Undying World

CHAPTER 12

The tube was spiral. By the time Blade had whipped around the third twist of the helix, doubling back and back again, he was sliding at over a hundred miles an hour and gaining speed with every passing second. He lay on his back, arms trailing, and let the tube devour him. The plastic was sleek and cold. There was no sense of burn or pain as he plunged ever faster. And it was totally dark. Surely, he thought, the black of the dreaded five-mile pits could not be worse than this.

The tube was steeper now and he was into a near vertical fall around the spiral. The Gs were piling up and he began to black out. He fought to retain consciousness and made himself fix on a thought to the exclusion of everything else.

Down and down the rushing slide continued and he hung on grimly to sanity and thought-what of Norn? Had he meant what he told the Gnomen? Norn loved him. So what? He owed her nothing. She was a liability, a nuisance. All true. What did he care for her? Nothing.

Blade had adapted now, he was more Gnoman than the Gnomen; he was savage and barbaric, the kill craze lurking just below his surface.

Faster and faster. The plastic screamed as he passed. His backside heated as he approached maximum speed. If Sybelline had tricked him, he was dead. Down into nothing he sped.

Black invaded his brain. Fight it off. Think of Norn. Norn-Norn-what did he care? Nothing.

But Blade knew it wasn't true. He still retained enough of HD humanity to know that if he could save Norn he would-if he could save himself.

He was rushing into terrible heat. Sweat bathed him, poured from him in rivers. He must be approaching the five-mile limit. The heat was unbearable.

He clutched the spear bar, dragging it behind him. The iron heated now, as did his body, and once the bar nearly slipped from his sweat-sodden hand. He brought the bar up and cradled it across his chest. The plastic tube held him, screwing him down and down into the bowels of darkness.

Then he felt the flaps. Immediately he began to slow. Plastic fingers, semi-rigid, clutched at his body, gave as he passed, slowed him bit by bit and passed him on to larger and more rigid fingers. The spiral straightened and the angle lessened and his falling speed dwindled. He could think again.

Down one final glissade. He saw red torches flickering in keyhole silhouette. He shot out through the final orifice and fell lightly onto thick-padded plastic mats, like a feather drifting down. He was safe.

Blade stood up, weak-legged, his bar at the ready. All he could see was a ring of torches. The heat was terrible. Sweat cascaded from him. He heard an agonized sound and was surprised to find that he was making it. He was panting for breath.

A shadow moved. It was Sart, reaching for a torch. Blade called to him, his voice harsh and echoing in this vast domed chamber that he could not yet see.

«Where is Sybelline?»

«Here.» She called from darkness and another torch sparked. «There is a ladder just before you. Guide on my torch.»

The plastic mats were piled thirty feet high. Blade found the edge and the ladder. He looked down and saw her uplifted face. He climbed down. He felt weak and giddy. The deadly heat was the enemy.

Sybelline handed him a torch and lit it from her own. She watched him gravely, her green eyes sparkling, her full mouth set in a smile he could not fathom.

«Follow, Blade,» she said.

Sart was lighting torches, far across an open space. Blade called to him. «Leave off that. Come to me.»

Sybelline shrugged. «He is of no use. He will understand nothing.»

«No matter. I want him under my eye.»

They waited for Sart. Blade scuffed at the floor with his toe. It was artificial turf, plastic, as would be the great dome in which they stood. He could not see the sides or the top. A thought occurred to him.

«How come you to find torches at hand and to light them?»

«An ancient way-firesticks struck together. When the power is on the air is bright. This is not so in the sewers and the Gnomen have used firesticks for longer than I know.»

Blade watched her. In the glow of the torches she looked much younger, almost desirable. Her flesh was firm and pink, unlined. Her breasts thrust at him. Her snowy hair took on a blue sheen. Sybelline saw him watching her and her smile was an invitation.

He bellowed to break the spell. «Sart! Another minute and I come after you.»

«I am here, master.»

Sart emerged from the shadow, holding his torch high. He was not sweating. Neither was the woman. Blade, salt water pouring from him, grimaced. «You do not suffer from heat?»

