Pelops said: "I think she speaks the truth, sire Blade. I have, er, had some converse with her these days. As you may know?"
"I know," Blade said dryly. "She speaks more to you than to me. What of, little man?"
Pelops looked startled. "Oh, sire, of nothing much. She is only a woman after all. She lacks company and when you stalk ahead, aloof and forbidding, and Chephron nurses Zeena along, the Princess falls back to talk to me. It is nothing."
Slowly, calmly, Blade put his great hand about Pelop's throat and gave it a slight pressure. "Do not lie to me, little one. Of what does the lady speak?"
Pelops began to tremble but his eyes met those of Blade. "Yes, sire. I did lie. For a moment I was a fool. But I was, I am, frightened again. She, Canda, said that if I told you what passed between us she would have me tortured when we come to Mogh."
Blade released him. "She may yet. But you are not in Mogh - you are here with me. And I will not torture you. I will merely beat you. So talk, and tell me the truth."
Pelops, rubbing his throat, explained that the lady spoke only of Blade. She asked questions. Always questions. No end of questions. She wished to know everything about Richard Blade. And about the Princess Zeena.
Blade heard him out. "So you think she really is a Princess? There is a Mogh and her father is El Kal?" Blade pointed to the unreachable mountains over which floated a yellow paring of moon. "And you think there is an oasis there - a place of water and grass and trees?"
"I think all those things, sire. For I have heard of the Moghs before. Not much, and perhaps only rumors and gossip, but I have heard. It is whispered that once, long ago, a Mogh ruler came to Sarma and lay with our Queen. With Pphira. He did not stay in Sarma. This was in the first days of Pphira's rule, just after she had poisoned her mother, and I happen to know another scholar, very ancient now, who - "
Pelops was off on a long rambling tale. Blade listened with slight amusement and half an ear. There was, he supposed, an inevitability about the matter. This El Kal, whom he might one day meet, must be the father of the late Equebus.
That little bit of information, Blade thought grimly, I will keep to myself.
Later it grew bitter cold, as ever, and Blade could not sleep. Not that the cold bothered him so much, but that his mind was uneasy about the future. He was in a defensive and, almost, hopeless position. His Russian counterpart had established himself in Mogh, even as Blade had managed to secure himself in Sarma, and surely the first order of business would be to kill Blade.
He got up, cast a glance at the others - Chephron had taken to sleeping with Zeena, enfolding her in his scrawny arms to give her as much of his body warmth as possible - and strolled out into the desert moonlight. It was a stark, sere, moonscape-like scene. Cold. Bitter and brooding. By now the snakes had vanished. Blade sat on a rock and pondered the future, his future, should he have one.
His double would be calling the shots. At least in the beginning. That much was certain. Blade had only his sword. Not much use against a Vizier of Mogh. Blade smiled coldly. The man had wasted no time in consolidating his position. Just as Blade had not. And his double had begun a search for him. Just as Blade had.
It occurred to Blade that they must be thinking very much alike. They were, after all, twins in everything but blood. Lord Leighton's words? Monozygotic twins?
The thing to do was to put himself in the other chap's place, probe the Russian's persona and act as if he were in the other's stead. If he wanted to kill Blade.
And stay out of trouble doing it.
He had not gotten very far along with it when he heard her step and saw the moon shadow fall athwart his rock. The Princess Canda.
I am very cold, Captain Blade."
She looked cold. Her delicious breasts were goose pimpled.
Blade said, "We are all cold, Princess. What of it? What would you have me do?"
"Do? Are you a fool then? Ixok."
She pointed to where Chephron was sleeping with the mad Zeena in his arms.
"Even a miserable wretch like that knows what to do. Knows how to shelter the one with no mind."
Blade stood up. "Is that what you want, Canda? Shelter?"
She moved toward him. "The wind is cold. I do want shelter - and perhaps other things as well. And you are a fool, and insulting as well. I have never had to ask before."
The humid musky smell of her came strong in his nostrils. Blade was ready for love, more than ready, and smiled at the thought that his worn breeches might not bear the strain.
Canda saw his smile. "You laugh at me, Captain?"
"At myself, Princess. You see?" He indicated his front, where a massive protuberance strained against the rotten leather. She stared. At that moment the leather parted with a ripping sound.
Canda stood staring at him for a moment She shivered. "I am not so cold as I was."
"Nor I, Princess."
They did not kiss. If she knew of tenderness she did not evoke it, or give it, or seem to want it. She refused to lie on the cold stony earth and so Bade turned her and pressed her back against the big rock. She gasped and grabbed at his ear with her teeth when he entered, but the entry was easy enough and Blade knew he was having no virgin this night.
Canda fell quickly into a panting rhythm of her own, not bothering to match her pace to Blade's thrusts. She wound her arms about his neck and little by little he bore more of her weight as gradually her long legs came up and entwined his waist and he was locked solidly and deeply into her flesh.
When he knew she desired, and could go, for a long time Blade began to pace himself. Holding back. Canda fell into frenzy several times, biting and clawing at him, raking his back and shoulders with her nails, before she went into her one great and grand and final surge. She let out a trembling cry to the cold moon. Blade, deadly workman, thrust her soft buttocks back against the rock and plunged impossibly deeper each time until he came to his ending as well. His groans and her sighs made a single sound.
When he stepped back away from the rock, she still locked around his big body, riding him face to face, she tossed her hair back and gave him that same strange smile.
"I cannot decide," she said.
Blade, going limp in her, that rigid flesh now become a worm and sliding out moistly, stared down at her in surprise. She had suddenly become heavy.
"Decide what?"
"Which of you is best. Which gives me the greatest pleasure. You or your twin."
So the Russian had been before him. With a pang that was more concern for his life than any jealousy, Blade disengaged and lifted her lightly to the ground. He made himself smile, forced an exudation of confidence that he did not in the slightest feel.
"Suppose you tell me of this, my Princess. I am most interested."
Her teeth flashed in the moonlight. "I thought you would be, Captain. And I am interested in you. Your man Pelops has told me much - but not all I would know. I have waited until the proper time to speak - when we are within five days' march of the oasis - and now it is time. What would you know of your brother, Captain?"
"Everything. More than I know now, which is very little."
"Strange. Those are his very words when he heard that there lived in Sarma a man that must be his brother. His twin. He seeks desperately for you, Captain."
No doubt, Blade thought. Desperately.
Something pinged in his mind. "How came my brother to know that I lived?"
"A rider came. A messenger from the Council of Five in Sarma. I forget his name, or never knew it, but he claimed to be sent by the priests to see if your twin lived."