'I dare.' He struck her again, backhanding her the opposite way across those lovely features.
She clawed at his face and tried to bite him. Blade got his big hand into her thick hair and twisted. She screamed. He kicked her legs out from under her and she fell heavily. He had forgotten the crowd now. They were not there. He was intent on his fury and his lust.
He pulled the shield off her arm and flung it violently away. She tried to fight her way up and he kicked her feet away again. She was sobbing and screaming and cursing, her eyes wild with rage and her scarlet mouth drooling spittle.
Blade dragged her across the cage by her hair. As they passed Astar's fallen sword she reached for it and he slashed hard at her wrist. She screamed in pain.
Blade pulled her on the couch by the hair. She lunged up at him and he yanked her head back.
Blade laughed down into her face, bitterly and furiously. 'Now, Isma! Now you shall find out who is Mazda! Are you ready?'
She spat in his face. 'Never...never...never. I forbid it. I am Isma, High Priestess of Tharn! I rule now. Only I-I will have you torn apart by ceboids.'
Blade's rage had begun to cool. He was still angry, but the red mist was clearing. He mocked her. 'I know you are the High Priestess, Isma. I also know that you murdered Astar so you could rule alone. You must have planned it for a long time. But you are wrong. I am Mazda and you are going to rule with me. Make up your mind to it, Isma! And now...'
She locked her thighs together, denying him entrance. She laughed wildly and he sensed the beginning of hysteria. 'No. You see, I will not permit it.'
Blade seized her firm left breast and twisted it cruelly. 'You will not?'
She screamed shrilly but refused to open her legs. He twisted the breast again, repeating: 'You will not, Isma? You will not?'
The long thighs parted. Blade plunged at her, stabbing, wanting to hurt her, to kill her.
She had, of course, never known a real man before. He did not lie close atop her, but raised himself so he could watch her face, see the mingled rage and fear slowly transformed to surprise and disbelief. She gasped and sighed Her mouth widened into a scarlet vacant and stayed that way. Her nails began to rake at his back, bringing blood, but there was no anger in her now.
Within a minute she convulsed for the first time. Blade had not even started. He plunged on, feeling that he was going to pierce her entrails, slay her once and for all, and he did not care what happened to him.
Minute followed minute. On and on. Isma began to cry and sob and ask for surcease.
'I am weary, My Lord. I would stop now. Please.'
Blade kept on.
She was frantic again. 'You are Mazda. You are my Lord. I am nothing - you are everything, my Lord... make slaveface - I make slaveface... I...'
Still Blade did not show mercy. It was not a Tharnian quality. It was not a Blade quality, either, at the moment On and on and on.
'Please, my Lord. Please! I cannot go on. I cannot. I am dying.'
'Die, then.'
'I cannot endure it, my Lord.'
'You must endure it. I am master now. Is that not so, Isma?'
'Yes. It is so, Lord. Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes.'
Blade convulsed and poured his seed into Isma, the High Priestess.
'Never call me Mazda again. Between us two. I am Blade. Blade of Tharn!'
'Yes, Lord. You are Blade of Tharn.'
She was whimpering and crying now. The firm breasts had gone to mush beneath him and in her long dark eyes was a look of satiety and content.
As Blade arose up he wondered how long it would last. He had come to the throne of Tharn. Now to hold it.
Chapter Eleven
For a month by Blade's way of reckoning time, he was feted and feasted and revered by the People of Tharn. Astar's body was vaporized - the story being circulated that she died of joyful shock on recognizing the true Mazda - and Blade now shared the throne with Isma. One by one, each woman individually, was presented to him. He counted them. 927. The People. THEY. The upper and ruling class of Tharn, in turn ruled by Isma and, now, himself.
Isma watched coldly as each woman was presented to Blade. So far Isma had been subdued, docile and loving, and Blade was careful that his glance never rested too long on any woman, and his manner remained curt and aloof. Sutha advised this and Blade knew he was right.
Each of the women was a beauty in her own right. Defective females were destroyed at birth. There was every combination of coloring and feature, but all were tall and seemingly ageless. None old. None young. Blade learned that each woman, each homid, as well as the neuters, was allotted a certain number of kronos. When the time came the individual was destructed, routinely and without ceremony, and a substitute moved in from the birth plants.
He visited the Cage, where the young Lordsmen were kept and bred in captivity until each generation reached the age of sacrifice. They lived well, the young men of Tharn, waited on hand and foot by neuters and ceboids from
