by Джеффри Лорд
Blade nodded politely, but he could not take much interest in even the best barrels. Not until Kukon was assured of a safe reception.
The road now twisted its way back and forth up into the hills. Several times everyone had to dismount and lead their horses in single file.
Here and there the hills were crowned by low, squat stone forts, hard to see unless you were looking for them. At least two of them overlooked every pass and valley in the hills, and deceptively narrow paths formed a network linking them all together. Blade realized that he and Dzhai weren’t just riding into a range of hills. They were riding into a well laid out and well defended stronghold. The beauty of the day and of the island scenery couldn’t conceal this fact.
A few minutes later the party turned left and began rapidly descending a steep slope. They went down it at a clumsy trot, the horses barely staying on their feet and loose stones clattering down along with them. They swept through a pass that was hardly more than a slit in a solid rock wall, with another squat fort overlooking it. Then they rode into the valley beyond.
Blade could not keep from staring about him as they made their way into the valley. He’d guessed that they were approaching Princess Tarassa’s private citadel and had expected to see a structure as grim and forbidding as the House of Blood, bristling with guns and towering above a lifeless wasteland of gravel and bare stone.
Instead he saw a low, rambling building of white marble with a roof of gilded tile. In its windows was stained glass richly colored with powdered coral or screens of bronze or worked driftwood. The building was set around several marble pools, where fish of a dozen different colors swam lazily. White gravel paths ran up to it between rows of tall, straight pines. Under the trees lurked lowering shrubs, great patches of roses flaming red and yellow, and beautifully kept lawns dotted with marble benches and fountains.
Blade forced himself to stop staring, but he could not force himself to stop wondering. This was the home of Princess Tarassa of Parine. This was a house so gorgeously sensual that it was almost erotic.
What sort of woman lived in it?
The princess had been warned of her approaching visitors. A dozen servants and two armed soldiers in silk tunics and silvered helmets waited for the party as it rode up to the house. Blade suspected that if the princess hadn’t been warned, there would have been nobody in sight, but musketeers, archers, and spearmen would have been lurking behind every window and in every tree. The forts up in the hills were a formidable barrier in themselves, but anyone wise enough to maintain those forts would also be wise enough to take precautions against soldiers slipping by them.
Blade was hoping for a chance to bathe and put on clean clothes. This lush little palace was making him very much aware of the amount of dirt and salt encrusted on his clothes and body.
Instead, the two soldiers stepped up to Blade and Dzhai and helped them dismount. Then they barked orders to the servants, who led the rest of the party aside. Finally they bowed respectfully to Blade and Dzhai.
«Honorable Prince Blade, Honorable Captain Dzhai. It is the Princess Tarassa’s wish to see you at once. It is our wish that you come with us into her presence.» Blade put a hand on his sword, ready to draw it and present it to the man hilt-first. The man shook his head. «No, it is not needful for you to disarm. What you bear will aid Her Grace in passing her judgment upon you, and no harm will come to her in any case.»
The last statement was made as boldly as if the man had said that water runs downhill or the sun rises in the east. Tarassa’s personal guards seemed to be sublimely confident that they had the measure of any possible opponent. Blade suspected they might be right. He nodded, let his hands fall by his sides, and followed the soldier off toward the palace.
The inside of the palace matched the outside. Blade stepped across the threshold, and his scarred and salt-stained boots sank inches deep in a thick rug. The floor around the rug was inlaid wood in half a dozen different colors. The walls showed swirling mosaic designs of fish and waves where they weren’t covered with flowing silk hangings. Somewhere in the palace water trickled gently over stones. Somewhere else someone played skillfully on a flute. In a third place someone was burning incense that gently floated out on the currents of air through the whole palace. Along with the incense, Blade smelled fresh flowers and the lemony tang of waxed wood.
Princess Tarassa might be ruler of a land that stayed free only behind a grim face of forts and garrisons and cannon muzzles, yet here in this little palace she had created for herself a refuge from which all grimness was banished, a refuge where she and those she admitted could forget about the real world. This refuge told Blade a good deal about Tarassa that he hadn’t guessed before and made him want to learn more.
The warm, heavily scented air made it hard to concentrate. Blade found his mind wandering to consider what might lie in the other rooms of the palace, beyond the doors he noticed opening off on three sides of this chamber.
His mind wandered so far that he did not notice the plain, whitewashed wooden chair in an alcove on one side of the chamber. Nor did he see a tall, graceful figure slip in through one of the doors and sit down in the chair until Dzhai coughed gently and elbowed him in the ribs.
Then Blade did not need the soldier’s signal to go down on one knee. Princess Tarassa compelled that respect by nature; she would have compelled it at any time and in any place.
The princess rose from her chair and came toward Blade and Dzhai. She stood more than six feet tall, and her figure was that of a Home Dimension high-fashion model-sparely fleshed but beautifully molded. Her olive skin and great black eyes needed no makeup, nor did her dark hair need a hairdresser. It seemed to float about her head like the foam on the top of a wave.
