Blade faced him and held up his right hand. 'I swear it on Thunor's heart. Now admit the lady. And keep sharp watch. I do not wish to be interrupted. Nor, I think, will the lady.'
'In that, master, we are all agreed.' Sylvo opened the door and slipped out.
The single flambeau guttered and smoked in the sudden draft. It was secured to a beam by an iron sconce— nothing more than a ring— and it gave a dim red light and stank abominably of fish oil.
The Lady Alwyth. Lycanto's queen herself! Blade did not know what to make of it. Yet he took heart. Taleen must have spoken with the queen, had pleaded his cause with some success, or the lady would not be here. Yet why Alwyth and not the princess herself? Why all the secrecy, the furtive payment for silence? Blade shrugged. He would know soon enough. And anything was better than this stinking hut.
The door opened, then closed swiftly. At once Blade caught the scent of chypre. It was Taleen then, by some trick! No. This woman was far too short, too tiny, to be the princess. The heavily muffled figure that stood watching him was barely five feet tall. She wore a heavy cloak of fur, trimmed with a finer and more glossy fur that he thought was ermine, or possibly sea otter. Her dark blonde hair was caught up high and held with a single long golden pin. Her coronet was of gold and figured with dragons rampant. A white veil, secured to the coronet on either side, masked her face.
She spoke first. 'You are Richard Blade? He who came to this place with the Princess Taleen?' Blade did not miss the tinge of spite as she spoke Taleen's name.
He bowed. 'I am that Richard Blade, my lady.' He waited. He was out of his depth, knew it, and so must let her take the lead.
He could not penetrate the white veil, but knew that she was seeing very well. She eyed him up and down, making no effort to disguise the scrutiny that she might have given an animal, or a slave in the market place. Again he caught the waft of chypre. A perfume that only the well born could afford. Later he was to learn that the use of chypre was forbidden to all but a few, on pain of death.
Her voice was husky, sure and incisive, yet pitched nearly as low as a man's. She raised a white hand, on which rings sparkled, and pointed to the guttering torch. 'Stand over there. I would see you better.'
Blade did as he was bade. He did not like her tone. He had a premonition that, were he ever to see her face, he would not like it either. He moved into the light without speaking.
Again the long scrutiny. Blade, without seeming to, studied her as closely. Though she might be tiny, she filled the cloak well. He thought that she breathed harder now than when she entered, and the breasts beneath the cloak were full enough.
'Taleen spoke truth in one thing,' she said at last. 'You are a magnificent animal! Truly a brute of a man. Have you a head to go with it, Blade? Can you think? Or are you merely another bed warrior?'
Blade nearly scowled. Yet he kept his temper and bowed again, careful not to appear obsequious. 'I have been known to think, my lady.' Then, before he could bite it back, 'As to being a bed warrior— would you care to challenge me, my lady?'
One small foot, clad in a pale leather sandal, began to pat the earthen floor. Yet he thought she smiled behind the veil.
'You are a saucy rogue! Taleen spoke the truth again. Take down your breeches, Blade.'
Complete poise, in any situation, is given to few men. Blade was one of that few. Yet even he hesitated for a moment. But only for a moment— then he loosened his ragged scarecrow's breeches and stepped out of them. He prayed now that he would not begin to react to the scent of her and the nearness of her femaleness, and so make a further show of himself. This was all very infra dig, and he thought again that in doing as the Albians did one had to do some damned nutty things!
The woman moved closer to him. One of the jeweled hands moved and for a moment he thought she would touch him, but she contented herself by looking. She walked completely around him. There was no doubt that she breathed faster now. He began to guess, a little, at the secret. Nymphomania in Alb was much the same as nymphomania in London.
As she moved away she traced fingers lightly over the small of his back. Blade shivered. And, as he had feared, began to react.
Her laugh, muffled by the veil, was husky. 'A veritable ox. Put on your breeches, Blade. Pleasure postponed is pleasure prolonged.'
She stood watching as he pulled on his breeches and adjusted them. She was holding the fur cloak tightly about her.
'Taleen says you are a wizard, Blade. This is true?'
He played it straight and for all it was worth. For the moment he was lost, understanding nothing, yet he sensed that there was deadly purpose in this strange visitation. The smell of intrigue, and of danger, was as palpable in the hut as the stink of the wavering torch.
He bowed again, very slightly this time. 'It is true, my lady. You are in need of a wizard?' He let the sarcasm ring clear.
She let it pass. Her hand moved again, a sparkling white moth in the dim light. 'Yes, Blade. I need a wizard. But I also need a warrior. You are a fighter, or so Taleen tells me.' Again a wisp of spite clung to the princess' name.
'I have killed my share of men.' It was true. No need to mention that he had dealt in more sophisticated death, in another life, a different cosmic dimension. She would have named him madman, raving. And death was still death— name it how you liked, purvey it as you would. Hot and bloody. Cold and final. The end result was the same.
For a moment there was silence in the hut. The torch sparked and stank. Dank mist sank through the roof hole and lay in ghostly strata near the ceiling. From somewhere in the town came a sudden roar of laughter and the chiming clash of swords. She watched him through the veil.
At last she spoke. 'There is none to hear us, Blade. If trouble comes of this I will be believed, not you, and I will see that you are flayed alive, inch by inch. I will speak my heart, with no mincing of words, no lies, no Dru language of many meanings or sometimes none at all. You will listen, Blade, and you will heed well, and then you
