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Zungans he will obtain such glory that he will be able to move against me,
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remove me, execute me even." She turned to him and flowed against his chest.
"And it was Kleptor who ordered the efforts to capture you. The-whatever you
call your Minister for War down in Zunga-the-"
"The On'ror?" Blade's voice was flat and cold.
"Yes, that one." She made no attempt to pronounce the name. "He and your
priests sent word that if you were allowed to train the Zungans in your new
fighting arts, it would become almost impossible to defeat them. So Rulami
soldiers were wandering all over the Kandan forests looking for you." She
smiled. "I
didn't care much whether the Zungans learned to fly through the air on
broomsticks and land on top of the royal palace. I still don't. The important
thing is, I have you. Here. With me. And no other woman can have you again."
Then they made love once more.
Fortunately Roxala had some affairs of her own to attend to, so Blade was left
alone after breakfast. He badly needed both the breakfast, to fill his
stomach, and the solitude, to set his thoughts in order.
Roxala was lusty, scheming, fiercely jealous, and feared nothing and no one,
not even King Kleptor. She was a dangerous protectress, but would be an
effective one as long as he satisfied her physical desires.
And she was not ambitious for conquest. Kleptor was. And that made him the
real enemy. Behind
Roxala's protection-from behind her skirts, as it were-Blade had a priceless
opportunity to work against the man who dreamed of conquering Zunga. He wished
he could also get word back to the Zungans of the On'ror's treachery. That
would give Afuno all the excuse he needed and ten times more besides to move
against the Ulungas. But without Kleptor, there would be no one left to whom
the On'ror could betray Zunga. The On'ror and his priestly allies would be
left stranded and harmless. Kleptor had to be the main target for now.
Blade found the next two months maddeningly frustrating. He had complete
freedom to move about within Roxala's palace, and all the servants jumped to
obey any order he gave. Or almost any. He could not leave the palace without
the queen accompanying him, nor could he pay any attention to the woman
slaves. He did not mind so much being confined to the palace most of the time.
Certainly not after four
black-masked men leaped out of the bushes in the courtyard one night while he
walked there in search of fresh air. He was unarmed, but fortunately they only
had knives, so he found it easy to kill two at once and hold off the others
until the guards came up and finished the work. If Blade had doubted Kleptor's
hostility before, he did so no longer. Even the queen was surprised by the
limits to which the king seemed prepared to go.
"I think he truly fears that you are a threat to his throne, not just to his
possession of me," Roxala said.
"Before, the men I have taken were good, stout fellows, lusty and strong and
inexhaustible. But what brains they had were between their legs, not between
their ears. He knows that you are a different kind of man. You have all the
talents of those who have come before you-" she grinned wickedly "-and many
more besides. When Kleptor thinks of you, I'll wager he has visions of you
sitting on the throne of Rulam beside me and his own body staked out on an
ants' nest. That might happen. It might."
So there was another thing for Blade to worry about. Was Queen Roxala suddenly
going to start plotting to overthrow Kleptor? Not that Blade objected to
overthrowing Kleptor-in fact it was the best thing that could happen for the
Zungans. But he did not want to get any more involved in anything Roxala was
planning than was absolutely necessary. He neither liked her nor trusted her.
He liked and trusted her even less after seeing what she did the one and only
time he spoke to one of the slave girls. The poor girl made matters worse by
replying. She even smiled at Blade as she did so. The next morning Roxala led
Blade down into a deep cellar, where the girl was chained to a wall. She had
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Blade stand and watch while the girl was whipped until her back was pulped,
raw, bloody flesh. Then the girl was turned around-and this time when the whip
stopped she was dead.
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