'I cannot answer that,' answered Blade. 'Forget, Morpho. Let it blow with the wind. She sleeps now, in a decent grave, and the matter is best forgot.'
'So it shall be.' The dwarf pointed to the horizon. 'See yonder. Dust. I think our scouting party returns.'
Blade had duties back along the column and it was an hour before he rode back to the vanguard. The Mong scouts, fatigued and dirty, their ponies drooping, were still being questioned by Rahstum. When Blade rode up, the Captain beckoned to him with an odd smile on his face. He held up a small object that glittered in the sun.
'Come and see yourself, Sir Blade. You are now become a house god of the Caths.'
Puzzled, Blade rode into the group. The Mong scouts eyed him curiously. Rahstum handed him the little object with a thin smile. His tone was sardonic.
'I had not known you so famous, Sir Blade. I think we waste time in this long march to treat with the Caths. You and I might settle matters between us, since you are so great in Cath.'
Blade, staring at the little statuette, was dumfounded. He reached to take it in his hand. It was a foot high, of faultless jade, and carven in the exact image of himself as he had been in Cath. He wore the wooden armor and carried a sword, standing erect and calm with one foot slightly advanced. The artisan had caught his features exactly.
Blade looked at the Captain and shrugged. 'You speak in riddles, Captain. How came you by this? What does it mean?'
Rahstum signed to the lieutenant of the scouts, a little man with a fierce beard and dusty armor. 'Tell him, man.'
The Mong lieutenant spurred closer, his eyes glassy with fatigue.
'We came on a Cath village, Sir Blade. As ordered, I sent in a man to parley and promise peace. When this was agreed they let us ride into their town. In the center was a great statue of you, Sir Blade, like this one but much larger.' The man raised a hand over his head to indicate size.
'And in every house - for we remained a time and became friendly, especially with the unwed Cath girls - in every house there is a small statue of you such as this one. The Caths have many gods, as we knew, and now you are added to them. When we left I begged this statue of the head man, saying that I thought it would please you.'
Blade was still slightly in shock. He held the little statuette to the sun and watched the sun strike through the pure jade.
'Did they give you explanation of this, lieutenant? How these came to be?'
The Mong nodded. 'They did, Sir Blade. By order of the Empress Mei. Every Cath village and town in her domain has a big statue of you, and every house a small one. All this in your memory.'
Lali thought him dead.
The Mongs trekked on. They passed the first Cath village and Blade rode in to see for himself. The villagers saw him and fell on their faces. The children screamed and ran and Blade wondered if mothers were using his image to threaten the children into obedience.
'Mind now, or Sir Blade will get you!'
He sat his horse before the statue and gazed at it a long time. It was ten feet tall, on a pedestal, and of the same immaculate jade. Blade thought he looked noble enough and was not displeased. But why? He had not thought Lali capable of such love and devotion.
As he rode back to join the column the pain smote his brain again and he gasped and fell forward in the saddle, clinging to the horse's mane to keep from falling.
They marched on. Still no movement on the wall, but now signal fires blazed ahead of them night and day. At last they reached the first of a long series of signal towers. Each tower had three wooden arms atop it, each painted a different color, and operated by ropes from the base. The towers all stood on high land and within sight of another farther to the west. Never did they find a Cath, or a party, operating the signals, but occasionally there was a faint cloud of retreating dust on the western horizon.
Rahstum was growing impatient. 'How can we make peace with these wall Caths if they will not parley? They are like ghosts, or carrion apes, always scampering out of sight.'
'Be patient,' advised Blade, 'and send out more parties, weak ones, only a few men, with our message of peace. One day we will have an answer.'
Rahstum grumbled, but he followed the advice. Small parties, not more than ten men in each, and lightly armed, were sent ahead with the white horsetails of peace on their lances.
Far ahead of them the semaphore arms wigged and wagged and the fires blazed incessantly. And still the wall loomed barren and no Caths came to meet them.
Rahstum forgot his impatience and became uneasy - and wary. He scowled at Blade and muttered of traps.
Baber was riding again now, having learned to grip the saddle without his thighs. He was armored in leather and carried sword and lance and made as fierce a warrior as any. As the days passed he became increasingly worried. His was a personal dilemma.
He rode beside Blade one day and voiced his anxiety. As usual he spoke bluntly and to the point, and with his poet's fluency.
'I am torn,' he admitted. 'If Rahstum is right and we are riding into a trap I know not how to turn. I am your man, Sir Blade, and I am also Rahstum's man. A fickle fettle, I think, and most serious. We are deep in Cath land now, at your bidding. If we are ambushed, fallen upon, J will have to kill Caths, Sir Blade. But you have brought us here. Will you kill these Caths you came to see?'
Blade regarded him unsmiling. 'Did I not kill Sea Caths? Did I not lead across the moat when no one else could? Answer that, Baber, and you have answered your own question.'
The old man pushed his helmet back on his bald brow and gave Blade a knowing look. 'You were slave then, Sir Blade. You had to fight. Now you are a free man and a leader. You are a Cath god! All this could make a
