The princess turned away and strode to her chair, then sat down and beckoned Blade toward her. «Now, Prince Blade, consider that. I have been praised and thanked enough for the moment. Tell me your tale, and remember that I asked you to be brief.»

Blade managed to compress the tale of his own adventures and those of Kukon into five minutes without leaving out any essential details. The princess listened in silence, but a rapidly growing interest and excitement was written all over her face.

When Blade finished, the princess shot a quick glance at Dzhai.

«Is all this true?»

Dzhai said quietly, «All of this that I have seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears happened as Prince Blade has told it.»

Tarassa laughed. «You have or are quickly learning some of your captain's gifts. Very well. You may go and take charge of the work upon your ship.»

Dzhai bowed awkwardly, turned with a final look at Blade, then allowed the soldier to lead him out of the chamber.

The princess rose. «You shall remain here. In due course my servants will come to you. Follow them, and make use of them as you see fit. From this hour until I say otherwise, my house is yours.» She turned and seemed to glide out of the chamber, her robe swirling about her ankles.

Chapter 18

Blade was slightly uncomfortable at being so suddenly left alone in the chamber. Those unseen but vigilant guards were still in place. If Princess Tarassa were still plotting some treachery, he could be killed as easily as swatting a fly.

On the other hand, if he tried to leave the chamber, he probably would be killed by the guards before he took five steps. It was a good thing the princess had decided that he and Kukon were friendly or at least harmless. If she'd decided otherwise, he and Dzhai would already be dead and the rest of the men would have died as soon as orders reached the harbor. Their deaths would be quick-Princess Tarassa did not seem to have Kul-Nam's love of torture and pain. But they would be sure.

Blade barely had time to complete this thought before the screens across one door were pushed aside. Five women filed out into the chamber. The one in the lead was a gray-haired matron who looked well past fifty. The others were barely more than girls.

The matron coughed to get his attention. «Prince Blade, it is desired that you come with us.»

«I hear.» He walked across the chamber toward the women. They formed a circle around him and led him through the door and down a long, winding corridor. The corridor walls were covered in plain white plaster, smoothed to perfection, and the floor was polished stone.

The matron wore baggy black trousers and a knee-length green tunic and carried a long, leaf-shaped knife in her belt. The four girls were unarmed and wore fine cotton robes, nearly transparent. The glimpses of graceful young bodies under the robes reminded Blade of how long he had been without the sight, let alone the touch, of a woman.

He refused to feel at all sorry for himself. It had been even longer for most of the men aboard Kukon. He hoped they would not run completely wild when they went to town with Princess Tarassa's silver in their pockets.

The corridor ended in a bath chamber, even more richly decorated than the audience chamber. Everywhere was white and pale green and black marble, gilded bronze, enameled copper, tile in a score of colors, censers and intricate lamps burning perfumed oil. An enormous couch half buried in silken cushions stood at one end of the great sunken bath. At the other end rose a carved wooden stand sagging under the weight of gold and silver flasks.

Now the girls fluttered around Blade like four butterflies. They undid his weapons belt and handed it to the matron, who hung it over the wooden stand. Piece by piece, they stripped him until he stood naked on the edge of the bath.

The matron pulled a weighted cord at one end of the wooden stand, a long, bronze pipe swung down out of the ceiling, and steaming hot water gushed out of the pipe into the bath. in a few minutes the tub was filled.

The first few minutes in the tub were sheer delight for Blade. He could not have found more pleasure in taking any or even all four of the girls to the couch. He could feel the dirt and sweat and salt floating off his skin and the strain and aches dissolving out of his bones. He felt that he could gladly stay in the steaming tub for a week.

After a while he began to hope that the girls would peel off their gowns and join him in the tub. The chamber was now full of steam, and the dampness made their gowns cling enticingly. None of them did so, however. Instead, they scuttled around the edge of the tub, putting sponges, brushes, soap, and powdered coral within Blade's reach. Apparently there were some uses he was not supposed to make of them. Well, he was a guest, his hostess had made the rules-and besides, there was the matron standing by with her knife to enforce them.

Blade soaped himself thoroughly, brushed every inch of his skin, then rinsed. He did this three times before he felt clean enough to climb out of the tub. Then he lay down on the couch and waited for whatever was to happen next.

Blade's muscles were warmly relaxed, but his mind was still cool and alert. Baths were good places for murders that could be made to look like accidents. And if they didn't care about making death look accidental, there was the matron's knife and the scrapers and razors the girls were now picking up.

The girls went over every inch of Blade's body with the scrapers, with the powdered coral, with a cool, lightly scented oil, and with their strong, skilled fingers. Their touch was warm and firm, but so entirely impersonal that they might have been kneading bread dough.

Then the women left him, vanishing between one moment and the next, almost as silently as spirits. Bare feet pattered away across the stone, and a distant door slammed shut. There was a moment's silence, and another door opened, more softly and much closer. The sound of bare feet came again, this time moving fast and straight toward the couch.

Blade turned over, raised himself on one elbow, and smiled at Princess Tarassa as she emerged from the steam.

Surprise at finding him awaiting her so calmly flickered briefly across her face. Her voice showed none of it.

«Greetings, Prince Blade.»

«Greetings, Your Grace.»

«Have my servants pleased you?»

«They have pleased me in all the matters in which they were expected to please me. Your hospitality will live long in my memory.»

«That is as it should be, Blade. There is honor in hospitality. There is also pleasure.» She reached down and clasped Blade's right hand. Slowly she bent her head to kiss his palm, then ran her lips slowly up his arm. As she did so, her eyes flickered up and down his body. Blade could sense her glances as something almost tangible, like tiny feathers brushed across his skin. The arousal he'd kept down so thoroughly for so long began to flow through him. He could almost feel it beginning to steam gently, like the hot water in the great bath.

The princess' lips now crept up across Blade's shoulder to his throat. He could feel the healthy woman's warmth that seemed to flow out of her and around him. She wore no perfume, yet there was a sweetness in that warmth, a sweetness that both calmed Blade and excited him still more.

She still wore the blue silk robe, but her jewelry was gone and her feet were bare. Like the girls' gowns, the silk was now damp enough to cling to her body. It was not a body to arouse sudden, urgent, immediate passion. Its curves were too elegant for that. Yet there was an enormous grace in the princess as she bent over Blade, a grace that made him increasingly eager to strip aside the robe and see what lay beneath it.