Both of them stared at his sweat-bathed visage. «Heat?» Blade cursed. «Never mind. Get on with it, Sybelline. Sart, stay close to me.»

She led the way. They walked across a great smooth plain of plastic turf. She was following white glowing lines that made corridors.

The slave glanced about fearfully. «I do not like this place, master.»

Sybelline laughed. «So long as the power is off you have nothing to fear. The mole rats are afraid of us and anyway they do not come this high except in time of famine.»

Blade wiped sweat. «Mole rats? Tell me of this.»

Those Gnomen had told him of the fate in store for Norn-to be flung into a pit of mole rats.

Sybelline stopped abruptly. She pointed her torch at something. «I will not have to tell you. They grow bolder than I thought. See yonder? It is a sleeper technician and the mole rats have been at him.»

Sart whimpered. Blade cuffed him, but he was careful not to strike his wound. «You will be a man or I will not treat you as one. A sleeper cannot hurt you.»

«Not this sleeper,» said the woman. «This one will never harm anyone.» Her voice quavered as if some of Sart's terror had passed to her. It was the first time Blade had seen weakness in her. He stepped forward to have a look at the thing.

It had been a Morphi sleeper. It had worn a white plastic coverall. This was torn and ripped and within it was all that remained of the sleeper. Something had fed on it. The face was gone, one of the arms, and the viscera had been hollowed out. One look was enough for Blade. He went back to Sybelline.

«You said the mole rats did not come this high. Yet that sleeper is eaten away. What is the truth of it? Are there likely to be others around?»

She had regained some of her composure and courage. She met his gaze without flinching. «I spoke truth as I knew it, but the power has been off for so long. They have become bold. And it may be a time of famine for them. How can I know? In ordinary times they never venture this high.»

Sart whimpered again. «Let us go, master. I would rather face Jantor without a bar or go to the pits than be eaten by mole rats.»

«Be quiet. Sybelline, lead on»

They began to walk again. As they went, Blade bade her describe what he could not see-simply to describe, not to place events in a framework of time. He could not fathom the Morphi or Gnomen concept of time and did not try. They could not explain and he could not understand. To try would be a waste of the very time that baffled him. For all he knew Sybelline was a thousand years old, HD time, or only ten. The Gnomen spoke of years, but what did they mean?

He listened intently, trying to relate Sybelline's words to his own concepts.

They had walked a mile across the plastic turf before he began to grasp it. The dome over them was a mile high. The power complex was some five miles square. When the power was on, all was brightly lit by air lights. The air was circulated and freshened automatically, and neither the Gnomen nor Morphi were affected by heat.

The ultimate source of power, Sybelline explained, when it was crushed and milled to talcum powder smoothness, was common rock mined below the five level. After processing it was called ditramonium. A single large boulder, after treatment, furnished power for eleven Morphi days. Blade despaired at calculating that.

By now excitement was burning in him. This was it. Power from ordinary rocks. If he could wrest that secret from this Dimension X, take it back with him, hand it over to the HD scientists, then the Project was a success beyond even Lord L's wildest dreams. And perhaps that it would be the end of the experiments. Never again would he have to go through the computer.

Computers. It came to him like a lightning flash in his brain that Sybelline was at this very moment talking about computers. Thousands of them. Giant machines banked around the dome, silent now, but ready to hum into action when the power was restored-power that was somehow-and this was beyond his comprehension, sent through the air itself with no wires or cables. He struggled to bring the concept clear in his mind, to grasp what Sybelline was telling him. The power was in the air, everywhere. Every Morphi, from the moment of birth, picked up the power, was connected to it by means of the power stud in his neck. The technique was simple enough once you accepted the a priori fact of the power itself. It was nothing more than an old-fashioned trolley car taking its power from an electrically charged wire, except that there were no wires.

«How much farther?» Blade asked.

Sybelline waved her torch ahead. «Just there. A hundred paces or so.»

Sart touched Blade's arm. «Something is following us. I think mole rats.»

