Monster Of The Maze

Chapter 7

Her voice was deep, husky, a rich contralto. Blade took three paces back, his rapier still pointed at the arras, and commanded, «Come out, Princess. I would have a look at such a royal eavesdropper.»

The hanging moved, swayed, parted. She stood before him. Blade stared and the point of his sword dropped. He had not expected such beauty. If this was indeed the Princess Hirga, the last of the Izmir's get, then the old man had wrought well on a long-ago night and bed.

She was the first woman he had seen in Zir who covered her breasts. She wore a high-necked doublet of gold cloth and trousers of silver on long, slim legs. She was regally tall, near to Blade's height, and her hair was flaming red and piled high on her head in the Zirnian fashion. Instead of the usual combs, her hair was held in place by a small coronal in which gems sparked. Blade was impressed but sought to conceal it. He retreated another step and bowed, gesturing with his rapier. «Princess. I am glad that we meet at last, though I had not thought it to be in this manner. How long have you been behind my drapes, and how came you there?»

She stared at him. Her eyes were large and a deep sea green. He noted that her breathing was fast and there was a swollen, puffy look around her mouth and eyes. She had been there long enough. She had seen and heard everything and it had excited her.

When she spoke, her voice quavered a bit. «Simple enough to come there, Blade. Your guard is faithful, but even faithful men must void their water now and then. I watched and waited and, when he was gone for a moment, I was in the window. There is a secret way into the grounds which I know well. I should. This palace was once mine.»

«Oh? I did not know that.» Blade pointed to a chair with the rapier. «A princess should not stand.»

She ignored the chair. She went to the bed and sat on the edge. She put a hand on a pillow and looked at Blade and half smiled. Her teeth were small and very white. As she stared and stared, as though she could never see enough of him, she caught her nether lip in her teeth and bit it and there was no mistaking the speculation in her glance. Beneath the golden doublet her bosom swelled and moved, and he plainly heard the rasp of breath in her throat.

Blade knew that he could tumble her in an instant if he chose. This was a sensual woman and she was aroused to a high pitch by what she had seen and heard.

Hirga put her hand on the pillow again. «Still warm from your harem whore.»

Blade took the chair and with great show of nonchalance put his feet on the table and regarded her with a mocking smile. She was aroused now, and available, but it did not please him to take her. For one thing, he was at the moment satiated and, for another, he knew she had not come to his chambers with sex in mind. That had been incidental. There was method here and a motivation deeper than the achievement of a spasm.

«Valli is not a whore,» he said, «and the matter is no concern of yours. What do you want with me? Or, rather, what does Casta want, for it is my guess that he sent you.»

The green eyes widened and he knew he had struck true. She looked away, at the small hands in her lap, much bejeweled and with scarlet-painted nails.

«That is true,» she said at last. «Casta did send me. He wishes to meet with you, to speak of matters to our mutual interest.»

«Why did the priest not come himself?»

«He is too busy at the moment. He has much to do.»

Blade smiled and tapped the table with his rapier. «I can believe that, Princess. Busy plotting against me, no doubt. And against the Izmir, even while he waits for the old man to die. Tell him not to be impatient-the Izmir may die at any moment. Then he will have only me to deal with.»

Hirga clasped her hands over her breasts and looked at Blade again. She was calmer now and Blade admitted that if she was a liar she was a good one.

«You misjudge Casta,» she said. «You have heard only one side of the story, you have listened only to the Izmir and his friends, and the old man is in his dotage and his friends are sycophants. You cannot know the truth about Casta until you see and meet him and judge for yourself.»

He nodded gravely. «There is some truth in that. And I am willing to meet your priest. When and where?»

She stood up and came close to him. A faint fragrance of flowers came from her and her skin was like milk. He sought for blemishes in that face and found none. Her brow was high, the nose straight and fine with flaring nostrils, her mouth firm and full and moist. Blade felt a renewed stirring in his loins and invoked his will. This woman was dangerous to him in some manner which, at the moment, he did not fully understand. But dangerous she was.

Hirga did not preen for him, did not simper or invite. She stood close and watched him and waited, offering herself with her eyes, and when she saw that he would not succumb she laughed and moved toward the arras and the window.

«Tomorrow when the sun is at the highest. Do you know the Plain of Pyramids?»

