When at last she exploded it was as though the cavern trembled and moved, rocked and split, and Blade heard again a deep gut rumbling and thought he sniffed of brimstone. The woman gave a single loud cry and toppled from him to the floor, where she lay unmoving. He could not see her. He heard the strangled sobbing of her breath and, his mind in a whirl, only then realized that he had been holding back and had had no relief. No matter. It was but a dream after all. The phone would ring any moment now and J's voice would summon and-

Not so. He heard her stir and sigh at last. She looked at him and the amber eyes glowed and the white teeth sparkled. She patted his chest. «You still feign, Richard Blade. Good. Keep it so. I will bring you surcease. Izmia will never be a cheat.»

She left him for a moment and Blade heard the clink of metal or pottery, some chiming sound. He kept his eyes closed and tried to concentrate. Izmia? Izmia-surely he had heard that name before? Where and when? No use. He could not remember.

The woman came back. Blade peeked. She was carrying a small bowl, of some metal and handsomely chased, and she settled in beside him and had her hand on him before he realized what she was doing. When he did realize.there seemed little point in stopping her, even had he wanted to. Which he did not. Enjoy the dream-stubbornly he kept coming back to the theory that it was a dream-for soon enough he must awaken to harsh reality.

She held the bowl and her fingers teased and stroked him at last into a thundering emission. Blade writhed and groaned and saw that she judged expertly and spilled not a drop. He relaxed and watched as she put the bowl, covered now, on a ledge near the fire. When she returned she wore a swirling robe of purple that cloaked but did not disguise her figure. Blade sat up and stared into those amber eyes. Face it now. This was no dream. He was in Dimension X and could not even recall going to the Tower, much less going through Lord L's computer. He had no idea how long he had been in this Dimension X, or any recall of what he had done, or not done, or had had done to him, since he had arrived in it. He decided to bluff a bit. He stroked his chin and was surprised at the growth of his beard. It was thick and had obviously been clipped and cared for-that meant some time in DX, at least several days, for he never cultivated a beard in Home Dimension.

«You are Izmia?»

She settled to the floor beside him, sitting on her feet, as lithe as a girl and as regal as a queen. She inclined her head gravely.

«I am Izmia to my friends and to certain of my class. To the common folk of Patmos, and to the Gray People, I am the Pearl of Patmos. Some call me the black Pearl, though as you can see my skin is of no certain color. We will speak later of the real black pearl, and of the great sword which, if you are he of the legend, you will recover from the pool and bring to me. But for now-what of your head? Does it pain you?»

Blade tried not to look startled. His head did hurt, now that she mentioned it. He put a hand to the crown of his skull and felt about in the thick dark hair until his fingers touched the sore spot.

«Ohhhhl»

Izmia pulled his head against her breasts and, pushing his hand away, probed with tender fingers. «Some of my people say that I have a healing touch. It can do no harm.»

Blade, cradled and coddled by this big woman, felt as secure and comfortable as a babe. He felt like drifting into sleep, his loins empty and spent, held and rocked in these magnificent aims. He fought the urge. He had amnesia, no doubt of it, and the bump — on his head was relevant.

He knew who he was, for which thank the gods of this strange land, whoever they were. Now he must find out what he had been doing and how long he had been doing it. The better part was silence. Let her talk and he learn. The less she knew of his amnesia the better. For some reason, call it vanity or sheer Bladian stubbornness, he did not wish to appear weak or in any way lacking in her eyes.

To get her started he asked, «How long have I been here? How long unconscious?»

«Three days this sunrise.»

He could not control his start. «That long?»

«Yes. You suffered a great buffet on the skull, so I am told by Edyrn and your. man, Nob. You were carried here as though sleeping and have not stirred until now, but for some moaning and strange words the like of which I have never heard.»

He nestled against those superb breasts. It was comfortable there and he did not want her to see his face.

«What words did I utter?»

His head felt better. Her fingers were stroking the dull pain away. He must have taken a hell of a blow, he thought, for it to knock his memory out of kilter like this. But there was no wound, only the knob, which meant that he must have been wearing armor, a helmet. Assuming that he had been in battle. But who was Edyrn? And who was Nob, his man? Whatever that meant.

«You cried out of a thing called jay and lordell. Many times. I wiped your.tears away and still you spoke of this jay and lordell in fear and, I thought, in anger. But that is all over now-they were but demons in your dreams and now are gone forever. You wake again and all has been done as you bid us do. The Samostan ship escaped, after you had made them pay dear for their audacity, and they will deliver your defiance to Hectoris. And the prisoner, Ptol, is tortured as you ordered and awaits your pleasure.»

It was all Blade could do to keep from exploding in frustration and rage. Goddamn lordell and jay-for who else but Lord L and J had he called to in his sleep-and goddamn the computer. They had done it now. His brain was so altered and twisted, so restructured, that a single blow on the head sent him into deep amnesia.

A fearsome thought came then and he would not face it because he could not bear it-suppose, just suppose, that the blow, the resultant amnesia, so affected his brain structure that the computer could not make contact again! He would be doomed to spend the rest of his life in this Dimension X. Patmos?

It did not bear thinking about. His only remedy was action. Move forward. Keep going. Finish whatever it was that he had set out to do. Whatever it was! Piece it together, bit by bit, and feel his way along until he had his bearings.

«I will attend to Ptol later.» Ptol? Blade fretted. For an instant the name had nearly assumed meaning. Now it was gone. Ptol? Someone who was being tortured on his orders. Blade did not like that, for normally he was not a man who found pleasure in inflicting pain, but if he had ordered it he must had good reason.

He disengaged himself from Izmia and stood up. His legs were weak and he stumbled a bit. Izmia watched him, still seated crosslegged on the floor, her yellow eyes narrowed, teeth showing, her skin gleaming like pale fire.

It cost him, but Blade stood erect and squared his big shoulders. Perhaps the bluff was a foolish one, and did not deceive her, but it was Blade's way.

«I am hungry,» he said brusquely. «A man can nigh starve in three days. And if it has been that long I am very late in all matters and had best get moving. I will be shown quarters, Izmia, and have food and be bathed and shorn and newly clothed. Later I would have Edym and Nob sent to me. Nob first, I think.»

Izmia touched a gong with a baton. «I will send him now. He has been anxious about you and has been hanging about plaguing my maids. You had best warn him that it is forbidden to cohabit with Gray girls.»

Blade nodded, for all the world as though he knew what he was doing, and was led to a smaller cavern by a girl dressed in a gray smock. She kept her eyes downcast and did not speak to him. It seemed to Blade that they went ever downward, along winding passages on which moisture glistened. Once he clapped a hand to a wall and drew it back with an oath. It was hot!