Blade and Sybelline spun around and held their torches high. Sart got behind them and made terrified sounds. Sybelline said, «He is right. See them-over there.»

Blade saw them. More than a score of eyes winked red-yellow out of the gloom.

«They are blind,» said Sybelline. «They have eyes that are open and shine, but they cannot see. I saw a dead mole rat once and heard a Morphi expert explain it. I do not wish to see another one.»

The eyes crept closer. Blade hefted his bar. «Like it or not,» he told her, «you are going to see one, if they will take the bait.»

She peered at him. «Bait?»

«Me.»

As he strode back toward the glowing eyes, torch in one hand-held high-his spear bar ready in the other, a theory leaked into his brain. A hunch, call it, but he knew he was right. He was drenched with sweat. His smell was strange and enticing to these creatures. That was why they were bold, why they followed. The mole rats were after him.

The glittering eyes fled. If they could not see, their hearing and smell more than compensated.

One pair of eyes did not run. They moved toward Blade, baleful and terror-gleaming, all the more frightening because they were dead eyes and still sparked hate and hunger at the big man. Blade caught a whiff of charnel odor and heard the creature sounds-a gobbling sound that screamed along his spine. The thing leaped.

For once Blade's courage nearly failed. He was a mass of terrified sweat. He longed to flee, but dared not. He lunged with the sharp end of his spear bar and met the creature head on.

The mole rat reared, and slapped at the bar with huge spade paws. Blade nearly lost the bar. He dropped the torch between himself and the mole rat and the thing charged over the flame. It did not fear fire. Blade used two hands and thrust with all his strength. Fangs grated on the bar and the smell of the rat overwhelmed Blade. He fell back a step.

The rat charged again. Blade knelt and took the charge with his bar, much as he had killed the Gnomen, and the mole rat impaled itself. It did not die quickly or easily. It thrashed around on the bar, spurting gouts of black, foul-smelling blood, and Blade had an urge to vomit. He let go of the bar and stepped away, watching the death throes of the mole rat, keeping an eye out for new danger. He picked up the torch.

When the mole rat was dead he went close. The thing was as big as a wolfhound, with a long scaly tail and the body and snout of an enormous rat. The spade paws were those of a mole, the talons gleaming four inches long. The thing had a double set of shark-like teeth. Blade pulled out the bar and kicked the animal. It gave a last convulsive death shudder.

He wanted to drag it back with him but could not bring himself to touch it. It was loathsome and probably poisonous. The truth was that his nerves were screaming and he was still afraid of the thing, dead or not.

Sybelline called to him. «Leave it, Blade. The others will feed on it. That is how they live, by feeding on their old and dead.»

Blade was glad of the excuse to walk away. He went back to join Sart and the woman. Sart stared at the blood on Blade's spear bar and made the sign of the fylfot on his bald head. When his eyes met Blade's they were filled with awe and admiration.

«I have never seen the like of that, master. Even Jantor would not walk into a nest of mole rats.»

Sybelline nodded. «It is true. Even the Morphi fear them, though they killed many with poison and trapped some for examination.»

«Let us get on,» said Blade.

«Just over there,» she said.

They approached what seemed to Blade to be a block house or bunker, not large, made of sturdy plastic blocks. Sybelline confirmed his guess that it was squarely in the center of the dome complex.

He examined the entrance with his torch. From the darkness behind them came gobbling sounds as the dead mole rat was devoured.

Blade looked at Sybelline and nodded at the entrance. «There will be sleepers in there?»

«Yes. Technicians on duty. It was dangerous duty and they were triple paid.»

Blade smiled. «How do you know all this?» He had guessed, but he wanted to hear her say it.

She did not lie. «I know because it was I who turned off the power. You must know that.»

«How did you gain admission and why did they trust you?»

It was her turn to smile. «There are as many fools among the Morphi as among the Gnomen, for all their brains. I used my body, what else? It was easier because it was forbidden-Morphi are forbidden to cohabit with Gnomen on penalty of death storage. Knowing the risk, they were all the more eager. Come, I will show you the very table on which I lay.»

