This was truth. The stakes had been placed some fifty feet apart, so that Blade could defend only one of them at a time. He must make a choice between Sylvo and Princess Taleen.
Blade, as he listened to Sylvo, swung the mighty bronze axe in his right hand and looked to where Beata sat on a wooden throne beneath a canopy. He tried to fathom her thinking. She was not a fool, and he did not think her likely to sacrifice Taleen merely to please the mob and without profit to herself. Sylvo, on the other hand, was of no importance at all and his death might provide entertainment enough.
Another thing made Blade wonder— there was a squad of archers drawn up near each stake, behind crude barriers, and at the moment one of the queen's officers was giving them orders. Blade thought he could guess at those orders. He was to be given a chance to defend himself, and Sylvo and Taleen, from the bears. If he could do it, so much the better. The populace would have their show and the only loss would be three slain bears.
Queen Beata was gambling that Blade would elect to defend Taleen, thus leaving Sylvo to be torn to bits. This, or so Blade reckoned now, would satisfy the blood lust of the people and Beata could call it off when she would, and save Blade and the princess for other things— Blade for her perverted pleasures, Taleen for ransom and power over her hated brother Voth.
So the archers were placed as safeguards, to take over and slay the bears in case matters got out of hand. Blade's grin was hard. He would nearly have wagered Aesculp, the bronze axe they had returned to him, that he had figured the matter correctly.
But as he clapped Sylvo on the shoulder now and spoke encouragement, both he and the servant knew the truth: if it came down to the bone of the matter Blade would have to save Taleen and let Sylvo die.
Sylvo signified his understanding with a wink of his better eye. 'I know you will do your best, master, but I am nothing beside the lady. We both know that. But by Thunor's cods do not forget that you are a wizard— and make the most of it.'
Blade smote him again on the shoulder, very gently, and left him. There was nothing more to say.
A silence fell on the crowd as Blade walked to Taleen's stake. They had not seen a man like this before, and the silence gave way to a low buzzing as if they realized they would not see his like again.
Blade strode with a supreme confidence that belied his inner thoughts. He made a brave figure as he twirled the great axe as easily as any toothpick, the keen bronze glinting in the dull light. His hair had grown long, and his beard thick, and he used a riband begged of the guards to keep his hair back away from his eyes. He was stripped to breeches and cross-gaitering, barefoot to get a better grip on the muddy earth, and as he moved the great muscles of his shoulders and chest rippled beneath his swarthy skin.
The bears, in wheeled cages near the throne of Beata, exploded into a new frenzy of horrendous growls as if they scented and identified their enemy.
Princess Taleen stood proudly, her head high and her brown eyes sparkling with defiance, as Blade approached. Her tunic had been ripped away to her waist and her small breasts, girlish yet full enough, thrust as defiantly as the firm chin. Cold had hardened her nipples into firm brown buttons.
Blade, though he knew her to be ambivalent and wayward, and his longing to be rid of her was real enough, could not but admire her now. She might be terrified of Drus, or of dark forest shadows, but there was no trace of fear in the face of a very real and horrible death. Or perhaps she had fathomed the Queen's plan, as had Blade.
Not so. Taleen was first to speak.
'She means to have my death, Blade. As she means to spare you for her filthy pleasure. See that you make her pay for it! I ask this, Blade. Nay— I beg it. I beg— I who am a true born princess of Voth.'
He stopped several feet away from her. Beata was watching and he did not want to show concern too plainly. Blade spoke what was in his heart.
'You are a brave lass, Taleen. Continue so. I will do as best I can, and I think you not in as much danger as appears. Beata sports with you and me. It is poor Sylvo she means to die. I am sure of it.'
Taleen's smooth brow creased in thought, her luminous brown eyes calm and intent on Blade as she pondered this.
'Then save your man,' she commanded. 'He is a scurvy pick-purse who has cheated the hangman too often, but he is your man and you owe it him. Yet I think you wrong— Beata means to have my death, one way or the other. I am not a fool, Blade, nor the child you think, and I can see a thing that is plain before my face. So I command it— if it lies between the two of us you will save your man. Then revenge me!'
He smiled at her and winked so that only she saw. 'I will save the two of you,' he said. And knew it to be a brave boast that might well come back to haunt him.
The crowd grew restless again and Blade was summoned to the throne.
Queen Beata this noon was resplendent in saffron robes that went ill with her complexion, heavily painted though she was. Her wig was freshly cleaned and curled. She studied Blade with narrow dark eyes and leaned to tap him on one stalwart shoulder. Her smile was thick with scarlet lip salve and behind it the animal bone teeth glinted dull white.
Her whisper was sibilant. 'I have been thinking on the matter, Blade, and I would have you live. Defend the girl and let your man die. I have given orders. But you must make a brave show of it— these stupid peasants of mine must have blood and entertainment today. Go now and do well. I will come to you again tonight.' He could not mistake the message in those jaded eyes.
Blade raised Aesculp in salute to her. 'I am ready, Queen. Bring on your bears.'
He turned and ran back to the spot he had selected, midway between the two stakes. The bear cages were wheeled forward through a gap in the temporary barrier.
The keepers unwittingly played Blade's game. They had not been warned and Blade's thinking was right. They uncaged the bears one at a time, thus granting him a precious minute or two.
The first bear came shambling out of the cage, rearing and snarling, froth dripping from two enormous saber fangs in the upper lip. The creature was ten feet tall as it stood on its hind legs and sniffed about, all the while emitting horrible noises from a massive chest. It was thick furred, tipped with silver, and the little eyes were canny
