«They say 'this British agent Blade does not live like a Hashom. He does not meditate, he eats as he chooses and when he chooses, he lives every day alone. And every night he goes forth and takes women. By all that we have learned since we became of the Hashomi, he should be swiftly weakening in both mind and body.

« 'Yet he is as strong and swift and cunning as ever. He survived wounds that would have killed many Hashomi, and slew two of the best Treases as though they were freshly sworn boys. He is the master of fighting arts that the Hashomi know not, and teaches them to us.

« 'What does this say of the way of the Hashomi? Is it needed for strength and speed in the battles we fight? Can only British agents live as Blade does and still fight well? Or could we also perhaps live with good food and beer- and women and freedom when we want them, and still do all that we need to do?'

«That is what they are saying and asking, Blade. Many of them. You are a stranger who has been raised above them, and they do not love you for this. They will kill you if they get the chance. As for the Master-«

Blade put a hand on her lips to silence her so he could think in peace. He knew quite well what the Master would say and do when he heard these mutterings among the Hashomi.

Quite by accident Blade had sown doubt, discontent, and rebellion among the Hashomi. For centuries they'd followed obediently in the footsteps of the First Master and his successors. Now they were beginning to think for themselves.

Sooner or later the Master would hear of this. He would also know that the discipline of the Hashomi was in danger. For Richard Blade, who had brought this danger into the valley, there could be only one penalty.

Death.

It was time to leave the Valley of the Hashomi behind. The Master might learn of this any day. Blade said as much to Mirna, and found her clinging to him, her eyes wet. The farewell took much longer than Blade liked, although Mirna was as delightful and passionate as ever. Then finally she was gone and Blade was able to pull on his clothes.

Fortunately he did not have to return to the hospital. He had his weapons ready to hand. Everything else he needed was in the hidden cache on the far side of the valley. Three hours brisk walking from the hut would bring him there. Then a scramble up the cliffs into the mountains to the north of the valley, and away toward the east and the desert.

Whatever he might find there, it could not be as dangerous now as the Master of the Hashomi.

Chapter 10

Blade was halfway across the valley when he realized that he was being followed. The Hashomi were competent woodsmen, good enough to track a man across country at night. They were not quite good enough to track Blade without being detected. Very few people in any Dimension were.

Blade kept moving without changing his pace, while he considered how to deal with the men on his trail. How many of them were there? Did they want to kill him outright, or capture him and bring him before the Master?

There was a half-moon above, but clouds kept drifting across it. A mile farther on, the moon came out briefly, and Blade was finally able to get a good look at his pursuers. There were four of them, one carrying the staff of a Treas. Blade made up his mind to turn on them as soon as he found a good ambush site. He knew he could handle four Hashomi, probably without any of them getting away to give the alarm.

Blade and the Hashomi who thought they were hunting him kept moving steadily north for another two miles. By now the last village was behind them, the farms were fewer, and the land was becoming more thickly forested. When the moon shone, it showed the cliffs of the northern wall of the valley looming steadily higher. Blade knew the route he'd be using to climb it, if he survived the coming fight. He'd studied the route carefully by daylight, and was confident that he could climb it even by night, as long as no one was shooting at him.

It was about time to make sure nobody would be.

Blade kept moving until he came to a large tree with thick, spreading branches that would support a man and heavy foliage that would hide one. The open ground around it was narrow enough so that anyone leaping down from the tree would be within easy striking distance of anyone there.

Blade scrambled up into the tree, found a well-hidden place where he could brace himself securely, and waited. Insects whined in his ears and the rough bark of the tree gouged his skin, while the sap left sticky messes in his hair and down his neck. He took his mind off the discomforts by checking his sword, knife, dagger, and other weapons. The Hashomi normally went about fully armed, so no one had ever considered it suspicious that Blade was a walking arsenal.

Blade waited in his perch so long that he began to wonder if perhaps the Hashomi had given up the chase. Or perhaps they'd realized he was laying an ambush for them, and had sent back for help? That was an unpleasant thought, but not likely. No Treas and few ordinary Hashomi cared to admit that they needed help in any battle.

Then suddenly the four Hashomi were moving out into the open ground around Blade's tree. They moved as cautiously as if they expected to tread on poisonous snakes any minute. The Treas carried his staff and a knife, two had their swords drawn and ready, and the fourth held a crossbow. In their desire not to lose Blade's trail they'd spread out into a wide line. Too wide. They were beyond mutual supporting distance of each other.

Blade continued to wait as the men moved toward the tree. The moon was shining so brightly now that Blade recognized the Treas. He was one of the five who'd acted as judges at Blade's testing. In another minute he'd have a second chance to judge Blade's skill, although he might not live long enough to benefit from this opportunity.

The archer was drifting to the left, on a course that would bring him almost directly under Blade. Blade waited until the last possible second, then three breaths longer. His hand darted inside his tunic, and jerked out a twenty-foot length of tough cord. On the end was tied a small metal tube. Blade pressed the free end of the tube against the branch, and four spring-loaded hooks popped into sight. He let the cord run out a few feet, then whipped it toward the archer.

The hooks caught the crossbow. Blade jerked hard, and the bow flew out of the man's hands and thudded to the ground. It went off, driving its bolt into the tree. As it did, Blade landed beside it. The archer's eyes widened and he reached for the knife in his belt.

He wasn't fast enough. Blade closed in, the side of his right hand chopping the man across the throat. At the same time his left drove the dagger up under the man's ribs. Blade didn't even wait for the dying archer to fall before he whirled, drawing his sword with his right hand and raising the dagger.

Blade took care to learn what he could do with every weapon that came into his hands. He knew that he could throw the dagger and hit a vital spot on an unarmored man up to about twenty feet away. The next Hashom was about that far. The man had time for only one step before Blade's dagger was in the air, and one more before it was in his stomach.

That wouldn't kill a man outright, but it would slow and distract even one of the Hashomi. The man hesitated before taking his next step, and his sword froze in midair. Blade's sword hummed in a wide slash with all the strength of both massive arms behind it. The Hashom's body toppled as his head flew high in the air, clipped off as neatly as the head of a dandelion.

By this time the Treas had clearly realized what was happening. He decided to throw pride to the winds and send his last man for help while he himself delayed Blade as long as possible. It was a courageous decision, but made too late. Blade closed with the Treas before the man could abandon staff and knife and draw his sword. He beat the knife out of the other's hand with a swordcut that sent it flying high into the branches of the tree. Then he whirled on one foot and drove the other in over the staff against the Treas' jaw. The man went over backward, landed full length, and lay there without moving or making a sound.