Blade nodded. «I have glimpsed them. Nothing more.» He had caught an occasional glance at the great level stretch of land to the south of the palace, dotted with white marble pyramids built as monuments to past rulers of Zir.

«You have seen the unfinished block that the Izmir builds for himself?»

He nodded again. «Once I saw it. I have had little time to explore Zir.»

The old man had explained to Blade: «All the others built small pyramids to themselves. I shall build a square, a stone block that towers to the sky and will cover many cubits. There will be a maze so cunningly wrought that, when I am buried, none will be able to find me and dishonor my bones.»

He thought of this now and smiled. Vanity. Hirga mistook his smile and said, «You need not fear. Casta does not plot treachery. The truth is that he fears you a little, as do I, and he wishes only to talk and come to terms.»

«I will not come alone,» said Blade. «But I will come-to the unfinished monument?»

«Yes. The priests' quarters are there, in the lower half of the structure, and it is there that Casta had been staying this past month while you-«

She broke off and stared at him again. «Is it really true, Blade? There are those who swear to it and yet I cannot believe-«

«That I grew from babe to man in a month? It is true, Hirga. Take that to your priest. Convince him. And tell him that I will be there tomorrow when the sun is high. Goodnight, Hirga.»

Her lovely face tightened. «You do not call me Princess-«

«I call you Hirga. You are not my Princess. Go now»

She glared, then softened and smiled. «You had best bid your man let me pass. I cannot expect him to piss at my convenience every time.»

Blade smiled and agreed. And determined to tighten his security. He summoned the surprised guard from beneath his window and, whilst the man came around by a postern, the Princess Hirga slipped out and was gone.

When the guard reported Blade said, «There is a secret way into these grounds. I have no clues to it and cannot help you, but I know it is there. You will take a squad and begin searching for it at once. I want no word from you until it is found. Understood?»

The guard saluted and left. Blade went to bed and for half an hour tested the crystal. No communication. At last he slept.

Ogier sulked as they rode from the palace-city south to the great Plain of the Pyramids. As they came to the first of the monuments Blade saw that the plain stretched for miles in every direction and he counted a score of pyramids at first glance. Others loomed like stone triangles on the far horizon. Some miles ahead was the huge unfinished block of the Izmir's monument.

«I do not like this,» said Ogier, «and the Izmir will not like it. Casta cannot be trusted. He is a priest, for one thing, and for another he remains out here, alone and aloof, and brews wickedness and black magic. There will be trouble.»

Blade glanced back at his escort. Ten mounted and heavily armed men. Blade was himself wearing battle armor and carried broadsword and mace, with a dagger thrust into his belt as well. He laughed at Ogier.

«If we cannot handle a gaggle of priests then we had best give up soldiering and become priests ourselves. Cheer up, Ogier. I will handle this. And remember that I am my own man now, even though son and heir to the Izmir, and I do as I will. If you do not like my service you are free to go and no prejudice from me.»

«You still do not understand,» grumbled Ogier. «That is because you are a god, or close to a god, and you do not fear the things that ordinary men fear. But I tell you that Casta and his priests are to be feared. They do dark and evil things out here. It is said that they make monsters, beasts so fearful that a man's sight is blighted if he looks upon them»

«And what do they do with these monsters?»

«They use them to guard the priestly treasures. They roam the mazes and slay and devour any who come to steal. The priests of Zir, and especially Casta, are rich beyond all dreaming, Blade. I have heard all this and I believe it.»

Blade laughed. «So will I believe it-when I see it. When I have laid eyes on one of the monsters.»

Ogier grunted but did not speak. They rode a little time in silence. The massive block of marble that was to be the Izmir's resting place and monument grew larger on the horizon. Blade called a halt and during the rest found a stick and notched it. By using the sun and shadow and simple triangulation he, made an educated guess-the Izmir's monolith already thrust into the sky some 300 feet and would have covered four city blocks in Home Dimension. It was a magnificent piece of engineering. Now it was shrouded in a pall of dust and topped by cranes and derricks and other engines. Enormous ramps led to the structure on all four sides. Thousands of slaves toiled and sweated, dragging blocks of marble up the ramps on wooden rollers. Even at that distance Blade could hear the hoarse cries of the overseers and the crack of whips as they lashed flesh.

