answered. As for trusting me-what else can you do?»

She had him there. Blade took it with as good a grace as he could manage. A sub-officer gave a command and the men in harness obeyed dumbly, putting their shoulders to harness attached to the long tongue of the cart. Blade nodded toward them. «Who are they-these men who serve as horses?»

Juna shrugged. «The Gray People? Pay them no attention. They are of no importance. They-they are only the Gray People.»

The cart moved off. Juna waved. «Goodbye, Blade. I will see you as soon as I can arrange matters. Meantime-heed my words and bind your temper.»

The officer in charge, still courteous, waited until the cart vanished from sight among the dunes of white sand. Then he touched Blade's aim.

«By your leave, sir. We have already missed first music and I would not like to miss the second. Nor would my men.»

Blade followed to where a second, and smaller, cart stood concealed by dunes. Six of the men in gray breeches and blouses waited in the harness. Blade nodded to them and looked at the officer.

«Slaves?»

The officer, who said that his name was Osric, touched a dainty finger to his perfumed mustache and smiled. «There are no slaves in Patmos, sir. These are. Gray People, eaters of penthe. They are happy and content and would not change their lot if they could. If you would be so kind as to enter the cart, sir, we can be on our way.»

Blade shrugged and obliged. The officer followed him into the cart and they lurched away as their escort fell into place on either side. Blade saw how they straggled along, out of step and with lances tilted every which way, and thought again that Patmos was doomed if these were the men who must face Hectoris and his hordes. They could not even march! He made a sour face and forgot these sad soldiers as he concentrated on the journey into Cybar. Observation! He must see, really see, everything and store it away in his memory file.

The cart left the dunes and began to follow a lane of red cobbles. The lane ran arrow-straight through vast fields of flowers that stretched away on either side as far as Blade could see. The odor was overwhelming, the same mingle of fragrances that Blade had sniffed at sea. The stalks reminded him of sunflowers, tall and sturdy, but each stalk supported a dozen dish-sized blooms of various colors-blues and yellows, reds and greens, brown and purple and orange. Blade breathed deeply and again felt sleepy and lethargic. The world was a softer and warmer place, the sun more comforting and pleasant than he had ever known it, and he began to experience a well-being, a stultifying low key happiness, that he had never known before in a difficult existence. His fears of the future vanished, his anxieties fell away, and he found himself smiling broadly at the officer. Osric, thought Blade, was not such a bad fellow after all. He had been wrong to be surly and rude to the man. The chap was only doing his job, and being very nice about it, too.

Blade grinned and asked about the flowers. Osric smiled in return, twirled his splendid mustache, and pointed out women in gray smocks working in the flower patches.

«Loci gatherers,» explained Osric. «Gray People, of course, but only unmarried girls are permitted in the fields. The loti is crushed and refined and made into penthe.»

«Penthe?» Blade was not breathing so deeply of the heavenly air now. Suspicion mounted in him and he breathed through his mouth and did not inhale deeply. He had already guessed that Patmos was a slave culture-was it also a drug culture?

Osric waved a languid hand and the cart stopped. «You shall see for yourself,» said Osric. He made a sign to his sub-officer and said to Blade, «It is halfway through first music, and that is penthe time for the gray people.»

It was only then that Blade became consciously aware, for the first time, of the music. So subtle, so sweetly insidious, that he had taken it for the sea wind. Now, as he cocked a conscious ear and really listened, he found that it was the wind, a continuous zephyr soughing over the land and bearing music to blend with the wondrous effluvium and drug the senses.

At that moment Richard Blade came alert to his danger and began to fight back. He understood the purpose of the flowers and the music, and the deadly beguilement thereof. And became aware also that Osric, for all his Ianguid airs and ennui, was watching him closely. The better, Blade thought, to report back to Juna.

Blade masked his thoughts and played the simpleton. He said, «Why are we stopping? And whence comes the music?»

Osric smiled and flicked a finger at his mustache. It was apparent that he had been instructed to answer Blade's questions, at least to a point. To lift a hand to point to the horizon seemed to tax his strength, yet Osric managed it. Blade, following that limp hand, saw a black cone on the far, far edge of flower fields. The cone was flattened at the top, scooped out, and scalloped at the sides and ringed with snow. A faint coil of dark smoke drifted from the crater as Blade stared. A volcano. Still very much alive, if the smoke told truth. Patmos, in addition to all else, was a volcanic isle.

