Pearl Of Patmos

CHAPTER 8

He came awake and was aware of warmth, of a fire flickering somewhere in the vast cavern. He thought the cavern floor trembled occasionally as there came a rumbling roar from afar, and sometimes over' the drift of incense he caught the acrid odor of volcanic ash. He was only dreaming, of course, for he was safe in bed in his Dorset cottage. The real nightmare would not start until tomorrow-when he must journey to London and meet J and Lord L and go once again through the computer into Dimension X. Yes. It was a dream. And yet….

She came out of the shadows near the fire and stood looking at him. A giantess, as tall as Blade himself, and naked but for bits of cloth at breasts and pubis. Her hair was pure silver and her wide-spaced eyes were amber torches flaming in a face of such beauty and purity of feature that Blade could not comprehend it. This must be a dream, as palpable and fleshly as it seemed, for no such beauty existed in the real world, or ever would. He kept his eyes closed, but for slits enough to watch her, and saw her flesh glisten and glimmer and appear to change color as she drew nearer. He could not name her flesh color and it did not matter-tawny, brown, dark, yellow? All those, and yet none of those, and as she bent over him, her perfect breasts hanging to brush his chest, there was a flash of pale fire in that burnished flesh and for a moment she appeared to burn.

He became aware of the music then-where had he heard such music before? — and her deep voice blended with the music and there was the sweet oiled smell of her and the rake of her nipples on his bare chest.

«Blade? Richard Blade? Do you wake?»

He kept his eyes shut and his breathing regular. This was a dream, nothing more, and yet suppose it were not!

Suppose some wild impossible thing had happened andHer laugh was soft. «I think you feign, Richard Blade, but no matter. There is little time for us, for you must fight and I must go to meet my Weird, but there is yet time for you to pleasure me.»

She touched him and Blade knew it was no dream. This was reality. Just what reality, and how and why he had come to it, he did not know. But he did know what must have happened-he was in Dimension X. He had left Dorset and gone to London and had been put through the computer. And did not remember a thing about it.

The woman.had not spoken again. She was intent on the business of the moment. Blade kept his eyes tight shut and tried to think-if anyone could think at a time like this.

Her hands were soft and skillful and she crooned a little song as she fondled and stroked and caressed and kissed. At last she had him to her satisfaction and she threw a long slender leg over him, placed him to her exact wish, and straddling, came down with a little exhaled sigh. She was narrow and tight and moist and there seemed no end to her cavern.

It was surely a strange love-making and Blade, man of the world and of many dimensions, sensed that he would never see or know the like of this woman again. If indeed she was a woman. At the moment he was not entirely sure. For if he was once again in Dimension X, and he was sure that he must be, she 'night be anything-fairy, demon, succubus or witch, Lilith, Thais, hag spirit in lush fagade, carnality incarnate, or mere female having a last orgasm before the well was dry.

There was no end to it. She bent over him, her breasts heavy on his face, and sank deeper on him with every thrust, her amber eyes wild as she adjusted and engulfed his flesh peg and her strong muscles sucked and milked at him until Blade was near to crying out. Yet he kept silence.

When at last she exploded it was as though the cavern trembled and moved, rocked and split, and Blade heard again a deep gut rumbling and thought he sniffed of brimstone. The woman gave a single loud cry and toppled from him to the floor, where she lay unmoving. He could not see her. He heard the strangled sobbing of her breath and, his mind in a whirl, only then realized that he had been holding back and had had no relief. No matter. It was but a dream after all. The phone would ring any moment now and J's voice would summon and-

Not so. He heard her stir and sigh at last. She looked at him and the amber eyes glowed and the white teeth sparkled. She patted his chest. «You still feign, Richard Blade. Good. Keep it so. I will bring you surcease. Izmia will never be a cheat.»

She left him for a moment and Blade heard the clink of metal or pottery, some chiming sound. He kept his eyes closed and tried to concentrate. Izmia? Izmia-surely he had heard that name before? Where and when? No use. He could not remember.

The woman came back. Blade peeked. She was carrying a small bowl, of some metal and handsomely chased, and she settled in beside him and had her hand on him before he realized what she was doing. When he did realize.there seemed little point in stopping her, even had he wanted to. Which he did not. Enjoy the dream-stubbornly he kept coming back to the theory that it was a dream-for soon enough he must awaken to harsh reality.