Ogier scratched his stubble. «I do not think that the Izmir will live to see it finished. He is too ambitious. It must go yet another 300 feet higher and there are to be gardens on top. If he had another hundred thousand slaves it might be possible, but he has not. No, the old man will never see it finished.»

They started on. Blade said, «Who builds this? Who is the architect, the engineer?»

Ogier nearly smiled. «A man called Thane. He is a Hitt and something of a wizard himself. I know him slightly. It was I, in fact, who took him prisoner when he first came across the narrow water.»

Blade gave his Captain a puzzled glance. «I do not understand. I was told that the Hitts never surrendered and never became slaves. How is this, then?»

«I know. That is true. But this Thane is an exception. He is not a slave. Ordinarily he would have been killed, but the truth is that I took to him, liked the man, and when he sought audience with the Izmir I permitted it. The old man, not the fool that many think, gave Thane a chance to prove himself as a builder. He is marvelously fine at it. So now he is a free man, with some rank, and has all the privileges of Zir.»

«I will see and talk to him,» Blade said. «If I am to fight Hitts I would know what they are like.»

«You are a fool if you fight Hitts,» said Ogier bluntly, «but that is your affair. I have had my say about it. As to Thane, he is no common Hitt. The story is told that he had a falling out with Bloodax, the Hitt leader, and had to flee for his life. I do not doubt it. Thane is an intelligent man, and educated, and never should have been a Hitt in the first place. Bloodax is a stupid barbarian.»

«We will speak of Bloodax later,» said Blade, «when our councils of war begin. Today, after I have seen this priest, you will introduce me to this Thane»

Soon they were into the noise, confusion and billowing dust of the construction area. They made their way through bedlam, picking a path through various engines and tangles of cable and the thousands of hard-working slaves. These included both men and women, even small children, and from a row of gallows dangled those who had rebelled. As they cantered past one small working party, an old man, emaciated and gray, his strength at an end, fell and could not arise. An overseer clubbed him to death and the body was flung into a pit.

Ogier paid it no mind. Blade let nothing show on his face. This was X Dimension and at the moment he could afford neither sympathy nor conscience. But he marked the incident well and swore inwardly that when he came to real power, and was secure, such things would end. If he lived and prospered, and lingered long enough in Zir, he would free the slaves. That was far in the future and Blade had no guarantee that he would live out the day.

Work was at its busiest on the north and west facades. They rode around to the east facing, into comparative quiet, and found an arched entrance into the monolith guarded by two of the black priests. It was the first time that Blade had seen any of the «crows,» as Ogier called them, other than the single glance he had had of Casta before the High Priest denounced him and walked out of the Izmar's audience. He had a fuzzy memory of that occasion, for much had happened since.

Bidding the men remain behind, Blade and Ogier urged their mounts to the entrance and swung down from the saddle. Ogier, stout warrior that he was, was plainly uneasy with the priests. He took refuge in brusqueness.

«You there,» he called to the tall one, «here is the Prince Blade, son and heir to the Izmir, come to see Casta. You will conduct him at once.» And Ogier shifted his swordbelt and tapped his fingers on the hilt of his sword.

Blade studied the two priests. They were dressed all in black, robes and hose and shoes, and black hoods covered most of their faces. What he could see of flesh was fishbelly white, and the eyes of both had a fanatic gleam. They ignored Ogier and fixed those gimlet eyes on Blade. Both men wore girdles of twisted silver cord from which dangled curved daggers in ivory sheaths. Not, thought Blade, a gentle religious order. It was in their eyes and in the set of their features and in their voices. Harshness. Obedience. Fanaticism. Death.

The tall priest spoke at last. «You are Blade?» He took a step near the big man and a dirty, long-nailed hand fiddled with the dagger at his belt. Ogier muttered and moved in. Blade waved him back.

«Let be, Ogier. I am Blade, priest. I come to see the one called Casta. You will take me to him without delay.»

Ogier muttered again. «Do not do it, Blade. Do not go in there alone. Let me come with you.»

Blade laughed. «You are an old woman, Ogier. Stay here and wait for me.»

He strode into the entrance, beckoning to the tall priest. «I said we go. Or must I seek out Casta alone?»

