Unfortunately, Blade once more found his quest for information about as rewarding as trying to get answers from the rocks of the White Mountain. The Master did once ask Blade if he believed in Junah and appeared pleased when the Englishman said no. That was the only revealing thing Blade heard. He began to suspect that he could spend a year here in the Valley of the Hashomi, teaching karate and quarterstaff fighting, without learning much more.
Then suddenly he learned he could not safely stay in the valley at all.
The last of the night's women had just slipped out the door of the hut, and Blade was catching his breath before returning to the hospital. He was not fresh out of Oxford any more, and his day's work training left him with only so much strength for his night's work among the women. Fortunately he had strength for both, and there were many happy women in the valley because of that. It was an exhausting routine, but far better than having either the Master or the women as enemies.
He was about to rise when he heard a faint tapping on the door. A moment of silence, and it came again, in a pattern he recognized. Mirna. He opened the door, and she slipped into the but and into his arms.
After a moment she drew her lips and body away from his. He stroked her cheek, and felt her trembling slightly.
«Mirna. Are they after you?»
«No.» A short, harsh laugh. «They do not yet care what the women do. It will take more than this to make them do so. They do care about what you are doing to the women, though. They care, so that there is danger for you.»
«Who are 'they' and what is the danger to me?»
«The fighting Hashomi, even a Treas or two. It is known among them what you do.»
«Is it known to the Master?» That might seem a foolish question. By law and custom the Hashomi were supposed to have no secrets from the Master, but Blade doubted all those laws and customs were obeyed. No man can ever bring himself to tell even the most trusted and revered leader every last thing about his personal affairs.
Mirna knew this as well as Blade did. In the darkness he could see her frowning, weighing what she knew. «None of the men have spoken of telling the Master. At least not in the hearing of any of the women of the Houses of the Iced Water. What they may have said and done elsewhere-«
«Yes, I understand. What is it that the men say?»
«They say 'this British agent Blade does not live like a Hashom. He does not meditate, he eats as he chooses and when he chooses, he lives every day alone. And every night he goes forth and takes women. By all that we have learned since we became of the Hashomi, he should be swiftly weakening in both mind and body.
« 'Yet he is as strong and swift and cunning as ever. He survived wounds that would have killed many Hashomi, and slew two of the best Treases as though they were freshly sworn boys. He is the master of fighting arts that the Hashomi know not, and teaches them to us.
« 'What does this say of the way of the Hashomi? Is it needed for strength and speed in the battles we fight? Can only British agents live as Blade does and still fight well? Or could we also perhaps live with good food and beer- and women and freedom when we want them, and still do all that we need to do?'
«That is what they are saying and asking, Blade. Many of them. You are a stranger who has been raised above them, and they do not love you for this. They will kill you if they get the chance. As for the Master-«
Blade put a hand on her lips to silence her so he could think in peace. He knew quite well what the Master would say and do when he heard these mutterings among the Hashomi.
Quite by accident Blade had sown doubt, discontent, and rebellion among the Hashomi. For centuries they'd followed obediently in the footsteps of the First Master and his successors. Now they were beginning to think for themselves.
Sooner or later the Master would hear of this. He would also know that the discipline of the Hashomi was in danger. For Richard Blade, who had brought this danger into the valley, there could be only one penalty.
Death.
It was time to leave the Valley of the Hashomi behind. The Master might learn of this any day. Blade said as much to Mirna, and found her clinging to him, her eyes wet. The farewell took much longer than Blade liked, although Mirna was as delightful and passionate as ever. Then finally she was gone and Blade was able to pull on his clothes.
Fortunately he did not have to return to the hospital. He had his weapons ready to hand. Everything else he needed was in the hidden cache on the far side of the valley. Three hours brisk walking from the hut would bring him there. Then a scramble up the cliffs into the mountains to the north of the valley, and away toward the east and the desert.
Whatever he might find there, it could not be as dangerous now as the Master of the Hashomi.
Chapter 10
Blade was halfway across the valley when he realized that he was being followed. The Hashomi were competent woodsmen, good enough to track a man across country at night. They were not quite good enough to track Blade without being detected. Very few people in any Dimension were.
Blade kept moving without changing his pace, while he considered how to deal with the men on his trail. How many of them were there? Did they want to kill him outright, or capture him and bring him before the Master?
There was a half-moon above, but clouds kept drifting across it. A mile farther on, the moon came out briefly, and Blade was finally able to get a good look at his pursuers. There were four of them, one carrying the staff of a Treas. Blade made up his mind to turn on them as soon as he found a good ambush site. He knew he could handle four Hashomi, probably without any of them getting away to give the alarm.
Blade and the Hashomi who thought they were hunting him kept moving steadily north for another two miles. By now the last village was behind them, the farms were fewer, and the land was becoming more thickly forested. When the moon shone, it showed the cliffs of the northern wall of the valley looming steadily higher. Blade knew the route he'd be using to climb it, if he survived the coming fight. He'd studied the route carefully by daylight, and was confident that he could climb it even by night, as long as no one was shooting at him.
It was about time to make sure nobody would be.
Blade kept moving until he came to a large tree with thick, spreading branches that would support a man and heavy foliage that would hide one. The open ground around it was narrow enough so that anyone leaping down from the tree would be within easy striking distance of anyone there.
Blade scrambled up into the tree, found a well-hidden place where he could brace himself securely, and waited. Insects whined in his ears and the rough bark of the tree gouged his skin, while the sap left sticky messes in his hair and down his neck. He took his mind off the discomforts by checking his sword, knife, dagger, and other weapons. The Hashomi normally went about fully armed, so no one had ever considered it suspicious that Blade was a walking arsenal.
Blade waited in his perch so long that he began to wonder if perhaps the Hashomi had given up the chase. Or perhaps they'd realized he was laying an ambush for them, and had sent back for help? That was an unpleasant thought, but not likely. No Treas and few ordinary Hashomi cared to admit that they needed help in any battle.
Then suddenly the four Hashomi were moving out into the open ground around Blade's tree. They moved as cautiously as if they expected to tread on poisonous snakes any minute. The Treas carried his staff and a knife, two had their swords drawn and ready, and the fourth held a crossbow. In their desire not to lose Blade's trail they'd spread out into a wide line. Too wide. They were beyond mutual supporting distance of each other.