Chapter 6

The computer did not fail. Blade lived and prospered and, when the thirty days had elapsed, he was his own brute and masculine self again, with the civilized trappings of Home Dimension fallen away as they always did when he was in X Dimension. His thews were mighty again, his legs like pillars of oak and his chest deep and his shoulders massive. He had his hair clipped to a decent length but let his beard grow long and black and curly. Now that his body again matched his head in proportion he was as handsome as ever, but he was not the Blade of HD. Beneath that flowing dark mane was a brain both subtle and shrewd, but with an animal cunning the normal Blade did not possess. By the time he had attained his growth again he was more a creature of Zir than of Home Dimension. He had adapted.

The Izmir kept his word. He had said that he could muster a dozen loyal guards and he did. They were led by a captain named Ogier, a stalwart, barrel-shaped man who clanked about in armor and whose only loyalty was to the old Izmir and, later, to Blade. It was this Ogier who, when the situation was explained to him, schemed how the child Blade could be kept alive.

«'Tis simple enough,» Ogier said, «given loyal men such as I have. There are twelve of us. Six of us will remain always awake and on guard. We will keep the boy here, Izmir, in your own chambers and six of us will be with him come night or come day. Six will guard and six will sleep, and so it will be until the need is past.» And he glanced down at Blade, who by this time had the size and heft of a ten-year-old.

«He has grown since yesterday, Izmir. It is indeed a miracle and all Zir whispers of it. The people are impatient to see for themselves.»

Blade, dressed in baggy trousers and a jeweled vest, was practicing with his little sword. He liked Ogier and trusted him and had plans for him, but he did not speak now. He listened. Always he listened and learned.

«The people will have to wait,» the Izmir said, «until he has his years and is announced as my heir. And that cannot be done until he has proven himself in battle against the Hitts. In good time, Ogier, all in good time. But what of Casta and the Princess Hirga? I have not seen them since the audience in the palace. It is not like the priest to be so quiet.»

Captain Ogier laughed harshly. «Casta is sulking, Izmir. He has been sulking ever since he denounced the boy and stalked from the palace. Yes, he sulks and I think he plots, but for the moment he is quiet. The Princess Hirga is curious and employs her spies. This I overlook, for what can they tell her but the truth? I think that she is as awed as the people and that her faith in Casta is somewhat shaken. And something else, I near forgot-a boy child, dressed in rich and priestly vestments, has been found on a dungheap with his throat cut. My own spies say that the boy had been seen with Casta from time to time.»

Blade spoke then. «The priest had plans for that boy. Then I came and the plans were useless, so the boy has been silenced. I do not think, Izmir, that this Casta and I are going to get along when finally we meet.»

But the High Priest and the Princess Hirga made no move. When Blade reached his full growth, he was given a palace and a harem of his own, at the far end of the park from the Izmir's own palace, and Ogier and his twelve faithful men were assigned to Blade as permanent bodyguard. The Izmir accompanied Blade on the day he moved into his palace. They moved through the streets of the palace-city, Blade on a white horse with golden trappings and the old man carried by slaves in an ornate chair. The crowd that gathered to watch was a curious one, silent and almost sullen, awe-stricken and fearful, obviously torn between disbelief and faith.

When they were in Blade's palace the old man said, «That crowd was packed with Casta's spies. He will be told that the miracle has come to pass, but he will not believe. He will suspect some trick because he is a trickster himself. It will be interesting to see what he does. But we will talk of the priest at another time; come now, Blade, and see your palace and the harem I promised you. Afterward we will talk of your campaign against the Hitts.»

Guarded by Ogier and six of his men, Blade and the Izmir toured the palace-and grounds. It was all magnificent enough-the buildings of smooth white marble and with furnishings of gold and ivory-and Blade found no cause for complaint. The harem was guarded by ball-less men and the women that Blade saw were young and pretty. He saw few of them on this first trip, though the harem reeked of woman-smell and he heard giggles and was conscious of being watched from behind ivory screens that shielded the various rooms. Strange, but all this available female flesh aroused no desire in him, no lust. This puzzled him at first, even alarmed him, but he put it down to tension and the newness of things.

Blade had a throne room of his own and the Izmir insisted that he sit in the ivory chair on its dais and play the part of heir and prince. Ogier was permitted to remain while the others were sent to guard the entrances.

«A throne befits you,» said the old man. «You look natural there, as if born to it. Not so, Ogier?»

The Captain nodded gravely. «I agree, Izmir. No one seeing Blade now could doubt that this was meant to be exactly so. Casta's prophecy has come true.»

The Izmir cackled. «In spite of Casta, eh? His lies have come true. I have a son and heir, full grown in a month and fit to rule a dozen Zirs and- subdue the Hitts. Aha, my friends, this is a sweet moment that I had not thought to see. If only I did not have to die soon, if only I could linger to enjoy it. . which brings to mind something of which I would speak, Blade. You will leave us, Ogier.»

When the Captain had gone the Izmir said, «This has all been a miracle, Blade, whether you call it so or not, and you have kept your word. It has occurred to me that if you can do such things you may be able to do others-in short, can you make me young again?»

Blade leaned back on the ivory throne and crossed his legs. He wore a kilt and light breast armor, an ornate dress helmet and carried a gold-hilted rapier which he had himself chosen from the armory. He stroked his curling beard and stared down at the old man. The question had not taken him by surprise, for he had expected something of the sort.

For a moment he pondered and then said, «To be merciful, Izmir, I must be cruel. No. I cannot restore your youth. My miracles do not extend so far.»

The old man had drawn up a stool and perched on it, wrapped in his brocaded robes, looking like an ancient tortoise. He wiped his eyes, which exuded constantly, and rubbed his beaked nose, nodding slowly.

«So. It may be as well in the long run, but I had hoped. But if not my youth, can you restore my health? For time enough for me to see you accomplish all the things I could not? My infirmities are many, as you know.»

Blade knew all too well. In the past month he had had ample time to study the Izmir. He was no doctor, but back in Home Dimension he had read widely in the field of medicine.

He shook his head. «No, Izmir. I cannot prolong your life a moment beyond its natural span. You have all the diseases of age and something else-what in my world is called cancer. It will kill you when the time comes.»

The old man had a habit of stroking his great nose with a finer. He did so now, staring at Blade. Then he laughed.

«You give cold comfort, Blade. But perhaps even that is for the best-if I were young again I would likely be at your throat. And certainly I would not share my harem with you. So be it. As a young man and an old, dying man, we can get along. And I have a strong will-I shall use it to stay alive until I have seen certain things come to pass. Now, about the conquest of the Hitts. .»