«Well, Patmos has need of them now.»
They were nearing the top of the tower. «Hectoris has horses,» said Edyrn. «Thousands of them on transports. They lie off our coasts at this very moment.»
Blade fingered his newly shorn beard and smiled. «Yes I had that thought myself.»
A single great room perched atop the tower. All four sides were transparent. There were desks and chairs. Edyrn went to a large desk and began to unload his bag of maps and papers. Blade walked about the room. From this vantage he could see the whole of the island and was surprised. He had not thought Patmos so small. To his right, and level with his line of sight, was the smoky maw of the volcano. This coign of vantage allowed Blade to see what he had not seen before-.a path leading to the edge of the crater and ending there in a fiat stone platform. Blade felt a visceral twinge and knew, without any conscious knowledge, the purpose of the platform.
«Her Weird is in the fire.»
For a moment he thought Edym had spoken the words again, but when he turned he saw the boy still busy with his maps and documents. Blade went to join him. And got straight to the point.
«How many real soldiers do I have?»
Edyrn straightened and squared his shoulders. «There is only the Pearl's Guard, sire. Which I command. The toy soldiers of Kador and Smyr are useless and anyway most of them have fled the island. The Gray People, even without penthe, are cattle and can only be used as such. And your man, Nob, has gathered some ragamuffins and knaves, but-«
Blade gestured impatiently. «No matter that! How many men?»
Edyrn consulted a paper. «A thousand and three, sire. Counting myself.»
Blade turned away so that the boy could not see his face. It was not much of an army with which to face Hectoris, the barbarian, with his lancers and his bowmen and his cavalry, his catapults and his battering rams. It was, in fact, no army at all and Blade knew that Patmos was lost, and so was he, unless he could somehow bring Hea. toris to single combat and kill him. This had been in his mind all along and now.he examined it openly and did not see how it could be accomplished. Hectoris was any-
thing but a fool. Blade let it go for the moment. When the time came he would have to think of a way.
One- great advantage he had-he knew of the Samostan plans. Unless Ptol had lied, and Blade did not think he had. There was a chance, a bare chance, that he could force a confrontation with Hectoris and taunt him into battle, hurl the gauntlet, force the Samostan chief into a position from which he could not retreat with honor. All that would have to wait. First things first.
Edyrn came to stand beside him. Blade, realizing that by now the boy must have guessed the truth-and yet for some strange quirk of his own not wishing to admit itkept mostly silent as Edyrn pointed out this and that and kept talking.
«Your orders, sire, have been obeyed to the letter. The Gray People, and all others who can be pressed, toil at the fortifications and shore barricades and cavalry traps. Most of them are fakes, manned by dummies as you ordered. Such of the Gray People who can fight have been armed with wooden swords and lances, for we have not enough arms, and we keep them marching and counter-marching to give the impression of numbers. We keep a diligent watch for spies and do not slay them, but treat them well, question them, and try to win them over to our side. In this we have been many times successful, for Hectoris is not loved.
«I have stationed small units of the Guard about the island, sire, but keep the main force in reserve near the volcano.»
Edym pointed past Blade's shoulder to a largish camp laid out in rectangular fashion. Much, Blade thought, as an old Roman camp would have been. Had he ordered that, too? Again he damned his amnesia and the computer and the whole of Dimension X. He felt a longing for the head pains that would presage his return to Home D, and pushed the thought away. His duty was here. Duty? The thought was not supportable by logic, made no sense at all, and yet there it was.
This was a wasted mission and he knew it. There was nothing to be gained for England in this particular Dimension X and every moment he lingered he risked death.
Worse, in this case, because if he were taken alive and given to Ptol's priests they would find means of keeping him alive a long time. A burning helmet would be the least of it. Yet, deep in his heart, he was content that the computer did not reach for him. He was stubborn, and probably quite mad, but he wanted to see this thing through. Blade laughed aloud. He was, in short, a fooll
Edym broke off his recountal to stare at the big man. «You laugh, sire? Perhaps you will share the joke with me, for I find little enough to be cheerful about.»
Blade smote him on the shoulder and laughed again. «I wish I could, lad, but I cannot and it is no matter.
Now you were saying of how clever I had been. Tell me that again, lad, for I like praise as much as any man. And it will refresh my memory.»
Edym cast him an odd glance but did — not comment. He picked up a paper. «I will read it back to you, sire, just as you dictated it to me.» He began to read from the paper.
It was a strange feeling, listening to words that he could not remember having spoken. One thing Blade recognized immediately-the cunning and the knowledge of making primitive war upon which he had always before been able to rely in Dimension X. The question now was, as he heard his own strategy revealed, would it work? Would Hectoris be baited into the trap that Blade had set?
«. . you spoke of a scorched earth policy,» Edym was saying. «You promised that all of Patmos would be destroyed, that Hectoris would capture nothing but ashes and desolation. Such was the message you sent him.»
Blade nodded. «You have a record of his reply? If any?»
Edym half smiled. «I have, sire. He sent back word that if Patmos was destroyed he would come anyway, come in revenge, for he had always had a mind to settle and live out his days on Patmos. He also threatened tortures of the worst kind and has set a special force of priests to thinking up new ways of prolonging life and agony.»
Blade battered a great fist into his palm and his laugh was harsh. «We had best see to it, then, that if worse comes to worst we all die.»
Edyrn said calmly that he had seen to that, at least among the Guard. If the battle was lost they had compacted to slay each other, and had drawn lots to arrange the order of it.
«You, sire, must do as you list. As will Izhmia, the Pearl. But there is still Juna to consider. She is prisoner of Hectoris, betrayed by Kador and Smyr, and Hectoris is sure to bring her along as a captive and seek to bargain with her. It is all important to Patmos, sire, that Juna live. But Izmia, my grandmother, will have spoken to you of that?»
Blade nodded vaguely. Izmia had done no such thing. Perhaps this night, when he met her in the Cavern of Music, she would explain. That too would have to wait.
Edyrn was unrolling maps and weighting them with metal blocks. «So far, sire, your plan has worked. Our defenses are so built as to channel the attack to North Harbor, to make Hectoris think it is our weakest point when in fact it is our strongest. It is at North Harbor that his main attack will no doubt fall, though it is to be expected that he will mount feints at other spots along our coast.»
Blade gazed out over the island. It was getting dark and thousands of fires were blazing. Off to his right was a great glow in the sky that could only be the remains of Cybar.
A lick of flame, like a dragon's tongue, leaped from the volcano nearby and then withdrew. Aes Triplex, thought Blade, remembering some of the classics he had read at Oxford. Triple Brass bound, the hearts of men who lived in the shadow of a volcano. The Guard was brave enough-and the Guard would die.