There was undoubtedly plenty of stout rope in Trawn. But all of it was outside their prison chamber. Damn again!
Neena looked at Blade, saw the sober expression on his bearded face, and misunderstood what was on his mind. «Blade-do not think that I would ask you to help me escape if there was no way out for you. I am of the royal house of Draad, and unlike those of Trawn we have some knowledge of honor. We shall escape together, you and I, or not escape at all.» She rose on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth. It was a long, lingering, warm kiss, that promised an even warmer passion at another time and place. Blade put his arms around the princess and they stood there, locked together, for some time.
As they crawled back up the tunnel, Blade was certain that Neena had made a promise she would keep. Still, if only one of them could have a chance to escape, he would make sure that it was she. King Furzun and Lord Desgo and all the stolofs in Trawn put together could do nothing worse to him than kill him. They could do a good deal more to Neena. She deserved every chance to escape that luck or skill could manage.
Unfortunately, it didn't seem that there would be very many of those chances for either of them.
Another week went by. Blade began to wonder if Lord Desgo had thought up a new form of torture-leaving them alone until they either got ulcers from worrying about what might happen; or died of boredom because nothing did.
Neena laughed at the idea. «Things will happen, sooner or later. King Furzun is a mighty eater and drinker. He can eat and drink in a single day much more than even his body will hold. Then he must lie in bed for a week or more, bathed each day in perfume, drinking nothing but water, and taking not even one woman. Doubtless we came to Trawnom-Driba just after Furzun took to his bed. So nothing will be done about us until Furzun has seen us, and he will not see us until he is on his feet again.»
The next morning breakfast was delivered at the usual time, in the usual buckets, and consisting of the usual stew. But five of the guards in blue leather stood behind the two slaves who lowered the buckets. All the guards' leather gleamed with fresh wax, and the metal of their helmets and swords was freshly burnished.
Blade jerked a thumb at the guards. «All prettied up for a visit by somebody important, it seems. King Furzun?» Neena's mouth was full of stew, but she nodded.
They had just finished breakfast, when a terrific uproar of very badly blown trumpets sounded outside. Each of the trumpeters seemed to be playing in a different key. Several of them ran out of breath halfway through the fanfare. It was a dreadful noise. Neena winced and clapped her hands over her ears.
Eventually the uproar died away in a last pathetic Hurry of gasps and feeble tootings. A bellowing voice roared out, «Furzun the Third, Supreme. Warlord of All Trawn, Master of the Forests, Terror of Gleor-«The bombastic list of titles went on for quite a while. The herald's voice was no more musical than the trumpets, and it sounded as if he had a bad cold in addition.
In time, the herald ran out of titles for King Furzun or out of breath. Then the guards drew aside to the right and the left. Lord Desgo appeared in the doorway, and beside him one of the ugliest men Blade had ever seen.
King Furzun must have weighed close to four hundred pounds, most of it fat. He was nearly six feet tall-also six feet wide and six feet thick. He wore a dark yellow robe trimmed with brown fur and large enough to make a good-sized tent. The robe showed several patches and at least a dozen different kinds of food and wine stains. Furzun's long gray hair was stiff with grease and stood straight up. His long gray beard was even stiffer, and stood straight out from his chin like the bowsprit of a sailing ship. A sickeningly sweet odor of perfume rose from him in waves almost strong enough to beat down the smells of the prison chamber.
Beside him a naked slave girl knelt on the floor. She carried a basket in her mouth, like a dog carrying a bone. Occasionally Furzun would reach down into the basket, pick up a sweetmeat, and pop it into his froglike mouth.
Lord Desgo bowed to the king and pointed at Neena.
«Behold, Your Majesty. I spoke the truth when I said I had made Neena of Draad prisoner and gift to you. Indeed it is she who stands before us.»
Furzun's eyes shifted in their deep pouches of fat and focused on Neena. «It is indeed Neena of Draad, and I spoke ill when I said you lied.» Furzun's voice was the only normal, healthy thing about him. It was a plain, unaffected baritone, with a slight wheeziness about it.
«How came you to take her?» Furzun went on. «She is much given to hunting. This we know. But King Embor has his wits about him, and keeps a strong guard around her.»
«It was not about her when we met,» said Desgo. «Only her woman Kubona, whom I gave to my warriors for their pleasure.» Blade saw Neena's mouth tighten into a hard line at that grim memory. «The man was a stranger to her, though he did fight for her. Yet he was no problem, for my stolof and I found it easy to overcome him.»
«That part of your tale is most probably a lie,» said Furzun. «He does not look like a man who would be easy for you to beat, with or without a stolof. However, we do have him a prisoner, and doubtless some use may be found for him. As for Neena, she was a fool to wander in the Forests of Gleor without a guard stronger than men's desires for her.» Neena glared at the word «fool,» and Blade laid a hand gently on her shoulder to calm her.
«Indeed, Your Majesty, she was a fool.» Another glare from Neena. «Now she shall pay a woman's price for being foolish. She has been kept as she came to us, that you might treat her as one would write upon fresh-cleaned parchment. She has not even received any training. Furzun nodded and pulled at the flesh of his jowls as he looked at Neena. Blade saw that she was beginning to breathe heavily in growing rage under Furzun's stare. Again he laid a hand on her shoulder. This time she twisted sharply, throwing his hand off.
«See how she moves,» exclaimed Lord Desgo. «There is nothing she is not fit for. I can see that she would be most marvelous in the Seven Blowing Reeds position, also the Flight of the Kingfisher, possibly the-«Lord Desgo went on and on, running through what sounded like Trawn's equivalent of the Kama Sutra. Furzun looked at Neena and listened silently as Desgo rambled on.
Blade kept looking from the men in the doorway to Neena and back again. Neena's nostrils were wide, and her neat firm breasts were rising and falling as her breathing quickened. That red-pepper temper of hers was slowly building up to an explosion.
Finally Lord Desgo noticed how excited Neena was. He broke off his listing of sexual gymnastics to point dramatically at Neena. Blade's ruby ring flashed on his hand as he shouted, «Look, Your Majesty. See how perfect she will be for your desires, how ready to meet them. My simple listing of what may be done to her has aroused her. She pants like a bitch in heat. She-«
Neena's temper exploded in an ear-splitting wordless screech that made Blade jump. Before he could move to stop her, she darted across the prison. Her hands locked around Lord Desgo's ankles. «You filthy pimp!» she shrieked. Before anyone could move she drove both her feet hard against the wall and heaved. She put every muscle in her body into that heave. Lord Desgo was jerked off his feet and over the edge of the doorway. He let out a yell of rage as he fell and a yell of pain as he landed. Then Neena was swarming all over him, kicking him, punching him, slapping his face, spitting on him. She was in a terrifying rage. Blade was sure that if Lord Desgo had been wearing a sword, Neena would have snatched it from his belt and cut his throat with it.