Blade felt hemmed in, but he didn't lack company or even information. Of course, all the information was from «official» sources, no more likely to be reliable in Gohar than anywhere else. Most of the Goharans who talked to Blade were intelligent and well-informed, however, and he learned a good deal.
Much of what he learned simply confirmed what he'd been told aboard Blue Swallow. Some of it was new, such as the fact that Gohar was not on the best terms with its daughter city of Mythor, at the southern end of the Sea.
Blade learned this from Prime Minister Kloret, who paid him a call on his fifth day at the villa. The man's appearance surprised Blade. He looked a good deal more like a soldier than a politician-tall, broad, hard-muscled, with a short stabbing sword on a belt over his silky-yellow robes and a long scar along his exposed left arm. In fact, if you added about thirty pounds and a beard, Prime Minister Kloret would look like Prince Harkrat's brother.
After the initial exchange of polite greetings and compliments, Kloret got down to business. The people of Mythor had developed a foolish resentment against the rule of Gohar, he said. This resentment had been festering like a boil for nearly a century, but the wise and moderate rule of Thrayket kept matters from coming to a head.
«This I can believe,» said Blade. «The justice of a ruler like Thrayket would soothe the temper of a wild bear.»
«Bear?»
«A forest-dwelling flesh-eater from England.» Blade gave a vivid description of a grizzly on the rampage. «We hunt them for sport.»
Kloret seemed impressed. «We have nothing like this in any land we know.»
«The world is large,» said Blade with a shrug. «No doubt my England is not only a thousand years in your future, but in another part of the world.»
«No doubt.» This time the Prime Minister seemed polite rather than impressed. He continued with his recital of grievances against Mythor. «But the years gather thick upon Thrayket. In time he must pass to his fathers. I pray that this day will not come upon us soon, but it will come.»
«I join in those prayers,» said Blade. That was both polite and true. He suspected Thrayket's death would cause a crisis in Gohar, and he'd rather not be caught in the middle of it. He also suspected that Kloret was hoping for such a crisis, for reasons of his own.
«There is not the same trust in Harkrat that there is in his father,» said Kloret. «No doubt this will pass when people see his wisdom and justice, but much mischief may be done before then.» He looked as if he expected Blade's agreement, so Blade nodded. «Indeed, some evil men in Mythor are already playing upon this distrust of Harkrat. They wish to persuade their fellow citizens to revolt against the rule of Gohar, to make Mythor an independent city.»
«That seems foolish of them,» said Blade. «The two cities must stand together against the Pirate Folk and the Maghri.»
The Maghri were a race of barbaric horsemen who lived to the southeast of Mythor, and occasionally raided its frontiers.
«You and I see as one,» said Kloret, with a smile that just missed being disgustingly smug.
I doubt that, thought Blade. But I don't know exactly what lies you're tell me. For the moment, it's safer to agree.
«Now,» said Kloret. «I will not ask you to thrust yourself into our affairs. You could do no good, and put yourself in danger. But I would ask that you tell me, from your knowledge of what is to come-does Mythor revolt or not?»
Blade had seen the question coming. He threw his answer back at Kloret almost before the man stopped talking.
«I cannot tell you enough to do you any good,» he said with a regretful smile. «You know how confused and twisted are the tales of Gohar and its time, which have survived to the time of England. Mythor is not even mentioned. There are tales of revolts of one city against another, some successful, some not. Perhaps one of these tales refers to Gohar and Mythor, but not all the Historians of England together could tell which one.» Blade now hardened both his face and his tone of voice. «Also-even if I knew, I would not tell you.»
Kloret didn't draw his sword, but the expression on his face made Blade wonder why not. He went on. «You might use the knowledge to change the course of history. We are not allowed to say or do anything which could cause that.»
«Yet you are allowed to tell us that you come from the future. Isn't that information itself enough to change our actions?»
There were several possible answers to that question. Blade chose the one he hoped would most quickly end the conversation. He wanted to learn as much about Kloret as he could, but not at the risk of making an enemy of the man this soon.
«Our first Historians weren't even allowed to say who they were,» he said. «We feared exactly what you've just described. Some of our people fell among races less civilized than the Goharans. They died by torture to keep their secret.»
«Honor to their memories,» said Kloret. At least he was still ready to be polite.
«Yes. In time a few of our people let the secret slip-and nothing happened. The Historians began to understand that time is so solidly rooted that no small force can affect it. Time is like one of those mountains north of the city. An earthquake can shake it and change it, but one man or even a hundred men kicking it aren't even noticed.»
Kloret laughed. It wasn't a particularly pleasant laugh. «And telling me what happens to Mythor would be like an earthquake?»
«It probably would be. I certainly can't afford to take the risk.»
«We could put the truth of your tale to a rigorous testing. I trust you know this, Blade.»
«I do. I trust you also know that this would do you no good. Remember the other Historians who died rather than reveal the great secrets.
«If I died, other Historians might come to Gohar and learn of my fate. They might take vengeance, and certainly they would blacken your name for all time.
«If I didn't die, I would return to England with the tale that the men of Gohar are cruel and treacherous. Do you want to replace the legends in our books with that sort of fact?»
«No.»
«Good. I also suggest that you not repeat this sort of threat. I understand that you made it out of your great concern for the future of Gohar, and I do not call you an enemy because of it. But if you talk to me this way again, I shall have to speak to His Radiance about it.» Blade knew that Kloret's response would tell him something about how much real power Thrayket still held.
Apparently the Emperor's name still carried a good deal of weight. Kloret sighed. «No, Blade. There is no need to speak to the Emperor about this. I shall not raise the matter again. But-I am glad that at least you understand why I did it.» He seemed to be almost pleading for a sympathy Blade wasn't prepared to show.
«Good,» said Blade again. Then they talked politely of the weather and compared Gohar's wines with those of Blade's own time. After a few minutes of this face-saving conversation, the Prime Minister turned to leave.
Blade watched him go, once again aware of the strong resemblance between the Prime Minister and the heir to the throne of Gohar. It was hard to believe that no one had noticed it, but certainly no one had mentioned it in Blade's hearing. Was there some ancient scandal here, ranking as a state secret to be kept from the ears of the man from the future? Quite possibly.
It also seemed quite possible to Blade that he'd made an enemy of Kloret. However, he seemed the kind of man it was safer to have as an open enemy than a false friend who might knife you when you weren't looking. In any case, if the Emperor was still ruler in fact as well as in name, that might be enough protection.