The Temples Of Ayocan

Chapter 10

Blade was back on the cold blue river above the falls, but this time he was sitting up in the canoe, paddling. He was all alone, and suddenly he was at the falls. He paddled frantically, trying to put the canoe ashore. But he wasn't strong enough, and the cloud of mist at the end of the blue water swept closer-closer-closer. Then the mist rose up around him and the outside world disappeared. He should be over the edge now, and falling down a mile to the muddy Low River. But he couldn't see anything, and he had no sensation of falling.

He had just reached the point of being surprised at that, when he realized that he wasn't in a canoe on the river or anywhere else. So there was no reason why he should feel that he was falling, because he wasn't falling at all! This seemed to be a great and momentous discovery, nearly on a level with the theory of relativity. It occupied all his attention as he tried to figure out why it should be that way.

But not for long. He found his ability to concentrate on the problem slipping away. As it did, he became aware of a soft surface under him, cool breezes blowing over him, a familiar smell in his nostrils. The narcotic! That recognition woke him up in a hurry.

He was lying naked on a wide mattress supported by a frame of glossy black wood. The bedposts, he noted, were carved in the form of serpents with three jutting horns on their heads. Black as a symbolic color, and three-horned serpents. That sounded almost as familiar as the narcotic. Of course. He was in the House of the Pardoned of the King of Chiribu. The symbolic color was black, and he recalled seeing three-horned serpents on the banners and the shields of the soldiers. In spite of the smell of the narcotic, he was not back in the hands of the cult of Ayocan. He began to look around the room more calmly, no longer expecting things to jump at him from out of the walls.

The room was large, with fresh air and sunlight pouring in through large arches that opened onto a balcony. The walls and ceiling were painted pale green, the floor tiled in black and dark red. Several flowering shrubs stood in bronze pots just outside on the balcony, the smell of their blossoms drifting pleasantly into the room on the breeze.

Looking down at himself, Blade realized that he was swathed almost from neck to groin in bandages and pads soaked in the healing narcotic. At least he hoped it was the healing form of the narcotic and not the mind-destroying one! Since he was under the protection of King Hurakun, he suspected it was the former. There were also bandages wrapped around his legs and arms, even in places he couldn't recall being wounded. The details of the long fight on the mound were coming back to him, but only a little at a time.

Then he heard light, brisk footsteps approaching along the balcony. A loud male voice issued a challenge, and a softer female one replied. Then suddenly a small graceful figure was silhouetted in one of the arches.

Of all the things that he had seen since waking, the girl who came through the arch was the one Blade most wished was real. No-the woman. As she approached, Blade could see the lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth that suggested thirty years, perhaps more. But her figure was arrow-straight and arrow-slim, with pert, high breasts, and the hair drawn tightly back from her brown face was glossy black. She wore a robe of semitransparent silk, and much to Blade's regret she wore under that a pale green embroidered shift.

She came over to the bed and stood by its head, looking down at him, a faint smile playing across her neat little mouth. «So, warrior, you are awake. Could you tell me what is your name among your own people, if you have one? Otherwise we shall have to go on calling you merely 'warrior,' as the priests of Ayocan did. We would not do as they do.» There was no mistaking the cold contempt and hostility in her voice as she said the last sentence. Blade suddenly realized that none of the colors he had seen in this palace were those of the cult of Ayocan-no white, no dark blue, no yellow-orange.

«My name is Richard Blade,» he said slowly. «My own people are called the English.»

«I have never heard of them,» said the woman. «Are they beyond the mountains?»

For a moment Blade couldn't understand what she meant. Then he realized she must mean the mountains that bordered the high plateau where he had landed. No doubt they marked the limits of the known world for these people.

«Yes, the English live far beyond the mountains.»

«How far?»

«Why do you ask that?» Blade countered.

The woman bit her lip and lowered her eyes. Apparently she hadn't expected him to be that much on the alert for trick questions. He could see her debating in her mind how much to tell him.

Finally she bit her lip again and said slowly, «You are the mightiest warrior ever seen in Chiribu or even in Gonsara.»

