He had won. He intended to make an impression, stage an act, to assume a dominance he did not yet have. It was bluff but it might work. Bluff had worked before now and would again. When he, Richard Blade, climbed out of the pit, waving a victorious bloody sword, he meant to create an illusion, to take to himself the leadership and authority that had not, in fact, been promised or offered. It was all a gamble.
Blade slashed the belt with the sword and managed to tie it around his leg. By this time the sword reeked with blood - no matter that it was his own - and it would make a good prop. He went slowly up the dark winding stair and rapped heartily with his sword hilt at the trap door. He took a deep breath and roared so that all Sarma might hear him.
'Open! I command you to open!'
Sounds. Grunts, straining, curses and the cracking of whips on slave flesh. Slowly the block of stone was drawn back. Light blinded Blade for a moment. He stared into it and did not shield his eyes. He leaped up the remaining stairs and out into the arena, ignoring his wound. It did not pain him much and he carefully avoided limping.
There was a ring of curious faces. Slaves crowded in the rear and stared at Blade with awe and envy. Blade strode to where Equebus and Kreed stood surrounded by their guards. A sub-leader stepped to block the way and Blade brandished him aside with the bloody sword.
The High Priest cradled his long chin in skinny fingers and nodded at Blade. 'You have won against Tarsu, then? I did not think it possible.' He frowned. 'It would not have been possible without the favor of Bek-Tor. That favor, also, I did not think possible. You are not Sarmaian and Bek-Tor is not your god. And yet - '
Captain Equebus whispered something and Kreed, still frowning, said no more. That the priest was shaken was evident.
Not so the Captain. He stroked his pomaded beard and regarded Blade coolly and with a new disgust.
'So you have been lucky once more, Blade? Or was Tarsu only a weakling after all? I suppose we shall never know.'
Blade reached with the sword before anyone could halt him or guess his intent. Calmly, without haste, he wiped the stained blade on the Captain's ceremonial cloak.
'You will know, Equebus! One day you will know. That I promise you. Now do as you have been ordered, High Priest. Your Queen is waiting for me. Take me to her.'
The Captain's scowl was black, yet he made a slight bow and stepped aside. Kreed glanced in puzzlement from Equebus to Blade. For the moment he appeared confused. The Captain nodded to him.
'Do as Blade commands, High Priest' The narrow eyes darkened at Blade in rage.
'For it appears that he does command now! For the time being. Take him to the Queen.'
He turned his back on Blade and spat a command at the grotesque Chephron. 'Get you down and remove that carrion. See that it is burnt in Tor's belly.'
Chapter Fourteen
Richard Blade, newly bathed and clothed, bejeweled and perfumed to within an inch of his life, his wound treated, pushed open a heavy stone door and stalked into Queen Pphira's chamber. It overlooked the harbor, whence came a sea smell, and was lit by two tall candles near her bed.
Pphira lay naked on the bed.
When she saw that it was Blade she smiled and stretched her arms over her head, as sinuous as a cat, pulling her small breasts up high and taut. She thrust her tongue through white teeth and licked her lips. She began to caress her slim pale body with her fingers.
'Ah, Blade! You have slain Tarsu.'
Blade bowed. 'I am here, my Queen. That would seem answer enough.'
She left off caressing herself long enough to pat the bed beside her. 'Come, Blade. Sit here and tell me everything. How did you kill Tarsu in the dark? He was strong and very cunning. He had killed many men in that dungeon.'
Blade sat beside her. He was much aroused, his blood high and singing in his veins. Not all his battle frenzy had worn off - and no matter what her age, no matter the tales whispered of her, Pphira was beautiful. He wanted her. Now.
He also wanted a great many other things. Through Pphira he might gain them.
He took one small breast in his hand and squeezed it gently. A brown nipple stiffened. Blade leaned to kiss, taking it in his mouth and sucking and barely nipping with his teeth. She stiffened for a moment, writhed, and then to his surprise pushed him away.
'You are too bold, too soon.' But her voice was soft. She made him keep his distance while she stroked herself between the thighs and drew her fingers lightly over the breast he had kissed. Blade sighed and restrained himself. Maybe Pphira was old, though she did not look it. She must prepare herself by autoeroticism.
And something else. She made him recount every detail of the fight with Tarsu. She made him repeat the more bloodthirsty parts. Her mouth opened slowly in a scarlet O as he told of smashing the man's head again and again on the stone. Something began to go sour in Blade and he lost much of his anticipation. She would have listened with the same avidity had it been Tarsu relating how he had slain Blade!
This was no time, Blade thought fiercely, to lose his edge. He had won the battle in the dungeon. He still had to win the battle of the bed. Must win it, else he had gained nothing. He must force the matter before it was too late. An impotent Blade, sick with disgust and made limp thereby, was no better than a dead Blade.
To stop her questions he swept her into his arms. He clamped his lips over hers and, roughly enough, invaded her body with two of his big fingers. She struggled and tried to cry out. He smothered the cry with his tongue, all the time manipulating her. Three fingers now deep in her vagina. He took a small breast completely into his mouth. She writhed and struck at him feebly.
'Stop, Blade! I command it. I am a Queen - and this - this is not the way of Sarma. Women rule - women do the things - oh - oh - I forbid you, Blade - OH - '