Blade shaded his eyes and stared long at the black cone. The snow reflected sunlight in a dazzle of gold. Blade turned at last back to Osric. «The music comes from that mountain?».

The officer smiled and nodded. «It does. Ask hie not how, nor why, for I do not know. Only the Pearl knows that secret. But come it does, through pipes of wind to Cybar and all of Patmos. It never stops, though at times it is louder than at other times, and the legend is that when the music stops Patmos will cease to exist. But enough of. that-you asked why we stopped? Look for yourself, then. It is midway through first music and time for the Gray People to have their second penthe of the day.»

This Blade understood. He watched intently as a soldier passed among the Gray People and handed out small cakes of the stuff. Each cake was the size of a yeast cake in HD, and of the same smooth white color, wrapped in a single leaf. The Gray People, all men, grabbed eagerly at the penthe and chewed it rapidly while still staring at the ground or, vaguely, at the loti fields around them.

Blade, listening to the faint strange harmony and watching the Gray People partake so eagerly of what he knew must be a will-eliminating drug, decided to test his own position. He wanted a reaction. When the soldier returned with the leather box containing the penthe Blade held out his hand. The soldier looked startled, then glanced at his officer.

Osric nodded. «If you like, sir, you are welcome to the penthe. You are a guest of honor and the orders of Juna are that you have every desire.»

Blade took a cake of the stuff and examined it closely. Osric watched. Blade smelled the stuff and crumbled it in his fingers. -It was moist and velvety in texture and had the same perfumed odor as the fields around 'him. He put a fragment on his tongue and found it flat and tasteless. He smiled at Osric and flung the penthe away. «I do not think I would like it.»

Osric smiled-obviously he could not have cared less either way-and waved a hand to his sub-officer. The cart began to move again.

Blade calculated that an hour had passed before they entered the outskirts of Cybar itself. He was much impressed by what he saw. This city had been planned by a genius. There were broad avenues and spacious squares, long vistas where flowers bloomed and fountains played, and scores of small green parks where children ran and played. And music everywhere, traceable now to small white kiosks in the squares and at the corners of the avenues. From vents in the pointed tops of these kiosks the music leaked into the air. Again he was impressed-music somehow piped in from a volcano! Music such as he had never heard before; music that promised and lured and lulled; ineffable and treacherous, sinister in its very sweetness; Pied Piper music, at once compelling and enervating, insistent that the listener swoon and surrender and forget.

Blade began to feel sleepy again. He clawed at his flesh with his ragged dirty nails, inflicting pain, and deliberately seeking cause for anger and affront so that he would not lose his senses. Turning on Osric he demanded harshly how much farther it was to the prison.

«I itch,» Blade complained, «and I have great hunger and thirst. I would have fresh clothing. If we do not reach this prison soon it may enter my mind not to accompany you at all.»

It was an empty threat and Blade knew it. So did Osric, but with his customary politeness did not point this out. Instead he gestured down a long colonnade, flanked by myriad fountains and flower beds, to where an enormous palace glistened white in the sun. From a pinnacle there floated an enormous white banner decorated with a scarlet flower. Blade recognized the ioti bloom and his mood turned even grimmer and more sour-this sweet smelling blossom against the evil circled snake. There could be little doubt of the outcome. Unless he, Blade, could do something and, at the moment, he did not see any great possibilities. What could he, one stranger in a land of flowers and drugs, where intrigue must be as omnipresent as the seductive music, what could he do to prevent the victory of the ringed serpent?

Blade shook his head savagely and told himself that this was negative thinking. But that was the troubleeverything in Patmos, so far at least, was negative. He had been ashore little more than two hours and already he could see that-Patmos was a lazy land where matters were let slide and even efficiency, though it did exist, was muted. Blade frowned in near despair and paid some attention to Osric, who was still talking about the palace.

«It is the home of Kador and Smyr, our king and queen. It is possible that you will one day meet them, though such things are not for me to speculate on.»

Blade gave him a savage leer, quite prepared to force a quarrel now, no matter where it led; anything to cast off. the opiate of this place, the will- and strength-sapping effect of the sensuous air and music that promised paradise and, for all Blade knew, might even deliver it.

