It did. Brigeda went as rigid as a statue, and let out a scream as though she were being impaled on something much sharper than Blade's maleness. Then she sagged forward, her eyes closed and her mouth open and slack. Before she could collapse on Blade, his own spasm tore through him. He rose to meet her, and they thrashed together in a tangle of writhing arms and legs for a long time, until they were both completely empty and exhausted. Still entangled, they drifted off to sleep.

Chapter SEVENTEEN

Again Blade was prowling through the dark streets of Mestron. This time he was down among the warehouses along the waterfront, and he was not alone. There were nine men with him-three of his four sailors and six picked fighting men from the households of various Sisters of the Night. The whole Sisterhood had an interest in tonight's affair. They wanted to make sure Durkas was not only taken, but kept.

With six of their picked guards against Blade's three sailors, the Sisters no doubt thought they had taken care of the matter. Under other circumstances they might have been right. But Blade had laid plans of his own.

That was why he had only three sailors with him. The fourth had gone south to Clintrod, Gershon, and Sea Fox. If he got through with his message, Durkas wasn't going to be the only person in Mestron getting a surprise tonight.

A whisper reached his ears from off to the right-Fturn, Brigeda's chief guard.

«Nearly there, Blade.»

«Good.»

The ten men slipped catfooted into the shadows of a warehouse loading dock. Eight of them drew their swords and flattened themselves on the damp, filthy stones under the dock. Blade and Fturn remained standing, to keep watch for Durkas.

The steward was supposed to arrive in a few minutes, not suspecting anything, his mind on picking half a dozen prime girls for his amusements. The story that had gone to him was that these were kidnapped free girls, some still proud and resisting. That was the kind he liked most but found hardest to get, for he could only obtain them illegally, by such nighttime deals as this. And because the whole affair was illegal, Brigeda was sure that Durkas would not bring a strong guard. At least not one so strong that ten picked fighting men couldn't dispose of it quickly, thoroughly, and silently.

Blade hoped Brigeda was right. Otherwise he was risking himself and his men and wasting time for nothing. And if Durkas was not as much in Tymgur's confidence as rumor had it

Footsteps sounded at the top of the street; four or five men were coming along at a brisk jog as though they owned the waterfront. Perhaps Durkas thought he did. He was about to discover differently. Blade pulled his mask down over his eyes and forehead. He wanted to make the first move himself. That meant getting close to Durkas unrecognized.

The footsteps were louder now. Was it his imagination, or did Blade hear a gleeful chuckling? If he did, that could only be Durkas. And if the steward's mind was so filled with anticipation of future pleasures

Five hooded figures rounded the corner of the warehouse at a trot. Blade stepped out of the shadows and went down on one knee in a ceremonial bow.

«Greetings, Master.»

The five stopped dead but did not spread out. Blade noted that and smiled thinly. This might be very easy. His eyes searched the group, picking out one man stouter than the others and standing a little to the fore. Durkas.

«You have the wares?»

«We do.»

«In there?» A thumb jerked up, pointing at the warehouse door.

«Indeed, Master.» Blade took a deep breath. «And we bid you enter.»

That was the signal for Fturn and the men under the loading dock to lunge forward. They came out swiftly, silently, with only a faint padding of feet to give warning, swords and daggers blackened to give no betraying flashes of light.

Blade did not pay them any attention once he heard them on the move. His goal was Durkas. And he did not run. For a man trained like Blade, the steward was in easy range. Blade covered the six feet between them in a single leap.

His sandaled feet drove into the steward's stomach in a blow certain to disable the man but unlikely to kill him. The steward doubled up, then toppled to one side. Blade twisted in midair to avoid landing full force on the toppling man's chest, went down on the pavement, rolled on his shoulders, and came up.

As he did, one of Durkas's guards rushed him, sword raised for a downstroke. But the man had raised the sword a bit too high. He could not bring it down before Blade twisted again, bringing one foot hard against the side of the guard's left knee. Blade felt bone crack, saw the sword falter and swing down clear of him, then sprang to his feet. He grabbed the man by his sword arm, twisted it hard to disarm him, then heaved. The guard flew clear over Blade's shoulder so fast that he had no time to scream or even gasp. After that it was too late for him to do or say anything at all. He came down squarely on his skull. The crunch and crackle of skull and spine told Blade that at least one guard would never tell anybody anything about this night's work.

As he looked around, he realized that neither would the other three guards. Both the sailors and Fturn's men had obeyed his orders to kill, swiftly, silently, and without mercy. All except Durkas. But Blade hadn't been worried about him. The Sisters of the Night wanted him alive as badly as Blade did-at least for the moment.

He motioned to Fturn and gave orders in a quick whisper. «Roll those bodies under the dock. We don't want them found too soon. Do you have the carrying net?»

«Yes, Blade.»

«Good. Roll that»- he jerked a thumb at the sprawled Durkas-«into the net and have four of your men grab it.

Fturn was too concerned about getting out safely to be suspicious, let alone argue. Good. That was four of his men who wouldn't be able to react as fast as they should. Of course there was the risk they might panic and kill Durkas, but that was a small risk.

The men with the net spread it out on the damp stones. Fturn and Blade helped them roll Durkas into it. Blade pulled the man's hood down over his face and tied it around his neck. As long as no one recognized Durkas, no one would ask any questions about the group of silent men carrying a body through the street. It was a common enough sight-any time a master lost his temper with a slave too often or too thoroughly. Blade wondered if some of the girls Durkas had «used up» during his amusements had made their last journeys this way. He grinned savagely at the thought. If so, it was highly appropriate that Durkas should make his last journey in Nurn that way.

With half-stifled grunts and gasps, the bearers hoisted Durkas clear of the street. Blade looked up and down the alley, then nodded and set off at a trot. The other nine fell in behind him.

Down the alley, across the street, along the next alley, across another street, down another alley-they kept going at a steady trot. After the fifth street Blade threw a quick glance over his shoulder. Good. The three sailors had all drifted forward, to the head of the line. They were directly behind Blade and between him and Fturn's men. Only two streets more, and then-

The two streets passed as fast and as silently as if Blade and all the others had been moving in a dream-or a nightmare. They came to the corner and Blade raised a hand to motion them to a stop. Behind him the sound of feet faded away, as he looked down the street to the dock. Not a sound, not a movement was visible. The hull of a merchant ship threw the dock into an even deeper shadow than usual.

«Let's get down onto the waterfront. There's a place I know where we can rest and nobody will bother us.»

Fturn nodded without saying anything and motioned to the bearers. Blade could hardly keep back a sigh of relief. If Fturn had decided to balk-well, here and now would have been a bad place. As soon as they got down on the dock, however-