Blade turned to Sart. «Stay here on guard.»

Sart quivered. «But the mole rats, master. If they-

Blade threatened him with a massive fist. «Take your choice. My anger or the possibility of mole rats. One is certain, the other not.»

Sart grumbled but remained on guard, peering fearfully into the dark.

Blade waved his torch at Sybelline. «After you.»

The interior of the bunker was cramped. With the aid of both torches they could see well enough. The place was sparsely furnished. Consoles covered the walls. There were dials and gauges and switches and toggles. Blade was reminded of Lord Leighton's master computer chamber. He inspected in silence for a moment, concentrating, activating the crystal in his brain so that everything he recorded would be passed on to Home Dimension without conscious effort on his part. Lord L would be listening in, and the old boffin would be in seventh heaven.

There were four sleepers. One sat at a console, his hand still raised to touch a toggle. One was stretched on a plastic cot, asleep, when a deeper sleep came. A third stood before a drawing board, a long stylus-like pen poised over blueprints.

Sybelline pointed to the fourth sleeper. «It was he… the last to have me. The others were watching and enjoying it even as they worked.»

Blade grunted. «Voyeurs.»

«I do not understand that word.»

«Of no matter. Show me exactly.»

She stepped to a table near a console. On it lay the fourth sleeper, face down, arms dangling, plastic clothing still in disarray. Like all the sleepers he was handsome, young looking, too pretty and healthy looking to be believed, even in this quasi-death.

Sex seemed to be the one constant in all the X Dimensions he had visited. No-there were other and regrettable constants-greed, hate, fear, lust for power.

And love. Not often, but he had found it from time to time.

Blade said, «Show me.»

Sybelline's face had a swollen look. Her lips were fuller, pouting, and her eyes narrowed. She began to stroke her breasts lightly. She was remembering, harking back, and the visit to the scene of such pleasure and accomplishment was arousing her beyond bearing. She pointed at the sleeper on the table. «Move him. Roll him off. Then I will show you exactly. You can join me. Now. Hurry, I have longed for you, Blade, ever since I first set eyes on you.»

Blade was cautious. He had no desire for her or for any woman at this time, but he did not want to offend her. He needed her.

«Later,» he promised. «For now just show me.»

She frowned at him but nodded. She went to the table. She pointed to the sleeper. «He lay just so, atop me. He was paying no attention other than to his own pleasure, and I reached back and pushed the button-there. You see how simple it was?»

Blade saw. It was a single small black button set in a red plaque. He measured the distance with his eye and saw that it could be done. The position was right and her slim arms long enough. He nodded.

«I believe you.» He examined the black button closely. «This shuts off the power. What turns it on?»

Sybelline pointed to a switch on a nearby console. «That was explained to me. I coaxed it from them. I had to know, you see, for part of my bargain with the Selenes was that when the time came I would be the one to turn on the power.»

Blade pondered a moment, nearly gave the command to activate the power, then decided against it. He pointed to a tunnel-like opening in one wall of the bunker. «What is that?»

«What it seems. A passage to the power cube. I was also shown that.»

«Show me now.»

With her torch high she stepped into the narrow tunnel. Blade followed, concentrating fiercely so the thoughts could be transmitted via the brain crystal. He could send only facts and his own thoughts relevant to them; Lord L must work out the rest for himself if he could. It amused Blade to think that if the crystal was working, the scientific world back in HD would be buzzing in a matter of minutes, at least that part of it connected with Project DX.

The tunnel ended in a vaulted chamber no larger than an ordinary bathroom in HD. There was a pit in the center and the plastic floor sloped to it. From the pit, a circle as large as a common auto tire, there protruded a single metal rod. From the visible end was a mobile-like structure somewhat reminiscent of the filament in a light bulb.

Stacked around the walls of the chamber were plastic bags. Blade ripped one with the hook end of his bar and a fine powder seeped out. He caught some in his palm and tested it with his fingertips. It was white, fine as talcum, and had no odor. He looked at Sybelline.