Without speaking, and with downcast eyes, the priest slipped in front of Blade and crooked a finger. Blade followed. They went down a marble ramp into a central chamber from which a dozen corridors radiated like the spokes of a wheel. Torches, held by iron rings, flickered over each entrance. The tall priest plucked a torch from its sconce and, beckoning once again to Blade, led the way into a labyrinth of marbled halls that soon had the big man totally confused. Already he was lost. It would be possible, he thought, to wander for days in such a maze and never find his way out.

The priest went swiftly, never looking back, and Blade hurried to keep up. They came to a steep flight of narrow marble steps and descended. The air was hot and oppressive now and Blade began to sweat. They entered a chamber with a pit in the middle. The priest signed to Blade to step onto the platform. In all this time he had not spoken. He watched, sunken eyes glowering from the hood, as the platform sank with Blade on it.

Blade drew his sword and loosed the mace in his belt. He was not so sure of himself now. It might have been wise to have fetched Ogier along.

The platform halted and Blade gazed into a vast cavern. Somewhere a fire burned and cast lurid red shadows. Blade stepped off the platform, peered into the gloom and kept his sword ready. The silence made him uneasy.

The Princess Hirga appeared from the gloom. She was wearing the silver trousers, but this time her breasts were bare and Blade felt a spasm of desire as he gazed at those perfect cones. They would match his hands and they were as firm as the marble above him.

Hirga saw his glance and smiled in a secret way, beckoning to him. «You can put away your sword, Blade. Casta awaits you and he plans no treachery. Follow me.»

Blade sheathed his sword and followed. She led him back into the cavern, past grinning skeletons, some mounted and some dangling from the rafters. Hirga indicated them and said, «Casta is a great scholar. He opens bodies and examines them, and he knows and has names for every bone.»

They passed what seemed to be a smithy, where coke fires glowed and cast off a great deal of heat. Blade sweated harder.

«Casta works in iron,» explained Hirga. «When he needs a certain tool and does not have it, he makes it.»

Blade said nothing. This High Priest was certainly a man of parts. Blade mentally girded himself for the encounter. He began to get the feeling that he was going up against an equal, something that rarely happened in Dimension X.

Hirga stopped before a leather curtain, slit like a stage curtain. She motioned. «In there, Blade. Casta is waiting. He would speak to you alone first.»

As he stepped toward the curtain she moved to him and her jutting breasts touched his chest armor. Her green eyes were bold. She laid a hand on his heavily muscled arm. «And perhaps later, Blade, there will be time for us. I am curious about you. I would know more of you.»

Blade nodded curtly. «Perhaps, Hirga. We shall see» He parted the leather curtain and stepped through.

This chamber was small and at first glance crammed beyond capacity with specimens of all types-stuffed animals, skeletons, a great many skulls, books and bottles and casks and retorts. A small fire burned in an iron grate, and before the fire was a long table. Behind the table sat a man dressed in black.

«Come better into the light,» said the man at the table. «When I first, and last, saw you I saw a baby. Now let me behold the miracle for myself.»

Blade strode into the circle of firelight. «You are the High Priest Casta?»

«I am he. And you are Blade, the child full grown to manhood in one course of the moon. Yes, now I believe it. If it is trickery, and in some manner it must be, I would give all my present knowledge to know the trick.»

Blade steeled himself. It was not like him, in his X-Dimension persona, to feel so ill at ease. The man was nothing-a priest, a charlatan, a greedy power-grabber. Nothing more. Why did Blade's nerves tingle and his sweat turn cold and his knees feel unsteady?

Gloom shrouded the figure behind the table. Blade strode to the table and leaned over it, peering. «You have taken a good look at me, Casta. Now I demand the same. Turn your face to the fire, priest.»

The chuckle was low, throaty. «Yes. That is fair. Look, Blade!»

The eyes, huge and burning black, were torches in a skull. The face was a death's head, bone with saffron flesh drawn over it like a drum. A skull. Blade could see the veins writhing like blue worms. The nose was vulpine, sharp as a nail, and the lips a bloodless anus.

There was no hair. No hair at all. No lashes and no brows, and the pate as sleek as the skull near at hand on the table.

Blade had an odd thought for such a moment. If this was the lover of Hirga, as was said, then the times were indeed out of joint. Even for Zir. Even for Dimension X.

