It was as well that Klerus arrived after breakfast rather than before or during. The sight of the High Councilor close up would have been enough to take away Blade's appetite. Sallow oily skin, vast paunch, bald head, black eyes set so deep in rolls of fat they were almost invisible, jowls so flabby they hung down over his gold embroidered collar-there was nothing about Klerus that wasn't at least faintly revolting. But Blade also noticed other things. Klerus carried his weight well, with a dignity that seemed to imply that the slim were lacking rather than that he was in excess. And those ugly little eyes that fixed Blade with a cold, calculating stare made him at once alert and ready for the clash of wits.
Klerus began by asking the usual polite questions about Blade's health, food, sleep, and the like. Blade's replies were equally formal and polite. It was like the first few exchanges of a fencing bout. Each was seeking to discover the other's style, his distinctive strengths and weaknesses.
Finally Klerus tugged at the third of his four chins and smiled at Blade. It was a crocodile's smile. «I have heard that you found the girls pleasing last night.»
Blade nodded. «I did.»
«I am surprised you found the energy after your travels.»
«Lord Councilor, surely you have been around men of affairs too long to be surprised at this.» That was intended to score a point and it succeeded. Klerus' chins quivered, and his jaw set hard for a moment. He did not like that oblique reference to his status as a eunuch.
But Klerus regained his poise within seconds. «I am surprised at very few things, oh Pendarnoth. I am not even surprised at the appearance of a long-awaited legend in Pendar at the very moment when the Lanyri are preparing an invasion.»
It was Blade's turn to be caught off balance, but he managed to conceal it just as well as Klerus had. He decided not to admit having been told about the Lanyri threat. That would have had Klerus asking questions about Guroth in a moment. Blade remembered what the girls had said about dangers to anyone Klerus came to suspect of anything.
«The Lanyri-they are the people of the empire to the west, the ones who fight on foot?»
«They are. They are coming with a mighty army. It will be impossible for the Pendari to resist it, whatever pride they take in their horse archers.» That was a much blunter statement than Blade had expected. Did this mean Klerus was sufficiently desperate to try to enlist his aid without any preliminary feelers? Blade found that hard to believe.
Nor did it prove to be true. After that one specific statement, Klerus wandered off into a rambling lecture on the history of the Kingdom of Pendar. It went on for many minutes, with the Lanyri appearing occasionally around the fringes. It was only when he came to talking of the first Lanyri invasion that Klerus again spoke more plainly and directly.
«The Lanyri rule is strong and harsh but it is just. If a people submit peacefully, they soon come to share in the might of the Lanyri empire. But if they resist, and are defeated…»
«Are they always defeated?» put in Blade.
«Always. The Lanyri infantry is invincible.»
Blade could have mentioned things he had heard to the contrary. But once again he balked at involving Guroth-yet. «So they are defeated. And then what?»
Klerus spread his damp, pudgy hands. «They are overrun, and all who resist perish. But those who surrender in good time are spared. They may even come to rise to great heights under Lanyri rule. Penniless, wandering warriors have become kings or the ministers of kings under the rule of the Lanyri.»
Klerus could hardly have been more frank if he had given Blade an illuminated scroll with his proposition written on it. Join me, betray Pendar, and I will make you my right-hand man to rule over the ruins. Join those fools who would resist the invincible Lanyri, and perish with them.
Guroth, it seemed, was right. Perhaps not entirely. Perhaps there were fine details the captain hadn't understood. But if ever a man had the air of wanting support in treason, it was Klerus. Obviously he took Blade for a «penniless, wandering warrior» who had found an opportunity to pass himself off as the long-awaited Pendarnoth. Klerus was determined to show him that there was a better horse to ride to glory and wealth than the Golden Steed. Perhaps Klerus didn't even believe in the Pendarnoth or the Golden Steed? That might be worth finding out.
«The word 'Pendarnoth' means 'Father of the Pendari,' «said Blade. He spoke as he might have to a small child, deliberately seeking to be offensive. «I do not know what kind of father I would be, if I helped bring my 'children' into slavery.»
Klerus' face froze as hard as something that fat and flabby could do. «Do you truly believe in the gods' aid to men?» He said that in a tone that implied only a simpleton could do so.
Blade shrugged. «I have been a warrior all my life, Klerus. Not a philosopher, and certainly not a politician. I have learned not to ask questions that none can answer. And I have learned that a good sharp sword can cut off all sorts of arguments.» His eyes met Klerus'. Blade was trying to look open and frank and honest without being too obvious about it. If he could strike just the right note, he would be far along the way to convincing Klerus that he was indeed a simpleton. In the eyes of men like Klerus, only simpletons were honest. Wise men were always ready for a little treachery.
Klerus shrugged in his turn. For a moment Blade thought the High Councilor was going to indulge himself in some parting remark. But he managed to restrain himself, raised his hands in the prayer gesture, and went out.
That was the start of his relations with Klerus, although Blade wasn't quite sure how he would describe it. He had managed to avoid giving Klerus any promises of support, that was certain. He had also managed to avoid an open clash with the High Councilor. At least he hoped so, since that was even more important. Possibly he had even convinced Klerus that the Pendarnoth was a simpleton who could be ignored.
He decided to stop worrying about Klerus for the moment. The next thing to do would be to find out how much freedom of movement he had. Was he confined to his rooms, for all practical purposes a prisoner in a gilded cell? Did he have the run of the palace? Or could he roam all over Pendar, assuming he wanted to?
Chests inlaid with ivory and gilded bronze held a wide selection of rich clothing. Much of it was silk, and nearly all of it was so heavily embroidered with gold thread and lace that the underlying color was almost invisible. Where there was metal, it too was gold or gilded. But at least he was able to pick up some practical weapons. A curved double-edged sword three feet long went into a scabbard on his belt, and a straight foot-long dagger into a wrist sheath.
Now that he was dressed and armed to standards that satisfied him, should he summon a servant to guide him through the palace? Better not. It would be impossible to tell whether or not a servant was a spy for Klerus-or for Klerus' opponents. Without touching the bell cord, he went to the door to the corridor and opened it.
Several servants who happened to be passing by promptly fell on their faces as Blade appeared. He grimaced. It was going to be rather hard to walk around the palace freely if everybody promptly fell on the floor when they saw him. Was this perhaps a way of keeping him in his room? He stepped out into the corridor and looked down at the servants:
«Rise, my friends. I am neither a god nor a king. The way to honor me is on your feet, not on your bellies.»