On the eleventh night no women came. The guards came in to bring the evening meal and pour fresh oil into the pottery lamps. But that was all. Blade was just settling down for a solitary night's sleep when he heard a scratching noise on the window over his bed.
The Lanyri had given him no weapons, but he had hidden a broken chair leg that would make a useful club. He now drew this from its hiding place. Then he lay perfectly still, the club clutched firmly in one hand but concealed under the covers. The scratching sound came again.
Moving inch by inch, Blade slid out of bed, got to his feet, and flattened himself against the wall to the right of the window. With one hand he reached out toward the latch of the wooden shutter, with the other he raised the club. A quick twist of his wrist, the latch clicked open, and the shutter swung into the room. A moment later Blade heard the sound of someone scrambling clumsily up the outside wall of the hut. A head concealed in a dark blue hood thrust into the room, along with two hands gloved in the same color. Blade waited until the intruder was halfway over the window sill before he moved.
He grabbed one of the hands and jerked so that the intruder toppled onto the bed. With his free hand he raised the club, then flipped the person over. He jerked the hood off, then stopped, club still raised but his eyes widening in surprise.
A woman was staring up at him from the bed, a strikingly lovely woman, her face full and round, flushed with exertion, and framed with a mass of now-tangled blonde hair. Blade did not let go of the club, but he lowered it a little as he spoke.
«Who the devil are you? And why are you sneaking around my quarters at night? That isn't wise, woman!»
The woman laughed deep in her throat. «Ah, warrior, I know it is not wise, but I had to get to you. I have seen you from far away, but I had to see you close, to touch you, to…» her voice trailed off and she made an explicit and unmistakable gesture.
«So you say. But who are you?» There was more suspicion in Blade's mind than he let show in his voice. He didn't want to drive this woman away unless and until he was certain she offered no opportunities-for escape, perhaps.
«A woman who wants you, my warrior. Is that not enough? Or have you lived so long with the intrigues of those dirty Pendari that you suspect even a woman who is panting for you?»
This was getting almost silly. The woman's language was so wildly exaggerated that either she was joking or she took Blade for a fool. If it was the second-well, Blade had no objection to being taken for a fool if it would keep the woman off her guard.
«I am a suspicious man, for if I were not, I would not be alive today. And you could do nothing with me. As it is-«but the woman was already rising to her feet and undoing the belt of her robe.
Standing up and watching the woman undress, Blade realized she was nearly as tall as he was, and her complexion almost as fair as his. Fairer, in fact. Blade's skin had weeks of suntan and accumulated grime darkening it. This woman's skin suggested a pampered and self-indulgent indoor existence. A lady of noble rank among the Lanyri? Perhaps, if there were any such in the huge camp. Or the mistress of some high person? More possible. The Lanyri were given to carrying their lovers of both sexes along with them, even on campaign.
The robe and hood came off and dropped to the ground. Under them she wore her golden hair under a filet set with jade and on her body a short white silk tunic. Her feet and her legs to the knees were bare. Blade noticed that the legs were long and well-turned, a perfect balance of grace and substantial flesh.
Then the woman reached down for the hem of the tunic. Slowly, with sinuous writhings of her hips, she drew the tunic up over her head. It rose up her thighs, revealing short silk panties, pale blue embroidered in dark red. It passed her stomach, with its impudently small navel peeping out from a gentle curve of white flesh. Then it whipped up the rest of the way over her head. Her breasts were full and round and as pale as the rest of her skin, so pale that Blade could see the network of blue veins surrounding the small pink nipples.
Giving a good imitation of a man drawn irresistibly forward, Blade stepped up to the woman and put both his palms on her breast. He felt the nipples quiver and then harden from one second to the next, pushing out against his palms in stiff points. Well, the woman seemed to be telling the truth, about her wanting him at least.
As her nipples hardened, he saw a moan pulse in her throat, and then her mouth opened to let it out. Her hands went around his body and pulled him against her so hard that he felt her breasts flatten against his chest. They stood locked together for a long moment. In that moment Blade could feel the heat almost radiating from her body. Even in the dim room light he could see that her skin was flushed. Why shouldn't she be aroused? God knows he was-he could feel his erection, rigid and jutting out against the woman's pubic hair.
Then she knelt down before him and for a moment he half expected those red lips to close around his swollen organ. But instead she twisted away suddenly, throwing herself on her back on the bed. This was clearly a woman who wanted no tenderness, delicacy, or preliminaries. If all there was in her was a rutting passion, why worry? He swung himself onto the bed and with, practiced ease entered her.
She jerked and stiffened as he entered her tight wetness. For a moment Blade wasn't completely sure whether she had reached climax so soon, or was feeling pain as he drove into her. But soon the gasps and moans and little whimperings that came from her writhing mouth told him she was responding. Her response mounted rapidly, and Blade knew that he would not need to bold himself back. He could thrust and withdraw, thrust and withdraw, in a furious, mounting rhythm.
In minutes her body arched and the muscles of her stomach jerked and contracted in a long, fierce spasm. It faded for a moment, then swept on into another, a third, a fourth as Blade kept thrusting with vigor. Vigor, but rapidly fading control. His own body began to arch with the strain of holding back, his teeth clenched, his throat contracted to suppress a groan. Then the last of his control faded and his own spasm mingled with the woman's final one.
The woman sagged back onto the bed, all the vigor gone out of her body. It seemed to Blade that even its full ripe curves lost some of their roundness. The sound of her breathing roared in his ears like a blacksmith's bellows. The only movement other than the rise and fall of her breasts was a slow tossing of her head.
As her head swung back and forth, Blade saw something white glittering half-concealed in the blonde hair. He watched and waited for it to become more visible. Bit by bit it worked itself out of the woman's hair and finally fell onto the pillow. Slowly, so the woman's glazed eyes wouldn't notice his movements, Blade reached for it. A final quick motion of his own hand, and it was tucked up behind his ear. It seemed to be a small white cake of some kind, no larger than his thumbnail.
Some energy was coming back to the woman now. Her eyes focused on Blade's face and she smiled and raised her hands high over her head. «Ah, warrior, that was… it was such as I never get from that damned soldier.» She started as she realized she had let something slip out. Blade did not start. The prospect of escape was keeping his mind almost unnaturally clear, ready to note everything that might help him.