She held the bowl and her fingers teased and stroked him at last into a thundering emission. Blade writhed and groaned and saw that she judged expertly and spilled not a drop. He relaxed and watched as she put the bowl, covered now, on a ledge near the fire. When she returned she wore a swirling robe of purple that cloaked but did not disguise her figure. Blade sat up and stared into those amber eyes. Face it now. This was no dream. He was in Dimension X and could not even recall going to the Tower, much less going through Lord L's computer. He had no idea how long he had been in this Dimension X, or any recall of what he had done, or not done, or had had done to him, since he had arrived in it. He decided to bluff a bit. He stroked his chin and was surprised at the growth of his beard. It was thick and had obviously been clipped and cared for-that meant some time in DX, at least several days, for he never cultivated a beard in Home Dimension.

«You are Izmia?»

She settled to the floor beside him, sitting on her feet, as lithe as a girl and as regal as a queen. She inclined her head gravely.

«I am Izmia to my friends and to certain of my class. To the common folk of Patmos, and to the Gray People, I am the Pearl of Patmos. Some call me the black Pearl, though as you can see my skin is of no certain color. We will speak later of the real black pearl, and of the great sword which, if you are he of the legend, you will recover from the pool and bring to me. But for now-what of your head? Does it pain you?»

Blade tried not to look startled. His head did hurt, now that she mentioned it. He put a hand to the crown of his skull and felt about in the thick dark hair until his fingers touched the sore spot.

«Ohhhhl»

Izmia pulled his head against her breasts and, pushing his hand away, probed with tender fingers. «Some of my people say that I have a healing touch. It can do no harm.»

Blade, cradled and coddled by this big woman, felt as secure and comfortable as a babe. He felt like drifting into sleep, his loins empty and spent, held and rocked in these magnificent aims. He fought the urge. He had amnesia, no doubt of it, and the bump — on his head was relevant.

He knew who he was, for which thank the gods of this strange land, whoever they were. Now he must find out what he had been doing and how long he had been doing it. The better part was silence. Let her talk and he learn. The less she knew of his amnesia the better. For some reason, call it vanity or sheer Bladian stubbornness, he did not wish to appear weak or in any way lacking in her eyes.

To get her started he asked, «How long have I been here? How long unconscious?»

«Three days this sunrise.»

He could not control his start. «That long?»

«Yes. You suffered a great buffet on the skull, so I am told by Edyrn and your. man, Nob. You were carried here as though sleeping and have not stirred until now, but for some moaning and strange words the like of which I have never heard.»

He nestled against those superb breasts. It was comfortable there and he did not want her to see his face.

«What words did I utter?»

His head felt better. Her fingers were stroking the dull pain away. He must have taken a hell of a blow, he thought, for it to knock his memory out of kilter like this. But there was no wound, only the knob, which meant that he must have been wearing armor, a helmet. Assuming that he had been in battle. But who was Edyrn? And who was Nob, his man? Whatever that meant.

«You cried out of a thing called jay and lordell. Many times. I wiped your.tears away and still you spoke of this jay and lordell in fear and, I thought, in anger. But that is all over now-they were but demons in your dreams and now are gone forever. You wake again and all has been done as you bid us do. The Samostan ship escaped, after you had made them pay dear for their audacity, and they will deliver your defiance to Hectoris. And the prisoner, Ptol, is tortured as you ordered and awaits your pleasure.»

It was all Blade could do to keep from exploding in frustration and rage. Goddamn lordell and jay-for who else but Lord L and J had he called to in his sleep-and goddamn the computer. They had done it now. His brain was so altered and twisted, so restructured, that a single blow on the head sent him into deep amnesia.

A fearsome thought came then and he would not face it because he could not bear it-suppose, just suppose, that the blow, the resultant amnesia, so affected his brain structure that the computer could not make contact again! He would be doomed to spend the rest of his life in this Dimension X. Patmos?

It did not bear thinking about. His only remedy was action. Move forward. Keep going. Finish whatever it was that he had set out to do. Whatever it was! Piece it together, bit by bit, and feel his way along until he had his bearings.

«I will attend to Ptol later.» Ptol? Blade fretted. For an instant the name had nearly assumed meaning. Now it was gone. Ptol? Someone who was being tortured on his orders. Blade did not like that, for normally he was not a man who found pleasure in inflicting pain, but if he had ordered it he must had good reason.

He disengaged himself from Izmia and stood up. His legs were weak and he stumbled a bit. Izmia watched him, still seated crosslegged on the floor, her yellow eyes narrowed, teeth showing, her skin gleaming like pale fire.

It cost him, but Blade stood erect and squared his big shoulders. Perhaps the bluff was a foolish one, and did not deceive her, but it was Blade's way.

