«Yes. The priests' quarters are there, in the lower half of the structure, and it is there that Casta had been staying this past month while you-«
She broke off and stared at him again. «Is it really true, Blade? There are those who swear to it and yet I cannot believe-«
«That I grew from babe to man in a month? It is true, Hirga. Take that to your priest. Convince him. And tell him that I will be there tomorrow when the sun is high. Goodnight, Hirga.»
Her lovely face tightened. «You do not call me Princess-«
«I call you Hirga. You are not my Princess. Go now»
She glared, then softened and smiled. «You had best bid your man let me pass. I cannot expect him to piss at my convenience every time.»
Blade smiled and agreed. And determined to tighten his security. He summoned the surprised guard from beneath his window and, whilst the man came around by a postern, the Princess Hirga slipped out and was gone.
When the guard reported Blade said, «There is a secret way into these grounds. I have no clues to it and cannot help you, but I know it is there. You will take a squad and begin searching for it at once. I want no word from you until it is found. Understood?»
The guard saluted and left. Blade went to bed and for half an hour tested the crystal. No communication. At last he slept.
Ogier sulked as they rode from the palace-city south to the great Plain of the Pyramids. As they came to the first of the monuments Blade saw that the plain stretched for miles in every direction and he counted a score of pyramids at first glance. Others loomed like stone triangles on the far horizon. Some miles ahead was the huge unfinished block of the Izmir's monument.
«I do not like this,» said Ogier, «and the Izmir will not like it. Casta cannot be trusted. He is a priest, for one thing, and for another he remains out here, alone and aloof, and brews wickedness and black magic. There will be trouble.»
Blade glanced back at his escort. Ten mounted and heavily armed men. Blade was himself wearing battle armor and carried broadsword and mace, with a dagger thrust into his belt as well. He laughed at Ogier.
«If we cannot handle a gaggle of priests then we had best give up soldiering and become priests ourselves. Cheer up, Ogier. I will handle this. And remember that I am my own man now, even though son and heir to the Izmir, and I do as I will. If you do not like my service you are free to go and no prejudice from me.»
«You still do not understand,» grumbled Ogier. «That is because you are a god, or close to a god, and you do not fear the things that ordinary men fear. But I tell you that Casta and his priests are to be feared. They do dark and evil things out here. It is said that they make monsters, beasts so fearful that a man's sight is blighted if he looks upon them»
«And what do they do with these monsters?»
«They use them to guard the priestly treasures. They roam the mazes and slay and devour any who come to steal. The priests of Zir, and especially Casta, are rich beyond all dreaming, Blade. I have heard all this and I believe it.»
Blade laughed. «So will I believe it-when I see it. When I have laid eyes on one of the monsters.»
Ogier grunted but did not speak. They rode a little time in silence. The massive block of marble that was to be the Izmir's resting place and monument grew larger on the horizon. Blade called a halt and during the rest found a stick and notched it. By using the sun and shadow and simple triangulation he, made an educated guess-the Izmir's monolith already thrust into the sky some 300 feet and would have covered four city blocks in Home Dimension. It was a magnificent piece of engineering. Now it was shrouded in a pall of dust and topped by cranes and derricks and other engines. Enormous ramps led to the structure on all four sides. Thousands of slaves toiled and sweated, dragging blocks of marble up the ramps on wooden rollers. Even at that distance Blade could hear the hoarse cries of the overseers and the crack of whips as they lashed flesh.
Ogier scratched his stubble. «I do not think that the Izmir will live to see it finished. He is too ambitious. It must go yet another 300 feet higher and there are to be gardens on top. If he had another hundred thousand slaves it might be possible, but he has not. No, the old man will never see it finished.»
They started on. Blade said, «Who builds this? Who is the architect, the engineer?»
Ogier nearly smiled. «A man called Thane. He is a Hitt and something of a wizard himself. I know him slightly. It was I, in fact, who took him prisoner when he first came across the narrow water.»
Blade gave his Captain a puzzled glance. «I do not understand. I was told that the Hitts never surrendered and never became slaves. How is this, then?»
«I know. That is true. But this Thane is an exception. He is not a slave. Ordinarily he would have been killed, but the truth is that I took to him, liked the man, and when he sought audience with the Izmir I permitted it. The old man, not the fool that many think, gave Thane a chance to prove himself as a builder. He is marvelously fine at it. So now he is a free man, with some rank, and has all the privileges of Zir.»
«I will see and talk to him,» Blade said. «If I am to fight Hitts I would know what they are like.»
«You are a fool if you fight Hitts,» said Ogier bluntly, «but that is your affair. I have had my say about it. As to Thane, he is no common Hitt. The story is told that he had a falling out with Bloodax, the Hitt leader, and had to flee for his life. I do not doubt it. Thane is an intelligent man, and educated, and never should have been a Hitt in the first place. Bloodax is a stupid barbarian.»
«We will speak of Bloodax later,» said Blade, «when our councils of war begin. Today, after I have seen this priest, you will introduce me to this Thane»
Soon they were into the noise, confusion and billowing dust of the construction area. They made their way through bedlam, picking a path through various engines and tangles of cable and the thousands of hard-working slaves. These included both men and women, even small children, and from a row of gallows dangled those who had rebelled. As they cantered past one small working party, an old man, emaciated and gray, his strength at an end, fell and could not arise. An overseer clubbed him to death and the body was flung into a pit.
Ogier paid it no mind. Blade let nothing show on his face. This was X Dimension and at the moment he could afford neither sympathy nor conscience. But he marked the incident well and swore inwardly that when he came to real power, and was secure, such things would end. If he lived and prospered, and lingered long enough in Zir, he would free the slaves. That was far in the future and Blade had no guarantee that he would live out the day.
Work was at its busiest on the north and west facades. They rode around to the east facing, into comparative quiet, and found an arched entrance into the monolith guarded by two of the black priests. It was the first time that Blade had seen any of the «crows,» as Ogier called them, other than the single glance he had had of Casta before the High Priest denounced him and walked out of the Izmar's audience. He had a fuzzy memory of that occasion, for much had happened since.
Bidding the men remain behind, Blade and Ogier urged their mounts to the entrance and swung down from the saddle. Ogier, stout warrior that he was, was plainly uneasy with the priests. He took refuge in brusqueness.
«You there,» he called to the tall one, «here is the Prince Blade, son and heir to the Izmir, come to see Casta. You will conduct him at once.» And Ogier shifted his swordbelt and tapped his fingers on the hilt of his sword.
Blade studied the two priests. They were dressed all in black, robes and hose and shoes, and black hoods covered most of their faces. What he could see of flesh was fishbelly white, and the eyes of both had a fanatic gleam. They ignored Ogier and fixed those gimlet eyes on Blade. Both men wore girdles of twisted silver cord from which dangled curved daggers in ivory sheaths. Not, thought Blade, a gentle religious order. It was in their eyes and in the set of their features and in their voices. Harshness. Obedience. Fanaticism. Death.