«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 inner one held Pardes' own apartments and gardens.
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 inner gate was delicate, gilded iron latticework, more ornamental than protective.
While Gursun kept an eye on the rest of the party, Blade went over to the four guards at the inner gate. Under his cloak he had the message tube, lashed to his sword belt.
«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.
Then Blade froze. Coming out of the guardhouse was the guard who had gone off to get the duty officer. Behind him followed a fast-striding, erect figure, with an entirely too familiar scarred face.
Descares.
Blade instinctively stepped away from the wall and dropped into fighting stance, one hand near the hilt of his sword. The motion drew Descares' eye. He turned, then also froze.
«Blade!» he roared.
«Gursun! To me!» Blade thundered, even louder. The big Nessiri spun around, drew his sword, and dashed toward Blade. At the same time the slaves pushing the breakfast cart broke into a run, panicked by the sudden shouts. They dashed across the courtyard, forcing Descares to jump aside.
Blade shouted to Gursun again. «Quick! Grab that cart!» Gursun made a furious lunge, knocked two of the slaves aside, and grabbed the handles of the cart. Blade broke away from the stunned guards at the inner gate, knocking one of them flat, and ran up to the cart. He tried to pry the last slave loose, but the man's terror was freezing his grip on the cart. Blade drew his sword.
«Quick! Which way to Duke Pardes' apartment?»
«T-t-throoo t'gate and t'ird door t'left, m-m-m-master. D-don't kill-«
«Hang on and we won't!» Blade nodded to Gursun and the two big men shoved hard on the cart. It went rumbling across the courtyard, heading straight for the gate.
Descares was screaming, «Guards! Guards! Assassins! Stop them! Stop-!» as he leaped wildly aside again to keep from being flattened on the tiles of the courtyard. Blade and Gursun ducked as one of the gate guards threw a spear. It struck one of the silver dishes and knocked the lid off, sending a roasted chicken tumbling to the ground. Then the massive cart crashed into the inner gate with all the speed and power that Blade and Gursun together could give it. Gilt ornaments, ironwork, dishes, cups, and silverware flew in all directions. The gate flew open; the slave screamed and leaped down from the cart, then ran for his life. Blade and Gursun vaulted over the twisted remains of the cart and plunged through the open gate. Descares was only yards behind them, shrieking incoherently and waving a snatched-up spear in each hand.
The two men headed to the right and began to run, feet crunching on the gravel walks of the garden, vaulting bushes, zig-zagging like foxes with the hounds after them. Blade wasn't sure they would be able to make it to cover in time, but kept on running.
Then a massive figure loomed out of the shadows under the gallery ahead. Pardes wore a white robe, and walked slowly and carefully, using his massive club now as a walking stick. His appearance drew another yell from Descares.
«Lord! Assassins! Hide yourself!» He raised his arm and hurled one of his spears. But his targets were moving too fast and his aim was too uncertain. The spear came nowhere near either Blade or Gursun. It soared through the air and instead cracked into a marble pillar beside Pardes, only a foot above his head.
Pardes jumped a foot into the air and let out a bellow of fury that echoed around the courtyard. «I thought you were against me, Descares! Now I know! Guards, seize Descares for treason! NOW!»
Descares stopped as if he had run into a brick wall, and the other guards did the same. But Pardes' roar paralyzed them so thoroughly they couldn't move to obey his orders. Descares screamed hysterically, ran a few feet toward Pardes, and threw his other spear. No one could doubt that this one was aimed straight at Pardes.
But it never reached him. As it whistled across the grass, suddenly Gursun was there in its path. Perhaps the Nessiri intended to catch it in mid-air. Instead it drove into his stomach, so hard that the point drove out through his back. It gleamed in the sunlight, wet with Gursun's blood.
For a moment, it seemed that everyone was totally paralyzed. Pardes stood, mouth and eyes open with surprise and rage. Gursun stood, the spear jutting out of him, shock glazing his expression. Blade stood, eyes focusing on Descares. The soldiers just stood, completely at a loss for what to do.
Then movement began again. Gursun gave a choked cry and fell with a thud to the ground, his face twisted in pain. Pardes moved forward, looking as formidable as a charging elephant. Descares' eyes flickered wildly about him as he looked for some place to run or hide. He was still looking when Blade walked up to him and put both hands around his throat.