«Whoa!»
The carriage rumbled to a stop. Then Blade heard the door open, and the carnage tilted slightly as Sister Brigeda climbed out. Blade got ready to let go and duck for cover. Then another door opened and footsteps and voices sounded all around the carriage. From the words, Sister Brigeda's household staff was welcoming their mistress home. Blade gritted his teeth again and held on. When they had all gone-
But before the voices died away, the driver's whip cracked and the carriage started up again. Blade nearly swore out loud. He held on grimly while the carriage rolled slowly down a short stretch of cobblestones, then turned to the right.
More voices and footsteps sounded around the carriage. Men's voices, this time. Sister Brigeda's stablehands were going to work. Blade saw rag-bound feet around the carriage and heard the sounds of horses being unharnessed and led away. The carriage moved slowly and jerkily forward for perhaps thirty feet. Then it stopped. A moment later the feet vanished, the voices died away, and then a large door shut with a thump and a rattle.
Blade clung to the center-pole for a little longer. He wanted to be absolutely sure that everybody was gone away to stay. Then he let go, and dropped with a thud onto the floor of the coachhouse.
He lay there quietly, not moving until he felt his head clearing and some circulation and feeling returning to his cramped limbs. Then he rolled over on his side and began tearing away the cloth around the wound in his thigh. The blood had clotted so solidly that he finally stopped, rather than risk reopening the wound to pack or dress it.
Presently his leg stopped throbbing and he tested it. It still hurt like blazes, but he could walk if not run. Now to get out of Sister Brigeda's coachhouse and limp to the rendezvous with the sailors. Fortunately he wouldn't have to-
On the other side of the coachhouse, a door opened.
Blade froze where he was, then silently crawled back under the carriage. He felt like cursing, not silently. Of all the damned times for someone to come in!
He heard footsteps, the sound of the door shutting, then two voices, both young, one male, one female. The footsteps moved along the wall to Blade's right. A faint glow crept in under the carnage as one of the newcomers lit a candle. Then Blade heard the unmistakable rustle of clothes being taken off and the plop of them dropping on the floor.
A moment later the girl gave a soft little whimper. There was another kind of rustling sound and a grunt from the boy. Then another unmistakable sound-the furious thud of flesh against flesh as the couple went at it with all the eagerness in their young bodies.
In the pale yellowish light of the candle, Blade could see writhing shadows on the gray stone floor of the coachhouse. He could also see a slim tanned leg, obviously female, hanging down in front of a background of hay bales.
It was also obviously moving in the grip of steadily mounting passion, kicking higher and higher.
Blade sighed. It was tempting to make his break now, while the two were approaching climax. Odds were they would neither notice nor bother him, not in that state of mind and body. But he decided to play it safe. Unless they were going to go to sleep and spend the night? Unlikely. He lowered himself off his elbows and tried to relax. The chorus of gasps and flesh surging against flesh was getting louder and faster.
Then something bit Blade sharply in the ear. He was so completely surprised that he snapped with a yell. His head crashed into the underside of the carriage with a jolt that dislodged the rat and nearly knocked him unconscious. For a moment blackness shot with sparks, and explosions swirled in front of his eyes.
The girl let out a scream like a steam whistle at Blade's yell, and jerked violently. With a thud the young lovers toppled off the hay bales, landing still entangled on the coachhouse floor.
Half stunned, Blade came out from under the carriage too slowly. By the time he had lurched to his feet, the young man had done the same. He had also grabbed up a pitchfork.
As Blade slowly stood up, the girl kept on screaming. In fact she was too busy screaming to make any effort to put her clothes on. The young man-he could hardly be more than seventeen-was wide-eyed and naked as a baby. The pitchfork shook in his hands. But he held his ground, meeting Blade's eyes with the determined stare of a man willing to die to defend his woman.
Normally Blade would have drawn his sword and dispatched an opponent like this in ten seconds flat. But damn it, he couldn't kill this boy and his girl! So he held out both hands in a peaceful gesture. «Be quiet, please. I'm not-«
But the boy apparently thought Blade was going to attack him bare-handed. The tines of the pitchfork darted forward like the head of a snake. Blade had to step aside in a hurry to avoid being pinned like a butterfly against the door of the carriage.
He drew his broadsword and raised it, intending to chop in a disarming stroke. He still didn't want to hurt or kill the young idiot!
But fatigue and loss of blood and the blow on the head had slowed Blade more than he had realized. As he closed in, the boy reversed his grip on the pitchfork and swung the handle in a roundhouse arc. Blade's sword rose, but not fast enough. Instead of being chopped in half, the pitchfork handle swung through its arc and smashed into the side of Blade's head.
Again he saw blackness shot through with fireworks. He reeled back against the carriage, trying desperately to hold onto his sword. But the boy stepped back and brought the pitchfork handle down full-strength on Blade's sword arm. His fingers opened numbly, and the sword clattered to the floor.
Blade was trying to stay on his feet and draw his other sword, when the door of the coachhouse flew open. Three men waving pikes dashed in and formed a circle around Blade. He bared his teeth in a defiant grin. Normally three men and a boy would have been easy meat for him. But this time he knew he would be too weak, too slow. But at least he was going out on his feet.
Blade had drawn the short-sword and was getting ready to fend off the pikeheads when light, fast-moving footsteps sounded outside the door. Then a slim, white-clad figure with dark hair was silhouetted against the darkness outside.
«Sister Brigeda!» exclaimed one of the pikemen. «This isn't-«
«Wait!» the woman said sharply. «Where did this one come from?»
«He was hiding under the carriage when-when-«the boy began. Then he stammered and blushed scarlet all over as he remembered how Blade had caught him and the girl.
A smile flickered across the courtesan's face as she looked at the naked boy and girl. «Go and get some clothes on, children,» she said calmly. «The rest of you, escort this man up to the Fourth Chamber.»
«Sister?» said one of the pikemen inquiringly. «I do not under-«
«You fool,» Brigeda said, not angrily, but as though she was stating a simple fact. «This must be the escaped slave of Durkas.»
«But if he is, then he is dan-''
«You do ill to argue with me, Fturn,» said Brigeda. «Do you think Durkas would ever tell the truth in such a matter?»
«No, but-«
«The man will go to the Fourth Chamber,» said Brigeda. «At once. Or you will go to the quarries tomorrow morning.»
There was a dangerous moment of tension before the man's shoulders slumped and he nodded and turned away. Blade had been wondering what he could do to help Sister Brigeda if her servants turned on her. But obviously she had the force of character to keep them all in obedience without his help. A formidable woman. If she was really interested in helping him- But if she was going to be an enemy, it would be like falling into the den of a she-tiger.