Killer Plants Of Binaark

Chapter 11

It seemed to Blade that he'd barely fallen asleep when the high-pitched tooting of Jaghdi trumpets and the thud of drums woke him. He peered through the shutters and saw a line of cavalrymen and chariots bearing the royal badge trotting into the courtyard. The queen's men had come for him.

The house servants came for his baggage while he was still dressing. They also brought the cat Lorma and tethered her to the foot of the bed with a braided silk leash. She seemed to be rather doubtful about the whole business, but lay quietly and even purred when Blade spoke to her and scratched her head. When he untied the leash from the bed and led her out into the hall, she went as obediently as a well-trained dog.

The whole courtyard was hazy with dust kicked up by the rolghas and chariots when Blade and Lorma came down. He saw Sikkurad on the balcony over the main door, but there was no sign of the Keeper's daughter. She was probably still asleep, and Blade rather wished he could be too.

The commander of the party stepped forward. He was obviously someone with high rank, wealth, or both. The fine tooling and heavy metal fastenings of his armor were visible even under their thick coating of dust. He was about to greet Blade when he caught sight of Lorma.

«Lord Blade, is that yours?»

«She is now.»

«You know she was Warlady Jollya's hunter?»

The commander seemed ready to be suspicious. Blade's talent for lying with a straight face came to his rescue. «She was. But Sikkurad decided I should have a guest gift. He chose Lorma.»

«I don't imagine Jollya liked that much.»

«She didn't. But she obeyed.»

The commander laughed. «Good! Time Sikkurad started reining in that mad bitch of his. Oh, she's good enough in a fight, but what good's a fighting woman?»

«I suppose that depends on where she does her fighting,» said Blade, grinning.

The commander laughed again. «You might say that.» He raised a hand in salute to Blade. «I'm Efroin of the Red Band. I'm to take you to the palace. We've got your baggage. Will you ride or do you want a chariot?»

Blade would have preferred a chariot, but after his duel with Curim's guardsmen he had a reputation for toughness to maintain. «I'll ride.»

A spare rolgha was led forward, and Blade mounted. Lorma climbed into one of the chariots and lay down on top of Blade's baggage. Then the drums and trumpets sounded again. Blade looked up at the balcony. Sikkurad was still there, but now he could also see Jollya peering out through the shutters. Then she pulled her head back quickly, before her father could turn and see her.

Efroin seemed to have orders to get Blade to the palace as fast as possible. The rolghas swept along at a bone-shaking trot, while the trumpeters cleared the road ahead and a cloud of dust hid it behind. By noon Blade was wishing he'd chosen a chariot. He was saddle-sore and half asleep, caked with sweat and dust, and his mouth felt as if it were packed with hot sand. Sheer determination was about all that kept Blade in the saddle until the first stop. When he dismounted it was a moment before he was quite sure his legs were going to hold him up. The only consolation was that his fellow riders didn't seem to be in much better shape.

He felt better after lunch, and by the time they reached the palace Blade and Efroin were the only two riders who didn't seem ready to collapse. The rolghas, Blade noted, were gray with dust but apparently ready to go on for hours more. They must have a good deal more endurance than horses, who would have collapsed from thirst and heat if pushed this hard on a hot summer day.

Green-clad servants led Blade through a labyrinth of streams, gravel paths, and carefully shaped hedges to a surprisingly small whitewashed stone building. Blade was reluctant to believe that this was the palace or even the guest house, until he saw that the doors, shutters, window gratings, front stairs, and roof decorations were all made of iron or brass. Nobody but the monarch could have afforded such a display of metal. Blade saw that Lorma had food and water, refused a meal for himself, and fell asleep across the foot of his bed without even taking off his clothes. His last thought was that if he'd done nothing else today, he'd learned how to keep a rolgha going at a good speed on a long march. This might turn out to be a useful skill.

The royal palace of Jaghd was a whole series of small buildings scattered through a park nearly a mile on a side, rather than a single large building. This let the kings practice the Jaghdi national hobby of building, and also do most of their entertaining outdoors. Jaghd had a mild climate which reminded Blade of Southern California, so he wasn't surprised to find its people fond of outdoor living.

The building where Blade had three luxurious rooms contained a number of suites which were reserved for high-ranking officers and nobles, either stationed at the palace or visiting it. Blade never met any of the visitors, but he did meet several of the officers. One of them was Curim, and at first Blade suspected Tressana was playing another of her little games: putting Curim and Blade together like two fighting cocks in a pit, and taking to her bed the one who came out alive.

