Chapter 10

This was all Blade learned from Sikkurad. The Keeper obviously had more to say, but was too afraid of making his household suspicious by staying in the library with Blade long enough to say it. At times the Keeper seemed one of the bravest men Blade had ever met. At other times he seemed ready to start at his own shadow. Blade wondered which would get him first, Queen Tressana or an ulcer.

Blade had learned enough, fortunately. He now knew what he had to listen for and most of what he had to guard against. Sikkurad might have told him a little more about Queen Tressana herself, but would it have been reliable information? For all his intelligence, the Keeper obviously had trouble accepting women who ruled or rode into battle. Jollya would probably be able to tell him more about Tressana, but when would he be able to talk to her? When he did, could he avoid getting Jollya dangerously involved in the Keepers' plotting? Even if Tressana didn't become suspicious, what about Curim? He might be willing to attack Jollya as a way of attacking Blade.

Blade considered all this while he took his bath, then put it firmly out of his mind. If there were any answers, he'd find them more easily after a good dinner and a night's sleep. This might be the last dinner in quite a while he could eat without having to worry about poison in his food, and the last night he could go to sleep without barring his door against assassins.

Dinner was so good that Blade couldn't entirely avoid stray thoughts of «the condemned man's last meal.» He ate soup, roast lamb, and honey cakes, washing everything down with plenty of good red wine. He finished the meal with a cup of herb-scented tea, then went back to his room.

He'd just finished locking the door and was sitting down on a footstool to pull off his boots when he heard a low growl from outside the shuttered window. Before he could move, the shutters flew open as if they'd been hit by a cannon ball. With a snarl one of the hunting cats sprang down into the room.

The wine at dinner hadn't slowed Blade's reflexes. He drew his knife with one hand and snatched a heavy candlestick off the table with the other. He wasn't sure whether this would stop an attack or provoke one, but he wasn't going to face one of the cats bare-handed!

The cat saw Blade's readiness and crouched, tail lashing ominously and wide green eyes glowing. Blade saw that the cat wore a leather collar with Sikkurad's house badge on it in silver thread, and also another badge he didn't recognize. The cat snarled again and Blade braced himself to meet its spring.

Then a voice came from behind the curtains around the great bed. It sounded sleepy and angry at the same time.

«Hoyo, no! Didn't I tell you about this man?»

It was Jollya's voice. Before Blade could wonder what she was doing here or what she was talking about, the curtains flew open. Jollya leaped out at him as gracefully as her pet.

She was barefoot and bareheaded, with her hair unbound and flowing down over her shoulders. Otherwise she wore her full riding leathers, with a knife so long that it was practically a short sword in her tooled and studded belt. She looked so formidable that Blade found himself measuring the distance between himself and his sword.

Then the cat flowed out of his crouch, padded over to Jollya, and rubbed against her ankle. She bent down and scratched him behind the ears. He started purring, sounding like a badly tuned outboard motor. His eyes closed to slits, and his tail stood up as straight as a flagpole.

Blade put the candlestick back on the table, belted on his sword, then turned back to Jollya.

«Why are you here?»

«To see you.»

«About what?» His voice was deceptively mild. He was in no mood for either mysteries or practical jokes.

She swallowed. «I had to see you. You are going away tomorrow, to-to Tressana.»

«How did you know that?» Blade said sharply.

«My father told me.» Blade breathed more easily. Jollya went on. She was nervous, and her words tumbled over each other the same way her father's did. «I came home this afternoon. He met me, told me about you then. I had to see you. I waited until everyone was at dinner, then climbed up the vines. No one saw me. Hoyo followed me. I hope no one saw him.»

«That doesn't tell me why you came in the first place.» There was always the obvious explanation for an attractive woman coming to a man's room and hiding by his bed. However, when the woman was fully clothed and carrying a large knife, the obvious explanation might not be the true one.

«I-«She swallowed again. «I needed to speak to you about-Tressana.» Blade said nothing. He merely looked at her until she looked away. He thought he saw tears in the corner of each eye. It seemed that the obvious explanation for her being here really was the true one. It was hard to mistake the look in her eyes and the way she held her body. Any other questions Blade might want to ask the girl could wait.

Blade put down his sword and knife, then stepped forward. Jollya stood motionless as he approached, as he reached her, and as he took her in his arms. Then she stiffened so violently that for a moment Blade wondered if he'd made a mistake. A moment after that her hands were running up and down his back with clumsy enthusiasm, and her face was tilting up to meet his. She didn't have to tilt far, even though she was barefoot and he was wearing boots.

Blade quickly stopped noticing details like that. Jollya was still clumsy, but her enthusiasm grew like a fire in dry grass. She gripped his shoulders, the small of his back, his buttocks-anywhere she could get a firm hold to pull herself against him. Her lips roamed everywhere they could reach, from the corners of his eyes over to his ears, then down to his lips and his throat.

Blade returned all her passion with more skill. He would have let his own enthusiasm run wild too, but there was still room in his mind for the thought that Jollya might be a virgin. He wanted to be easy, gentle, tender, letting her set the pace as long as possible.

When she started squeezing his erection between her thighs, he wondered how long he could continue to go slowly. He knew that if he didn't take her clothes off now, he would be tearing them off a little later. Although he nearly groaned with the frustration, he pulled away. His hands went to the top hook of Jollya's riding tunic, and slowly undid it. A second hook, and there was bare tanned skin running down to the beginning of the cleft between her breasts. Blade kissed the cleft, tried to slide his fingers in under the leather, discovered he still didn't have room, and undid the third hook.

Releasing the third hook seemed to release a spring in Jollya. She pulled free of him so violently that the fourth hook snapped off. Then she jerked the tunic over her head. Under the tunic she wore a linen shirt that clung so tightly that it was almost more erotic than her bare skin. It also clung so tightly that she couldn't jerk it off the way she'd done with the tunic. She fumbled with it, until Blade knew that it was desire rather than fear making her clumsy. He gripped the shirt at the throat with both hands and tore it down to the waist.

Jollya had almost a fashion model's body, tall and large-boned, with not too much flesh covering the bones. Her breasts looked much better bare than they did clothed. Blade did more than look. He stroked and kissed and fondled them until the large dark nipples jutted out like miniature lance joints against the palms of his hands. Jollya closed her eyes, wound her fingers into Blade's shaggy dark hair, and moaned softly.

When Jollya started shaking all over, Blade knew she was as ready as she needed to be. So was he. In fact, by now he was afraid he'd be almost too ready. He turned his back on Jollya and tried to make a long slow business of pulling off his clothes.