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After four days, Blade reluctantly concluded that he really was supposed to eat the stuff. After six days, he was hungry enough to get it down. At least they gave him plenty of water, and Blade discovered that he could get the porridge down if he held his nose tightly enough. After a few more days of the prison food, Blade would have fought Curim barehanded merely for the right to boil the prison's cooks in their own pots.
He also realized that he was losing weight just fast enough so that if he sat here in the cell too long, he would be too weak to escape, fight, or flee. Blade refused to consider becoming that helpless. He'd have refused even if he trusted the Jaghdi and their curious little queen much more than he did.
To be sure, leaving him here could be an accident or an oversight, from somebody not filling out the proper forms. He'd never encountered any people as civilized as the Jaghdi who hadn't developed something like bureaucracy and red tape. More likely the tangled politics of Jaghd might have made him someone who couldn't be kept alive, but who couldn't be openly killed either. Slow starvation was a sure killer and cheaper than any more drastic methods.
Everything depended on whether he was supposed to get out of here alive or not. He could only guess about that. In theory Blade disliked guessing as much as Lord Leighton did. In practice he knew that it was often the only alternative to lying down and letting the world roll over you like a steamroller. Blade disliked that even more than guessing.
On the eleventh day only three guards came with Blade's food and water. Two carried long knives and one carried a bow. After the guards left, Blade exercised to test his strength. He decided he could wait seven more days and still be able to fight three guards. If he waited much longer than that he'd be so weak he wouldn't be able to fight anyone and he'd have to assume he was being starved to death. He accepted that the odds against him were extremely long, but he had every intention of getting out of this prison alive. The people who expected to come in some morning and throw his body out with the garbage were going to get a nasty surprise!
Instead, it was Blade who got the surprise.
On the fifth day after he'd worked out his timetable for escaping, «breakfast» arrived with no less than six guards escorting it. For a moment Blade thought the guards suspected him and braced himself for a fight to the death here and now. Then he saw that three of the men weren't prison guards. Two wore helmets and knee-length blue robes over leather shirts, and carried short spears. They seemed to be escorting the third man, who also wore a blue robe, but his was knee-length and embroidered in red at the throat and cuffs. The third man stepped forward into the full torchlight. He was a head shorter than Jollya and pudgy rather than lean and athletic, but the face was unmistakable. Here was Jollya's father, the Keeper of Animals.
Blade knew no more than before about what made Keepers important in Jaghd, but the fact that one was visiting him was encouraging. He wasn't out of danger by any means, but if he kept his wits about him he would no longer face a choice between slow starvation and an escape attempt that might be suicidal.
The prison guards raised their torches higher and the Keeper stepped through the cell doorway. One of his escorts pulled the door shut, but did not lock it. Before the door was shut Blade saw both of the escorts stationing themselves between the door and the prison guards. Each of them looked tough enough to fight all three guards at once.
Blade relaxed his unarmed combat stance but didn't sit down. He doubted he could pretend to be humble or submissive well enough to fool this man. The Keeper looked soft until Blade saw his eyes. They were anything but soft, and like Jollya's eyes they seemed to miss very little. After another moment's silence Blade decided to go over to the attack.
«Did Jollya ask you to come and see me?»
The Keeper's eyebrows rose. «Jollya?»
«Your daughter, I believe.»
«How do you know that?»
Blade smiled. «I don't know your name, but the face is familiar. It's Jollya's.»
The Keeper fingered his chin. «You see clearly. Did she share your bed?»
It was impossible to tell what answer the man wanted here, so Blade decided to tell the truth. «No. I was chained in the back of a wagon all during my journey here.»
«That might not have stopped my Jollya.» The unreadable expression vanished for a moment, replaced by the weary look of any father with a wild, uncontrollable daughter. «I think that-no, I think I will ask you a few more questions before I answer any of yours.»
«That is your privilege.»
«It is also my pleasure. I am Sikkurad, Keeper of the Animals of Jaghd. One of my pleasures is to learn what I can about the world beyond Elstan and Jaghd. Do you have Keepers in your distant land of England?» Blade wasn't sure whether Sikkurad pronounced the last phrase with a skeptical note in his voice or not.
«We have men who do all that I have heard the Keepers do. But each does only part of a Keeper's work.»
«I see. Did one of these men send you on your travels, or are you roaming the world for pleasure?»
«I was sent by two men, who each do part of a Keeper's work.» He smiled at the prospect of explaining Lord Leighton and J in terms the Jaghdi would understand. «One is a very learned man, who seeks new and better ways of counting.» That would do for a description of a computer expert. «The other is an old warrior, who was once mighty in battle but now guards the first man.» J had killed a number of men in hand-to-hand combat in his own days in the field.
«Were they also your teachers?»
«Yes.» That was the truth and probably the answer Sikkurad was expecting.
«I thought you had been taught in a way no man in Jaghd has been since-in a way unlike any man in Jaghd today. You seem to think like a Keeper, but you also seem to be a man of war.» He pointed at several of Blade's more prominent scars.
«Did Jollya tell you this?»
«Why do you think so much of Jollya, Blade? Does she interest you?»
«As a woman?»
«Yes,» the older man said.
Blade's a
That was something of a shot in the dark, but it hit the target. The Keeper winced and bared his teeth, and sweat broke out all over his pale forehead in spite of the chill of the cell. There was the longest silence of all. Then he laughed, although he sounded more nervous than amused.
«Very well. I want to hear you tell me why I should believe you are not a spy from Elstan. I want to hear your own words, including things you might not tell the queen.»
«And if I do this?»
«Then you will have me as a friend.»
«What will you do to prove that friendship?»
«Give you a chance to show the queen that you are not a spy from Elstan. Once she is satisfied, she will let no one punish you. She may even reward you. Although I'm not sure what is worse: her rewards or her punishments.» He shrugged. «That is as much as I can do now, even with all my power as a Keeper.»
«Or it is as much as you will do, for a stranger who may not live to be of any use to you.»
«You have a sharp tongue.»
«I am merely being honest.»