The eunuchs divided into two lines and flanked the duke's party, one line on each side. The camp vanished behind; the horizon ahead began to swell into a range of green hills. After another half hour they were riding along a road that wound through scattered estates, with whitewashed, tile-roofed houses laid out around lush gardens and artificial lakes. The breezes that blew across the road brought the smell of flowers and rich earth. They also brought the smell of too many hard-worked, unwashed people crammed together in the slave barracks behind each of the great houses.
At a crossroads stood a great pyramid of stone painted a glossy red, and on top of the pyramid rose a heavy timber frame. The frame was studded with spikes, and on each spike was stuck a human head. Some were fresh — Blade saw the head of a young girl, no more than twelve, that seemed still to wear an expression of agonized surprise. Others were blackened, rotting masses of decay, eyes and tongues plucked out by carrion birds, exuding foul stenches into the warm air. Still others were bare skulls, with only a few shreds of sun-dried flesh adhering to the whitening bones, the teeth bared in monstrous grins.
Gradually Blade realized that the road was taking them toward one hill in the middle of the range. Squarely on top of the hill sat an enormous castle. Its walls formed a perfect circle nearly a mile in diameter. Twelve tall, round towers studded the wall, and in the center four even taller ones rose in a square.
Every visible part of the castle was a dull black that sucked in all the light and gave back none. It squatted uncompromisingly on the earth, seeming to weigh it down, visible, defiant, and terrifying from many miles away. If Blade had known nothing at all about the character of His Sublime Magnificence Kul-Nam, the castle would have told him a good deal. He wondered how many slaves had worked for how many years to raise it on that hilltop, and how many of them had died before the final stone was set in place.
Closer up, Blade could see that another towered wall circled the base of the hill, with several clusters of buildings just inside it. Duke Boros drew up beside Blade and pointed.
«We will dismount at the base of the hill, report to the house master, disarm, bathe, and don proper garb. Then we will wait for His Magnificence to summon us to the House of Blood.»
«That is the castle on top of the hill?»
The duke nodded. «His Magnificence Kul-Nam is not ashamed to be the slayer of many he calls-of many enemies. So he calls his castles by such names as the House of Blood, the House of Death, the House of the Sword, and so on. His principal castle is named the House of the Eagle's Claw.»
Boros hesitated, obviously reluctant to discuss the Empire's military strength with Blade, even in the most general terms. Then he shook his head and laughed. «It is no secret that the House of Blood is the strongest castle in the land. It was finished only three years ago, after ten years of work by five thousand men. The Emperor himself has boasted of its strength. With a strong and well-furnished garrison, it could stand off an army of fifty thousand for a year. The others are not quite as strong, but none of them would be easy to storm, or quick to starve out.»
«It was said even in England that Kul-Nam made it hard for his enemies to come at him,» said Blade. «I see that what was said was true.»
«Indeed it was,» said the duke. «But here we are, coming to the gate. We would do well to talk of this at another time and place, if we have the chance.»
The preliminary formalities for a visit to the Emperor took several hours. There were horses to be stabled, the fighters and servants to be assigned quarters, scented baths to be taken, and ceremonial clothes to be unpacked and put on.
When Blade disarmed, he asked Dzhai to take charge of the belt and commando knife. This was intended to honor the man; it was also intended to put the knife in the care of someone who would have some reason to take care of it. It was as much as Blade could do to keep the knife safe.
The house master did not seem to care where Blade was from or what he might or might not be. Duke Boros of the noble House of Kudai had taken the stranger under his protection and wished to bring him before the Emperor. So be it. That placed the matter in the hands of His Magnificence, and none below him might now presume to decide upon it.
«The will of the Emperor shall be done,» said the house master, bowing his head. Duke Boros and Tulu also bowed their heads. All the non-nobles within earshot knelt, eyes on the floor, and thumped the floor three times with their clenched right fists. After a moment's hesitation, Blade imitated the duke and his son.
«However, that is not the end of my duties in this matter,» the house master went on, with a severe look at Blade's clothes. They were dirty, travel-stained, and generally disreputable. «If he is a prince of England, he must appear before His Magnificence in something more suitable to his rank!»
The house master would not be budged from his decision. For a while it looked as if protocol would stand like an iron gate across Blade's path to the Emperor. This was not just embarrassing; with the whimsical and blood thirsty laws and customs of the Empire, it could become dangerous at any moment.
Eventually they had to borrow clothes for Blade. This took several more hours, but when Blade finally looked at himself in a mirror of polished bronze mounted in a silver frame, he had to admit the results were impressive. He wore black silk trousers bloused over the silver-embroidered tops of white kidskin boots. Above the waist he wore a white linen shirt, a short red tunic, a vest so stiff with gold lace that it could stand by itself, and a long blue coat that reached to his knees.
The sun was setting as Blade, Duke Boros, and Tulu left the outer wall to climb the hill to the House of Blood. The way up the hill lay up an immense flight of white marble steps with a gilded bronze railing on either side.
Blade noticed that the steps of the great staircase were too wide to climb in any sort of dignified fashion. A man had to climb them with a sort of scuttling movement that destroyed his dignity and also wasted his breath. As a man climbed, above him stood the terrible black castle, growing larger and more grim as it loomed higher and higher over him. Blade was quite sure that Kul-Nam had deliberately planned all this, to make sure that his visitors arrived in a properly intimidated frame of mind.
The black walls ahead were studded with glistening, elaborately carved cannon muzzles, and more cannons peered down from the tops of the towers. A deadly and continuous rain of stone and iron and lead would fall on the heads of any enemy trying to climb the hill. As long as the ammunition in the inner castle held out, any attacker would be lucky to get past the outer wall.
They came up to a ridiculously small gate in the base of one of the corner towers. Duke Boros pulled the silver knob that jutted out from the center of the gate. Incredibly faint and far away, a bell tinkled. Then the gate slid aside, opening on a dark tunnel. It slanted upward, and Blade could see light at the far end, so distant that it seemed no brighter than a firefly.
They strode forward into the tunnel and began to climb. As they did, the gate swung shut behind them and they were in total darkness except for the pale speck of light far ahead. Kul-Nam was obviously going to leave nothing undone to keep his visitors nervous and unsure of themselves right to the end.
They moved up the tunnel slowly, feeling their way a step at a time. The floor seemed smooth and regular underfoot, but none of them was willing to trust it. Blade could not believe that the Emperor had built his impregnable castle with a tunnel running straight up into its heart. Doubtless there were spyholes, traps, gates that fell, pits that yawned, shafts for boiling oil or stones. It would be best to move slowly and make sure that those who watched took no alarm.