«Ditramonium,» she said. «Rock powder. How it works or why, I do not know. No one knows but the Select Five of the High Morphi Council.»

Blade nodded upward. «Those who meet in the circular building up there?»

«Yes.»

Blade started back through the tunnel to the main bunker. «Come,» he told her, «and obey me exactly.»

When they were in the bunker he went to the table and moved the sleeper who had been making love to Sybelline when she pressed the OFF button. He motioned to her.

«Lie on the table exactly as you were. Say nothing, do nothing. Observe and listen.»

Sybelline balked. «I do not like this, Blade. Not at all. I will lie on the table gladly, but only if you are atop me. What use is a sleeper-«

He gave her a grim stare. «Do as you are bid. I am going to turn on the power.»

Her jaw dropped and her green eyes widened. For the first time she seemed more Gnomen than Morphi. She made the sign of the fylfot over her left breast. «Have you gone mad, Blade?»

«I do not think so,» he said calmly, «but I am very curious. I will turn on the power for the count of ten. On that count of ten you will turn it off again. Be sure you can reach the button. Now get ready.»

Sybelline most unwillingly clambered on the table. She lay with her gown up and Blade replaced the sleeper between her outflung thighs. The sleeper's head nestled on her shoulder. Blade went to the entrance and looked back. «I will remain here. I want to observe both inside and out. I will bid Sart do likewise. All you have to do is listen to my count and press the button at ten. Are you ready?»

She glared at him. «This is a fool's trick. If something goes wrong we lose everything.»

«I will take that risk,» Blade told her. He gave the startled slave instructions and then went back into the bunker. He went to the ON switch and reached for it. «Be ready,» he said. «Do exactly as I ordered.»

He pressed the switch and ran for the door.

There was no sound, no humming, no machine noises, just the light. Sourceless light that was in the air itself, soft, limpid, the glow of a billion candles. Blade began to count aloud.

«One-two-«

He stood squarely in the doorway, his glance swiveling in and out with each count.

The four sleepers did not see him at first. They did not know they had been asleep. Each, in smooth continuity, went about completing the act in which he had been caught.

The plastic-turfed complex stretched for miles. The dome top glittered nearly out of sight. Dozens of mole rats scampered in panic for dark holes gnawed in the base of the dome. Millions of lights blinked on the endless banks of computers lining the complex. Faraway figures moved, hauling something on a cart. Nearer to Blade a man crawled toward them on his hands and knees. He looked Gnomen and he was bleeding.

The sleeper on the cot stirred and tossed restlessly. The sleeper at the drawing board made a line with his stylus and looked at the sleeper atop Sybelline. «Good, eh? For an old one.»

The sleeper at the console adjusted the toggle and laughed. «We had better keep her down here with us. If she talks we have had it. We can turn her over to the new crew and-«

«Three-four-five-«

The sleeper atop Sybelline groaned and rolled off her. «Yes, you are right. We will keep her for our private needs.» He smiled down at Sybelline. «What of that, woman? You agree? We will treat you well.»

Sart had dropped his bar and fallen to his knees, his eyes rolling in terror. Blade pointed to the man crawling toward them, the bleeding man. He whispered. «Get him. Help him.

«Six-seven-«

The sleeper on the table with Sybelline slapped at her arm in sudden alarm. «Get away from that button, you whore.»

The sleeper at the console whirled toward Blade, staring in astonishment. «Who counts? Who are you?»

«Eight-«

The sleeper at the drawing board leaped toward a square box on a wall. «Something is wrong here-the all-points alarm. I-'

«Nine-«

Sybelline lost her head. She pulled away from the Morphi and tried frantically to reach the OFF button. The Morphi slapped her hard and pushed her off the table away from the button. The man on the cot woke and stared, rubbing his eyes. «What in the name of all the fylfots goes on?»

Sart did not obey Blade. He crept into the doorway to be near his master. The former sleepers saw him and yelled in unison. «Gnomen. Attack-attack-«

«Ten!»

