Stul stood in silence for quite a while, head tilted sideways and one hand stroking his chin. He was either thinking deeply or trying to give that impression. Finally he nodded.
«It is understood. You shall be permitted to become clean again according to your own laws. It shall be done before we reach Thessu. I, Stul, say this.»
«How far is it to Thessu?»
«Seven days, not less.»
«That will be as much time as I will need.» She kept her voice level and her face straight. She wanted to smile or even laugh. Seven days to look around her and make plans without fear hanging over her. Seven days she could put to good use-if Stul kept his promise and controlled his Hunters.
Stul turned out to be a man who kept promises even to woman captives, as well as a leader whose Hunters obeyed him. The week-long trip to Thessu was not exactly a luxury cruise down the Volga for Katerina. But none of her captors touched her again during the whole trip. In fact, they carried her most of the way on an improvised litter. They gave her the best food and water they could find in the jungle, and even let her bathe regularly. She felt her strength and self-confidence returning bit by bit as the pain of her bruises faded.
Of course she had to continue to appear humbled and submissive every waking minute. That rankled. She also had to carry out some convincing «cleansing» ritual each day. She solved that problem easily. Every evening she sat down in lotus position and recited for half an hour passages from her training manuals or from the Short History of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. She found that by concentrating hard she could still think and speak in Russian, which made her recitations even more mysterious. Stul and the other Hunters were appropriately impressed.
Katerina was walking almost normally by the time they reached Thessu, on the morning of the eighth day. Something unusual was obviously happening in the town. Several large fires sent smoke clouds up from behind the mud and thorn-bush walls. Scores of cloth banners floated from spears held by warriors standing on top of the walls. Warriors, workers, and slaves were dashing about like ants from an upset hill. Many of the workers were leading animals-large lizards or things that looked like one-horned goats-or carrying heavy baskets of fruits and vegetables toward the gates of Thessu.
«It seems that they prepare a Warriors' Feast,» said Stul. He shaded his eyes against the glare of the sun and scanned the walls. «Yes, it must be that. But how is this so? The Feast for this year is not for another season yet. I must ask what is happening before we bring this gift before Geddo.» He was obviously nervous, and the other Hunters caught that nervousness. They formed a tighter circle around Katerina and increased their pace.
Just outside the gate they met another warrior with the headdress of an Elder Brother of the Hunt, leading out a band of a dozen Hunters. Instead of spears they carried woven grass baskets and large cutting tools of hard black wood edged with stone chips.
Stul grinned as he saw the other party approach. «Ha, Kordu! Is it that you and your Hunters now must perform women's work? What have you done to so displease the High Chief?»
The Elder Brother called Kordu ignored Stul's taunt. «We go to do what must be done that this Feast will lack nothing. This is work for any man who is not too swollen with pride. Far worse to leave anything undone for this Feast.»
«Then a Warriors' Feast is coming? How so?»
Kordu grinned. «It is a mighty moment for the Ganthi. Only five times before has a Stranger come into our land and proved worthy of living among us as a warrior. Now it has happened again. And I was first among the Ganthi to meet him.»
Stul smiled thinly. «What did he do to prove his worthiness? Turn you over his knee and spank you?»
This time Kordu obviously was keeping a rein on his temper as he replied. «He sprang upon the tail of a three-horns and ran the full length of it with no weapon in his hands. Then he took a spear from its neck and killed it with a thrust in the eye. It was the largest three-horns ever seen by Hunters, and he is the bravest Stranger ever to come among the Ganthi.» Then he noticed Katerina. «What have you there?»
«A gift for the High Chief,» said Stul. «She is a woman who knows the arts of war. A warrior woman will be a mighty gift for Geddo.»
Stul was obviously trying to boast of his prize. Just as obviously he was feeling angry and thoroughly frustrated. For a week he had been expecting that everyone in Thessu would stand around and gape in amazement at his prize, cheering wildly as he presented her to Geddo. Now he was home, and everybody was too busy preparing to celebrate the arrival of this mighty stranger to pay any attention to him. Katerina wanted to laugh out loud at Stul's predicament.
Meanwhile Kordu continued to look her over. «Has she said of what people she comes?» he asked.
Stul shook his head. «She has said nothing. She has spent much time on the journey cleansing herself in the manner of her people. But it is not a manner that I know of.»
«That proves nothing, Stul. You are not noted for your wisdom or for your long memory of anything except insults.» Kordu frowned. «I wonder if she is of the same people as the Stranger. He also is much larger than most of the Ganthi. Like this woman he is pale of skin, although his hair is dark. We know little of his customs as yet, but-«
Shouts and cheers suddenly exploded from behind the walls of Thessu. Kordu broke off, turned, then smiled.
«I think you shall see the Stranger for yourself in moments, Stul. Such cheers mean that he comes.»
Stul tried to sneer. «Is he so mighty, or have we grown so weak, that we shout like children when he comes?»
Kordu shrugged. «Go and also slay a three-horns singlehanded, as this man has done. Then you will find out if we will cheer you as we cheer this-ah, here he is.» Kordu pointed at the gate, where a tall man was striding out into the sunlight. Katerina's eyes followed the pointing finger. Then she stared, and went on staring, while the strength seemed to drain out of her so that she had to fight not to collapse on the ground.
The man walking out of the gate toward her was Richard Blade, the British secret agent from Lord Leighton's Project. He was thinner, dark with dirt and sunburn, bearded, and dressed as an Elder Brother of the Hunters of the Ganthi. But he was Richard Blade, alive and sane and healthy here among the Ganthi, in this time and this place. He was Richard Blade-or she, Katerina Shumilova, was finally going mad.
She was not going mad. She still would not go mad. She would live and fight. But she knew there was one thing she would not do now, because there was no sense in it.
She would not even try to guess where and when she was until she had talked to Blade. She did not know enough and she could not know enough about this world until then.
Of course, he was a British agent. On Earth he was an enemy, and there would be no sense in asking him what was going on, or expecting him to answer. But here-wherever «here» was-he was the only person who might know what was going on. She was someone who desperately needed help. A minute ago she would have been ashamed to admit that. Now it made no difference whether she admitted it or not. It was true.
Would Richard Blade see who she was and how badly she needed his help? If he saw, would he help?