«Gonsara?»

«The kingdom that lies farther down the Great River, farther to the south toward the Dark Sea.»

«I see.»

The woman went on. «Suppose all the English were like you? A thousand English warriors could sweep away any army we could put in the field against you. Ten thousand could conquer both Chiribu and Gonsara as easily as a farm-girl taking an egg from under a setting hen.»

Blade smiled. He like the woman's honesty, and would repay it in kind. «England is so far away that no English army could ever reach Chiribu.» Unless and until Lord Leighton worked out the technique of transporting men by the hundreds into Dimension X, that was certainly true enough. «Even if an English army reached the mountains, it could never climb over them. We have sent explorers to those mountains several times, but if any of them reached Chiribu, certainly none of them ever got back to England.» That was not strictly true, but it supported his first statement. «I am a much better fighter and warrior than most of the English, in any case.» As far as the kind of fighting he would be doing here in Chiribu and elsewhere in this dimension, that was certainly true. There had not been very many people in the Medieval Club when he was at Oxford. And none of those could beat him with any of the Club's weapons-broadsword, axe, mace, morningstar, and so on.

Blade's words seemed to settle the woman's mind. She smiled again. «I thank you, Richard Blade. What you have told me is most welcome. And what you may be able to do for us is even more welcome.» She turned to go.

«Wait a minute,» said Blade sharply. «I have told you a great deal about the English, and some things about myself. Who are you, that you can come into my room and ask me these questions?» He almost added, «And obviously expect an answer,» because her cool poise had irritated him almost to that point. Instead he added, «Are you a girl sent to find out if I am a strong spirit, like the girls in the temple mounds of Ayocan?»

The woman stopped dead in her tracks and turned around. To Blade's surprise she did not seem angry. In fact, she was smiling. Then she started to laugh. She laughed so long and so loudly that tears started streaming down her face, and she had to clasp her hands over her stomach. Eventually she had to sit down on the foot of the bed, her laughter finally subsiding into an occasional giggle.

At last she turned back toward Blade, wiped the tears from her eyes, and smiled again. «Richard Blade, English warrior, I think you are not entirely well yet. Otherwise I much doubt if you would have said such a thing.» She rose. «You will see me again when you are better. I am the Princess Mirasa, wife to Kenas, First Prince of Chiribu, heir to the Serpent Throne.» And she slipped out onto the balcony and was gone before Blade could get his tongue untangled enough to say anything.

He was certainly off to a fine social start in Chiribu, mistaking the Crown Princess for a harlot! Then he also laughed. He remembered what his drill sergeant had always said any time something went embarrassingly wrong during training. «There's worse things as 'appens in war, Mr. Blade!» Besides, the princess was almost certainly right. He was far from well yet, and the wisest thing to do for the moment was to relax and let the healing extract of the «tree of life» do its work on him.

He spent most of the next two days and nights sleeping for long periods and waking for short ones. No one came into the room during any of the waking periods. Gradually he felt the pain of his wounds fading away under the bandages and pads, and knew that the extract was doing its work. The room was cool from the arched doors that let in fresh air without letting in insects. He was not fed, but his water jug was never empty and his bed linen was always fresh.

On the third day an excessively solemn man with a white beard in vivid contrast to his red robes examined Blade from head to toe with tedious thoroughness. The examination made Blade feel like a prize steer being examined before being entered in a livestock competition, but it did assure him that he was recovering well. More than well in fact-the extract seemed to work even faster here than it had in the temple mound. Bringing a sample of it back to Home Dimension would be an epoch-making breakthrough in medicine.

It was two more days after that before anything else happened. During those two days Blade spent less and less time in bed. His wounds were almost healed, leaving behind them unblemished skin where normally there would have been scars. Blade now felt more in need of exercise than of bed rest, so he put himself through an increasingly vigorous program of calisthenics.

He was doing his exercises on the evening of the fifth day, when the tramp of approaching feet sounded on the balcony outside. Six brawny soldiers of King Hurakun's army strode into the room.