So he scowled and gibed at Osric. «And yet you do speculate, Osric. I have no doubt that that must be a crime of sorts in Patmos-for it involves thinking. And, from what I have seen, and smelled and heard so far, that must be the greatest crime of all. Thinking! Tell 'me, Osric, what is the penalty for that? For thinking, for using your own brain? The gallows? The axe? Or perhaps more subtle ways? Locked away in solitary with a lifetime supply of penthz and that cursed music piped into your cell? Answer me, man, and when you do, try to stand like a soldier at least and do not lollygag so.»

But Osric, that dandy, would not be drawn. He smiled and bowed a trifle and flicked his mustache again, all courtesy, but it was evident that he would not be sorry to be rid of his charge. And this time, as he spoke, his hand rested on the hilt of his rapier. Blade marked it and wondered if he had underestimated Osric. He chided himself. He had made enough mistakes on this mission.

«The Goddess Juna,» said Osric, «warned me that you might be difficult, sir. My task is to cope with you, and so I shall do. And answer your questions, as I was also instructed to do. There are no such penalties as you describe in Patmos, sir. We have crime, as do Thyme and Samosta, but we do not punish as they do. We do not, in short, resort to crime to cure crime. If you take my meaning, sir?»

Blade, cooling a bit, and interested, took up the point at once. «But you have prisons. I am being taken to prison now, unless you have lied.»

Osric smiled and pointed ahead of them. «We also lie in Patmos. We lie a great deal, especially the upper classes. It is a way of life and necessary for survival.»

Osric preened his mustache and feed Blade with a bored gaze. «And who is to say, after all, what is a lie and what is truth? They change from day to day.»

Blade was about to ask to be spared the philosophy when Osric. pointed ahead. «There is the prison. I will leave you and bid you good fortune.»

«That is a prison?» Blade could not believe it.

«Aye,» said Osric. «Another of the things you will find strange in Patmos. Our problem is not to keep men in prison, but to keep them out. Once they have spent a little time here they do not wish to leave. But if you observe, and think it through, sir, you will find it not such a paradox after all.»

The cart rolled through the gates into a vast courtyard. There were fountains and flowers everywhere scattered on lawns as green and finely clipped as putting greens in Home Dimension. Here and there was a music kiosk with the strange harmonies emanating from it. There were numerous benches and tables for games and in the distance a group of men were kicking a ball around. The complex of buildings was low and scrubbed to a glistening sheen.

The cart stopped and Osric leaped down. The guard detail had halted at the gate. Blade looked around for other guards, for prison personnel of any kind, and could see none. He did see Gray People, both men and women, tending lawns and clipping hedges and carrying pots and pans about. The prisoners-or what he took to be the prisoners-were dressed in short white kilts and sleeveless singlets. They all wore red sandals. None of them paid any attention to Blade and — none 'of them seemed to be doing any work.

Osric started toward one of the buildings, then turned back. He held out a hand to Blade. «You may not think it, sir, but I am your friend. It is enough for me that you are friend to Juna, whom I worship. And she is also your friend. Remember that, sir. This will be our last word in private, so hear me well: you have been brought here at Juna's command and for your own protection. She has not forsaken you. Bide patiently and wait for her to work out matters in her own way. It will be to your advantage. Above all you must trust Juna.»

Osric glanced around, then stepped closer to the cart and lowered his voice. «Juna has loved me in the pastand cast me aside. This was when I went with messages to Thyme. Now all that is over and I bear no malice. It is you whom Juna wants now, and I will aid her in this all I can. But it will not be easy.»

Blade glowered at the dainty officer and shrugged his big shoulders. He did not trust either of them, but he forebore the saying of it. He nodded and said, «As an exlover of the goddess, Osric, I can understand that you should want to help me. That makes a deal of sense.»

Osric.shrugged in his turn and ignored the sarcasm. «We have a saying in Patmos-when love is dead friendship begins. Farewell, sir. I must go now and obtain a signature for you. You are free to come and go as you choose.» '

It was true. Blade leaped from the cart and strolled a bit. He was sure that he could have walked out the gate and no one would have tried to stop him. So he did not walk out the gate. There would be time enough for that when he had thought 'matters through and knew what he was going to do.

