When he had finished and sat looking at Blade for some sort of reaction, Blade found himself once again having to do some very complex thinking in a very great hurry without any of it showing on his face. The Ice Master either had not told him or (incredible but not impossible) did not himself know a good many of the key facts about the Menel. So discreet exploring and inquiring on his own was going to be needed. This was equally true for information about the Ice Master's stronghold-he would be taking a great risk of warning the Ice Master about his real plans if he asked too many questions about that.
Set that question aside for a moment. What to say to the Ice Master now? Give him the impression of cooperation, somewhat willing but also dictated by fear for Leyndt's safety (if he thinks he doesn't need her as a hold, he will probably kill or condition her at once). Again, balance tone and choice of words perfectly-at a point when Blade would have given his right arm for the chance to give any one of his emotions-particularly the revulsion he felt for the Ice Master-full rein.
«I understand there is a sort of bargain involved here-my cooperation in return for Leyndt's safety.»
«Of course. But much more than that can be yours after a while-as I said, all the Girls you want, anything this stronghold provides. And when we have destroyed the Menel, anything this world provides. I will rule it, and you will be my second-in-command.» And do all the dirty work, thought Blade.
«All right. Have you thought of enlisting some of your prisoners in this project?» Two men tackling all the Menel seemed rather suicidal.
That almost pushed the Ice Master too far. «Nonsense! None of the male guards and slaves would be safe without a conditioning that makes them useless for anything more than fighting or menial work. That is why I hoped it would not be necessary to condition you-it would have been a total waste of all your higher qualities. And the Girls are like most women-they have no higher qualities to begin with. We can expect nothing from them. We can trust nobody but each other.» He reached out a hand as if he expected it to be shaken, and Blade obliged him, fighting off the urge to fling the man head first into the wall, hopefully breaking all of his bones in the process. But killing the Ice Master would not strike a fatal blow at the Menel. In fact, it would do nothing but leave him and Leyndt (and he didn't even know where she was) alone in the Ice Master's stronghold, with no way to get out of it or if they got out of it return to the south-assuming they were not promptly killed by the guards. For the Menel he had some sympathy-a new home for their race was something any people might seek, and be driven to drastic measures in doing so-but for the Ice Master he could have none.
The Ice Master rose to his full imposing height and raised his hand in farewell. Then he turned and strode toward the door. It opened to let him through, then closed behind him, and Blade was alone again.
Chapter 15
He was alone for two days, as nearly as he could guess. There was no clock in his chamber and no dimming of the lights. But he could set himself to sleep for almost any amount of time with great precision, and then estimate the time between the two sleep cycles. This gave him a rough approximation of the amount of time passing.
He was determined to avoid any risk of disorientation; he was also determined to keep himself physically as close to the top line as possible. He had no idea when the Ice Master would call for him, or whether that call might pitch him straight into a situation where he could survive only by using every bit of strength and speed he possessed.
So he kept track of the time, did calisthenics, did unarmed-combat exercises, jogged (and in the process of the jogging estimated the size of the room and memorized his estimates). He bathed regularly in the huge sunken tub-pool (which had no adjustment for water flow or temperature; one slapped a projecting plate at the head end and the water flowed in until the tub was full, water always slightly too cool for Blade's preference). He ate the food which appeared in a recess in the wall regularly twice a day-a thick gray stew filled with blue lumps tasting like overaged and undercooked chicken and green glutinous lumps that both looked and tasted like a cross between half-baked bread and rice pudding. He drank the hot liquid that accompanied the food-a sweetish liquid the color of weak coffee and the most palatable part of the meal. He decided after the first two meals that the Ice Master's intention to treat him well did not extend to providing good food. He only hoped that none of the lumps in the stew were protein processed from human victims brought in by the Ice Dragons.
He was taking his bath on the «morning» of the third day when, without any warning, the door opened with its characteristic low swisssh and an unseen hand shoved one of the Girls into the chamber, so violently that she fell to her knees. Blade was instantly alert, springing out of the bath without bothering to dry or dress himself. The girl's eyes widened as she ran them over his body, standing naked and dripping in front of her. He examined her in his turn, and found the examination a pleasant enough task.
His initial notion that she might have been sent to him as a subtle way of killing him rapidly shrank away to nothing. He found it hard to believe that the short trunks that were her only garment could conceal anything lethal, and he found the notion of poisoned finger- or toe-nails ludicrous. Her skin was pale, but with a healthy tinge of pink, and a light dusting of freckles over her shoulders and down on to the small, firm breasts. There was firm-toned muscle under the curves of waist and hips and legs, and the toes and fingers of the small feet and hands were long and sure of their movements. The ponytail that flowed down her back was shorter than usual-it reached only just below her shoulder blades-and its color perhaps the least attractive feature about her-a sort of dirty blonde. The face was small, square-chinned, with high cheekbones and a delicately chiseled snub nose. The eyes were wide, deep blue, with lashes that half the women Blade knew could match only by going out and buying them. And those eyes struck the jarring note in the whole agreeable picture, because they were wide, staring, and filled with a stark terror that Blade could almost feel crackling in the air like static electricity.
He stepped over to the girl and reached down, putting his hands under her chin to lift her head. It came up stiffly, as though she were setting her neck muscles against it, and the terror in her eyes flashed stronger yet.
«What is your name?» he asked in a voice as low as he could make it and still hope that it would reach her ears.
«I am-I am a Girl,» she said in a voice with a faint tremble in it.
«I know that,» Blade said. «I can tell the difference between boys and girls.» The attempted note of lightness fell away into nothing, like a stone hurled into a canyon. She shivered as though the winds from the glaciers far above were sweeping through the room. His hands tightened briefly on her shoulders, trying to reassure her, but the shivering faded only slightly.
«Well, I cannot go on calling you simply Girl,» he said. «You must have a name. I think-«
She jumped up with a gasp. «No, no, no! I have no name. I am a Girl. I cannot have a name. It is forbidden. I-«He put his arms around her and pulled her gently against him, until her face was buried against his chest. She stopped speaking but went on trembling. «Who forbids it that you have a name?»