Blade, as he left the house with Nizra and an escort, thought that he had cast his die and must now abide it, but that he might have chosen a better ally. One of the disgruntled captains, for instance — the one most likely to win out. But there had been no time, nor sufficient knowledge for that, and now he and Nizra were bound together for better or worse. For the time being.

They were barged out to the pavilion with great panoply. The music was, as always, sad and sweet and bitter with death, with now and then a lively passage in memory of youth and life. Blade, himself the target of many curious stares, was aware that men hated Nizra. It was evident in the sullen looks, the mutterings, the barely-concealed defiance. Again Blade felt unease. He was plunging farther and farther into a maze that might have no exit. And, being sponsored by the Wise One, he might very well inherit a whirlwind that he had not sown.

They docked at the pavilion and Nizra, taking second place, bowed Blade out of the barge with great obsequiousness. The play had begun.

The pavilion, a large floating platform anchored to the lake bottom, was covered with a high-ridged tent of bleached cloth. There were many small compartments and one spacious chamber where the old Empress lay like a mummy in an enormous bed. The musicians were invisible behind a cloth screen at one end of the chamber.

As they approached the death chamber, Nizra nudged Blade and indicated a little group of men clustered around the entrance. «The captains,» he whispered. «Like corpse-birds awaiting a meal. Five of them. Observe them well, Blade, without seeming to, for they are my enemies and also yours the moment you are pronounced avatar.»

Blade did not need to be told. There could be no mistaking the enmity of the five men who waited outside the double-draped entrance to the royal chamber. Blade, long skilled in such matters, read the situation at a glance. They were like five pages in a familiar book: hate, envy, greed, pride, arrogance, self-righteousness — and doubt. Doubt! Doubt about Blade himself, as to who and what he really was. In that doubt, Blade knew, lay his temporary respite and hope. Keep them guessing.

Nizra whispered again. «I must make you known to them, and now is as good a time as any. Play your part and do not appear surprised by anything I say. This is a time for boldness.»

Blade was a superb actor when he had to be and he needed to be one now. It was simple enough in essence. He was a superior being from a superior world and so he had only to play himself. He stiffened his back, raised his chin and stared with cold indifference as each captain was introduced in turn.

Nizra, with a mixture of humility and authority, fluttered his thin fingers from man to man: «Bucelus, Crofta, Holferne, Chardu — and Gath.»

Each captain inclined his head as his name was spoken. None but Gath offered his hand. The latter, when his turn came, stepped close to Blade and proffered his hand along with a steely glance from a pair of steady blue eyes. Blade took the hand and found that he had walked into a trap. This Gath was of slim build, though sturdy and wide-shouldered, and had enormous strength in his hands. His intent was apparent at once. His hand closed on that of Blade like a merciless steel vise and began to squeeze. His clear purpose was to make Blade cry out or even to sink to his knees and cry quits. The four other captains watched and Blade knew it had been prearranged. They were already testing the avatar who, so strangely and at such an opportune moment for Nizra, had fulfilled the promise of the Books of Birkbegn.

Blade, his face impassive, did not betray his first pain, though he felt the bones of his right hand being crushed to powder. He smiled at Gath and returned the pressure. Only for a moment did he doubt, then as the seconds passed he knew that he was the stronger. The great muscles of his forearm knotted and coiled as he exerted more and more of his strength. Gath, who had an open and friendly face above a flowing mustache and whose blue eyes lacked the hate and fear of the other captains, began to change expression. At first, surprise was predominant and Blade guessed that Gath had never been beaten at this game before. He squeezed harder and all heard the bones of Gath's hand grind together.

Gath's mouth was open now and beads of sweat started on his high forehead. Blade kept up an unrelenting pressure. Gath went suddenly to his knees with a little cry of pain. «Enough — enough! You are stronger. I, Gath of Jedd, admit it. Give me back my hand.»

Blade released him with a smile. «It was a good contest, Gath. I enjoyed it. You have great strength. When there is time we will try again.»

Gath was silent, ruefully contemplating his crushed hand, but one of the captains muttered, «He has strength, then. That does not prove him to be the avatar.»

Another captain said, «With that I agree. Nizra's visions are most convenient to his cause.»

Nizra, acting as if he had not heard, bustled Blade past them and into the great chamber. It was in semigloom and filled with the music. In a far corner, tiny on the huge bed, lay the unmoving figure of the old Empress. Nizra plucked at Blade's sleeve and whispered.

«Go to her now. I have done all I can. You saw the temper of those five and you know how much is at issue. If I am to serve you, Blade, and you me, we must have the blessing of the old woman. How you get it is your concern. Go.»

Blade walked slowly across the wooden floor of the chamber. The hidden music swirled on and on. Blade came to the side of the bed and stood looking down at the old woman who lay there. The face was a wrinkled skull — she might have been dead for weeks — and the eyes were closed. She was clothed in a single shroud-like garment and covered with a light coverlet so adjusted to the frail body that he could detect the bone structure. This old woman was, in truth, nothing but bones covered with a scant layer of brown parchment. Blade stood staring down at her, his arms crossed on his broad chest, and marveled that life could still flicker in so worn a vessel.

For a long time she did not stir. Her eyes remained closed, though he had a distinct impression that she knew he was there. He waited and, after a time, began to wonder. Perhaps she was dead.

The eyes opened and stared up at him. Clear, dark, old eyes in a wizened monkey face. Blade felt a shock at the intelligence in her eyes as they examined him from head to toe, in no hurry, roving back and forth over his big frame. Weighing and assaying him. At last the shriveled lips moved.

«You are he called Blade? He who came to Nizra in a vision? You are the avatar so long promised to my people by the Books?»

Blade nodded gravely. «I am he.»

There was a long silence. The clear eyes studied him again. At last the desiccated mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, a signal of inner laughter at a final jest.

In her surprisingly audible whisper she said, «Who is present? Do we speak alone?»

Blade glanced back at the entrance. Nizra waited there in the shadows, his hands buried in the sleeves of his robe, peering anxiously toward the bed.

Blade stepped nearer the pillow. «Nizra is in the chamber, but he cannot hear us. What would you say to me, Empress?»

When she spoke again the words came blurred and with what he knew must be a great effort of will.

«You are a liar,» said the old woman. «Nizra had no vision and you are no avatar. I know he is promised in the Books of Birkbegn, but those are all lies and the avatar will never come. But none of this matters. You are here and you are no Jedd. I see in you intelligence and great strength. So perhaps the Books do not lie so greatly after all, but keep their promise in another way. I am a great fool, Blade, as all Jedds are, but in some ways I am not a fool at all. I also have had dreams and private visions, many of them in my long life, and I told no one of them. Now you come and I will trust you. Whoever you are, from wherever you come, I now deliver my people into your hands. There is about you the look of a god, Blade, and yet I know you are no god. But perhaps you will serve. You will undertake this task? It is not an easy one.»