Fortunately, he had the perfect excuse. The atomic bomb weighed nearly half a ton, far too heavy to be carried back to the lands of the people on horseback. To send for wagons or chariots would take weeks. But if the bomb could be loaded aboard one of the captured machines, Mazda could fly it swiftly back to the New City of the People. And if Mazda wanted to take back the prisoner as well, since she was almost as important as the bomb, who would object?
No one objected. Before dawn the next morning, twelve strong fighters carried the bomb to the rear platform of one of the captured machines. Then Blade carried the Looter woman, carefully bound hand and foot, into the machine.
He took off and circled three times over the battered city, watching the people in the camp below wave and brandish their weapons. He was very conscious of the burden he was carrying. It was not only the atomic bomb and the prisoner, but perhaps the whole future of the people of Tharn.
He hoped he would not stumble while he had this burden on his shoulders.
Chapter 22
Blade flew straight west at low altitude for several hours, politely ignoring the woman. She lay quietly on the furs spread across the cabin floor, still not speaking a word. But Blade had the impression that his flying away with her was not what she had expected. Perhaps she had been expecting the torture Anyara would have inflicted? Perhaps. In any case, she was surprised-too surprised to be able to completely hide the fact.
As the plain rolled past beneath them, the woman began to relax. She stretched out as much as her bonds would let her. She stopped staring continuously at Blade as though expecting him to attack her or turn into a monster at any moment. Finally she quietly drifted off to sleep. Blade left the controls long enough to spread a fur over her, then returned to his seat. The woman would need that sleep, whatever happened to her in the next few days.
About four hours out of Miros, Blade spotted a small lake to the north. This was as good a place as any to land and begin his «interrogation» of the woman. They were hundreds of miles from both the people and the Looters, as alone for the moment as Adam and Eve.
Blade landed the machine without waking the woman. Still without waking her, he carefully locked away all the weapons except his own sword, then disconnected the main controls. He tied the hatch key, the locker key, and the sword to his belt. Then he sat down beside the woman and gently rested one hand on her shoulder.
She came awake in an instant, eyes widening and body going rigid. Her eyes never blinked or left Blade's face as he drew his sword. But he could see her teeth biting into her lower lip until beads of blood appeared and a trickle crept down her chin. She was seeing death in that drawn sword, and she was determined to face it and endure it without a cry or a moment's loss of courage.
This, Blade realized, was a warrior. Or at least a brave woman determined to look as much like a warrior as she could.
He reached over behind her back with the sword. A quick flick of the sword, and the leather thongs binding her hands fell to the floor. Another flick, and her feet were also free.
This time the woman not only didn't hide her surprise, but looked as though she was going to faint from it. Blade quickly rose and got her a cup of water. Slowly she sat up, straightening and flexing bruised and cramped arms and legs. Then she took the cup and drank, holding it in shaking hands.
«Drink as much as you want,» said Blade. He spoke quietly and politely, as he would have spoken to a female guest in his own London flat. «There is plenty of water and food. I do not wish to harm you in any way.»
«You are-who?» the woman said. Her voice was low and husky, more with strain than with anything else. Blade nearly sighed with relief. He had seriously begun to wonder if by some mad joke of fate the woman was a mute! That would have meant a thousand kinds of unwanted fun in trying to interrogate her about the Looters!
«I am the Mazda of the people of the land of Tharn,» he replied. «I lead them in their wars.»
«My name is Silora,» the woman said. «I am a-«She stopped suddenly and her mouth clamped shut.
«Yes,» said Blade. «You are a-?»
«Why should I tell you?» said Silora, her voice chilly. «You are Principal Technician of War for your people. Anything I tell you, you may use against mine. You are an enemy.»
«I do not know that this is so,» said Blade. «Even if it is so now, it need not be so in the future. But I know almost nothing about your people, so how can I tell? You know practically nothing about the people of Tharn, so how can you tell either?
«I ask you to think this over. In the meantime you are free to walk about, drink, eat, bathe-to make yourself as comfortable as you wish. As I said, I do not wish to harm you. You have no good reason to wish to harm me, either.» Blade rose and went to the hatch, opened it, and stepped out onto the platform, leaving the hatch open.
He wasn't going to trust the woman enough to leave her with any easy chances to try escaping or killing him. But he was going to trust her to respond to decent treatment and no threats.
Besides, there was that intriguing possibility that the Looters might be two different peoples in an alliance. An uneasy alliance? Possibly. An alliance that might be broken? Also possibly. If he could just learn enough- Blade stepped down off the platform and started walking around the machine, trying to walk off some of his impatience.
He kept walking for an hour, moving in wider and wider circles, farther and farther from the machine. Finally he walked over to the shore of the lake and hid himself behind a bush, watching the machine carefully. If Silora took this apparent chance to escape, it would mean she was absolutely desperate. She would have to be desperate, to walk away barefoot into the endless plains of this unknown land. If she was even more desperate but cooler-headed, she might try to fuse the atomic bomb and set it off.
She did neither. Blade spent two tedious hours under the bush, broiled by the sun and jabbed and nibbled at by assorted bugs. At the end of that time he rose and walked back to the machine.
Silora was asleep on the floor again. An empty food container beside her showed that she had eaten. Blade bent over to listen to her peaceful breathing. So far so good. She was not desperate, at least not now. But she might take a long time to become friendly, if she ever did.
Silora didn't become particularly friendly during the next several days they spent camped by the lake. But she didn't need to. If she had been facing one of the people, the odd phrases she let fall might have been as meaningless as the gruntings of a pig. But Blade was a trained and expert interrogator. He knew a good deal about the Looters and had guessed a good deal more. He could make Silora's most casual phrases into pieces of the puzzle he was assembling.
He suspected more and more that the Looters were actually two people. But he still wasn't sure. He was still less sure what the exact relationship between those two peoples might be. Could they possibly be turned into enemies, in the ancient tradition of «divide and conquer?»
He could risk asking Silora directly, of course. But that might shatter the slim trust in him she had let herself develop. She could turn silent and sullen again. Would Anyara-or even his own son-give him the extra time to win her trust again? Could he win it? If he couldn't, sooner or later they would ask him to turn her over for torture. He would refuse-he knew it. What would the people and his own son say then, if he refused something that might save them?
Damn! There were risks either way. He could decide which course to take almost as well by flipping a coin as by any other way.