The Golden Steed

CHAPTER TEN

Somewhat to Blade's surprise, Klerus kept his promise. Blade had half-expected Princess Harima to swear in a fit of jealousy that he had never requested Guroth or anyone like him as a personal guard. Perhaps she was not quite willing to indulge her jealousy when the only person to benefit would be the High Councilor Klerus.

In any case, Guroth and ten of the soldiers of Guroth's patrol showed up at Blade's suite about dinner time. Curana was with them. To Blade's even greater surprise, Klerus had been telling the truth about her not being harmed. Nothing worse had happened to her than being locked up in a small room off the kitchens. For her own protection, the guards had said.

«Is this true, Pendarnoth?» she said. «You swore I would be protected in the palace.»

«I did so swear and you will be protected with all the power I and the palace staff have.» There was no point in having her worry about what Klerus might be planning. «There may be Rojag agents in the castle. Who else would have made the attempt on my life?» Blade's eyes met Guroth's. Both men knew perfectly well the answer to that question. «But I doubt if there are any other enemies in the palace that you have to fear.» This was definitely not the time to mention Princess Harima's jealousy to Curana.

After a night spent with Curana snuggled like a kitten against him, Blade was summoned before King Nefus. This time he put on the most luxurious clothes the chests in his room offered, and he ordered his guards to look their best. This set off a mighty flurry of boot-polishing, clothesbrushing, shaving, washing, and the like. This went on for so long that Blade began to be afraid they were all going to be late for the audience. But Guroth stormed and swore and urged his men on, and at last led them into the audience chamber behind Blade on time to the minute.

Seen close up and at leisure, the boy-king impressed Blade even more than he had at the first meeting. Nefus' face had the form of a boy's, but there was definitely the seriousness of a man in it. The eyes in particular bothered Blade. He could not doubt that they had seen too many things no eleven-year-old boy should have to see. Nefus had a throne, but in return he had lost his childhood. It did not look like an exchange he enjoyed. Blade recalled that he had once read of Alexander the Great astounding Persian ambassadors by asking adult questions in his boy's voice. Blade was not astounded, but he was impressed. Nefus would be a good, perhaps even a great king-if he lived long enough.

«Do you have everything you need to be happy?» asked Nefus.

«I do, Your Majesty,» replied Blade.

«I am happy to hear that. It is a great blessing to the Pendari to have the Pendarnoth among us. Particularly now. Have you heard that the armies of the Lanyri are massing on our western border?»

«No, Your Majesty, I have not.» That seemed to be the expected answer, but it was not an entirely honest one. Guroth had many friends among the Royal Scouts. What those friends told him, he told Blade. «Are they in great strength?»

«Very great. They are bringing great machines with them, to knock down the walls of Vilesh and our other cities. There are even reports that the Rojags are going to ride with them against us.»

«That would be bad.» «Bad» was an understatement. If the Lanyri had an adequate cavalry force, even one provided by none-too-reliable allies, they would be much more formidable.

«It would be terrible, Pendarnoth.» There was more than a boy's emotions in the word «terrible.» «You have been a warrior in many lands. Can you think of some new way of fighting, to drive away the Lanyri or destroy them?»

«I have been thinking much on that same question, Your Majesty. But I have not thought of anything yet. It is difficult to do so when I have not seen the Lanyri armies fighting. When I have done that, I will be able to know their weak points and advise you better.»

«I am happy to hear that. When the Lanyri advance, will you join the patrols that are watching them? That way you can see the Lanyri long before they come to the heart of Pendar.»

«That will be a great help to me, Your Majesty.»

«Good. My Lord Councilor, give orders that it be done so.» Klerus bowed deeply. Nefus rose and raised his hands in reverence to Blade, then turned and strode out. The audience was over.

Klerus led Blade back to his suite through an unfamiliar part of the palace. It was a series of dank, airless, half-lit rooms off a long, low corridor that seemed to be partly underground. Clangings told of forges and splashing noises suggested laundries or baths.

Beyond this service area of the palace, the corridor branched. Klerus led the way down the left-hand branch, so low that Blade had to bend his head to keep from scraping the ceiling. The corridor soon ended in a massive bronze door. It had no trace of gilding but many traces of smoke and something that looked like dried blood.

«The disciplinary chambers,» said Klerus in an expressionless voice. «Those of the palace staff who are disobedient or dirty are brought down here and dealt with properly. King Nefus and Princess Harima have their own trained men to administer discipline as well.» Klerus knocked three times on the door, and it squealed open.

As it did, a woman's scream floated out through it. Blade stiffened, but followed Klerus inside. The chamber was even more dimly lit than the corridor outside, but there was enough light for Blade to see what was going on. A young woman was spread-eagled, naked and face down on a wooden table, held by massive iron clamps on her wrists and ankles. Over her stood a burly man, naked except for a leather loincloth and a badge on a brass chain around his bull neck. As Blade watched, he drew a long branding iron from a charcoal brazier and pressed the red-hot end to the back of the girl's neck. She screamed again, jerking and heaving as much as the tight clamps would let her. Blade saw other smoldering patches on her bare skin where the iron had been pressed into it. Blood was oozing from her wrists and ankles where she had fought against the clamps.