Sybelline screamed and lunged for the OFF button. She was knocked down. Blade went plunging into the knot of struggling Morphi. One held Sybelline and three leaped at him. He laid about him with the bar, drove them to retreat and reached with the hooked end of his bar to press the button. They were coming at him again. The power failed. Darkness.

Blade took his torch from a sconce and waved it about. The four Morphi men, sleepers once more, lay huddled on the floor of the bunker.

Sybelline recovered her torch and did not conceal her anger. «I told you, Blade. They nearly overcame us. You are too bold. We will take no more chances like that.»

He could have told her that only boldness plus guile had kept him alive through a procession of DXs, but all he said was, «Be quiet.»

He was content. He knew what he had to know. When he turned on the power again the Morphi would resume the continuity of their lives with no sense of lost time. The sleepers would never know they had slept. This, he hoped, would give him the element of surprise, an opening wedge, a way to baffle and puzzle them until he could sway them to his thinking. But that must wait.

Blade led the way out of the bunker and pointed. «I saw a Gnoman crawling this way. He was hurt. Hold your torches high.»

Sybelline was incredulous. «A common Gnoman down here? I do not believe it. They would not dare it. Not one alone.»

«I know what I saw.» Blade waved his torch and shouted. «You out there! Give sign of yourself. We will help you.»

A faint cry came from the darkness. «Sybelline! I am hurt. Aid me.»

Blade watched her and did not think she was acting. She gasped in amazement. «Wilf! My son. I do not understand this-«

Sart stopped shaking long enough to say, «It could be a trick of Jantor's, master.»

«A strange trick,» said Blade, «to send one wounded man against me. Come on.» He strode into the darkness.

Wilf lay in a pool of blood. Sybelline held a torch while Blade examined him. He was badly bitten, mostly on the legs, and some of the wounds were deep. At the moment he was unconscious, but Blade thought he would survive. He bade Sart pick up the wounded man and carry him back to the bunker.

Sart grumbled and complained of his own wound but he obeyed. Blade and Sybelline followed him. The woman was silent.

«I accept your surprise,» said Blade at last. «But I must know of this. You say he is your son?»

She shrugged. «One of them. My favorite. I have many sons and daughters among the Gnomen. I do not know what has become of them.»

Blade guessed at what she meant by favorite. He knew the Gnomen attitude toward incest. They did not recognize it nor did he mention it now.

He said, «I find it most strange that he would suddenly appear in this place.»

Sybelline shrugged again. «So do I. I have no understanding of this, nor of Wilf, for that matter. He is only a quarter Morphi, you know, and not of great intelligence. He has always been secretive and keeps his thoughts to himself.»

«We will see about his intelligence. One thing I know-the Morphi, even you who are half Morphi, all make the same mistake. You consistently underestimate the intelligence of some of the Gnomen-perhaps all of them. It is my thought that the native intelligence is there, but has never been allowed to develop.»

He saw her look and forgot it. She was incapable of understanding.

Wilf was placed on the table in the bunker. Blade found a kit and tended the wounds. He used ointments and powders and bound the raw sores with plastic bandages. As he finished, he was aware that Wilf was feining unconsciousness. He smiled down at him and slapped his face lightly. Blade had the beginnings of a plan and if the lad was intelligent enough….

«You do not fool me,» he told Wilf. «I know you listen and understand. Open your eyes and explain how you came here.»

Sart was once again on guard in the door. Sybelline held a torch and peered down at her son. Wilf opened his eyes and stared at his mother sullenly. Sybelline was just as sullen when she spoke to him.

«This is the man Blade, Wilf. You will do well to answer him. How came you here, and why?»

Wilf scowled. He held up a bandaged arm, then stared down at his bitten legs. «The mole rats nearly killed me. I lost my spear bar.»

Blade knew one thing. Wilf had courage. Blade made his voice friendly. «You did not come down the chute?»

Wilf looked at Blade a long time before answering. Suddenly he smiled. He ignored his mother and smiled and Blade saw what he had seen so often in Dimension X-awe, hero worship and a willingness to serve. He could use such things. Wilf could not have come at a better time.

