Silence fell as suddenly and completely as if all the watchers had dropped dead on the spot. Blade raised both hands over his head and turned from left to right through a half-circle, letting everyone get a good look at him. The silence continued.

Then brief whispers sounded off to the right. After them came soft, slow footsteps. In one of the low, dark doorways a woman appeared. She was tall and gray-haired, and still had a good deal of what must have once been great beauty. She carried a long teksin knife in one hand. Blade recognized it as one of the knives used to hamstring the horses of the Pethcine chariots in the Great War.

The woman approached Blade, knife held in front of her with the grip of an experienced knife-fighter. She moved slowly and carefully, her eyes roaming searchingly up and down Blade's body.

«You call this one Mazda, Krimon?» she said.

«I am Mazda,» said Blade. He spoke quietly. Any raising of his voice might seem like blustering and arouse more suspicion.

The woman brought the point of the knife close to Blade's genitals. Her wide gray eyes met his, watching for a reaction. Blade stared back, keeping his face more expressionless and calmer than he felt inside.

«It seems he is no neuter with false manhood pasted on,» said the woman at last.

«Did ever a neuter grow as he has?» said Krimon coolly, with a gesture that took in all of Blade's massive physique.

«Did ever friend of the people appear in a Looter war machine?» asked the woman.

«Is Mazda bound by what common men may or may not do?» replied Krimon. He was beginning to sound annoyed.

Blade kept his mouth shut and his face still expressionless. He was beginning to feel exactly the same way as the neuter. But Krimon had told him that he might find the people not quite ready to fall down and worship someone stepping out of a Looter machine. He should-he would-keep calm, until those who watched from the shadows made up their own minds. Even for those who had seen him the first time in Tharn it had been twenty-five years. Memories fade.

«He is not so bound,» said the woman grudgingly.

«Then do not doubt Mazda because he comes in a machine that he has taken from the Looters, a machine whose secrets he has learned.» That brought the woman's head up with a jerk and a gasp.

«He-«

Someone moved in the shadows of a doorway. Then a man stepped out into the light. A man standing well over six feet tall, with an athlete's build and muscles, red gold hair that flamed in the sun-and a face out of which Blade's own image stared at him.

The man wore a green tunic with a flaming golden sword embroidered on the chest, and two metal swords hung from a wide leather belt at his waist. On his feet-but Blade found that he could no longer notice such details. In his mind a voice was sounding.

This is my son.

The voice built to a roar. Blade opened his mouth and shouted out:

«This is my son! This is my son, borne by Zulekia beloved of Mazda, King of the People!»

The tall young man flung his long arms wide and tossed his massive head, making the long red-gold hair-Zulekia's hair-swirl about like a halo. Then he drew both swords, cast them on the ground in front of him, and knelt to Blade. «This is Mazda. This is my father, returned to his people. Hail father! Hail Mazda!»

Chapter 13

Pandemonium followed.

People jumped down into the courtyard from the roof. They swarmed out of the doors and climbed out of all the windows. They ran into the courtyard from outside the house. There were hundreds of them, men, women, and children.

Everybody was waving something. All were jumping up and down and shouting, «Mazda, Mazda, Mazda!» with all the breath in their bodies. The roar of the crowd half-deafened Blade. His ears could pick up the cry spreading out beyond the King's House, out into the streets, through the city. No doubt it would go on out into the country, until the houses were too far apart for a shout to carry from one to another. Then people would run as fast as they could to their neighbors, bringing word that Mazda had come again to Tharn.

It was an awesome feeling. But it was not quite equal to the feeling of looking into the face of his son. Nothing could be quite equal to that.

Blade stepped down from the platform to the ground-and immediately rose into the air again. People swarmed forward, reaching out for him, grasping him, hoisting him up. He was tossed about wildly until he felt his joints protesting. He realized that he was in real danger of being torn apart or trampled underfoot by this mob of hysterical worshipers of Mazda.

King Rikard's voice boomed out above the crowd roar.

«Stop! Cease! Stand back and stand away from Mazda! This is not the way the people do him honor!»

Then the king plunged forward into the crowd, clearing a path toward Blade. Those the king's massive hands didn't grab and pull aside scrambled out of his way on their own. After the king came half a dozen armed fighters, including the gray-haired woman. They kept the path open with shouts and glares and brandished weapons.

Blade finally felt solid ground under his feet again. He took a deep breath and stepped forward to embrace his son. Rikard's own arms went around his father. They stood there for a moment in silence that said more than either of them could have said with words.

Blade was glad he did not have to speak. He was closer to being completely overpowered by his emotions than he had ever been in his life.

Seeing father and son embracing set off the crowd again. For several minutes everyone in the courtyard and the house shouted themselves hoarse even more furiously than before. Blade and his son could not have made themselves heard if they had wanted to.

The crowd finally ran out of breath. King Rikard stepped back, looked Blade up and down, and slapped him on the shoulder, as one warrior chief to another.

«Father, come. We have much to say and we have no hope of saying any of it out here.»

He turned toward the door into the King's House. Blade followed, Krimon fell into step behind him, and the guards brought up the rear.

The inner chambers of the King's House were as cramped, dark, and stuffy as the chambers of any other building made of turf, stone, and hides. But they were much cleaner and less smelly. The people of Tharn might have to live for now in barbarians' houses, but their memories of what had been and their hopes of what might be again kept them from becoming barbarians themselves.

Blade sat on a bench of teksin slabs covered with furs, and was presented with a large bronze cup of strong beer. King Rikard swept a glance around the room, and all the guards except the gray-haired woman vanished like puffs of smoke. Krimon turned as if to follow them, but Rikard motioned him to a seat.

«No, Krimon, you stay. You have seen and heard the most since Mazda returned. Your advice is needed. Yours too, Anyara,» he added, pointing at the woman.

«Of all the people Anyara was the one who did most to raise me, next to my mother Zulekia. She has proved herself strong in war and wise in council as well. I owe her much, and Tharn owes her more, over many years.» Anyara bowed her head with sober dignity at the praise.

Rikard undid his belt, poured himself beer from another jug, and sat down on a pile of furs in one corner. He drank deeply, then grinned. «By law and custom I should call in the whole Council of the People to listen and speak out. I suspect they would do more speaking out than listening if I did.» The grin faded. «But there is nothing in law or custom to say what shall be done on the day of Mazda's return. I think we shall listen to what Mazda has to say first.»

Blade grinned. His son obviously had some of his own shrewdness. «I do not think so, either. But I will ask you to stop calling me Mazda, at least when we are alone. It makes me feel like an image set up in a temple, to be worshiped faithfully but not really much good to anybody.»