Something about the girl struck Blade as familiar. He walked around the table and stared down at her sweating, pain-wracked face. It was the blonde girl from the trio that he had found in his bed the first day. He saw from the look in her eyes that she recognized him also, but pain had made her incoherent. She could only moan and then scream again as the iron pressed into her flesh.

Blade raised his eyes from the girl to the man torturing her. He did not recognize him, although his gross outlines and hairless face indicated the man was probably a eunuch. But Blade did recognize the badge bouncing on the man's heaving, sooty chest. It was the green falcon badge of Princess Harima's personal household.

Blade would not give Klerus the satisfaction of showing his feelings on his face. He would not even bother looking at the High Councilor to see his smug and triumphant look. Blade did not need to look to know that such an expression was there. Knowing Klerus, what other expression could he be wearing? But there was no way Blade could beat down the cold sick feeling inside. Was Harima carrying her jealousy into the open now, even against the Pendarnoth?

The next few days offered no answer to that question. What distinguished them more was the beginning of a minor guerrilla war against Blade, in which he recognized the hand of Klerus much more than that of Harima. Meals arrived late, cold, or sometimes not at all. The properly consecrated servants suddenly became sick, and the suite remained uncleaned until they «recovered.» A crew of masons began work in the corridor leading to Blade's suite. What they were doing besides making a tremendous uproar and choking clouds of dust Blade could never figure out. But the masons were all uncleansed, so Blade had the choice between staying in his suite or bringing work to a halt every time he went out. He chose the latter. But it was obvious that Klerus considered Blade's distaste for the rituals of reverence to the Pendarnoth a weak point. A weak point, moreover, that he was determined to exploit to the fullest.

Meanwhile reports of the massing Lanyri armies flowed in. It was obvious that some of the reports of their strength were exaggerated. Were they accidentally exaggerated by jittery observers or deliberately exaggerated to make people jittery? That was certainly what was happening, whether anyone intended it or not. Or at least the people in the palace were getting jittery. Blade had no idea what the people in Vilesh or beyond in the country were saying. If Guroth was telling the truth, at least the soldiers were not frightened. Their great-grandfathers had smashed one Lanyri army. They would smash this one quite as thoroughly. Blade hoped he could contrive to make the soldiers' hopes come true.

The High Councilor was obviously getting more and more nervous about Blade's possible influence. He began sniping at Blade's personal guard, trying to whittle down their number or at least strain their loyalty. Once a well-aimed tile plummeted down from a roof and struck one of the soldiers on the head. He died that night of a fractured skull. After that the soldiers offered to take turns tasting Blade's food before he ate it. Blade tried to keep that a secret to protect the soldiers, but it was no use. Two days later one of the soldiers died in agony after drinking some wine intended for Blade.

Blade's personal guard was now down to nine men, including Guroth. If it shrank much further, Klerus would be back, insisting that Blade accept a strong guard of men free of any suspicion of Rojag sympathies. Since these men would be even freer of any suspicion of disloyalty to Klerus, Blade did not welcome the prospect. In particular, he did not welcome the prospect of riding out onto a battlefield with men at his back he could not trust.

The palace troops were now doing mounted drill and archery practice by night, with Blade often looking on. He was returning through the gardens from such a drill session one night, when a noise from above made him look up. The night was moonless, but clear. Enough light came from the stars and leaked out through the narrow windows of the palace to show Blade two crouching figures making their way across the roof. They seemed to be heading toward the wing of the palace where his suite was located. And he was almost certain they were carrying a long dark object between them.

He did not know whether they had seen him or not. He froze until they were out of sight, then stalked through the garden to the door, keeping under cover as much as possible. Once inside, he broke into a run, ignoring the scattered servants throwing themselves to the floor as he passed. He tore up the stairs to the door of his suite. The two soldiers on duty outside snapped to attention as he charged up. Their eyes widened at the expression on his face.

«Stay extra alert tonight,» Blade snapped. «There's something peculiar going on.» They nodded and began sweeping the long corridor with their eyes. Blade opened the door and went on into the suite, shouting to the other guards. They poured out of their quarters at a run, those who had been asleep pulling on their swords and boots as they came.

As the noise they made died away, Blade thought he heard a sound from outside. It was a single soft thump, as though something heavy but well-padded had been dropped from a height. It seemed to come from the balcony outside his bedroom. He motioned the other guards back, except for Guroth, drew his sword, and stalked into the bedroom.

The double doors leading to the balcony were closed and locked from the inside. It made the bedroom a good deal less comfortable by shutting out most of the fresh air. But it also made it a good deal safer from stray arrows and stray assassins.

Blade pressed his ear against the door, listening for the slightest sound. But the silence outside was total. He inserted his key in the well-oiled lock. It opened with a faint click. With a crash, Blade kicked the left-hand door open and sprang out onto the balcony.

He almost stumbled over something long and dark lying at his feet. A body, wrapped in a blanket, its head hooded, and a long rope around its neck. Blade knelt, untied the rope, and pulled back the hood. Then in a single quick motion he jerked the blanket aside and stared down at what lay revealed.

Curana. Naked, dead, with the signs of prolonged and horrible torture all over her body and on her contorted and blackened face. Driven into her body just below the left breast was a long dagger-a dagger with the green falcon badge on the handle.