Only now did he take thought and slow his approach. He halted and stared back at the passage, at the arching cavern beyond. Nothing moved and no sound came. Where were all the crows, then? Had they deserted Casta in his greatest need?
He remembered. Of course-Ogier! The General had kept his vow and was implementing the plan they had worked on together. Ogier was on the attack. He was drawing off the black priests.
Blade pushed the curtain aside and entered the High Priest's chamber. It was the same. The table, the fire, the skulls and animals and charts. It was deserted. No priest.
Blade went to the fireplace and stooped. The ashes were still warm and they had been scattered. The grate was bare, the embers and ashes raked to the sides. He wedged his broken sword into the grating and lifted. It came away to disclose a black hole. Large enough for a man his size, easy for the scrawny Casta. Hirga had told him the truth.
He still had his dagger. He drew it now and, with the broken sword in his other hand, let himself down into the hole. His feet found iron rungs set into the stone and he climbed down into a round, bricked-in room. There were two sconces and but one torch. Blade took it and bent to peer into a tunnel that led away from the bricked room. Far away he saw the spark of a torch. Then it was gone.
Blade thought a moment, then he flung his torch away. He would go in darkness and take his chances. He moved into the tunnel, hands and weapons outstretched, and began to feel his way along as rapidly as possible. It was easier than he had reckoned. The air was good, pure and chill, and the tunnel appeared to run straight. Blade stepped up his pace and, when the tunnel bent at last, he saw the torch spark once more ahead of him. He had gained.
The torch halted and hovered in the dark air. Blade halted also. Casta was listening for pursuit. He could not know that Blade was after him, not with certainty, but he would suspect and he might guess that Blade would show no light. Blade waited, catching his breath. After a minute the torch began to move again.
He gained steadily, running on tip-toe, stopping each time the torch did. The tunnel began to narrow and the air grew fresher, to smell of dust and grass and flowering things. They were nearing the Plain, were now in fact beneath it, and the opening could not be far off. Blade ran.
Blade came stealthy as the death he was. Casta did not hear him. The High Priest was halted at the foot of a ladder, holding the torch to peer upward. But for the torch the darkness was absolute; Blade was buried in shadow. Quickly, quietly, careful that they not meet and chime, he shifted his weapons. The dagger in his right hand now, ready for throwing. Blade brought his hand back a bit behind his right ear. He whispered out of the gloom.
«Casta.»
The priest had just begun to climb. He halted and turned slowly, the hood falling away from his skull of a face. He peered into the shadows. «Blade?»
Blade laughed and flung the dagger.
It took Casta in his skinny throat and stood out behind one ear. Casta screamed and there was a spray of blood. He loosed his hold on the ladder to pluck at the dagger, and fell. He still lived as Blade went to him and stared down. The black eyes, coals burning in that skeleton's face, defied him. Casta tried to speak through the gushing blood.
«Fool you, Blade-fool-we could have. .»
When he was dead, Blade picked up the body and tossed it over his shoulder and climbed the ladder. The trapdoor had earth on it and a flower bed. Blade shouldered it aside and stood on the Plain. The moon was up and stars shone, and everywhere there was a great running and shouting. Hundreds of torches traced patterns over the Plain. Blade dropped the body and stood there, breathing deep and enjoying the night, until a troop of infantry approached. They were carrying something on spears, and as they drew near Blade saw the shaven heads of priests. A bad night for the black crows. Blade hailed the officer in charge of the troop.
The man recognized him and saluted. He was polite and obviously puzzled. He stared at the body of Casta, which lay face down. Blade turned the body with his foot and the officer gasped. «It is Casta! The blackest crow of all. But how is this, Prince Blade? I do not under-«
Blade silenced him. «No matter. Do what you will with the body. See that General Ogier learns of this. How does it go on the Plain?»
The officer smiled. «It goes well. As planned. We have taken prisoner the crows who would surrender and killed those who would not. We are now sealing every entrance to the monolith-if there are any left in there they will stay a long time.»
Blade led him to the trapdoor in the flower bed. «See that this tunnel is sealed as well. A few blocks of stone will do it.»
«Aye, Prince Blade. It will be done.»
Blade nodded and turned to go. The officer spoke quickly. «Will you not rest, sire, and have food and new clothing? You are covered with blood and look as if you had fought an army. I will give you an escort to the camp, for there are still a few of the crows lurking about. I beg of you-«
Blade smiled and shook his head. «I beg of you, lad. A favor. Tell General Ogier for me that I will not see him again. And tell him that I intend to steal a horse this night-steal it or beg it or borrow it. I have nothing to pay with. And tell him this also-that he keep his word about the woman Valli. You have that?»
«I have it.»
«Repeat it back to me word for word.»
When the officer did so he turned to reprimand a soldier who out of curiosity, and the sight of Prince Blade, had edged near to listen. When the officer turned back, Blade was gone.
Chapter 17
Janina.
Her call was incessant, and everywhere he looked she beckoned. Blade-Blade-Blade- Come to me. Come to me.
He knew his obsession, grasped the reality of his mental state, and was powerless. She was but a diamond image in a mountain, but to him she was so real that he loved, he rutted, for her.
Blade swam the channel at night, coming to the Hitt shore just before dawn and hiding in a rock-strewn ravine until night came again. Several parties of Hitts passed nearby and he caught enough of their talk to learn that he was still sought. They were searching the coastal areas for him. Good. The last thing they would expect was that he would make for the place of Kings and Queens.
It took him three days, traveling only at night, to reach the high plain on which the mountain of diamonds stood. In all that time he did not eat and drank only brook water. He had cast off his armor for the swim and wore only shirt and kilt, bore only a sword and dagger he had borrowed from a Zirnian officer. Just before dawn on the fourth day he slipped into the mineshaft. He had not expected guards and found none. No Hitt would dare come near the place unless in time of official ceremony.
He found fire stones and struck them to tinder and lit a torch. He crawled through narrow passages and came to the diamond face and gazed into it and saw a thousand Blades staring out at him. Grim-faced, unshorn, starving and light-headed, weird and wild of visage, he stared back and laughed. He lifted his hand in salute.
He found the opening in the face and followed the passage which he and Galligantus had trod alone. Blade sweated now and his breath came short. Soon he would see her again. She was waiting. Janina.
There it was. The wide ledge, the chasm, the gallery beyond people with the diamond images. Blade stepped to the brink of the abyss and held out his torch. He stared down and laughed.