«That remains to be seen. He is no friend to the Tribes, but he is a friend to me. He is also an enemy of my enemies in Kaldak. To spite them, he might even be willing to aid Tribesmen who were not going to fight him. Do you think I can ask you not to use any aid you get from Bekror against anyone except Doimar? I have told you several times that Doimar is now a greater enemy to the Tribes than Kaldak has ever dreamed of being!»

«And I believe you. Now. But what I believe does not matter. Without some help from someone, the Red Cats cannot do as you wish. We had five hundred warriors. Now we have less than two hundred, and fewer than that with weapons fit to use against Doimar. If I send half my warriors with you and they do not return, the Red Cats will be too weak to stand against anyone. It would not matter who slew them. The Tribe would die, to the last infant.»

Blade was silent. Ikhnan was a proud warrior confessing weakness, and could do without pointless remarks for a while.

Finally Blade said, «I would not ask that. It is something no honorable man could ask.»

«Thank you.» Ikhnan swallowed more beer, which seemed to clear his head. «I and five other warriors will travel with you to the house of Monitor Bekror. You and he shall speak. If he offers us weapons to use against Doimar, I shall swear by anything he asks not to use them against him. Will he find that just?»

Bekror would, if he believed Blade at all. If he didn't, there wasn't much Blade could do about it. He and the Tribesmen could hardly steal enough Newtec or Oltec gear to make Ikhnan willing to send his warriors against the rocket base.

Then Blade would have to convince someone else in Kaldak, if he wanted to smash Detcharn's schemes before they literally got off the ground. He would also have to do it fast, or even the serum formula wouldn't be in Kaldakan hands fast enough to do any good!

Chapter 20

The Sky Master's daughter Baliza closed the door behind her and looked across the tapestry-hung room to the great bed. Monitor Bekror was already in it, propped up on a stack of pillows. He had a book in his lap and a jug of beer with two cups on the carved wooden table beside the bed. He looked as if he might be dozing, but Baliza knew that appearances could deceive.

She locked the door, snuffed out all the lamps except the one by the bed, and started undressing. She took her time about it, since the night was warm, and there was no great hurry to get under the blankets and into Bekror's arms. Also, he said he liked to watch her slowly stripping herself down from a soldier into a love-goddess.

The first time she'd come to him, she'd thought he might have been flattering her, when all he really needed was the extra time to become aroused. After all, he would never see fifty again. Now she knew that when he said she was a work of art, he was simply telling the truth as he saw it.

When she was naked, she padded across to the bed. Bekror handed her a full cup of beer. As she drank she suddenly felt his hand between her thighs, where it tickled most. She jumped and spilled half the beer over her shoulders and breasts. Bekror sat up and started licking the beer off her skin. As his lips closed around her nipples, she put down the cup and wound her fingers in his hair to pull his head against her breasts. Meanwhile his hand was still busy between her thighs, doing more than tickling.

At last she had to pull free, sweep the blankets aside, and scramble into bed. As Bekror's arms went around her, she let desire fill her and let out a soft moan of anticipation. Perhaps Bekror was not everything he'd been as a young man. But in the time since he'd been a young man he must have bedded a great many women. The women had taught him much, and he remembered all of it.

He didn't even mind the fact that she was taller and probably stronger than he was. «More to get a good hold on,» was the way he put it.

She had been instructed by Geyrma to come to Sclathdan to get to the bottom of the rumors that Bekror was forming an alliance with the Tribesmen.

Now she was really beginning to feel slightly guilty about being here under an assumed name, as a representative from the City of Kaldak, supposedly inspecting his weapons. This in spite of the fact that he was obviously playing a few little games of his own. The games they played in bed were getting through to her, though, making her feel more like a woman than she had in years.

But then, perhaps he was bedding her only because he hoped this would shut her mouth? Perhaps if he knew who she really was he wouldn't have touched her. Perhaps-

Then he was in her, and she was getting all his strength and vigor. There was no «perhaps» about that, or any more thinking to be done. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, not worried about her strength if he wasn't, and he gasped with the effort he was making but smiled while he made it ….

There was sweat mixed with the beer on her breasts and all down her body before the loving was ended. Then Bekror seemed to fall asleep beside her, one arm flung across her breasts. She could tell that he was pretending. So it might be tonight, that meeting with the Tribesmen he had planned? She decided to pretend to be asleep also, although she wanted to pull his arm more tightly across her breasts. She was getting used to having someone in bed with her. She would not find it so easily, certainly not from such a good man, when she returned to Kaldak.

At last Bekror seemed satisfied that the woman beside him was too soundly asleep to notice anything. He slipped out of bed, pulled on his clothes, and picked up pack, helmet, and rifle from the closet. When he went out, Baliza heard someone talking to him in the hallway leading to the stairs. From the few words they exchanged, it sounded like a woman. Probably Sparra, Chyatho's widow and Voros's lover.

Baliza waited another minute, then sprang out of bed, pulled on her clothes, and ran to the window. The vine below the window wasn't quite equal to her weight and gave way when she was halfway down. Lovemaking hadn't affected her trained reflexes, though-she landed with no harm and with hardly any noise. It didn't take her long to be sure no one had detected her, or to find the trail of Bekror and Sparra. She checked her weapons-the compact ten-shot laser, the loop of wire, the knives-then set off after the Monitor and his companion. She just prayed Bekror was not engaging in any treachery. She had come to care for him so much that it would be difficult to kill him.

Blade wasn't entirely surprised at Monitor Bekror's coming to the rendezvous. He'd worded his message carefully, promising that Bekror would have a marvelous chance both to help Kaldak and yet to increase his independence from the City at a very small price. Blade was still happy and relieved to see the other man appear. Any other way of getting Kaldakan help for his plans would still take time they might not have.

Bekror stepped out of the darkness, with Sparra close beside him, her pistol drawn. Blade's keen night vision made out another man lurking in the bushes. After a moment, he recognized Sparra's friend, Terbo.

«Well, I'll be-!» Bekror roared. Then he remembered where he was. «It is Voros. And what in the name of the Lords is that on your shoulder.»

«Alive and well,» said Blade. «And he is Cheeky. Hello, Sparra.»

«Hello, Voros. And-hello, Cheeky.»

«Yeeeep!»

Blade opened his belt pouch and held out a package sealed in oiled leather. «Take this, Bekror. No matter what else happens, if it gets to Kaldak quickly there is hope for this-for everyone here.» He'd nearly slipped and said «this Dimension.» He wasn't quite as calm as he thought he was.

«What is it?»

«The formula for the serum against the fever the Seeker Detcharn plans to unleash on Kaldak and the Tribes.»