a narrow long waterproof box with glass set into each end. The glass was flawed but it worked. Water sealed in between the two bits of glass did the magnifying. Blade shook his head in disbelief as he read the flag. These Sarmaians. They could make a telescope and not a wheel!
The flag was red with white markings. Games to begin in half an hour. Pphira and Otto were an the way to the harbor now as part of a long procession after having witnessed the sacrifices to Bek-Tor on the plain. As Blade put down the spy glass a whiff of roasted flesh came to him on a breeze. Bek-Tor, that He-She divinity, had feasted well this day. All morning the smoke and flame had been thick over the plain, and unceasing the regular chunk- whanggg as catapults flung trussed and screaming slaves into the fiery maw with deadly accuracy. Blade, accompanying the Queen, had soon pleaded business and begged off, but he had noted the accuracy of the catapults. Now, as he paced his deck, he studied the catapults on the ships of Captain Equebus. His adversary for that day. For Otto the Black had decreed everything, and Otto did not intend to lose the games given in his honor. It was, Blade conceded now as he studied the enemy, a well rigged game. Otto, Equebus and Kreed, had taken every precaution. Blade could not possibly win. His smile was grim. They thought.
As he studied the enemy galleys with his glass he felt a cold anger rising in him. An unusual thing in a man so professional as Blade - death and suffering in MI6 had always been rather impersonal, in the way of business, and one did not allow one's emotions to interfere. But then Blade in X Dimension was not the same Blade. More changed than his brain molecules.
The night before, at Queen Pphira's side, Blade had gone to the stadium to see the opening of the games for Otto. Though he bore it well enough - folly to do, or show, otherwise - he had been sickened to his guts. It had been a bloodbath such as he had never seen. In the flaring light of thousands of torches he watched the battlemen stalk and kill each other in a forest transplanted and set into the sand of the arena. Two only had survived and had been spared by Otto, who had an eye for their fine bottoms. So Pphira had whispered in an aside.
Blade only nodded. There was no news in the fact that Otto was a fanatical pederast and that he liked unwilling victims above all. Rumor had it that Otto employed twelve strong men, all ex-favorites, to hold his screaming love objects securely while he attacked.
Blade turned the glass on the piles of cannonball-sized stones piled beside the catapults on Otto's ships. They were really the Queen's ships, as Otto would not risk his own, but Equebus would command them in Otto's name. It would be victory - a symbol of his hold on Sarma.
Blade's four small galleys had no catapults. Nor any of the smaller catapultas that fired arrows. Neither had his command ship, the tireme on which he now stood. All of Otto's ships were equipped with both weapons. The rigging of his ships was crowded with archers. Blade watched closely as officers barked orders and the huge catapults and lesser catapultas were levered back. They were powered by twisted rope and hair. Otto had nine ships, Blade five, including his own trireme.
A great cheer went up as the procession debouched along the quayside and headed for the out-thrust pier where thrones had been set up for Otto and Pphira. Blade studied the yelling crowd and smiled - battlemen, not used in last night's carnage, were whipping all that did not cheer. One way of getting an audience.
It was nearly time.
Pelops came to stand on the deck near Blade. Ixion took his place atop a short companion leading down to the first rowing deck. Blade had fashioned a speaking trumpet of leather and instructed Ixion in its use. Now the mate put the trumpet to his lips, glanced at Blade, and waited.
Blade watched Pelops narrowly. The little man was trembling and biting his fingers convulsively. Blade patted the small shoulder and grinned hugely. 'Why are you afraid, Pelops? I have explained how we are going to win.'
Pelops wiped sweat from his brow. 'I cannot help it, sire. You know I am a coward. I am sick with fear. And even if we win I may still die.'
Blade stared at him, his grin vanished. 'So you will die. A free man. Think on that, little school teacher. And get yourself a weapon. I will have no unarmed man on my deck.'
Pelops extended his hands in a helpless gesture. 'I know nothing of weapons. You know that also, sire.'
Blade gave a command and Ixion tossed him a short sword. Blade gave it to Pelops who stared at it as a child at a new toy.
'Learn,' commanded Blade. 'You will never have a better chance.' Then: 'You got my word to the Queen, Pelops? Of the black flag?'
'I did, sire. I sent a servant who brought me back word that the Queen Pphira understood.'
Blade said, 'Good. I have done all I could. If we win I will be quits with Pphira. If we lose there will be no harm done and she no worse off.'
Pelops quavered, 'If we lose, sir? But you said - '
Blade clapped him hard on the shoulder, so hard that the little man reeled and nearly fell. 'So I did, my tiny friend, and so I mean it Now look to yourself, for I will be busy. It is beginning.'
Otto and Pphira were on their respective thrones. Otto the Black, a giant of a man - Blade estimated 400 pounds of richly clad flab - raised a beringed hand to straighten one of the small tapers that flamed in his luxuriant black beard. Blade studied him through the glass. If his plans worked out this would be the last time that Otto would even halfway resemble a man.
The Queen had one hand on Otto's fat knee. She leaned and whispered and Blade could almost see the hate and revulsion on her timeless face. He saw it because he knew it was there. Otto did not see it.
Otto was not much interested in the lady. He toyed with the candles in his beard - Blade confessed wonderment that the fat man did not go up like a Christmas tree - and eyed the behind of one of Pphira's house slaves. He smiled and licked his liver lips and nodded to something that the Queen said. The spying Blade remembered that Otto had given special orders - Blade to be taken alive and unhurt, to be brought to his quarters in the Palace immediately. Where the twelve, undoubtedly, would be waiting to subdue him and ready him for the grand entrance of Otto.
Otto raised a fat hand and dropped a gayly colored scarf.
Immediately the catapults on Otto's ships, Captain Equebus in command, began to thunk and twang. The range was too great. Towers of water built as the huge projectiles fell short. The enemy's nine ships, formed in a bow shaped line, began to move toward Blade's little fleet.
