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Gursun staggered as if Blade had struck him. Then he let out a wordless growl. Blade braced himself. He wasn't sure that the Nessiri wasn't going to leap at his throat right then and there.
Gursun's brief rage passed swiftly. He drank a cup of wine and wiped the sweat off his face. Then he went on.
«Blade, I–I nearly killed you there, for saying that Nessiri might ever do something that would help those dirty swine of Scador. Most of the warriors of my people would have killed you. For all our sakes, believe me. Believe what I say, and speak to the Emperor for my people. Promise me that. Otherwise I ca
«You ca
Gursun's massive shoulders slumped, and he spread out his hands in a pleading gesture. «You think I'd kill a comrade like you? How could I do that, in honor? Please, Blade.» He looked ready to burst into tears of frustration over his lost hope of trying to free his people.
Blade now believed Gursun's sincerity. He wasn't sure if the plan would work, even if the Emperor and Pardes accepted it. He was even less sure they'd accept it. He wasn't sure, in fact, that he wouldn't be killed on the spot for even raising the question. Fear of slave revolts ran deep in Karan.
But Gursun and the Nessiri deserved his aid. He owed Gursun his freedom and whatever chance he had of avenging Tera. It was only fair to help in turn. Besides, a man who could think as much as Gursun did about the rest of his captive people was worth helping. Until now, Blade had met only one really good person in this whole blasted Dimension, and she was dead. Gursun seemed like he might be another, for all his growling and grumbling.
Blade thrust out his hand and gripped the Nessiri's. «Very well, Gursun. I believe you mean what you say. You shall help me reach Pardes and the Emperor. Then I shall speak for you and your people to them. If they attempt any treachery, you and I will have our final battle side by side. Is that enough?»
Gursun embraced Blade, squeezing him until Blade was ready to gasp for breath. Apparently this was enough.
On the voyage home the weather was gray and stormy, with half a gale blowing most of the time. With a small and inexperienced crew neither Blade nor Gursun got much sleep or peace of mind. Fortunately the same gray weather that gave them both gray hairs also kept patrol ships at a safe distance. They had four days' unmolested voyaging, then anchored safely in a small bay about thirty miles south of Karanopolis. From the map, they were about eight miles by road from Pardes' country estate.
Unfortunately it was not a simple case of getting ashore and walking off to their goal. The first and easiest thing to get was disguises.
«What sort of man can tramp around the countryside these days with no questions asked?» said Blade. «Soldiers, of course. So we all put on armor and weapons from the cargo, and there we are, a patrol of the good soldiers of His Sacred Majesty Jores VII.»
Gursun laughed. «What about the three sailors?» He made his usual throat-slitting gesture.
Blade shook his head. «We'll strip and bind them like slaves captured while escaping. That can be our business if we need to answer questions. We're returning three escaped slaves to the estate of Duke Pardes.»
Gursun shook his head. «Blade, you sure you hate the Karani as much as you say? You play tricks just like they do, and just as good.»
Blade grimaced. «I knew a great deal about intrigues before I came to Karan. I didn't much like them then. I don't like them now. I wouldn't go on with them to sit on the Coral Throne itself, if I didn't have to.»
When they had ferried the freed slaves and the captive crewmen ashore, Blade and Gursun set Green Gull's mainsail. Then they set her on course out of the bay toward the open sea and lashed her steering oar in place. They watched Green Gull sail out into the darkness, then rowed ashore.
The shore was not well-patrolled these days, since it was not from the sea that Karan was in danger. But they ran into their first patrol of soldiers before they had covered three miles.
Blade stepped forward at «Who goes there?» and faced the eleven soldiers who blocked the road.
«We are of the household of Duke Pardes. We return from the shore with three slaves of his.»
The sergeant commanding the patrol grunted in disgust. «Lots of those bastards think this is the time to make a run for it. Good work you caught them this close to home. All right, pass on.»
They passed on, and passed through two more patrols without incident. Dawn was in the sky before they reached Pardes' estate. Blade hoped the household guards would not look too closely at the new arrivals before sending them on to the duke. By daylight the ex-slaves looked a good deal less like soldiers and the sailors less like slaves than they had by night.
He also hoped that Pardes himself was still at his country estate and that Descares was not. If Pardes had already returned to Karanopolis, all they had done might still be in vain and all they had hoped for lost forever. They had very little hope of making their way through the Golden City to Pardes' palace.
The estate was built around two courtyards. An outer one held the guardhouses, kitchens, storerooms, and the rest. The i
To get into the outer courtyard was simple. Once again their story about returning some escaped slaves was enough. In a household the size of Padres', it was hardly to be expected that every guard would recognize every house or field slave.
In the outer courtyard, Blade could see that Gursun was getting nervous. He himself was more tense than he would have liked to admit. At least they were past the stronger gate. The outer gate was massive timbers and iron hinges, a foot thick and twenty feet high. The i
While Gursun kept an eye on the rest of the party, Blade went over to the four guards at the i
«I bring a message for the eyes of Duke Pardes,» he said.
The senior guard looked coldly at him. «Duke Pardes never receives messages before breakfast. He will receive you in an hour.»
Blade shook his head. They could not afford to wait around in the courtyard for even half that time. Someone was certain to notice something peculiar about either the «soldiers» or the «slaves.»
«Minutes may count, my friend. I do not think Pardes will be grateful to you if he learns you have delayed this message. Do you know what his ingratitude can mean?»
The guard obviously did. His face paled slightly, and he licked his lips. But he also held his ground. «Sir, I can't let you in. I just-no, wait a minute. If I call the duty officer, maybe he can go in and persuade Pardes to see you. Will that do?»
«If you stop talking and do it quickly, yes.»
The guard dashed off as if wolves were chasing him and vanished into one of the guardhouses. Blade leaned against the wall, trying to look as relaxed and casual as possible. He watched three slaves push a large silver-decorated cart with four jewel-studded wheels out of the cookhouse. On top of the cart was an array of silver dishes.
«What's that?» Blade asked, pointing.
«His Grace's breakfast,» replied one of the guards. It was hardly surprising that Pardes' massive frame required an equally massive amount of food. Still, the size of that breakfast was slightly awe-inspiring.