He found a bench near a group of men who were playing what looked like chess, except that all the pieces were of black stone and carved to represent various flowers. He had watched for less than a minute when he knew something else, something not mentioned by Osric. These men, these prisoners in their neat white clothes, were penthe eaters. It was apparent in their vacuous stares and slow, drugged movements. Penthe. Blade nodded in realization-they either took the stuff voluntarily or it was administered to them. His smile was grim. That was why there were no prison walls. These poor fellows-once their minds were captured there was no need to chain their bodies.

For nearly an hour Blade sat on his bench, brooding and observing, before anyone came for him. He reached one-sure conclusion-this was a political prison. The men around him, his fellow prisoners, did not have a criminal look about them. All of them, — without exception, had the look of intellectuals, of quietists, and most of them were elderly. He guessed that many of them had been in this place for years and that most would not leave it alivewould not want to leave it. This model prison was home to them now, all the security they had, and it was doubt-

ful if many, in their penthe ridden brains, remembered the offense that had brought them here in the first place.

Blade spat and knew how careful he must be. Juna was playing some sly game of her own and Osric was her creature. He scowled. He had no doubt that she had admitted the officer to her bed, now and again, as payment. But what plans had she for Blade? He could not guess and he did not have time to wait or to speculate-he must somehow gain an audience with the Pearl of Patmos, with Izmia, with the old woman who was grandmother to Juna. For it was there the real power must lie. But how to accomplish this, and with what speed, he did not at the moment have any idea.

He was still deep in thought when one of the Gray People came for him. He was a fat little man dressed in the customary gray breeches and blouse, but wearing a chain of office and looking more alert than the other serfs Blade had seen. For so he thought of them by now. Serfs. Slaves kept in order and obedience by good treatment and the drug.

The fat man bowed low. «Welcome, sire. I am come to serve you. I am 00610. If you will come with me I will arrange a bath and fresh clothing. Then a 'meal and, if it pleases you, a woman for company. We have many to choose from today, sire. A new troop of women has just been brought in from the countryside.»

«I wish no woman,» growled Blade. He followed the fat little man along a path of crushed stone. «You say you are 00610? You have no name?»

The man turned to give Blade a cherubic smile. «Oh, no, sir! None of the Gray People have names. Numbers only. A number is as good as a name, sir, in the long run. And much more convenient. Makes it easier to keep files and records, you see. This way, sir, to the bath.»

Blade wondered which came first-the penthe or the numbers? Not that it mattered much. The dehumanizing factor was the same. He supposed they were bred to specification, the Gray People, and allotted tasks according to their intelligence. He speculated on how long this had been going on. His guess was for centuries. His guess was also that the ruling class of Patmos had outsmarted itself; they lived a placid and sybaritic existence, supported by serfs, and they no longer bred warriors if, indeed, they ever had. They lived for music and flowers and other sensual pleasures, an assured and comfortable existence from cradle to grave. Sooner or later such a life schema would have to be fatal, to prove its own undoing.

Blade grinned like a wolf. It would be sooner-Hectoris, the barbarian, was all but at the gates.,

He was bathed in a steaming perfumed pool and given a prison uniform. Much search was required before a kilt and singlet could be found to fit him. He took the largest red sandals they had.

When he was offered a sumptuous meal he would not eat. This visibly dismayed the little fat man who, for short, Blade had taken to calling 610.

The dining hall was cool and spacious, and the meal tempting, for Blade was ravenous, but he would not touch it. 610 wrung his chubby hands. «But you must eat, sire. You must! It is a rule. Every prisoner must eat such a meal when he first arrives.»

Blade laughed at him. «You are the warder, no? Then summon your guards and force feed me. Why do you hesitate? I am only a prisoner like the others.»

There was 'more hand wringing. «But I cannot do that, sire. Violence is also against the rules. Not that the matter ever arises-we do not need violence or coercion. We never have-«

Blade crossed his mammoth arms and stared the little man down. «Until now,» he said cheerfully. «Now, if you expect me to eat, you need it.»

He added, «You had best bring a dozen of your best men, little. 610, for you are going to need them.»

Blade stalked toward the door. He did not trust himself if he were forced to smell the food much longer. Penthe or not, he would be tempted to gulp it down.