If the queen was playing games, Curim had sense enough not to play along blindly. He didn't exactly embrace Blade like a long-lost brother, but he made it clear he wouldn't make the first move against the Englishman.

«I'd hold back even if you hadn't saved my life. I'm not your friend and you're not mine, but why be enemies? We'd just be playing into the hands of a certain party, who gets much pleasure from watching men battle it out.» There was no need to mention who that «certain party» was.

It undoubtedly helped that Blade was in the officers' quarters rather than in the queen's bedroom. It also probably helped that the suits of armor and weapons sent over for Blade were not nearly as elaborate as Curim's. They were well made and serviceable, but they didn't have the richness of Curim's. In a land where fighting men showed their rank and wealth by the quality of their fighting gear, that meant Curim was still a good deal higher in Tressana's favor than Blade. As long as this was so, Curim had every reason to stay at peace with Blade. And as long as it would keep his back safe, Blade was just as willing to wear the less elaborate armor.

After a week, Blade was beginning to find life boring, and to wonder what came next. He seemed to be spending most of his time in this Dimension waiting for someone else to tell him what to do. He didn't like waiting around, especially when he had some important work to do.

In order to break the boredom, Blade willingly accepted Curim's invitation to a masked party in one of the open-air pavilions. «Not a big party, you understand,» said the guardsman. «Forty, fifty people, everyone masked. That way, everyone can do more of what they want to do.» The expression cut Curim's face left no doubt of what he wanted to do. Blade was tempted to ask him what the queen would say about this kind of party, but knew what the answer would be even if the guard captain was feeling friendly enough to tell him. Everyone knew about Tressana's fondness for good company in bed, and most people accepted it, just as the queen accepted it in her subjects.

No doubt Tressana would tell Blade what she wanted when she wanted it, and not before. Once again Blade felt angry at having to wait for someone else to act before he could get to work. At this rate he'd be snatched back to Home Dimension before he even got to the queen's bed. That would leave the Keepers without their spy, Jollya without a weapon against her father, and the Project without any results from this whole mission. No, that wasn't quite right-there was the wire. But that was a pretty small return for the amount of work involved in sending Blade into Dimension X.

Blade decided to forget about the pressure of time and concentrate on having a good time at the party.

The smell of roasting meat drifted through the line of trees from the open-pit hearths on the far side. Blade walked down a gravel path with a wooden plate of meat and cheese in one hand and a leather cup of wine in the other. He'd taken them from pots and barrels everyone else was using, so he wasn't worried about poison.

Couples passed hand in hand, and so did men playfully chasing women who weren't trying to run very fast. From beyond the bushes came squeals, sighs, and grunts as other couples entertained themselves in the protecting darkness. It was warm enough to go naked outdoors, and the smoke from the fire was keeping away the insects.

Blade felt like chasing someone himself, but wasn't sure if it would be a good idea. Tressana didn't care about the virtue of the palace women any more than she did about her own, but she might resent a wandering eye in a man she'd brought to the palace for herself.

Blade drained the cup and turned back from the path to the wine barrels, half sunk in a pond to cool them. He wore heavy linen trousers and a sleeveless black leather vest, with a black silk mask that covered his whole face all the way back to the ears. He knew he looked more like a motorcycle gang member than a warrior, but this was party dress for the palace guards.

Another couple approached, the man bare-chested and the woman wearing only a jeweled loin guard and a lot of veiling that threatened to blow aside every time she moved. Blade stepped aside to let them pass, and nearly stumbled over a woman sitting under a bush, arms clasping her knees.

She was small, hardly more than five feet tall, and Blade wondered if she was even full grown. It was hard to tell, because she wore a silvery-green robe from ankle to neck and a black hood that hid her from the neck up. As she saw Blade standing over her, she looked up. Blade thought he heard her laugh.

«You're the traveling warrior, Blade of England, aren't you?»

Blade checked to see if his mask had slipped. This time the woman definitely laughed. «You'd have to bleach your skin and shrink a hand's breadth to really disguise yourself.» Either the hood muffled her voice or she had a cold.

She stood up. «Blade. Time for a woman?»

