She came out of the shadows near the fire and stood looking at him. A giantess, as tall as Blade himself, and naked but for bits of cloth at breasts and pubis. Her hair was pure silver and her wide-spaced eyes were amber torches flaming in a face of such beauty and purity of feature that Blade could not comprehend it. This must be a dream, as palpable and fleshly as it seemed, for no such beauty existed in the real world, or ever would. He kept his eyes closed, but for slits enough to watch her, and saw her flesh glisten and glimmer and appear to change color as she drew nearer. He could not name her flesh color and it did not matter-tawny, brown, dark, yellow? All those, and yet none of those, and as she bent over him, her perfect breasts hanging to brush his chest, there was a flash of pale fire in that burnished flesh and for a moment she appeared to burn.
He became aware of the music then-where had he heard such music before? — and her deep voice blended with the music and there was the sweet oiled smell of her and the rake of her nipples on his bare chest.
«Blade? Richard Blade? Do you wake?»
He kept his eyes shut and his breathing regular. This was a dream, nothing more, and yet suppose it were not!
Suppose some wild impossible thing had happened andHer laugh was soft. «I think you feign, Richard Blade, but no matter. There is little time for us, for you must fight and I must go to meet my Weird, but there is yet time for you to pleasure me.»
She touched him and Blade knew it was no dream. This was reality. Just what reality, and how and why he had come to it, he did not know. But he did know what must have happened-he was in Dimension X. He had left Dorset and gone to London and had been put through the computer. And did not remember a thing about it.
The woman.had not spoken again. She was intent on the business of the moment. Blade kept his eyes tight shut and tried to think-if anyone could think at a time like this.
Her hands were soft and skillful and she crooned a little song as she fondled and stroked and caressed and kissed. At last she had him to her satisfaction and she threw a long slender leg over him, placed him to her exact wish, and straddling, came down with a little exhaled sigh. She was narrow and tight and moist and there seemed no end to her cavern.
It was surely a strange love-making and Blade, man of the world and of many dimensions, sensed that he would never see or know the like of this woman again. If indeed she was a woman. At the moment he was not entirely sure. For if he was once again in Dimension X, and he was sure that he must be, she 'night be anything-fairy, demon, succubus or witch, Lilith, Thais, hag spirit in lush fagade, carnality incarnate, or mere female having a last orgasm before the well was dry.
There was no end to it. She bent over him, her breasts heavy on his face, and sank deeper on him with every thrust, her amber eyes wild as she adjusted and engulfed his flesh peg and her strong muscles sucked and milked at him until Blade was near to crying out. Yet he kept silence.
When at last she exploded it was as though the cavern trembled and moved, rocked and split, and Blade heard again a deep gut rumbling and thought he sniffed of brimstone. The woman gave a single loud cry and toppled from him to the floor, where she lay unmoving. He could not see her. He heard the strangled sobbing of her breath and, his mind in a whirl, only then realized that he had been holding back and had had no relief. No matter. It was but a dream after all. The phone would ring any moment now and J's voice would summon and-
Not so. He heard her stir and sigh at last. She looked at him and the amber eyes glowed and the white teeth sparkled. She patted his chest. «You still feign, Richard Blade. Good. Keep it so. I will bring you surcease. Izmia will never be a cheat.»
She left him for a moment and Blade heard the clink of metal or pottery, some chiming sound. He kept his eyes closed and tried to concentrate. Izmia? Izmia-surely he had heard that name before? Where and when? No use. He could not remember.
The woman came back. Blade peeked. She was carrying a small bowl, of some metal and handsomely chased, and she settled in beside him and had her hand on him before he realized what she was doing. When he did realize.there seemed little point in stopping her, even had he wanted to. Which he did not. Enjoy the dream-stubbornly he kept coming back to the theory that it was a dream-for soon enough he must awaken to harsh reality.
She held the bowl and her fingers teased and stroked him at last into a thundering emission. Blade writhed and groaned and saw that she judged expertly and spilled not a drop. He relaxed and watched as she put the bowl, covered now, on a ledge near the fire. When she returned she wore a swirling robe of purple that cloaked but did not disguise her figure. Blade sat up and stared into those amber eyes. Face it now. This was no dream. He was in Dimension X and could not even recall going to the Tower, much less going through Lord L's computer. He had no idea how long he had been in this Dimension X, or any recall of what he had done, or not done, or had had done to him, since he had arrived in it. He decided to bluff a bit. He stroked his chin and was surprised at the growth of his beard. It was thick and had obviously been clipped and cared for-that meant some time in DX, at least several days, for he never cultivated a beard in Home Dimension.
«You are Izmia?»
She settled to the floor beside him, sitting on her feet, as lithe as a girl and as regal as a queen. She inclined her head gravely.
«I am Izmia to my friends and to certain of my class. To the common folk of Patmos, and to the Gray People, I am the Pearl of Patmos. Some call me the black Pearl, though as you can see my skin is of no certain color. We will speak later of the real black pearl, and of the great sword which, if you are he of the legend, you will recover from the pool and bring to me. But for now-what of your head? Does it pain you?»
Blade tried not to look startled. His head did hurt, now that she mentioned it. He put a hand to the crown of his skull and felt about in the thick dark hair until his fingers touched the sore spot.
«Ohhhhl»
Izmia pulled his head against her breasts and, pushing his hand away, probed with tender fingers. «Some of my people say that I have a healing touch. It can do no harm.»
Blade, cradled and coddled by this big woman, felt as secure and comfortable as a babe. He felt like drifting into sleep, his loins empty and spent, held and rocked in these magnificent aims. He fought the urge. He had amnesia, no doubt of it, and the bump — on his head was relevant.
He knew who he was, for which thank the gods of this strange land, whoever they were. Now he must find out what he had been doing and how long he had been doing it. The better part was silence. Let her talk and he learn. The less she knew of his amnesia the better. For some reason, call it vanity or sheer Bladian stubbornness, he did not wish to appear weak or in any way lacking in her eyes.
To get her started he asked, «How long have I been here? How long unconscious?»
«Three days this sunrise.»
He could not control his start. «That long?»
«Yes. You suffered a great buffet on the skull, so I am told by Edyrn and your. man, Nob. You were carried here as though sleeping and have not stirred until now, but for some moaning and strange words the like of which I have never heard.»