Could be. How long would it be before he knew for certain?

As long as the women want it to be, said a firm voice in his mind.

After a moment, Blade was forced to agree with that voice. Trying to hurry one woman was seldom wise. Trying to hurry several dozen was almost always stupid.

Blade turned on his side, pulled the blankets over himself, and drifted off to the easiest sleep he'd had in this Dimension.

Chapter 8

The women of the valley were eager to get Blade's services, but didn't forget caution or common sense. It was several days before Blade heard from Mirna again, and more than a week before she led him to his first rendezvous.

Even then Blade was not quite as well-off as he'd hoped to be. It was entertaining to dream of satisfying hundreds of sex-starved women while learning all the secrets of the Hashomi from what the women babbled or moaned. Things didn't work out that way.

Mirna had said there were more eager and lusty women than there were eager and lusty men. Blade met less than a hundred. Doubtless there might be more, but Mirna seemed to be a cautious soul. Blade suspected she was bringing to him only those women she could trust to be totally discreet and possibly only those who were her personal friends-and allies. Mirna quite obviously had some plans beyond giving a few dozen of her friends a few happy hours in bed with Richard Blade.

Blade was careful not to inquire about those plans. If Mirna was deep in some dangerous game, she would be quite ready to denounce him to the Master if he did anything but keep his mouth shut and his loins busy. She couldn't afford to be less than ruthless where her own survival was concerned.

Blade did learn a good deal from the women in spite of all this. Unfortunately, most of it was kitchen gossip, domestic scandals, or which Hashomi were usually impotent, drunk, or more than normally sadistic. A vast amount of petty detail, which would no doubt be useful if he ever decided it was worth trying to blackmail some of the Hashomi.

Somehow, Blade could not see much sense in that.

He realized after a few days that he should have expected this. The place of women among the Hashomi was so low that even in his most unguarded moments a sworn adept would hardly reveal very many secrets to one. Most of the leaders high enough to be in the confidence of the Master were celibate or so old they'd lost interest in women.

Not that Blade's passing among the women was a complete waste of his time and energy. From what he saw and from what they told him, he was able to work up a map of the whole valley, with all the important towns and camps and many of the guard posts clearly marked. He was also able to find out where much of the gear he badly needed could be obtained, without the Master's consent or knowledge.

So night after night Blade made his rounds to the places where the women waited. Night after night he slipped into unguarded storehouses, arsenals, and shops, to come out with what he wanted. Night after night, a hidden cache grew in a forest near the northern wall of the valley. Before long he had everything he needed to make his way safely out of the valley and through the mountains that hid it from the world.

Apart from all this, there was a great deal of lusty pleasure to give the women, and to take from them. That was quite all right with Blade-there was nothing of the ascetic in him!

The Master and the senior Treases were more informative. They told Blade very little, but they showed him a lot. From what he saw, Blade was able to draw a good many conclusions on his own.

There were at least nine separate drugs involved in the cult of the Hashomi, ranging from the healing to the lethal. The basic drug was a mildly addictive one that was given to the Hashomi from the moment they entered the ranks of the order. Its main effect was to make them more sensitive to the other eight drugs.

Three of these were more important than the others. There was the huma, the poison the Master had injected into the two men defeated by Blade. A full dose of it could kill a strong man in a few seconds. Even a grain or two finding its way through a cut or scratch could kill a man within a few agonizing hours.

There was the ken, the drug the leader had injected into the two disobedient Hashomi after the fight by the bridge. It made a man passive, almost without a will of his own, incapable of acting without orders and equally incapable of disobeying any order given him. While a man had the ken in him, he was little more than a puppet.

The final member of the deadly trio was the nad. This was not made from the handr flower, but compounded according to a highly secret formula from certain mineral salts and vegetable juices. Its effects reminded Blade of what he'd seen among victims of massive doses of LSD. The nad reacted in any warm-blooded creature to produce madness paranoia, uncontrollable rage, catatonic withdrawal, furious convulsions that ended in death from the rupturing of muscles and internal organs.

Any warm-blooded creature-animals as well as men. Seared into Blade's memory was a demonstration, of the nad he watched one day. He stood beside the Master on the edge of a steep-walled pit dug in the earth almost at the foot of the White Mountain. Together they watched three armed Hashomi lead a man and a woman into the pit. Their hands were bound behind their backs, and both were naked. The man was gray-haired and pot-bellied, while the woman was hardly more than a girl.

They were led to the center of the pit, then chained by the ankle to a thick wooden stake sunk in the earth. The Hashomi scuttled toward the entrance to the pit and slammed the gate behind them. As they did, another gate on the opposite side of the pit opened. The two chained victims turned fear-widened eyes toward the second gate.

«They are a farmer and his daughter caught stealing ripe handr from the fields of the Hashomi,» the Master said. «This is contrary to our ways, which were given to the First Master by Junah himself.»

In other words, stealing handr was blasphemy. Junah was the god of the religion that seemed to dominate this Dimension. It ruled in Dahaura as well as in the valley, although Blade had heard that in Dahaura it was divided into several sects.

Blade nodded politely. «I understand. Certainly the handr must be protected.»

The Master smiled. «Indeed it must be, and today you shall see how we protect it.» His last words were nearly drowned out by a high-pitched neigh that turned into a shrill scream and ended in a long rasping intake of breath. Blade recognized a horse, in terrible pain, fear, or anger.

Hooves thudded, and the horse burst out into the pit. It was a small gray stallion, thick-necked, short-legged, obviously a breed formed for strength and endurance rather than speed or show. It plunged out into the pit, alternately rearing and kicking out, long teeth snapping at the air. Its eyes were wide and bloodshot and rolled furiously.

«The nad is working in it,» said the Master. «Soon it will be blind as well as mad. But before its eyes grow dark, it will see the man and the woman.»

As the horse dashed around and around the pit, one of its lashing hooves struck the girl on the hip. The girl bit back a scream and clutched at the post to hold herself up. Blood now trickled down her bare thigh, and her father let out a sharp cry that mingled horror, fear, and rage.

The horse heard him and turned. Its drug-hazed eyes focused on him, and it reared up, its iron-shod hooves striking out. Its aim was good enough. One hoof flailed the air by the man's ear, the other crashed into his forehead. Skin parted, bone cracked and shattered, blood oozed. The man jerked convulsively, then collapsed to the ground without a cry. He was not dead-Blade could see him twitching feebly. But the damage would have defeated Home Dimension's best brain surgeon.