Blade smiled. He appreciated such a direct proposition. He also decided to accept. Caution be damned, and Queen Tressana too! Unless he was losing his virility, he'd be able to give the queen as much as she could hope for even if she summoned him tomorrow morning. Tonight he'd finally do something for himself, without waiting for someone to give him marching orders!

«You're a grown woman, not a girl?»

The body inside the robes stiffened and he heard a hiss of breath, like an indignant snake. «You're going to regret that remark, traveler Blade. I'm as much of a woman as you are a man, if not more.»

This, Blade reflected, was quite possible. Finding out for sure would be pleasant. He found he was already mildly aroused by the anticipation. The woman's sharp eyes noticed this. She stuck her fingers through the lacing of Blade's trousers, and for a moment he thought she was going to lead him away by his penis. Then she pulled her fingers out, hooked them over his belt, and led him off into the bushes.

She led him a long way, past couples so busy on the ground that they ignored everything else, to an isolated pavilion by a large pond. The pavilion had a grass floor surrounded by a low stone wall. Blade was surprised to see that the roof and its supporting pillars were of iron-another display of wealth by some long-dead king of Jaghd.

The moment they entered the pavilion, the woman let go of Blade and started undoing the brass brooch that held her robe together at the throat. The brooch thudded to the grass, and with a quick shrug of her shoulders she made the robe rustle softly down into a heap at her feet. Blade stared. In spite of the darkness he could see she was wearing white trousers with an open crotch that left her whole pubic area bare. The pale triangle of hair was framed by another triangle of embroidery.

She came toward him, without removing her hood. Blade wondered if her face and legs were scarred or deformed. Certainly there was nothing wrong with what he could see. Her arms and shoulders were tanned and rounded out with firm muscles. Her breasts were small but nearly perfect, and her nipples had already risen.

Blade was still pulling off his pants when the, woman reached him. She knelt before him, adjusted her hood to clear her mouth, then took his erection between her lips and went to work with determination and skill. Blade gasped and tried to reach down to her, but she gracefully ducked her head without letting go of him. He gave up trying to touch her and concentrated on fighting for control. Somehow he knew that he had to hold on as long as he could, and not just for his own pleasure in prolonging the delicious agony. He had the distinct feeling that he was being tested, and he was going to pass the test or collapse trying.

Before long the woman realized she wasn't going to break Blade with her mouth alone. She began running slim, skilled fingers up and down the insides of his thighs and into every other place she could reach. Blade's gasps turned to groans of agony, but he held on. The woman was beginning to fight for breath herself when Blade finally gave up the struggle. She didn't try to swallow the hot jetting, but wiped her mouth on her hood and squatted silently until Blade had spent himself completely.

As Blade finished, something went rrrrip beside him. He was instantly alert, in spite of the warm fog of contentment filling his mind and body, and he looked down. The right leg of the woman's snug white trousers was split from knee to crotch. She was pressing her thighs together, trying to conceal the suddenly exposed skin. Blade couldn't see what she was ashamed of. Her white skin looked smooth, clean, and warm. He wanted to touch it, and found his erection beginning to return at the thought.

Then the moon came out from behind a cloud, and silvery light flooded the pavilion. Blade got a good view of the woman's bare thigh. A dark line ran down it and across the knee-a line that looked remarkably like a scar.

Suddenly a chain of thoughts linked up in Blade's mind, like a string of firecrackers going off. The woman was small and blonde, with a scar on her right knee.

Tressana.

It could hardly be anybody else. Her Grace, the Queen of Jaghd, was taking advantage of the masked dinner party to test Blade. Blade wondered if he'd passed the first part of the test. He was also determined to turn the tables and do a little testing of his own, now that he knew the woman he was dealing with.

Before Tressana could move, Blade was picking her up. She was less than half his weight, so he could pick her up as easily as a child. In fact he managed to hold her with one arm while with the other hand he tore at her trousers until she was naked from her neck down to her knees. The effect was strange and incredibly erotic. Blade found that he was completely ready, and decided not to wait any longer. After all, he was manhandling a queen, and if he didn't keep her too busy moaning to call for help things might become too lively for comfort.

He thrust into her, supporting her with one hand under her tight buttocks and the other across her back. She gasped at the first penetration, stiffened, then started heaving herself back and forth so furiously that Blade nearly dropped her. At last he pulled her hard against him, her lips nuzzling his ribs, while she twisted and jerked her hips without moving the rest of her body.