610, moaning and complaining, came along to show Blade to his room. He took some audible comfort in the thought that Blade would be even hungrier by the time of the evening meal and would cease to be a problem. As they walked down a long corridor, past open windows where flowers bloomed on the sills, Blade said, «I would have a room to myself, 610. I am very tired and would sleep long. I also require shears and a razor, for when I awaken.I wish to trim my hair and beard.»

610 smiled eagerly. «I will send a barber at once. It just so happens that we have a new girl who is skilled

«No girl,» Blade said harshly. A woman, in certain circumstances, could be as deadly as the penthe. At the moment he wanted only to be alone, to sleep and then, his brain refreshed, to think. Think how to gain audience with the Pearl of Patmos-and how best to use that audience when he had gained it.

«You cannot be alone,» said 610 sulkily. «That is also against the rules. All newcomers must share a room with another newcomer. And that, sire, is a rule I cannot break even for you.»

610 indicated the stone floor of the corridor and, with a pettish smile, said, «Of course I cannot force you to share a room. If you prefer the hard floor to a luxurious bed so be it. That is your privilege as a prisoner, sire. I am only a poor Gray Person and a warder.»

Blade grunted. «I will share the room, 610.» And added with a leer, «I do not wish to become a problem for you.»

610 patted his hands in approval. «There-there. That is better. I did think for a few minutes, sire, that you were going to be a problem. I was, in fact, warned that you might be. I am glad to see that you are not going to be much of a problem. As for eating-you will come to it when you are hungry enough.»

«No doubt,» Blade admitted. He had no wish to rile the little man further. «We will see.» He would not, he thought, be around long enough to go starving. When darkness came he might just be on his way. Surely, in a city the size of Cybar, or in the countryside around, he could find something to eat. Something that was not loaded with penthe.

610 had been trotting alongside, trying to keep up with Blade's long stride. Now he dashed ahead and threw open an unlocked door. Blade could not, in fact, see a lock and guessed that the door was to afford privacy more than to contain him. 610 had mentioned women-was it possible that his roommate, for you could hardly call it 4 cell, was a-

It was not possible. In fact it was quite impossible. Blade stared at the man on one of the two large beds and did not believe it: The man was nearly as large as Blade himself and was wearing the same white uniform and red sandals. He had been clipped and shorn and shaven and now, with the dirt missing, Blade could see the myriad scars. And the eye patch. That was the same.

The man stared back at Blade. He let out a bellow. «By Juna's golden ass! It's the master Blade himself. I will choke on one of Juna's tits if it ain't- Sire! I thought you. was dead and gone in that sewer-«

Blade gave him an enormous grin. He felt better already. Nob, as coarse and rough as he was, an admitted thief and murderer-as Blade had seen-and a son of the gutter, was yet like a breath of icy air in this cloying land of Patmos.

«Nob,» cried Blade. «Nob, you ruffianl I thought you were dead. I saw you fall beneath the horses, more afraid for your treasure than for your life. Nob-you welcome scum of the earth. It is good to see you.»

As he crossed to shake the man's hand he saw 610 backing out of the room. 610 was wringing his hands and smirking a bit. Blade knew then that this was no accidental meeting, no coincidence. He and Nob had been thrown together intentionally. But why? And by whom?

Juna?

They shook hands and in that moment Blade reasserted his strength and his authority. Nob did not give up easily, but after a moment he grimaced and pulled his hand away.

— «Enough, master, enough! Crush my paw and I cannot serve you with it. Have done-I acknowledge you strongest.»

The door closed softly behind them. Nob leaned close to Blade, grinning and rubbing his hand, and nodded toward the music box high on one wall.

«Take care,» he whispered. «It looks innocent enough and I like the music, but they use it to listen as well. I know not how it is done, but air currents carry our voices to them. But 'tis safe enough if you whisper.»

Blade nodded that he understood. He gazed deep into Nob's one good eye and saw that it was clear and alert and as full of mischief as ever. They had not yet gotten to Nob with the penthe.

Nob must have guessed his thought, for he whispered, «Did you bring aught to eat, Sire Blade?» He rubbed his belly and cursed when Blade shook his head.

«I,» said Nob, «could eat-«And mentioned Juna in a most indelicate manner.