The Crystal Seas

A fresh rush of enemies from the sterncastle forced Blade to turn his attention there. He backed himself against the railing and went to work with both swords, while the three with him attacked the newcomers from behind. Blade searched the brown faces coming at him, looking for the thin, bearded face of Duke Tymgur himself. The Duke might send his men out to die for a long time, but sooner or later he would have to come out himself. Otherwise he would die like a cornered rat below the decks of his yacht.

Unless he wasn't aboard at all? Blade went cold for a moment at that thought, then did his best to push it out of his mind. If the Duke wasn't aboard, then the whole attack would do nothing except- He broke off that train of thought with an effort and concentrated on fighting the men coming at him.

Eventually they were beaten off, killed, or driven over the side. Another Sea Master went down also, to lie on the bloody decks of the yacht. Swinging his eyes fore and aft, Blade saw that the attackers now had full control of the deck. Not a living enemy remained there. Screams and splashes from over the side told Blade that the yulons were still efficiently at work polishing off the swimmers.

Damn! If Tymgur was aboard, they were going to have to dig him out like a cornered rat. A rat with perhaps very sharp teeth.

Alanyra made her way aft to join Blade. She was ignoring a shallow cut that ran across her ribs just below her breasts.

«What now, Blade?»

Blade's voice was grim. «We go below and search this ship from stem to stern, until we find Duke Tymgur or-«He decided not to go on. Instead he led the way to the door of the sterncastle, A few smart blows with a battle-ax drove it off its hinges, and Blade stepped into the musty gloom of the after cabins.

A passageway stretched before him, doors opening off it on either side and a light at the far end. Without turning his head, Blade snapped at Alanyra, «Put a man at each door and follow me.» Feet scurried about behind him as he headed down the passageway toward the light at the end. That should be the great cabin, Tymgur's private quarters, and if the Duke was anywhere aboard-

Blade came to the end of the passageway and stared into the cabin. A long-legged figure in black sat hunched on a couch, head sunk on its chest and one long-fingered hand resting limply on the hilt of a rapier. Blade raised his own sword and cautiously approached. That certainly looked like Duke Tymgur-but was he alive? Had the terrible Duke chosen the coward's way out, taken poison or opened a-

Blade was five feet away when Tymgur sprang to his feet and thrust with the rapier, all in a single motion.

If Blade had been a foot closer the rapier would have driven clear through his heart and ended everything for him in a split second. But Tymgur was over-eager, and Blade's reflexes were as fast as they had ever been. He leaped back, twisting as he did so. He did not leap back far enough to keep the rapier from tearing through his side, but he lived. His teeth clamped together hard at the pain, but he stayed on his feet. And his broadsword whirled up, then down, and smashed into Tymgur's rapier, driving it down so hard that the point jammed in a crack in the deck.

The Duke in turn sprang back, leaving the rapier quivering in the deck and drawing a long knife. Then he came at Blade again, lunging out of a half crouch, hoping to carry through to his goal by sheer speed.

Again his terrifying speed almost succeeded. The edge of the knife ripped flesh along the outside of Blade's left thigh as he twisted away. But his broadsword came down again, and Duke Tymgur's sword-hand jumped from its wrist. Hand and sword fell to the deck with a thud and a clatter. Tymgur straightened up, his eyes widening in surprise. Those dark eyes looked squarely into Blade without fear, without pain, with nothing except hatred and perhaps a small bit of respect. Their expression hadn't changed when Blade's sword came down a third time, smashing through Tymgur's shoulder and ribs down into his heart. Blood spurted from his mouth, and he fell to the deck and lay still.

Blade felt like joining him. His knees were turning to water and there was a roaring in his head, as the pain of his wounds began to tear through him. He took a slow step forward, then began to turn around.

As he did, there was a scuffling sound behind him, the sound of steel in flesh, then a high-pitched, choked gurgle. Blade spun the rest of the way around and stared down.

On the deck lay Alanyra, half on her side, a shortsword thrust completely through her from behind and coming out just under her left breast. Over her stood a familiar dark-faced figure, just rising to his feet as Blade turned.

Stipors.

Blade bad wondered where the treacherous Autocrat for War had gone when he fled from Talgar. Now he knew. And Alanyra had died in helping him find out-and in saving his life from an attack from the rear. An attack that might have taken him, weakened as he was.

But he did not feel weak as he walked quietly over to Stipors, both his swords raised. The broadsword flickered out like a snake's tongue, and Stipors' weapon flew into the air. He didn't try to pick it up. Something in Blade's eyes and face stopped him. Instead he stood there, letting Blade back him against one of the doors.

Blade's swords clattered to the floor. His hands reached out, one taking Stipors by the throat, one by the belt. He lifted the Autocrat for War as though he had been a child and walked slowly down the passageway, carrying him. The Sea Masters guarding the doors ran back into the great cabin at a nod from Blade.

Blade came out on the deck. He felt no pain or weakness from his wounds now. In fact he felt u

Twenty feet from the ship's side a yulon lay in the water, head just below the surface. Blade shifted his grip on Stipors and tossed a chunk of wood at the head. It rose dripping from the crystal seas. Blade shifted his grip a second time, raising Stipors high over his head. Then like a child throwing a peanut to a bear in the zoo, he threw Stipors to the yulon.

The long neck arched, the huge jaws opened, then came together. Stipors had no time to scream before the yellowed teeth met in his body. But he did scream then. The scream was still echoing in Blade's ears as he walked slowly back down the passageway to where he had left Alanyra.

The Sea Masters stood in a semicircle around her. Her golden eyes were wide and staring, her breast motionless. But her full lips were set in a faint smile. Why not? thought Blade. She lived to see the coming of the Stranger, and the Stranger's victory that promised peace for both Talgarans and Sea Masters.

Promises, promises. There were wounds to bind up, his and others, then the long trip back to Green Mistress. And this ship-set it on fire? Yes. Blade bent down and lifted Alanyra into his arms. His head swam with the effort, but he straightened up and walked back down the passageway to the deck. Each step sent pain shooting through him. If he did not get his wounds treated fairly soon-

But he managed to get to the railing and call down to a Sea Master in the water below.

«The Noble Lady Alanyra is dead. I have brought out her body. We are going to set this ship on fire, and-«

Before he could finish the sentence, it seemed that Duke Tymgur's rapier-or somebody's had been rammed into his skull. White-hot pain exploded in it from back to front, pulsing and swelling, making him shake all over. His vision blurred. He reeled forward, came up hard against the railing, felt Alanyra slip out of his grasp. With fast-fading vision he saw her drop down into the crystal seas that had been her home, landing with a splash. Sea Masters and Talgarans alike gathered around the body.