Blade craned his head in bad light, trying to see Jantor's thick neck and ears. Jantor guessed what Blade was looking for and said, «The power stud is there, but not developed. All half breeds have them, a wart of half-flesh and half-metal. Sybelline has one. She is also a half-breed. Her mother was a Morphi, raped by a Gnoman who went mad, ascended to one of the kiosks and seized the first Morphi woman who passed. He died in the pits, of course. When the child was born, for some strange reason it was not aborted, but it was sent into the sewers. The child was Sybelline. And now, Blade, we get to the important matter.»

Blade had a sinking feeling. He had been expecting something like this. He was, as so many times before in X Dimension, going to be in the middle of warring factions. Norn had said it-trouble was coming-and now Jantor was about to say it.

Jantor was silent for a long time. He stared at Blade, unblinking. Absently, as though his mind were elsewhere, he wet a finger and traced a fylfot-or swastika-on his bald head. Blade had noticed this before among Gnomen males — Sart sometimes did it-and because he knew what Jantor was thinking and did not want to hear it, he sought to forestall matters by asking a question.

He gave Jantor an inquiring look. «You make a sign to your god?» He did not dwell on the significance of the fylfot. By this time he knew that various XDs developed in curious and coincidental parallels with Home Dimension.

«What? Oh, this.» Jantor wet his finger again and made the sign on his bald head. «It is a habit. We Gnomen have no gods of our own. When the Morphi had power they were our gods. All Gnomen were told to worship them, though I never did. Now they sleep and there are no gods at all. It is not important.»

Blade persisted. «But the Morphi themselves-did they not have gods?»

Jantor nodded. «For a long time. They were made to worship the Moon people, the Selenes, what we Gnomens call the orbfolk. And do not ask me what gods the orbfolk worship because I do not know. What I do know is that just before the sweet bomb was dropped the Morphi declared themselves independent of the Moon and refused to worship them any longer.

Blade began to understand a little. «A rebellion. And the Selenes punished the Morphi by dropping the sweet bomb and cutting off their power.»

Again Jantor nodded. «The orbfolk are clever and patient and plan long ahead. When they are ready, if that time ever comes, they will turn the power on again and the sleepers up there will awaken. They will have learned a lesson, or so the orbfolk will think, and all will be as before — except that there will be no Gnomen race. That, Blade, is why you are here, why I have spared your life and why I talk to you now in confidence. You are going to help me, Blade. Together we may do it. If we fail, the consequences will be the same for all. Death.»

Jantor scowled at Blade. «In your case, of course, the consequences may come a bit sooner than for the rest of us.»

Blade shrugged his great shoulders. There was no way out of it, just as there was no way of avoiding a similar scene with Sybelline. That would come soon enough. He was indeed in the middle.

«What do you want of me, Jantor?»

Again Jantor made the fylfot sign on his shiny head and regarded Blade with narrowed eyes. He said, «I have not asked you whence you came or why you came. I do not really care. It is enough that you are here. But I saw you fight and kill and so I judge you the match of any five Gnomen. That is why I guard you with twenty, with another fifty in reserve. I think you can lead men, even stupid Gnomen. But not even that is of prime importance. What is important is that you may be able to produce children. Those children should be at least half again as intelligent as the average Gnoman now alive, though I pride myself that my children will also be intelligent. So between us, Blade, as the only two men with power to reproduce, we can found a better race.»

Blade, as was his habit in DX to avoid friction when it was pointless, appeared to go along. No sense in telling Jantor that he, Blade, was not going to be around.

So he nodded and frowned and said, «That will take a long time.»

«I know.» Jantor leaned forward. «And I do not intend to wait that long. I have figured something out, Blade. We Gnomen are not flesh-and-blood machines as are the Morphi.» Jantor grinned. «We are not so beautiful or so clever or perfect. But we have no power studs behind our ears and our life essence cannot be turned off by switching a lever.»

And Jantor fingered his own mutant stub behind his ear. He grinned again. «Only Sybelline and I have these, and it is of no matter. We gain by it, not lose. Our power cannot be shut off and still we are half as smart as the Morphi and twice as smart as the Gnomen.»

Blade agreed. «I can see why you are king.»

«Yes. Sybelline and I rule because we are the only two capable of it. But neither of us has the brain or the power that you have, Blade. You are far more intelligent than the two of us. I would be a fool not to admit it, and I am not a fool.»

Jantor was now talking freely and Blade thought it time to heed Lord L's admonition and ask a key question.

«The power source of the Morphi,» he said. «If you could show me that, Jantor, and I can understand the workings of it, it could mean great things.» A thought struck Blade and he began to improvise. «For instance, Jantor-if I can manipulate the power source, and I can restore the sleepers to life, then they will be the slaves and you the masters. Do you not see it? As long as you and your people control the power source, the Morphi must do as they are bidden or you simply turn off the power and put them to sleep again. Think, Jantor. There need be no war. You Gnomen will simply move up out of the sewers and take over. All that you have dreamed of will come true.»

Jantor was watching him with an odd expression. He said, «And what of the orbfolk, the Moon people? they see and know everything.»

Blade was skeptical. «Everything?»

Jantor nodded. «They knew the instant you appeared. They followed every move you made-as we Gnomen did, for that matter. My scouts tracked you through the city step by step-saw everything you did, then reported back to me and to Sybelline.»

Blade believed him. It explained why they had been so alert, why they had been waiting for him when he entered the sewers.

Now he gave grudging acknowledgement. «They are stealthy. I am trained in such matters and I did not suspect — not until the sewer lid was dropped.»

«That fool,» said Jantor, «is now in the five-mile pits.»

Blade went back to his argument. Lord Leighton was right. If this mission was to be fruitful at all it could only be in the discovery of the power source. He was sure that it must be broadcast through air space, beamed in the manner of radio or television waves. If he could ferret out that secret and understand it and get it back to Home Dimension, then England would have a secret that no other nation possessed. It would, thought Blade, justify the expense and the pain and the terror of all the expeditions into Dimension X. Blade decided that as long as there was any hope of finding the power source, he would not ask Lord L to abort the mission.

«So what,» said Blade, «if the orbfolk know what we do? What can they do? They cannot shut off our power. You said this yourself. And we can be clever. We will show them that we are no threat to them. We will ask for peace, to be let alone. It may well be that they will leave us alone. We can even agree to worship them as gods. What matter as long as you do not really believe it?»

Jantor nodded slowly. «You make it sound easy, Blade, and I know that it will not be. You may be right about the orbfolk. They are patient and they plan for eternity, and they will not move against us at first, maybe never. We could agree to worship them, as you say, and no harm done there.» He was silent for a moment, said, «To have the Morphi city up there… to have them as our slaves. would be a Gnomen dream come true.»