Here was a very different type. The young woman was obviously a barbarian; this man was just as obviously civilized or at least trying hard to look that way. The woman's father, Blade realized, noting the unmistakable facial resemblance. Like his daughter he was slender-the slenderness of a man who carries nothing but muscle and sinew on his bones-and blond. His hair was close-cropped and clean enough for Blade to make out the numerous strands of gray in it.

He wore a blue kilt and a dark red tunic. Both his garments and as much of his skin as Blade could see appeared to be a good deal cleaner than the average among the Wakers. He was clean-shaven which also set him apart from the generally hairy Wakers. He appeared to be unarmed, but why not, considering the arsenal his daughter was carrying? He was, however, wearing the first piece of jewelry that Blade had seen among the Wakers-a silvery medallion with a blue jewel in the center, carved in the form of an eye. It hung around his neck on a gold chain.

The old man raised his hand and beckoned the four men facing him forward to within ten feet of his throne. Then he waved the tall man aside so that he and Blade could see each other still more clearly.

Blade was already moving warily toward a favorable impression of this man. A closer look at him reinforced this impression. The man's face was scraped and red, suggesting that the fight to keep himself clean-shaven had been won at the cost of considerable pain. The man seemed to have created for himself a small center of civilization among a mass of barbarians. Had he had much success in passing his notions on to his people? Blade didn't think so-except in training the fighting men. But in Dimension X, as in Home Dimension, new and better ways of fighting and killing were willingly learned by almost anybody.

The man crossed his arms on his chest and spoke. «You are Blade, the man from another world who has been helping the Dreamers and training them to fight.» It was a statement, not a question, delivered in a quiet, calm voice with no hint of challenge in- it. «I am Krog, the leader of the People of the Blue Eye. I have been looking for you for a long time, ever since one of my war patrols met you on the East Bridge. I have heard that you had just arrived in our world that night, only hours before. Is that so?»

Blade nodded.

«Then you learn very quickly and keep your head as well as being a strong and wise fighting man. The People of the Blue Eye need one like you. And my daughter Halda-«with a look in which Blade thought he saw a flash of weary distaste «-finds you pleasing. Will you join the People of the Blue Eye and become a war master equal to Drebin, here?» He raised a hand to indicate the tall man.

Before Krog could complete the gesture, Drebin jumped forward shaking both his fists almost in Krog's face. «If you make him my equal, Krog, I will kill first him and then you! The people will have a new leader. Your daughter Halda would not mind that much, I think.» There was no mistaking the look he shot at Halda. And there was no mistaking the fact that she did not return it. This startled Drebin. He drew back a step, staring at the woman.

Krog's voice cut into the silence like a butcher's cleaver slicing meat. «Drebin. I wondered many times if you were a fool. Did you speak so seldom because you knew that if you talked a great deal, people would know you for a fool? I do now.» Krog rose from his bench and made a quick flicking gesture of his right hand at Halda. She also rose, moving slowly off to the left, both hands held close to her body. Blade recognized the pattern. Two people who had trained together were taking position in case a third party attacked. Would Drebin-the fool-recognize this also?

He did not. A bull's roar erupted from him, followed by a bull's rush forward, straight at Krog. Then without stopping, Drebin sprang to the right in a single quick motion, apparently hoping to get onto Krog's flank before the leader could turn. Krog spun on one heel and met Drebin's flanking move with a quick one-two right foot into the side of Drebin's left knee, then both fists into the tall man's solar plexus. Drebin folded up like a pocketknife, let out a strangled choking gasp, and sat down on the floor. Krog stood over him, both fists poised and ready to strike, contempt in his eyes.

«As I said, Drebin, you are a fool. It would have saved me this whole unpleasant scene if I had been wise enough to realize that fact some time ago and dealt with you then. But you are popular with at least some of the fighters. And my daughter did once find you appealing. Why, I don't know,» with a sour look at Halda.

Krog sat down again and continued to look at Drebin. «And you have served me well, carrying out my orders until now and being always quick to learn and teach what I wanted the people to know, at least about fighting. You are a good fighter. So I think that if you want to keep your place as the one war master of the people, you can fight for it.»

Drebin looked at him, pain, anger, and bewilderment chasing each other across his dark bearded face.

«Yes,» said Krog. «You can fight this man Blade. To the death. If you win and kill him, then you will still be War Master, whether or not Halda likes you. If he wins and kills you, then he will follow where you have been. Everywhere.» The innuendo was not lost on Drebin. He managed to glare at Krog with even more fury than he had done before. Halda, on the other hand, grinned openly at Blade.

«Hold it!» roared Blade in a voice so loud that he almost startled himself and sent echoes reverberating around the chamber. Krog jumped back a yard at a single bound and stared at Blade, hands raised. Halda drew a knife and held it ready to throw. Seeing that he had their attention, Blade continued.

«Why the devil should I help any of you damned bandits?» he snapped. «I threw in with the Dreamers because all I saw your people doing was killing and enslaving the Dreamers and looting the city. I haven't seen much of anything different since. Certainly not now. I want to help rebuild Pura, not go on destroying it the way you're doing.»

At a sign from Krog, Halda vanished through the inner door of the chamber. The leader himself turned back to stare at Blade more intently than before. He seemed to be searching for something in Blade's face or words. For a moment Blade wondered what he could have done or said to draw such a reaction from Krog. But the Waker leader was obviously too complicated a man to make it possible to answer that question now. He would have to stay alive and wait for Krog to reveal himself bit by bit. But in order to stay alive, would he-?

From behind the curtain across the inner door came the sound of fists on flesh and a short shrill scream. Then the curtain burst open and Narlena tumbled through it to land with bruising force on the stone floor. She was nude, her hands were bound, and there was a small trickle of blood flowing across her ribs just below her left breast. Behind her came Halda, flourishing a dagger whose needle-sharp point was bright with fresh blood. Blade swallowed and looked at Narlena, who was half-unconscious with fright and pain. Then he looked back at Krog, who nodded.

«Of course,» the Waker leader said. «You can always refuse to help up. But then you will see her-«with a jerk of his thumb at Narlena «-die before we kill you. I assure you that Halda will make her die very slowly. Well, Blade?»

Blade swallowed again. He had been in this kind of situation before, forced to bend before someone who held hostages. And because he had bent, both he and the hostages had survived, and the hostage-takers had not. He would try to do it again. As he looked at Krog, however, it occurred to him that it might be a little harder to manage things this time.

«All right, Krog,» he said finally. «I will fight Drebin as you wish.»