Daimarz handed the ax back to Blade. «Now that I have done as much as I am worthy of doing, the honor of the kill is yours. No, wait!» He raised a hand as Blade shouldered the ax. «I want to have other men watch you do your work. When I lay the tale of you and your amulet before my father and the other Masters, I want no one calling me a liar.»
«A good idea.» Daimarz seemed to be keeping his head, in spite of an experience which must have been both terrifying and shameful. Blade understood now some of the reason for the hostility of the party to the idea of the amulets. The woodcutters were proud of the courage and skill it took to face the killer plants and beat them on their own ground. If the amulets made it possible for any child to play in the forest of Binaark, that would be the end of their ancient and proud guild. They would be like square-rigger sailors forced ashore by the coming of the steamship.
It took Daimarz a while to persuade or threaten enough of his men into coming back down the hill into the mist and the rogue's creepers. Blade used that time to catch his breath and examine his injuries. Apart from the gashed arm, there was nothing a bath and a good night's sleep wouldn't take care of. By the time four of the woodcutters were gathered behind Daimarz to watch Blade, he felt ready to tackle a whole new rogue.
The mist was beginning to lift, so the woodcutters were able to watch from a distance as Blade strode into the heart of the rogue's creepers. They didn't attack him, but they lay so thick on the ground that he sometimes had to chop a path through them. At last he came to the base of the rogue, a frightening black mass nearly two feet thick. It took him five strokes to chop clear through it, and as he did the plant's dying screams rang deafeningly in his ears. So much sap gushed out that the ground all around him turned to foul-smelling mud, and he had to jump back hastily to protect his feet.
When Blade returned to the woodcutters, they were all cheering, making nearly as much noise as the dying plant. They would have picked him up on their shoulders and carried him up the slope, if they could have stayed on their feet while doing it. Instead they all helped each other back up the slope, to where Fador'n was beginning to sit up and mutter.
Lorma was waiting for Blade on the path. She jumped on him so enthusiastically he nearly went over backward and down the slope again. Then she started rubbing against his legs, purring so loud it was almost a roar. Where had she come from? How had she been able to trail the party all these days, and know the exact moment when it was safe to come out? Blade respected Lorma's intelligence; now he began to wonder if she wasn't telepathic! Perhaps he'd be able to find out some time. For now it was enough to have her back and listen to her purr.
The lifting of the mist showed that the valley ahead was even steeper-sided than it was here. Daimarz decided to turn back. The woodcutters shouldered their equipment, picked up the blinded man's stretcher, and started retracing their steps toward the valley mouth. Fador'n staggered along, bound the same way Blade had been as punishment for his stupidity.
Blade and Daimarz brought up the rear of the party, so they could talk freely. «What can your father, the Master of the Woodcutters, do for the EIstani in the war against Jaghd?» Blade asked.
«Perhaps much, perhaps everything. The woodcutters will serve as the leaders of Elstan in any war, so our word will count for more than any other two guilds together.»
That made sense. The woodcutters were in excellent physical condition, and trained both to use weapons and to act together. Blade could hardly imagine any other craft or skill that would produce the same sort of man.
«We don't have much time.»
«The guilds may not take much time to come together and agree. Once they hear of the amulets, they will find it easy to believe the tale of the riders coming through the forest.»
At least politics couldn't be any worse in Elstan than they'd been in Jaghd. But time was on the side of the Jaghdi, not the EIstani.
«Is there anything we can do about the war without waiting for all the guilds to agree?»
Daimarz frowned. «Two or three guilds together can work to deal with a flood or a plague, without waiting for the rest. The woodcutters would need one other guild at least, but-if you think it may be needed-?»
«I do.»
They walked on in silence for a while. Lorma was staying so close to Blade that he had to watch his step to keep from treading on her tail. Blue sky was beginning to show through the clouds overhead.
«A word of warning, Blade. Our women are not those of Jaghd. They know their own minds and speak them. Remember that and listen to them.»
«The women of England are more like yours than those of Jaghd,» said Blade. «I will feel more at home in Elstan than I ever did on the other side of the forest. The Jaghdi have a great deal to learn about women, and I fear Queen Tressana is not the one to teach them.»
Silence fell again. Blade looked back at the valley, where the mist had now lifted enough to show the ruins of the rogue plant. He hadn't won the whole war back there by defeating the plant, but he might have won Elstan's first battle.
Chapter 17
Blade won Elstan's second victory by following Daimarz's advice about listening to the women of Elstan. It was easy to listen to Haima Kao, Master of the Guild of Weavers, particularly when she was talking to him in bed.
She was a large woman, heavy-boned and muscular rather than fat, with red hair down to her waist and a hearty appetite for food, beer, and men. She met Blade when he and Daimarz visited her house. Blade wasn't expecting to have a particularly good time and, indeed, wasn't in the mood to be anybody's guest. It seemed to him that the Master Woodcutter's negotiations with his fellow Masters were taking forever, while Tressana's army might already be on the march. Daimarz swore up and down that his father was doing everything that could be done to persuade the other guildsmen to unite with the woodcutters, but Blade continued to wonder.
Haima's lavish banquet improved Blade's temper quite a bit. Their hostess laid on food and beer as though they were all eating their last meal. She talked cheerfully about her work, the inferior skills of the younger weavers, the people intriguing to get her out of the guild's mastership, her late husband, and her lovely daughter Chaia. She talked so long and so loudly that Daimarz, who was normally fond of the sound of his own voice, hardly got to say a word. Blade was amused at his blood brother's growing look of frustration.
During the meal Haima didn't say anything about the war or the negotiations among the Masters. Then at the end of the meal, Haima rose and said, «Here's to a peaceful road through the forest of Binaark, when we've beaten the Jaghdi!» She emptied a quart pot of beer without taking it from her lips. Blade was tempted to change that toast to «If we win,» but remembered his manners. What was more, Haima was indicating that at least her guild, if not the others, was willing to unite with the woodcutters in a campaign against the Jaghdi. After a few more toasts to people and things he'd never heard of, Haima turned Daimarz over to her serving girls and took Blade off to her own bed for the night.
She was the third woman Blade had slept with in this Dimension, and he found her in most ways the best company. She wasn't nervous like Jollya, and she wasn't slightly mad like Tressana. She was simply enjoying herself. He enjoyed particularly the fine pillow her magnificent breasts made, and the fact that she laughed when she reached her climax. It wasn't the hysterical laughter of Queen Tressana, but a deep, hearty bellowing. It was as if she was enjoying herself so much that she simply couldn't find any other way to show it.