Chapter 17

For the second time in this Dimension, Richard Blade found himself waking when he'd expected to be dead. At least this time it was no surprise to wake up in a bed. That he was alive at all could only mean the attackers had been driven off before they could kill him. No doubt Esseta or the horsemen who'd come to the rescue had then taken care of putting him to bed. At the moment his head hurt so much that it was an effort to think farther than that. Blade decided he could spare himself the effort for now and drifted off to sleep again.

He woke up with the feeling that the whole room around him was the color of blood. Then he saw the sky outside the one high arched window, and realized that it was simply the glow of sunset on the tiles of the walls and floor. His headache had subsided, and he felt ready to sit up in bed and look around him.

Wherever he was, it was not in the House of the Night's Tale. Nor was he in the hands of people who believed in any sort of asceticism. The room would not have been out of place in a royal palace. The walls and floor were covered with mosaics, floral patterns in green and silver and blue, with gilded highlights. A tapestry with a hunting scene hung over the bed. The bed itself was a massive affair, elaborately carved out of a dark red wood. The knobs at the head and foot of the bed were crystal serpents' heads, set in silver. The sheets under Blade were silk, and the quilt over him seemed to be silk filled with down.

Blade climbed out of the bed. There was a bandage around his head, and another on his left wrist. Other than that he hadn't picked up a single scratch in the fight in the hallway of the House of the Night's Tale. Not bad, even if he had ended the evening by tripping over a chair and knocking himself silly on a lamp!

He walked toward the window, and was just about to reach it when the door opened. Two elderly eunuchs came bustling in. When they saw Blade standing near the window, they frantically urged him back to bed. They even grabbed his arms and tried to drag him. Blade's temper flared at this. If the two eunuchs hadn't been so old and so obviously afraid of being punished if something happened to him, he would have been tempted to knock both of them down.

The two eunuchs led Blade back to the bed and then summoned a doctor to examine him, two more eunuchs to bathe him, and four maidservants with a meal. The food was excellent-lamb stew, bread, several kinds of fruit, and some really good beer-and served from silver vessels with enameled or gilded lids. Blade was more certain than ever that he was in the care of some high-ranking notable of the Baranate. He wished he could get to the window and look out, to orient himself, but every time he tried to get out of bed the two senior eunuchs seemed ready to throw a fit.

It was dark outside by the time Blade finished eating. The servants were clearing away the dishes when the door suddenly swung open and four huge dark-skinned men strode in. They wore the trousers and necklaces of the Baran's infantry, and also blue turbans and thigh-length tunics of chain mail. They positioned themselves two on either side of the door. As they did, all the servants prostrated themselves on the floor, hands outstretched toward the door.

Blade was suddenly tense. There was only one man in Dahaura who received this honor. Before he could even wonder what he ought to do, brisk footsteps sounded in the hall outside and the Baran of Dahaura strode through the door.

The Baran was not really tall enough to stride properly. He stood only about five-and-a-half feet tall and was slightly plump. Hair thinning on top and a long drooping mustache didn't improve his looks. But he carried himself so well and moved with such assurance and dignity that it was hard to be aware of his physical shortcomings. The way the Baran carried himself reminded Blade of the Master of the Hashomi. Both had the same air of knowing that no one would disobey them, stand in their path, or attack their dignity.

The Baran also reminded Blade of someone else he'd seen, but for a moment Blade couldn't think who. Then the certainty seemed to explode in his mind. The merchant who'd been attacked in the Street of the Perfumers! The surprisingly agile merchant, who'd worn mail under his robes and vanished like a puff of smoke while everyone else was busy with the fight! The merchant had been the Baran, disguised with a beard and perhaps padding under his robes.

Blade kept his face blank, in spite of the sudden shock. He didn't know why the Baran had been in the Street of the Perfumers in disguise yesterday. He was quite certain the man wouldn't care to have the matter discussed where so many ears could listen.

The Baran made a sweeping, graceful gesture with both hands, drawing the servants to their feet as if he'd pulled on invisible wires. Another gesture sent them scampering out the door. A third gesture sent two of the guards after them, to stand outside. Their comrades closed the door and stationed themselves on either side of it. They said nothing, but kept their eyes fixed on the Baran. From the Baran's use of nothing but gestures to give his orders, Blade suspected the guards were deaf-mutes.

The Baran came over to the bed and walked briskly in a circle around it. His eyes were on Blade all the time. They were large eyes, dark, intense, but for the moment showing nothing.

Finally the Baran sat down cross-legged on the floor and folded his hands in his lap. «Well, Demad Blade. Are you surprised to see me here?»

Blade wasn't sure he'd heard right. Demad was a rank-a fairly high rank, too-among the gentlemen in the Baran's personal service. Once again he carefully kept his face straight, as he replied, «Not entirely, Lord. Not after my dealings with-a certain merchant, who found himself beset by thieves in the Street of the Perfumers yesterday morning.» If the Baran was going to spring surprises, Blade intended to do the same.

The Baran's round face split in a smile that made him look positively cherubic. «Ah, you know the merchant, then?»

«I do, lord. My eyes have been trained, so they have a certain skill in such matters.»

«More than I have in disguising, eh?»

«I would not dispute the Lord Baran of Dahaura, not in such a matter.»

The Baran laughed out loud. «Your eyes are skilled, and so is your tongue. It is fortunate that not many in Dahaura have such skills. Otherwise my comings and goings in the city would become as dangerous as some of my councilors always said they were.»

He shrugged. «Doubtless the ill-luck they predict will overtake me some day; and then my sons can arrange the succession as they see fit. Meanwhile, I do not see that I have any choice. I cannot see and hear the real life of Dahaura with the eyes and ears of others, no matter how much I may trust them or respect their wisdom.»

«That is a wise course that does you great honor,» said Blade. The compliment was sincere, in spite of the formal wording he felt was necessary.

The Baran smiled again. «If you are going to spread flowery praises upon me like compost on a garden, I may sell you back to Kubin Ben Sarif. I have a thousand men around me who think they render a great service by pouring honey into my ears. I have only a few who use their wits and their strength for better purposes. I have taken you from Kubin's service and made you a Demad in mine in the hope that you will prove another of these useful men. If I am to be disappointed, however-«Another shrug.

«I will do my best to see that you are not disappointed, Lord Baran,» said Blade. «I will do better, I think, if someone explains to me what has been happening while I have been asleep here.» It might be presumptuous to ask the Baran of Dahaura for an explanation of anything, but Blade would have been willing to question God to get information he needed.