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goddess once more. "Lies! How dare you speak to me so? And why why speak so
now when I was ready, when I was longing so for "
Blade also dropped the mask. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her roughly
toward the quartered body and the slender ivory baton. She fought him, trying
to break away, but when he picked up the baton she snatched at it. Blade held
it high out of her reach and mocked her.
"I think, my Goddess, that you and Ptol are two of a kind. And Ptol outsmarted
you. I think this is the work of his men, for you to see had you ever managed
to arrive this far without me, and I think that
Ptol would have had his little joke and have been waiting for you in a ship
offshore. The killing of Tudd was insurance, no more. Ptol never expected you
to get here. There is no help coming from Patmos, Goddess, none at all, and I
advise you to be content with what you have, namely me, and leave off your
airs and lies. And now tell me true goddess! Do you still long for me?"
For the moment, as least, she was defeated. He sensed it in her and let go of
her wrist. She rubbed it and gave him a sullen look.
"You hurt me, you great oaf. For which you will pay. None of this is your
affair. Why do you poke and pry so? If you are a demon, and I believe this,
you must have many strange powers. Use them, then, to get you back to your own
land and away from me."
Blade grinned and tickled her under the chin. She jerked away and struck at
him with a small hand.
"Do not dare to touch me!"
He laughed. "I like you better this way, Goddess. When you show spunk and
spirit."
Blade hefted the baton in his hand, laughing at her sullen helplessness as she
watched, her fingers curled into little cat claws. He screwed a cap off one
end of the baton. There was a roll of parchment within.
"Now," said Blade, all agrin, "now I think we begin to get somewhere. Who
knows? we may even get at a truth or two."
Juna spat and would not look at him. He began to read aloud from the
parchment:
To Izmia, Pearl of Patmos to inform your Graciousness that my task is near
finished in
Thyrne. I can do no more, must look to my own life and those of my people, and
beg you send us transport to a place that Tudd he who brings this will know
of. I plead you make all speed, for things are very chancy here. Our plan has
succeeded in the main, in that I have encouraged battle between Samosta and
Thyrne so that both may be weakened thereby, especially Hectoris and so gain
for Patmos precious time in which to prepare for the invasion we know will
come. I am suspect by Ptol, who judges rightly that Thyrne will fall and
already seeks to curry favor with
Hectoris. I know that Ptol is traitor to Thyrne, but cannot prove it and there
is no time. I will explain all else when I see you. Now, as I have done the
task assigned, great Pearl of Patmos, do I
ask you to send succor to me at once. Your obedient and loving Vilja.
"Oh, ho," said Blade, waving the parchment at her. "Ptol had some of it right
after all. You did betray
Thyrne."
She set her jaw; her eyes flashed. "Not so. I am no Thyrnian, so could not
betray her. I never served her. I am of Patmos and serve only her and my
Queen, Izmia, Pearl of Patmos."
Blade saw it then. As clearly as though he were reading a blueprint.
Provocateur
! An agent of
Patmos paid to instigate war between Thyrne and Samosta. He tapped the
parchment scroll against his teeth and surveyed her with new understanding and
admiration as one professional to another. This
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was, after all, his own line of work.
"A spy," he gibed, hoping that in anger she would give him more information.
"A spy posing as a goddess! Juna conspiring to bring Thyrne and Samosta to
battle so that Patmos will emerge the winner and be secure on her island.
Clever girl. Cunning Izmia, whoever she is."
Blade was familiar with the technique, an old standby back in Home
Dimension. England had practiced it for centuries.
Juna, or Vilja, did not answer him for a moment. She studied his face
instantly and Blade knew what she sought there could she trust him and
so unmask herself completely? Both understood the situation she was
completely in his power and at his mercy. When she took a step toward him he
knew she had opted for candor and he felt relief. His own task was just
beginning and he welcomed any easing of it. He would rather have her as friend
than enemy. And there was the other thing he intended to have her body and
rape was not natural to him.
She extended her hand. Blade took it. "Let us go into the temple," she said.
"I will answer your questions with truth."
She pointed to the remains of the unfortunate Tudd. "I need your help if I am
to live and escape Ptol.
Izmia has not had my message and will send no ships. But you, Blade, also need
my help. You are a stranger and, I still think, a demon and vastly ignorant of
matters. I will guide you."
He nodded in agreement. And reminded himself that everything she told him he
must accept with grain of salt. With that in mind, it could be a fair enough
exchange.
They skirted the poor sundered body and climbed the plinth to the temple
floor. Blade saw now that the structure was not put together in any ordinary
manner, but had been carved out of living rock.
Volcanic glass not black, as is obsidian, but burnished to a dull milky color.
Blade had seen the great ruins of his own world; he had never seen workmanship
like this. It must have taken centuries to complete. There was not a
peg, a nail, nor a joint, and time had smoothed and obliterated the tool
marks.
Two altars stood directly beneath a pyramidal vent in the ceiling. Mist
condensed and dripped to fall on an antique statue of Juna carven from the
same milky glass stone as the temple. They stood, hand in hand, contemplating
it. Her nose was missing, as was one ear and a hand which had been shorn by
time or vandals. Yet the resemblance was there, the likeness to the flesh and
blood beside him now, and
Blade felt a chill along his spine. He countered it by concentrating on the
lesser altar nearby. It was smooth, the size of a bed, and he marked it for
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