Richard stood a moment, then said, «What about Zoe? Is she still alive?»
«She is alive and close to us. We will show her to you.»
A vision came unbidden to Richard's mind. He saw Zoe lying on an altar of polished bone, wearing the same nurse's uniform in which he had seen her last. She was breathing as if asleep, but her eyes were open and staring into space. He recognized the closed door behind her as the one that led into the central room of the city, the chamber of the Ngaa's inner self.
The voice that was many voices said gently, «As you see, she is safe.»
«I'm coming for her.» Richard advanced another step.
«But why? We will give her to you when you have served our purposes. Until then…»
Suddenly the circular exit irised shut with a swish and a click of bone on bone.
Richard raised his voice to his unseen enemy, though a whisper would have been heard, or a thought. «You are a fool, Ngaa! Do you think that will stop me? I remember how thin and fragile it is, how fragile everything is in your city. You made everything light so your force fields could easily support it, and depended on your ability to control minds for your defense. You cannot control my mind! I learned that in the plane over London. You should never have let me learn you were not omnipotent, Ngaa. That was your fatal error. And you should never have let me learn the route to your innermost brain, or that your brain was made of thinnest glass. You should have realized, Ngaa, that I would remember all these things when your spell wore off, and use them.» The echo was a long time fading.
«One step more, Richard Blade, and we will kill you.»
Richard laughed outright, then shouted, «You're bluffing, Ngaa! If you kill me you can't use me as a gateway!»
He ran, hurled himself against the door, and exploded into the passageway beyond in a shower of bone splinters.
The passageway was high-ceilinged as a cathedral and as wide. The walls gave off a subdued diffuse blue-green light that shimmered and pulsed with a rhythm like a heartbeat. Richard knew what the walls were made of Flesh! Living flesh that was transparent at the surface so he could see the intricate network of veins and arteries, translucent in its deeper layers, and its deepest part dark and black with oozing viscous shadows.
His bare feet drummed on the bone floor as he settled into a steady distance-eating lope, penetrating deeper and deeper into the city, breathing in, breathing out, setting a pace that would leave him fresh and ready for anything when he arrived at his destination.
The voice that was many voices whispered again in his mind, «We cannot kill you.» The tone was as calm, complacent and superior as ever. «Very well. We will merely… beguile you.»
To his horror, Richard saw the passageway grow blurred and begin to fade away. A terrible weariness came over him…
Blade awoke, head aching, as powerful fingers gripped his shoulder and shook him. He opened his eyes to look up into the face of a man he knew well, King Rikard of Tharn. King Rikard's face was so similar to Blade's that he had, as he had had many times before, the bizarre sensation of looking at himself-not his mirror image, but his real self. The face was Blade's, yes, but the long wild red-gold hair was from his mother.
King Rikard was Blade's son.
«Awake! Awake quickly!» the young man cried, eyes glowing with the reflected gleam of the nearby campfire. Dazed, confused, Blade stared up into a cloudless starry sky. He had been dreaming. Something about a nightmare creature called a Ngaa… But he had no time for dreams.
«What's wrong?» Blade demanded, sitting up and throwing aside the animal pelt that served him as a blanket. The night was cold and Blade was naked, but he could spare no thought for that.
King Rikard stood up, a giant in a green tunic with a faming golden sword embroidered on the chest and two swords slung from a wide leather belt. «The Looters have returned!»
Blade sprang to his feet. «But how can that be?»
His son handed him one of the swords. «They must have another dimensional gateway machine.»
Blade hefted the weapon, noting that it was not made of metal but of some strange kind of plastic. As his mind cleared he remembered the name of the plastic. Teksin! Of course! Made from the mani plant. He knew it as well as his own name. The world of dreams faded still more. Why did he think now of Zoe? For no special reason probably. He often dreamed about her. Yes, that must be it. She'd been in his dream.
A squad of men on horseback galloped past. Everywhere there was confusion, horses rearing, men running. A beautiful woman rode into the firelight, leading a riderless but saddled horse. «Mazda!» she called.
Blade answered. Of course he answered. Mazda was his name in this world. «Chara!»
Her cape swirled around her slender body. «Quick, Mazda! We must flee!»
Blade bounded into the saddle, seizing the reins. «Yes. Flee.» Never had his mind been so sluggish, so reluctant to leave the realm of dreams.
King Rikard was running through the camp, shouting, kicking awake the men who lay around the campfire, and the women and neuters. «Spread out! Spread out! They can't track all of us!»
Blade thumped his horse in the ribs and galloped out of the camp; Chara rode, silent and grim, at his side. For a moment the confused feeing Tharnians surrounded them, then they broke free and rode through the fields, and only an occasional shout or whinny revealed the presence of what must have been a substantial army. Hundreds? Thousands? Blade could not remember.
Then Blade saw a distant dark mass. «This way, Chara,» he said, turning his horse. «There's a forest over there.»
«Yes, Mazda.» She obeyed him instantly, without question.
For a while there was no sound but the drum of hooves, the rush of wind, and the flapping of Chara's cloak. She rode to his left and a little behind him. It was a warm night, without a moon. Under other circumstances it would have been pleasant to go riding with Chara.
They passed the first sparse trees on the edge of the forest.
He noticed the horses were becoming uneasy, veering from side to side, snorting and rolling their eyes. They were frightened of something, but what? Blade himself felt a vague nameless terror creeping over him. Suddenly he realized what was causing it. Subsonics! There must be a Looter vessel somewhere close using the subsonic generator to demoralize possible opponents. «Chara,» he began, «we'd better…»
Before he could finish his sentence the vessel rose from behind the dark wall of trees ahead, not more than a hundred yards away. It was at least forty feet long and twenty feet wide, with a domed turret on top, and gleamed faintly in the starlight. The trees, as the machine passed over them, seemed to shimmer and dance. Antigravity fields produced exactly that sort of shimmer.
The horses saw the thing at the same moment Blade did, and went crazy, rearing and bucking as if they'd never been tamed. With a scream Chara pitched from her saddle to land with a bone-cracking thump in the weeds. Blade decided his mount had become more of a liability than an asset, and leaped off, landing with a roll and coming up on his feet. The horses galloped off toward the camp.
The vessel moved closer, slowly, taking its time. Another similar machine came in view behind it.
Blade knelt beside Chara to whisper, «Are you all right?»
She shook her head, and when she spoke her whisper was harsh with pain. «No. I think… I think I've broken my leg.» She did not weep. She was a soldier, as much as any man.
A third machine rose up from behind the trees. In the first machine a searchlight snapped on and began to swing slowly from side to side, probing the grove, seeking a target, a victim. Blade guessed the machines carried human pilots. They were acting with a purposefulness the merely automated machines lacked. It seemed the Looters from Konis had learned a lesson from their recent spectacular defeat, learned that a human soldier is more resourceful and flexible than even a well-programmed robot. Blade also guessed that the men from Konis would this time be more interested in revenge than in loot. They would not be satisfied to kill, but would try to capture and torture.