She wore a long, flowing robe of dark blue silk, belted in with sealskin. On her head was a golden circlet, at her throat a necklace of silver and coral beads, and on her long-toed feet she wore leather sandals bleached such a dazzling white that they seemed to glow. She carried no scepter or other sign of office, and she carried no weapons either.
She hardly needed them. Blade sensed watchers behind the screens that closed off two of the three doors, as well as above the ceiling. The princess might not flaunt her guards to terrorize her visitors as Kul-Nam did, but she kept them just as ready. Let anyone in this chamber make a single suspicious move and his blood would be soaking into the rug before he could take two more breaths.
The princess stopped about ten feet from Blade, looked him up and down, did the same for Dzhai, then laughed. It was not a mocking or cruel laugh. It was rich with life and also with satisfaction.
«Yes, gentlemen, my guards watch and wait,» the princess said. «But they will not move without my bidding. We of Parine do not treat strangers as enemies until they have done us some wrong. You have done us none, as yet. In fact, you passed the test my officers set you and your crew.»
Dzhai couldn’t keep from gaping, then bursting out, «A test!»
The princess nodded. «Yes. It was their plan to find out how well you, the leaders, could control both your tempers and your men. They discovered that you are both wise and strong. The wise and the strong are not always our friends, but they are seldom our enemies.»
Blade smiled thinly. «If we are going to exchange praise, may I then praise your officers for their acting skill-and for their courage? They were not altogether safe, playing the game they did with my men. The men of Kukon have endured much and their patience has worn as ragged as their clothes.»
«So one might gather,» said the princess. «You also deserve praise for the game you and Luun played on my officers. They could not be sure whether you were foolish enough to think you could escape, mad enough to fight against certain death, or possessed of some secret weapon that would get you safely out of the harbor. They are still not sure.»
«And you, Your Grace?» said Blade politely. «You seem to know more than they.»
Tarassa nodded. «There are those who ser
ve me who know ships well. They have watched Kukon and sent me word. You have no secret weapon. Furthermore, your ship is so badly battered and short of stores that she could not reach another port even if by some chance she survived a battle with the guns of Parine.»
Dzhai started to explode again, but Blade clamped a hand on his shoulder. Dzhai’s mouth hung open for a moment; then he snapped it shut and sputtered down into silence.
Blade nodded. «I had not thought there were many in Parine who knew ships well.»
«You have heard the truth. Yet we have enough ships so that we also have some men who know them. Have they not spoken truly about your galley?»
Blade made his face and voice deliberately expressionless. «What your people have said agrees with what I have heard from those of my men whose business it is to tell me such things.»
«Then you have heard the truth, and my people have seen it,» said the princess briskly. «Your people must be skilled; otherwise your ship would not have come through the great battle off Nongai and the storm you faced on your way to Parine. If they are skilled, they told you the truth about your ship. Therefore-«She spread her slim hands in an eloquent gesture, as if to ask whether she needed to continue.
Relief and admiration for Princess Tarassa’s skill and wit overcame Blade. He threw back his head and let out a great, whooping roar of laughter that echoed around the chamber. The soldier looked slightly scandalized. Dzhai seemed to be wondering if Blade had gone mad. Princess Tarassa smiled, then joined in the laughter.
Blade caught his breath. «Your Grace, you are served by people worthy of you, and they have a ruler worthy of them. I am glad to be in Parine, and I do not believe that we of Kukon shall be treated as enemies.»
«You shall not,» said the princess. «Now that we have settled that point, I shall ask you to tell me of yourself and your ship. Be brief.
«When you have finished, I shall send Captain Dzhai back to the ship. I shall also send orders that all supplies and repairs your ship may need are to be provided at my expense.»
«You are generous,» said Blade. «But what about the crew?»
«Yes, they have been long at sea, have they not? I shall also send a sum of money for each man and permit them to come ashore. They may do all that which is lawful. Those who violate the laws of Parine will be dealt with, of course, but those who do not have nothing to fear.»
The princess turned away and strode to her chair, then sat down and beckoned Blade toward her. «Now, Prince Blade, consider that. I have been praised and thanked enough for the moment. Tell me your tale, and remember that I asked you to be brief.»
Blade managed to compress the tale of his own adventures and those of Kukon into five minutes without leaving out any essential details. The princess listened in silence, but a rapidly growing interest and excitement was written all over her face.
When Blade finished, the princess shot a quick glance at Dzhai.
«Is all this true?»
Dzhai said quietly, «All of this that I have seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears happened as Prince Blade has told it.»
Tarassa laughed. «You have or are quickly learning some of your captain’s gifts. Very well. You may go and take charge of the work upon your ship.»
Dzhai bowed awkwardly, turned with a final look at Blade, then allowed the soldier to lead him out of the chamber.
The princess rose. «You shall remain here. In due course my servants will come to you. Follow them, and make use of them as you see fit. From this hour until I say otherwise, my house is yours.» She turned and seemed to glide out of the chamber, her robe swirling about her ankles.
Chapter 18
Blade was slightly uncomfortable at being so suddenly left alone in the chamber. Those unseen but vigilant guards were still in place. If Princess Tarassa were still plotting some treachery, he could be killed as easily as swatting a fly.