«Richard Blade. It is the wish of the Princess Mirasa that you attend dinner in her chambers this night. We have come to take you there.» As far as Blade knew, only the Princess Mirasa here in Chiribu knew his name. But he preferred to be on the safe side. He stepped over to the corner of the room, and reached for his sword, axe, and weapons belt. The leader of the soldiers shook his head.

«You will have no need of those.»

«Perhaps.»

«Do the English trust no one?»

«The English trust as readily as the next man. But no warrior of my people ever goes from his chamber without his weapons. To ask me to do that would be dishonor.» He hoped the word «dishonor» would get the message across — try to take my weapons, and I shall fight you.

Apparently there were brains behind the warrior's abrupt manner. He nodded, and Blade picked up his weapons. The soldier held out a kilt-like garment to him, dark green with as gold-embroidered border and a glossy black leather belt set with semiprecious stones. Blade put it on and hooked sword and axe to the belt.

The soldiers seemed to approve of the results, and quickly formed around Blade and led him out of the room. Down a short flight of stairs they went, and then through a lush garden. The odors from the masses of tropical flowers that spread across the ground and climbed up the stone walls and tree trunks were almost overpowering. Birds shot like brightly colored rockets through the treetops with screeches and twitterings. The garden was well guarded. Blade saw three different squads of soldiers as his own escort hustled him along the gravel paths among the trees and bushes.

Finally a silver-gray mass loomed through the trees ahead. «The Palace of the First Prince,» said the leader of the soldiers. They led Blade through a low-ceilinged entrance hall and up a dark stairway lit by the anemic glow of rush torches. At the top of the stairway they left him. «The chambers of the princess are beyond,» said the leader.

«What of the First Prince?» asked Blade. The leader said nothing, but the look on his face confirmed a suspicion that had been growing in Blade's mind for some time. Without fail, in every dimension, sooner or later he was called in to play stud to some highbom female with an urge she wanted satisfied. He was too much of a romantic to find that sort of thing entirely satisfactory-but he was also too much of a professional to let his inclinations stand in the way of doing what his job required. And if the road to success in this dimension led through Princess Mirasa's bed-well, he would take that road as far as it led.

The room he entered was all shimmering red and bronze — red tiles on the floor, red paint on the ceiling, bronze paneling on the walls. At a low wooden table in the middle of the room sat Princess Mirasa, in a flowing red gown. This one was also semitransparent-and this time Mirasa was not wearing anything under it. Blade had guessed at the grace and beauty of her body the day he first saw her. He was glad that his guess had been correct. Then he realized that he was indicating that gladness in a very direct way.

Fortunately the kilt was loose about his waist, and Mirasa did not notice his reaction to her. Instead her eyes roamed up and down his body like the hands of the surgeon, but not with a clinical air. Definitely not. They came to rest on his belt, with the sword and axe hanging from it. Her eyes widened.

«Did you think you would need those weapons tonight, Blade?»

Blade grinned, to show he understood her double meaning, then shrugged. «I have survived many dangers only by having my weapons always close at hand. I could not be sure that your soldiers were not those of the priests of Ayocan in disguise, sent to snatch me away to another sacrifice or some less dignified way of dying.»

Mirasa grimaced. «I told them to use your name, Blade, so that you would know that the message was from me. I am the only one in all the Garden of the Kings who knows it.

«Perhaps. But I could not be sure. Secrets have a way of leaking out.»

Mirasa looked at him with a new respect. «Indeed they do. And particularly in this garden, with the Second Prince's spies everywhere. You are wise to recognize the fact.»

«Warriors of the English have many occasions to deal with secrets, Princess.»

«Then you will be even better fitted for the mission King Hurakun has planned for you.»

So he was about to be drafted into the service of the King of Chiribu, was he? He could think of a good many worse fates in this dimension, including the one from which Hurakun had rescued him. So far, this was not bad news. But. .

«What is this mission, Princess?»

«To go down the Great River into Gonsara, and spy on the temples of Ayocan there.»