Pirates Of Gohar

Harkrat laughed. «You are, and HemiGohar be thanked for that. If you haven't gone completely over to the Mythorans, I'd like to have you with me when we sit down and talk. You've got more of a head for that kind of thing than anyone I can trust except Elyana, and she couldn't come. She's expecting another child.»

«She's well?»

«Oh, yes. She thrives on breeding. Sends you her love and all that sort of thing.» Harkrat suddenly seemed very interested in the decorations on his wine cup, and after a moment Blade understood why.

Elyana's fourth child would be Richard Blade's. A few months from now, a son or daughter of his would be born into the Imperial family of Gohar. What sort of a future would it have?

A bloody sight better one than it would have had if I hadn't put Kloret down, Blade thought.

The Emperor's hopes of having Blade by his side in the peace negotiations with Mythor were disappointed.

Degyat was badly wounded in the battle, and three days later he died. A week after the battle he was buried in the cemetery outside Mythor, while Harkrat, Blade, and virtually every other notable on both sides watched.

«We'll see he gets a proper monument, Your Radiance,» one Mythoran merchant told Harkrat. «An admiral of Gohar, who died to save Mythor-his memory will build a bridge between the two cities.»

«Damned long bridge to reach from one end of the Sea to the other,» said Harkrat, but Blade could see that he was moved.

Harkrat and Blade walked away from the grave side by side. They walked slowly, the Emperor matching his pace to Blade's. Blade was slowed down not only by his buttock wound, but by the ceremonial robe he had on. It was a rather awe-inspiring garment, elaborately woven together of a dozen shades and thicknesses of shell-tissue. It was decorated with pearls at the throat, cuffs, and waist, and further decorated everywhere else with shells worked into complicated patterns. It was as heavy as a suit of armor and nearly as stiff, definitely not the best thing for a man with a sore rear end to wear.

However, the Mythorans had searched their warehouses and shops, then stripped them of tissue, dyes, pearls, and shells. Two dozen seamstresses labored night and day, with Rhodina almost literally cracking a whip over them, to get the robe done before the funeral. It was a gift of honor from a grateful city, so Blade was going to wear it and comfort be damned!

The sun came out as they walked toward the horses and litters, making Blade's robe seem to glow. Harkrat laughed. «You're going to be pretty hard to miss in that. And it won't be the last gift, either. You're going to get something from me, and the merchants of Gohar will probably thank you for fighting the Sarumi, and that horse chief-what's his name?»

«Sigluf.»

«Sigluf wants to honor you, I hear. You're going to have more gifts than you know what to do with. How are you going to get them all the way back to England?»

Blade didn't answer at first, because he was thinking of something which might come from a short talk with Sigluf. If the Sarumi had turned pirate because of pressure from the horsemen to the west of the Sea, what would happen if that pressure was reduced? Suppose a Mythoran fleet carried an army of Maghri across the Sea, to attack the western horsemen and take them off the backs of the Sarumi? Could the Sarumi then become peaceful seafarers?

At this point Blade realized his ideas were ru

«I'll have to see about that when the time comes,» he said. «I'll give Khraishamo and Rhodina any I have to leave behind. They'll take good care of the gifts.»

«I should imagine so,» said Harkrat. Now they were coming up to the horse lines and he slapped Blade on the shoulder. «Don't let your arse hurt too long. We've got to get in some hunting to break all this talk.»

«I'll do my best, sir.»

Those were Blade's last words to Harkrat. He walked slowly toward the curtained litter he was using until the bearers saw him. They took position on the handles, and Blade reached to open the curtain.

As he did, he felt suddenly dizzy. He had to grip the roof of the litter to keep from falling. Then the dizziness turned into a distinct throbbing pain in his head, not severe but completely familiar. The computer was calling him Home across the Dimensions.

Blade tore open the curtain as the pain in his head increased. He heard cries of surprise from the bearers as he fell across the cushioned seat inside. With a desperate effort he pulled the curtain shut behind him. Then he was sinking down through the cushions and the seat. For a moment he seemed to be held in midair a foot above the grass.

Then everything was gone.

Chapter 27

Blade put his empty glass back on the sideboard and started rummaging in the closet for his raincoat. So far today he hadn't needed it, but London weather got no more trustworthy with the years.

«Oh, by the way, Richard,» said J from his armchair. «That brown suitcase in the closet is for you. There's something of yours in it.»

Blade pulled out the brown fiberglass suitcase with a Ministry of Defense insignia on it, then opened it. Inside was his ceremonial robe from Mythor, the pearls and shells catching even the dim light of J's study.

J laughed softly at the surprise on Blade's face. «We were at our wit's end to find something to do with it. It was hardly of much scientific interest, and the value of the individual pearls and shells would hardly be worth the trouble of tearing it apart. Also, it's quite lovely, and I felt it would be rather a crime to destroy it.

«It was Lord Leighton who suggested we give it to you. After all, the-Mythorans-gave it to you, so why not let the gift stand? I doubt if you'll be able to do more than wear it to a costume party, but we think you're the right person to have it.»

«Do you think there's any security risk?»

J shook his head. «There's nothing on it which looks noticeably different from Home Dimension materials. Chemical analyses don't show enough difference to give anyone a clue either. That was a surprise, but we checked it out thoroughly. Anyone who sees the robe hanging in your closet might wonder about your sexual preferences, but they certainly won't have any other proof.»

«That's certain enough. Good night, sir.»

«Good night, Richard.»

Blade went out, and when he reached the street he discovered, not much to his surprise, that it was raining. He hailed a cab and stood on the curb as it rolled toward him, suitcase in one hand and briefcase in the other.

It would be pleasant to have a souvenir of this last trip, other than his memories. It was rather a pity he hadn't been able to stay a few more days, to help Harkrat in what inevitably would be infernally complicated negotiations!

Most of the work was done, though. The Sarumi were no longer an immediate menace, Mythor was free and prepared to defend its freedom, and Kloret was dead. There was still the problem of sending the Maghri home, the question of Elyana's child, and Harkrat's refusal to declare an amnesty for the slaves of Kloret's galley. Blade suspected that while Harkrat wouldn't declare an official amnesty, those who'd managed to escape wouldn't be hunted very vigorously.

There was also the grimmer memory of Fierssa's death. It hadn't been entirely in vain, but Blade would have liked her around to see the victory she fought for.

And there was Rhodina, now settling down with her Sarumi husband in the house in Mythor they pla