«No,» said Wilf. «I did not come by the chute, though I know of it.»

«How much do you know of it?» Sybelline's tone spoke her emotions. She was not pleased with her son.

Blade glared. «Do not interrupt.»

«I can read Morphi script,» said Wilf. «I go up into the city any time it pleases me. For long I have done this. I have explored, Mother. I have followed you and you never knew. I have studied the Moon and the orbfolk through telescopes. I have watched and listened when you spoke to Onta, the Selene. I-«

Blade put a hand over his mouth. «Enough.» He looked at Sybelline. She did not meet his eye.

«I have no interest in any of that,» said Blade. «How came you here, if not by the chute?»

Wilf laughed, eager to talk to Blade. «I found old drawings in the rock mine files. There are passages that lead down past the pits-«

Sart groaned from the door. «The five mile pits!»

Blade silenced him. «Go on, Wilf.»

«As I saw, I found old drawings. They marked out passages that have been long forgotten. With the aid of such a map I was able to find my way down here. It was easy enough at first. It led me down past the pits-they are all dead there now-and I found a ramp that leads directly into this place. All went well until the mole rats attacked me.»

Blade nodded. «You have such a map with you?»

Wilf was wearing the plastic shorts of the Morphi. He reached into a pocket and drew out a folded square of plastic, tattered and stained. Blade took it from him. He did not examine it but tapped it with a finger and looked at Sybelline. «What other way is there back to the city level?»

Sybelline shrugged. «Without the power for the lifts there is only one-an escape ladder. I know where it is. In my time I have never known of anyone using it. But I have read that back in other times the young Morphi, the athletes, contested each other to see who could climb it in the shortest time.»

Blade pondered that, calculating. They were about six miles deep. He was not going to climb any such ladder if he could help it. He doubted his ability to do so. The heat was telling on him and his sweat never stopped dripping.

«The ladder ends in a sub-1 basement of the Government Building,» said Sybelline.

That settled it. By now the circular building would be alive with Jantor's men.

He began to question Wilf about Jantor. All that Wilf could tell him was that Jantor was moving his troops up into the city. He was taking over and defying the orbfolk. Women and children remained in the sewers until the issue was settled one way or the other.

Wilf gave Blade a sly look and said, «I have something else to tell you, but it is for your ears only.»

Blade nodded at Sybelline. «Go stand with Sart. Both of you out of hearing.»

She crossed her arms over her firm breasts and scowled. «I will not. You plan to betray me with my own son.»

Blade jerked a thumb at the door. «Go, I say. If there is betrayal it will not be on my part.»

She left them reluctantly. Blade bent to hear Wilf's whisper. «It is said that Jantor has had second thoughts. He knows now that it was Sart who murdered Alixe, not you. A guard has remembered hearing screams while you were absent. Jantor wishes to parley and again be friends, if you will turn over Sart to him for punishment.»

Blade stroked his beard. «That poor fool. I could not-«

«And Sybelline,» said Wilf. «Jantor wishes to destroy her also.»

Blade stared down at him. «She is your mother.»

Wilf shrugged. «What of that? Anyway I propose nothing. I merely say what I have heard. And there is more.»

Blade waited, his face grim. Wilf hurried on. «I also heard that more than a hundred of the Gnomen females have missed their bloody time. All have lain with you.»

And Wilf added, slyly, «This may have some bearing on matters, I think. It is why Jantor is willing to be reasonable.»

Blade felt no thrill of fatherhood. A hundred pregnant women spoke well of his performance as a man; it did nothing for his ego, the impact diminished by the numbers involved. And yet the boy was right Jantor was thinking now that Blade was proven a baby-maker; it would be folly to kill him. Jantor could not rebuild the Gnomen race alone. There was only Blade.

On the whole Blade was pleased. He now had a bargaining point where he had lacked one before. But it did nothing to solve his immediate problems.

He called Sart and Sybelline into the bunker and explained to them and to Wilf what must be done.