On the other hand, if he tried to leave the chamber, he probably would be killed by the guards before he took five steps. It was a good thing the princess had decided that he and Kukon were friendly or at least harmless. If she’d decided otherwise, he and Dzhai would already be dead and the rest of the men would have died as soon as orders reached the harbor. Their deaths would be quick-Princess Tarassa did not seem to have Kul-Nam’s love of torture and pain. But they would be sure.
Blade barely had time to complete this thought before the screens across one door were pushed aside. Five women filed out into the chamber. The one in the lead was a gray-haired matron who looked well past fifty. The others were barely more than girls.
The matron coughed to get his attention. «Prince Blade, it is desired that you come with us.»
«I hear.» He walked across the chamber toward the women. They formed a circle around him and led him through the door and down a long, winding corridor. The corridor walls were covered in plain white plaster, smoothed to perfection, and the floor was polished stone.
The matron wore baggy black trousers and a knee-length green tunic and carried a long, leaf-shaped knife in her belt. The four girls were unarmed and wore fine cotton robes, nearly transparent. The glimpses of graceful young bodies under the robes reminded Blade of how long he had been without the sight, let alone the touch, of a woman.
He refused to feel at all sorry for himself. It had been even longer for most of the men aboard Kukon. He hoped they would not run completely wild when they went to town with Princess Tarassa’s silver in their pockets.
The corridor ended in a bath chamber, even more richly decorated than the audience chamber. Everywhere was white and pale green and black marble, gilded bronze, enameled copper, tile in a score of colors, censers and intricate lamps burning perfumed oil. An enormous couch half buried in silken cushions stood at one end of the great sunken bath. At the other end rose a carved wooden stand sagging under the weight of gold and silver flasks.
Now the girls fluttered around Blade like four butterflies. They undid his weapons belt and handed it to the matron, who hung it over the wooden stand. Piece by piece, they stripped him until he stood naked on the edge of the bath.
The matron pulled a weighted cord at one end of the wooden stand, a long, bronze pipe swung down out of the ceiling, and steaming hot water gushed out of the pipe into the bath. in a few minutes the tub was filled.
The first few minutes in the tub were sheer delight for Blade. He could not have found more pleasure in taking any or even all four of the girls to the couch. He could feel the dirt and sweat and salt floating off his skin and the strain and aches dissolving out of his bones. He felt that he could gladly stay in the steaming tub for a week.
After a while he began to hope that the girls would peel off their gowns and join him in the tub. The chamber was now full of steam, and the dampness made their gowns cling enticingly. None of them did so, however. Instead, they scuttled around the edge of the tub, putting sponges, brushes, soap, and powdered coral within Blade’s reach. Apparently there were some uses he was not supposed to make of them. Well, he was a guest, his hostess had made the rules-and besides, there was the matron standing by with her knife to enforce them.
Blade soaped himself thoroughly, brushed every inch of his skin, then rinsed. He did this three times before he felt clean enough to climb out of the tub. Then he lay down on the couch and waited for whatever was to happen next.
Blade’s muscles were warmly relaxed, but his mind was still cool and alert. Baths were good places for murders that could be made to look like accidents. And if they didn’t care about making death look accidental, there was the matron’s knife and the scrapers and razors the girls were now picking up.
The girls went over every inch of Blade’s body with the scrapers, with the powdered coral, with a cool, lightly scented oil, and with their strong, skilled fingers. Their touch was warm and firm, but so entirely impersonal that they might have been kneading bread dough.
Then the women left him, vanishing between one moment and the next, al
most as silently as spirits. Bare feet pattered away across the stone, and a distant door slammed shut. There was a moment’s silence, and another door opened, more softly and much closer. The sound of bare feet came again, this time moving fast and straight toward the couch.
Blade turned over, raised himself on one elbow, and smiled at Princess Tarassa as she emerged from the steam.
Surprise at finding him awaiting her so calmly flickered briefly across her face. Her voice showed none of it.
«Greetings, Prince Blade.»
«Greetings, Your Grace.»
«Have my servants pleased you?»
«They have pleased me in all the matters in which they were expected to please me. Your hospitality will live long in my memory.»
«That is as it should be, Blade. There is honor in hospitality. There is also pleasure.» She reached down and clasped Blade’s right hand. Slowly she bent her head to kiss his palm, then ran her lips slowly up his arm. As she did so, her eyes flickered up and down his body. Blade could sense her glances as something almost tangible, like tiny feathers brushed across his skin. The arousal he’d kept down so thoroughly for so long began to flow through him. He could almost feel it beginning to steam gently, like the hot water in the great bath.
The princess’ lips now crept up across Blade’s shoulder to his throat. He could feel the healthy woman’s warmth that seemed to flow out of her and around him. She wore no perfume, yet there was a sweetness in that warmth, a sweetness that both calmed Blade and excited him still more.
She still wore the blue silk robe, but her jewelry was gone and her feet were bare. Like the girls’ gowns, the silk was now damp enough to cling to her body. It was not a body to arouse sudden, urgent, immediate passion. Its curves were too elegant for that. Yet there was an enormous grace in the princess as she bent over Blade, a grace that made him increasingly eager to strip aside the robe and see what lay beneath it.