«I am hungry,» he said brusquely. «A man can nigh starve in three days. And if it has been that long I am very late in all matters and had best get moving. I will be shown quarters, Izmia, and have food and be bathed and shorn and newly clothed. Later I would have Edym and Nob sent to me. Nob first, I think.»

Izmia touched a gong with a baton. «I will send him now. He has been anxious about you and has been hanging about plaguing my maids. You had best warn him that it is forbidden to cohabit with Gray girls.»

Blade nodded, for all the world as though he knew what he was doing, and was led to a smaller cavern by a girl dressed in a gray smock. She kept her eyes downcast and did not speak to him. It seemed to Blade that they went ever downward, along winding passages on which moisture glistened. Once he clapped a hand to a wall and drew it back with an oath. It was hot!

She drew aside an ornate hanging and Blade entered the little cavern. It was well furnished with bolsters and rugs and in a corner was a large tub carved out of black stone. From a bung set into the wall came steaming hot water. A large and roguish-looking character, with a patch over his left eye, looked up from sprinkling salts into the bath. He gave Blade a wide and toothless grin. Most of his front teeth had been broken off at the gum line.

«Aye, master, it is good to see you recovered. That was a hot enough brawl, for a time, and the rascal fetched you a good clout on the sconce afore I put my iron through him.»

He glanced past Blade at the movement of the drape. «Who 'twas brought you here, master? A pretty little Gray thing by name of Ina?»

Might as well get it over with, Blade thought. He studied the big fellow, arms akimbo, scowling. The man wore the leather and metal armor of a foot soldier. On his shoulders were black tabs-the black pearl insignia.

The man was a bit too familiar, Blade thought, and no harm in putting him in his place. He made his voice harsh: «Izmia tells me that it is forbidden`to cohabit with Gray women. You will not do so. And what is that you pour in 'my bath?»

Nob, for so Blade supposed the servant to be, dropped his lantern jaw and stared at Blade. He looked at the salts he was still pouring into the steaming water, then back at Blade. He gulped and appeared to choke on an Adam's apple obscured by whorls of dark stubble. At last he found his tongue.

«It be naught but a potion to make ye smell pretty, sire. What did ye think-a magic to rob ye of manhood?» And Nob again showed his guns in an uncertain grin.

Blade nodded and began to disrobe. «Fair enough, but keep in mind what I said about women.»

Nob rubbed a hand over his scarred face. «Oh, aye, of course, master. 'Twas nothing but a bit of fooling, like. But yon Ina, she did smile on me-and not many does on old Nob-and I thought that-«

«Don't,» said Blade curtly. «Now I will bathe whilst you lay out fresh things. I will talk and you will listen and, when called on, answer me to the point. This is understood?»

Nob was wide-eyed and his jaw still hung askew. He nodded. «Aye, master. But for one thing-what is the word you used to me? This cohabit-what do it mean?»

Blade told him. Nob roared and slapped his leathernclad leg. «Do it now! By Juna's golden tits! I would never have called it that in a million years-but once you have the meaning of it there is no doubt. I mean to say, sire, it is the doing of the thing that is important and not the calling of it. 1-«

«You will shut up,» Blade said calmly. He kicked away a pile of blood- and sweat-stained clothing and stepped into the steaming tub. Ahhhhh-it was goodt

Nob finally got his mouth closed and handed Blade a box of fragrant powder. «For scrubbing, sire. Or so Ina tells me. And plenty of hot water, as you.see. Comes from the volcano, it do, and if a man does not temper it with cold it will scald-«

Blade repressed a smile. Instead,he frowned and said, «You are still talking too much. I said for you to Usten.» He balled his massive fist and showed it to the man. «Or must I convince you with this?»

Nob was arranging clothing and armor on a table. He shook his head as though in sorrow. «You are not yourself, master. I feared as much-for after taking that axe blow on your head, and sleeping all this time, I did not think ye would come so quickly to be well again. I-«

«Silence!» Blade's bellow set the door hanging to waving. He made a sign to the astounded Nob and dropped his voice. «Look to see if there are any listeners.»

Nob snatched a long sword from a rack in a corner and swept the tapestry aside. There was nothing.

«Now listen,» Blade commanded. «And hold your loose tongue.»

He told Nob what had happened to him. The man's eyes grew wide again and his jaw fell farther aslant than before. But when Blade had done talking, and after a moment of frowning and scratching his from, Nob smiled and said, «So there is no great harm done, sire. You are well and 1 remember all that happened. From the day we met in Thyme and-«

«Thyme? Tell me of it. I have no recollection.»

