«I have sent Norn to him,» she continued. «When the time is right I will have him brought to me. I think, with this Blade on my side, I can defeat Jantor.»

Wilf was silent. He was thinking of the momentary glimpse he had caught of the man Blade. An odd thing had happened to Wilf. He had hardly dared to look at Blade. There had been something thrilling about that muscled, bearded man and something terrible. Wilf, now that he thought of it again, admitted to himself that such a man was capable of anything. He could serve such a man and be happy doing it. But it would never come to anything. His mother was a dreamer.

To humor her he said, «How do you propose to get him on your side? He did not look like a fool. He will know where the strength lies. If he takes sides it will be with Jantor. And he is a prisoner, not a free man. Jantor spares him only so that he can make children.»

Sybelline patted his cheek again, rather absently. He was really not much use to her. Except in one thing-she was sure she could trust him.

She gave him a little push. «Go then. I know you long to be away from me. But promise me this-when the time comes to face Jantor, you will be loyal.»

Wilf promised, and left her. An easy enough promise, he thought. Sybelline would go on plotting and planning and nothing would ever come of it. He wondered if she would ever die, as the Gnomen died? She had told him that the Morphi-and she was half-Morphi-never died, never aged, that they changed their blood once a month and ate certain chemicals which kept them always young and beautiful.

Other things she had told him, things she had read in the Morphi books. The population was stringently controlled.. When it reached a certain figure a lottery was held and all the adult Morphi drew numbers. Those with storage numbers were depowered and stacked in warehouses. They were sprayed with a rubbery plastic that formed a capsule and so preserved them against a time when they might be wanted. Wilf had pondered that a long time. He had seen death, real death, among the Gnomen, and he could not decide which was better-to die and rot, or to be stored in a warehouse.

Wilf went to his own apartment and once more attacked the task he had set himself-to learn to read Morphi. He had stolen the books from his mother.

After Wilf had gone Sybelline got up and looked at herself in a full-length mirror. If only her hair had not turned white. The cursed Gnomen blood. Even her pubic hair was grizzled.

But for the white hair, she could have passed for a young woman. There was no fat on her and her legs were long and still taut-muscled. Her breasts did not sag and her waist was trim and small. She had the beautiful Morphi features and wide-set eyes. And much more than half, she thought now, of Morphi brain. Who better than she to rule the sleepers when they came awake? Certainly not Jantor, that savage Gnoman, though she knew he cherished the same dream.

Sybelline bathed, put on a robe and sent for Norn. When the girl entered Sybelline was at her mirror, working carefully on her face. She ignored the girl for a moment while watching her carefully in the mirror. Norn was a problem she had not foreseen.

Norn waited patiently, her eyes downcast. She had just come from visiting Blade; she was happy and fulfilled.

Sybelline sensed all this-Norn exuded it-and she frowned in the mirror. She had not intended this. She meant to have Blade for herself.

When at last she spoke to Norn her tone was cold. «You have been with Blade?»

The girl nodded. «You know that, mistress. You sent me.»

Sybelline narrowed her green eyes. «I do know that, you little fool. But what of him? How is it with him? What does he say and do? How does he feel about the offer I made? Will he come to me when I send for him? I send you to spy and bring me back answers, Norn, not just to bed him.»

Norn, afraid of Sybelline, tried not to show it. She well knew how cruel and vicious the older woman could be. More so than Jantor.

She did her best to placate the woman. «He hears me and he understands. He will come to you when and if he can, and he will listen to your plans. He does not promise anything. He was taken to see Jantor and was gone a long time. I do not know of what they spoke, but the child Alixe returned with Blade. Jantor gave her to him. I do not think Blade wants her, for he prefers me, but he is a captive and must do as he is told and so Alixe remains. I do not think he beds her.»

Sybelline brushed her flowing white tresses into a Psyche knot and caught them with a colorful plastic ribbon. «Alixe, eh? The daughter that Jantor claims and beds?»

Norn nodded. «The same.»

«Hmmm… and you say he gave her to Blade?»

«So Blade told me. It did not make him happy.»

«Jantor is cunning,» said Sybelline. «He sends Alixe to Blade to amuse him and also to spy.»

«I thought that,» said Norn. «Just as you sent me to spy. But with me it is different. I love the man Blade. I want only him. I would be his woman.»

Sybelline said nothing to that, only smiled at herself in the mirror. When Norn had served her purpose-but that could wait.

«I have observed something else,» said Norn.

Sybelline swerved on her stool. «Well? Am I to beg for this information?»

«The child Alixe is a troublemaker,» said Norn. «I have watched her closely and when I could I spoke to her. I do not have much time with Blade, as you know, for all the other women are jealous and the line is long, but I have observed. Alixe is a stupid child, a stubborn child. She makes trouble for the pure joy of making it. I think this is so, for I cannot believe that Jantor told her to act so.»

Sybelline did not betray her interest. A vague, half-formed idea crept into her mind. She knew how much Jantor cared for his little Alixe, how he would bed no other but she, and what a wrench it must have been to deliver her to Blade. Of course Jantor meant to take her back as soon as he could. But meanwhile-

Was there any way the child-woman Alixe could be used?

«Continue,» she commanded Norn. «Tell me, how does Alixe act? How does she make trouble?»

«The man Blade has a servant,» explained Norn. «He is called Sart. He is really a slave, for the man Blade defeated him in battle and spared his life, but the man Blade does not call him slave and-«

«I know all that,» said Sybelline. «Get to the important matter.»

«Blade will have nothing to do with her, will not bed her. I do not understand this but it is so.»

«That is nothing remarkable,» said Sybelline in scorn. «After he has bedded ten to fifteen Gnomen cows a day, his is fatigued.»

«Perhaps that is it. But the child Alixe is unhappy. She is not really a child and has bedded her father since she was ten years. But Blade ignores her. She turns to the slave Sart and teases him. She touches him and offers herself and displays her body. The slave, Sart, is terrified.»

Sybelline smiled. «I do not blame him. If he touches Jantor's child and bedmate he will be sent to the pits. But what of Blade in all this?»

Norn shook her head. «I do not think the man Blade really understands what is happening. He is strange in many ways I do not understand. And he is busy, of course. There is always a line of women to be serviced.»

«Then Blade did not tell you this?»

«No. I went to wash, for Blade insists on it now, and I saw Alixe taunting the poor slave.»

Sybelline's interest was growing with every word. «Taunting him-how? Exactly?»

Norn's tone was matter of fact. She was a Gnomen female, albeit a beautiful one, and she regarded sex much as she did food and drink.

She explained: «Alixe was making Sart kneel before her, as a slave should, and she was making him kiss her parts. I was not seen for a moment, so I know it was not for my benefit. I saw Sart stop groveling and reach for her and she struck him in the face and laughed. She told him that if he touched her she would tell Jantor.»