Blade found it easy to outlast Tressana, although it was hard to keep her from shrieking out loud when her release came. He managed to keep one hand over her mouth until her spasm passed, and then she went so limp he was afraid he'd suffocated her. The limpness lasted only until she realized that Blade was still inside her and still good for more. Then she threw her arms around his shoulders so fiercely that she drove all the breath out of him. For a woman of her size, Tressana was incredibly strong. She began to move again, and Blade was willing to let her do all the work she could. Making love in this position for long was a strain even for someone of his size and strength. Also, he was beginning to have to think about controlling himself.

Blade didn't lose control until Tressana had writhed and twisted twice more. By then they were both so slippery with sweat that Blade had trouble holding the queen, and she was holding on only by digging her fingernails into his skin. He didn't even feel the pain. He felt nothing except the woman in his arms and himself deep inside her, until his own release came like an explosion.

Blade stayed on his feet even after that, but he could no longer hold Tressana. He half-lowered, half-dropped her to the ground. Her knees buckled so that she would have fallen if he hadn't put his arms around her and held her against him.

Then she started shaking violently. Blade wondered if it was cold, fear, or anger. He hoped it wasn't anger, even though he knew he could take Tressana and a good many Jaghdi with him if the worst happened. Then he heard a small snort, after that a giggle, and realized that Tressana was fighting desperately to control her laughter.

Blade decided to help her. He gripped the bottom of the hood with both hands and ripped. The black cloth came apart and Tressana's blue eyes blazed out at him. Her face shone with sweat and her hair was damp and tangled as if she'd been using it for a mop, but those eyes held him. Then she grinned, the grin turned into another giggle, and the giggle turned into wild laughter. Before she could be overheard, Tressana snatched the torn hood from Blade and stuffed it into her mouth to muffle the laughter. Then she collapsed onto the grass and lay there writhing and rolling back and forth, completely out of control as she laughed herself weak over the success of her own joke.

Blade would have felt more like joining in the laughter if he hadn't heard the note of hysteria in it. He hoped it was just the aftermath of their lovemaking that was unbalancing her, not anything more serious. As the laughter died away, he knelt beside her and started sponging the sweat off her body with her trousers.

Suddenly she sat up and kissed him on the nose. «What was it that told you who I was, Blade?»

«I saw the scar on your knee,» he explained.

«There hasn't been anyone telling you about what I like in bed, has there?»

«No. No one talks about it, that I've heard.»

«And they won't, if they value their necks.» The edge in Tressana's voice was as sudden as a sword being drawn. She sat up and stretched her arms over her head, then stood up and finished wiping herself off.

«Well, Blade,» she said when she was done. «You've been tested, as I'm sure you know.» Blade was silent. She frowned. «You don't want to know if you passed the test?»

Blade shrugged. «If I have, you'll tell me. If I haven't, you'll kill me. You'll do both in your own good time. Asking you won't change that. It would simply look as if I hoped for favor. I won't do that.» He smiled. «You're fond enough of having men eating out of your hand as it is.»

She understood the figure of speech and didn't seem to like it. For a moment Blade wondered if he shouldn't drop into fighting stance. Even a woman half his weight could do an embarrassing amount of damage if she took him by surprise. Then she laughed.

«Oh, Blade, I think you've just invented another test for yourself and passed it as you did the first one. You don't beg. I don't suppose you know how, in fact?»

Blade shook his head. «I don't. Part of it is simple pride. The rest is knowing that most of the things you have to beg for aren't worth having in the first place.»

That silenced Tressana for longer than Blade had expected. When she spoke again, her voice was shaky. «Perhaps. And perhaps I am too fond of having men at my feet.» She giggled. «Of course, I really prefer them in a few other places.» She grabbed Blade's right hand and pressed it against those «other places.» Then she knelt down and pressed herself against him so that his limp penis dangled between her breasts. When she felt that it was going to stay limp, she frowned and stood up.

«Nothing, Blade?»

He chose to make a joke of it. «Even if I did come from Elstan, I would not be made of iron.»

She smiled. «Very well. I'll forgive you. Sometimes.»

Blade didn't bother asking what would happen the other times. He suspected he could guess. He also knew he'd done a good enough night's work. He was or soon would be where he could start doing what the Keepers and Jollya expected of him. The job might be dangerous, but he could be sure that he wouldn't be bored while he was doing it. That was more than you could say for nine out of ten spying jobs.