Casta picked up a black skullcap from the table and placed it on his glabrous head. He chuckled again and pointed to a cask nearby. «You have seen. And yet you have seen nothing, for what a man is is not carried on his face nor in his muscles or bones. Sit there, Blade, and we shall have our talk. But let us understand each other from the outset-I do not think you are a fool and I am not a fool. I hate waste of time. If we speak truth to each other, and only truth, and do not waste words in fencing or deceit, we shall get much further. Do you agree to this?»

Blade sank onto the cask. «I agree in principle.» He glanced at the wall behind the table and saw what could only be a sky chart. The man was an astronomer as well.

«I am a practical man,» said Casta. «I seek power. I have power now, but I want more. For only with power, absolute power, can I do the things I want to do. The reason I have not had you murdered before now, Blade, is that I think you can help me. And I can help you. If this is true we would be fools to fly at each other's throat-and we have already agreed that we are not fools, eh?»

Blade was cautious. «I can see how I might help you, Casta. But how can you help me?»

The low chuckle again. «In many ways. By advice, by intrigue, by treachery if need be, and by treasure. Lastly, and most important, by not having you killed.»

Blade leaped to his feet and slammed a fist on the table. He half drew his sword. «You keep saying that, priest. I think you boast. If you are so sure you can murder me then why not try it now?»

Casta patted his gash of a mouth with bloodless fingers. The great dark eyes burned at Blade. once more he chuckled.

«Such is not my way.» He tapped his skull. «In here is my strength. But sit down, Blade, and hear me out. Be calm. We are not children, or slaves, or simple folk. Now tell me-whence do you come?»

As Blade went back to the cask he decided to play along. For a moment he had been on the verge of putting his steel into Casta and having done with it, but intuition told him that he would never leave the place alive. He could not, for instance, even find his way out through that maze of corridors.

«There is little point in telling you that,» he said, «for you would never understand. I come from another world, perhaps another planet, though as to that I cannot be certain. The difference is in dimension and not in time. But it is hopeless-you could not know of these things.»

«You are arrogant,» said Casta. «Intellectually arrogant, and that is the worst kind. How do you know what I know, Blade? Let me tell you-I have long suspected that there are other worlds, other times and dimensions, than are known here in Zir. We here are locked in ignorance, all but myself, and I think that you are such a person, come from such a place, and that your trick of growing from babe to man in a month is nothing but some advanced machinery of the brain. I cannot do it, nor even understand it, but I know that it can be explained and I do not fear it. There is nothing of the supernatural about you, Blade. That is my department, my skill, and mayhap one day I will show you something. But as of now, my bristling friend, I want to keep you alive and learn from you. When your knowledge is mine, when I have drained you of all you know, then is time to worry about dying. In the meantime we are not friends and will not pretend to be. But we can help each other. It would be a pity if we did not. What say you now?»

Blade, with a sinking feeling, knew that he had been right. He had met his match. This living skeleton was his peer. Blade did not like to think that Casta might be his superior.

«I will make a truce,» he said at last. «When time affords I will tell you what I can, and what you can grasp, of what I am and how I came here. It will not be easy. And what do I get in return, other than the assurance that you will not have me murdered?»

«I will give you power and freedom of movement. I will give you treasure, or at least show you where it is.»

«Treasure? What kind of treasure?»

«Hah,» said Casta. «I have struck a note. You are a seeker, Blade, and a seeker usually is after treasure of one sort or another. But we must see-perhaps the treasure I can offer is not what you seek.» He opened a drawer in the desk and reached into it.

Blade tested the crystal in his brain. Not working. Nothing. No matter at the moment. But treasure was what England wanted, needed, and treasure was what the Prime Minister demanded. Teleportation was working now-at least it worked in the labs in Scotland-and if there was anything in Zir worth sending back

Casta put something on his desk. It resembled a large lump of coal, irregular and many-faceted, except that it was colorless and of a crystalline purity. Blade gazed at it in awe. It couldn't be. It simply could not be. He left his cask and swept the lump off the table and took it to the fire. He held it up. A million fires danced and reflected in the giant prism; it sparked and burned in every facet and somewhere deep in it glowed a rainbow. It was! It was a diamond.