darkness.
Honcho was silent for a long time. Then: 'We have many magkronos to go. So listen carefully, Blade. And obey absolutely.'
The neuter talked for a long time, while Blade listened and absorbed.
At last they reached the bottom of the shaft and drifted gently to a landing. They were in a great arching cave. Honcho took off his belt and also took Blade's. He bid the belts beneath a rock and beckoned to Blade. They went toward the front of the cave, bending and finally crawling into a narrow passage.
Just before they reached the end of the passage Honcho said: 'From what you have told me, Blade, I think you will find the land of the Pethcines much like the place from which you come. Or claim to come. You will perhaps feel at home here. They are brutes and barbarians.'
Blade did not answer. He stepped out of the cave, feeling a strange exhilaration. It was dark. Pitch dark. Wind slammed around him and rain dashed into his face and splashed from his armor. It was cold, much colder than it had been above. This was weather, real weather, that he could understand.
He filled his great lungs with the cold, damp air. Then Honcho tapped his arm. 'Come. There is not much time.'
The neuter led the way along a narrow, rock strewn ravine. He went easily into the dark, obviously knowing the route. They rounded a bend and Blade saw the flicker of a campfire.
They approached the fire. It was the entrance of another cave and a little knot of men crouched about it. Honcho halted for a moment in the shadows, barring the way with his arm. The men around the fire did not see or hear them, perhaps because of the storm. Blade studied them closely. They were men, real men, and he recognized the type as what he would have once called Mongoloid.
They were squat, shaggy men dressed in skins and crude armor. They all carried knives, or short swords, or both. Lances were stacked nearby, and some of the men had short bows and quivers slung over their shoulders. They were all talking animatedly, gnawing on joints of meat and every now and then tossing a bone to one of the huge dogs that lolled about.
One of the dogs suddenly pricked its ears and growled into the darkness. Honcho squeezed Blade's arm. 'Remain here until I call.' He strode into the circle of firelight.
Blade watched, half admiring Honcho's poise. The neuter had said there was danger, and Blade believed him, yet Honcho did not appear afraid. He raised his right hand high over his head and walked nearer the fire. Some of the men sprang to their feet, some remained seated. One picked up a lance. Another swiftly notched an arrow to his bow.
Honcho began to speak in Tharnian. The men eased a little and listened attentively.
'I am He, of Tharn,' said the neuter. 'As you well know. You will take me to King Org at once. I have urgent business. I also bring another, a stranger, who will also be a guest of the King, and whom you will treat with the same courtesy and consideration you show to me. This is understood?'
One of the men, a beetle-browed man with huge shoulders and powerful bowed legs, pushed back a pointed fur cap from his low forehead and growled, 'Where is he, then? This stranger?'
Honcho turned and cocked a finger at Blade. 'Come.'
Blade strode into the firelight, towering over the squat men, conscious that in his armor and with his magnificent build, he made a striking picture. Blade halted and struck a deliberate pose. Honcho was not the only one who was cunning, who could play games, and already Blade was wondering if he could use these Pethcines, and how?
The men stared at Blade and muttered among themselves in a language he could not understand. Blade looked at Honcho. The neuter appeared cool enough, though Blade sensed that he was tense and waiting for something.
The man who had spoken to Honcho, the leader, fell to his knees and touched his short sword to his forehead. 'Lord,' he said in Tharnian. 'We obey.'
Blade was watching Honcho's green eyes. He saw amusement, and something of relief.
Blade touched the kneeling man's shoulder. 'Rise,' he said. 'You are my friends. So it shall be, now and always.' One of the great dogs whined softly and came to lick Blade's hand. Blade felt a strange sense of pleasure, or power, that he had never known before. He was playing a role, but at the same time he was living it!
Honcho clapped his hands. 'Take us to King Org now.'
The leader of the band plucked a torch from the fire and led the way. The others did not follow.
They followed the wavering torch back into a narrow ravine. The wind gusted and guttered the torch, which tossed smoky red shadows on the rain streaked rocks. Honcho, walking beside Blade, said in a low voice: 'You did that well. I admit that you have fine presence. I begin to think that you have not told me all about this place of yours. Were you a king there?'
'I am no king,' said Blade curtly.
They left the ravine and approached a wide opening to a vast cavern. Before they reached it Blade heard the murmur of hundreds of voices. The place was ablaze with the light of a thousand torches.
The Pethdne who was leading them flung down his torch and stood aside. He looked at Honcho in a strange manner and there was defiance in his voice. 'We are having the feast of our own Sacer, as you see. Not as THEY of Tharn have it, but as we Pethcines have it, and will have it again in Urcit.'
The neuter nodded and touched the man on the shoulder. 'So it will be. Go now. My thanks. When you come to Urcit I will not forget you.'
The man vanished into the dark. Blade gazed at the blazing entrance of the cave, from which came the roar and mumble and shouting of a great crowd. And, as Blade recognized at once, not a sober crowd. He looked at Honcho and gestured toward the cave mouth. 'Soka?'
The neuter's smile was faint. 'They call it dema. It is the same, with the same effects. I told you they are a swinish, brutish lot, and there is danger. Do exactly as I told you. Come, Mazda!' Again the sneering little smile.