Nob sank to a stool and shook.his head. «None at all, master? Not even of Juna?»

Blade scrubbed beneath an arm. «Who is Juna? Or, should I say, what is Juna?»

Nob stared at the floor, his big gnarled hands dangling between his legs. He shook his head sadly. «A horrible and misbegotten blow it were, sire, as could make you for-

get Juna! Aye-I am more glad than ever that I killed the bastard that gave it to you from behind.»

Blade was washing his hair now and he winced as he touched the sore spot. Half to himself he said, «If the blow was such a bad one, and I took it from behind and off guard, I cannot understand why I still live.»

«Aye, master, I can answer that.» Nob was all agrin. He went to a closet and brought back a battered helmet. The crown was bashed in but the metal was unbroken.

«I took it off a Samostan corpse,» Nob explained, «and begged that ye. wear it. For ye had none of yer own. Aye-those bastard Samostans make gobd helmets and armor. That ye must give them. No helmet of Patmos, nor even of Thyme, would have taken such a blow and kept ye alive.»

Blade took the misshapen helmet from Nob and examined it closely. The plume, shaven to a mere tuft, was blue and the insignia, the medallion in front, was of a snake with its tail in its own mouth. There was a stirring in the curdled mists of Blade's mind and for a moment the circled serpent nearly had meaning. Then it vanished. He read aloud the legend beneath the snake.

«Ais Ister.»

He frowned at Nob. «What meaning has it?»

Nob scowled in his turn. «Hectoris is not one to hide his brag, master. `I Act for God'-that is the meaning of it.»

Blade held out a hand as he let the helmet drop and roll on the floor. «A towel, if you please. `I Act for God.'

Hmmm you are right, Nob. This Hectoris, whoever he may be, is not a man of becoming modesty. I would like to meet him one day.»

Nob bent his big body and laughed. He could not stop. He laughed and laughed and Blade, who had come to like the rascal so soon after rediscovering him, did not know whether to laugh also or curse him. He did neither and waited for the spell to pass.

«You will meet him,» Nob could say at last. «No fear there, master. We have sent his scouting party running in defeat and disgrace, and we have taken his pet priest, and in the bargain you sent him such a message of defiance as no man could hear without his ears scorching. And Hectoris is a proud man and nothing has ever stood before him-as ye know from what happened to Thyme when you and I first met and-«

Blade held up a hand. «That,» he said, «is just what I do not knowl Try to get it through that thick pate of yours-I remember nothing. Tell me. Tell me all of it.»

Nob looked at him. His jaw was hanging again. «Aye, master, I suppose I must. But it is a long story and there is little time-our lives and that of Patmos is in the balance, or I do not love Juna's Reece, and Hectoris will not bide his coming. But I will-«

«You will be brief,» said Blade fiercely. «Now get to the matter. Everything that is important, nothing that is not important, and from the beginning. Briefly!»

Nob did not do so badly, for Nob. Scarce an hour had elapsed before Blade knew all that he must. Some of it appalled and frightened him. Of some of it he was proud, and of a very little he was ashamed. But one thing was certain-he had set a great many wheels in motion and now time flitted away and he had best look lively or those very wheels would crush him.

When he had heard Nob out he said, «Go find Edyrn and ask him to meet me in the place where Ptol is kept. As soon as may be. Then see that Izmia receives this message-that I will see her when I can and I cannot say when that will be. Repeat that.»

Nob did so. Blade nodded at him, then smiled, and clapped him on the shoulder. «It appears that you and I have sworn friendship, Nob, and so bound our lives, or our deaths, together. So you tell 'me and so I take it to be, for though I am sure you are a great liar when it is required I do not think you lie to me.»

The man showed his gums. «Aye, sire, that is the truth of it. We swore an oath each to the other.»

«Then be about your tasks, man. And I will be about mine. I must find out what I have been doing, rightly or wrongly, to save our lives and defeat this barbarian Heatoris.»

«Ye have done a great deal, master. Some of it, mind ye, I did not approve of-such as enlisting the Gray People and taking away the penthe and-«

Blade pointed at the door. «Go.»

Nob had the last word as he brushed aside the door hanging. «If ye want to see Ptol alive, master, ye had best hurry. He has not so much blood in him as a fat man might be thought to have. And he is a stubborn wretchhe has spoken nothing yet of import.»

«I will see to it,» said Blade. «Ptol will talk.»