Jantor was now talking freely and Blade thought it time to heed Lord L's admonition and ask a key question.
«The power source of the Morphi,» he said. «If you could show me that, Jantor, and I can understand the workings of it, it could mean great things.» A thought struck Blade and he began to improvise. «For instance, Jantor-if I can manipulate the power source, and I can restore the sleepers to life, then they will be the slaves and you the masters. Do you not see it? As long as you and your people control the power source, the Morphi must do as they are bidden or you simply turn off the power and put them to sleep again. Think, Jantor. There need be no war. You Gnomen will simply move up out of the sewers and take over. All that you have dreamed of will come true.»
Jantor was watching him with an odd expression. He said, «And what of the orbfolk, the Moon people? they see and know everything.»
Blade was skeptical. «Everything?»
Jantor nodded. «They knew the instant you appeared. They followed every move you made-as we Gnomen did, for that matter. My scouts tracked you through the city step by step-saw everything you did, then reported back to me and to Sybelline.»
Blade believed him. It explained why they had been so alert, why they had been waiting for him when he entered the sewers.
Now he gave grudging acknowledgement. «They are stealthy. I am trained in such matters and I did not suspect — not until the sewer lid was dropped.»
«That fool,» said Jantor, «is now in the five-mile pits.»
Blade went back to his argument. Lord Leighton was right. If this mission was to be fruitful at all it could only be in the discovery of the power source. He was sure that it must be broadcast through air space, beamed in the manner of radio or television waves. If he could ferret out that secret and understand it and get it back to Home Dimension, then England would have a secret that no other nation possessed. It would, thought Blade, justify the expense and the pain and the terror of all the expeditions into Dimension X. Blade decided that as long as there was any hope of finding the power source, he would not ask Lord L to abort the mission.
«So what,» said Blade, «if the orbfolk know what we do? What can they do? They cannot shut off our power. You said this yourself. And we can be clever. We will show them that we are no threat to them. We will ask for peace, to be let alone. It may well be that they will leave us alone. We can even agree to worship them as gods. What matter as long as you do not really believe it?»
Jantor nodded slowly. «You make it sound easy, Blade, and I know that it will not be. You may be right about the orbfolk. They are patient and they plan for eternity, and they will not move against us at first, maybe never. We could agree to worship them, as you say, and no harm done there.» He was silent for a moment, said, «To have the Morphi city up there… to have them as our slaves. would be a Gnomen dream come true.»
Suddenly Jantor looked glum. «No! I am a fool to listen to you. It is too soon to move. There are too many details, too much to be done. My people are not ready for that life yet, and how do we know that the Morphi would cooperate? There might be struggle and rebellion-all would end in disaster. The Morphi might choose to die, or to sleep again, rather than be slaves to us.»
Blade leaned in his chair and pointed a finger at Jantor. «They will not. I assure you of that. As long as we control the power source they will obey. I swear it to you, Jantor. Listen to me. Believe me. Given a choice between life and the sleeping death, given only that choice and no other, the Morphi will choose life. I will stake my own life on it. All we need do is to make certain that we control the power source. I can see to that.
«Now, Jantor, think well. Now is the time to act. Now! Not a generation from now. Tell me of this power source. Take me to it. Let me study it and make my decision.»
Jantor shook his head and once more made the fylfot sign on his head. «You have all but convinced me, Blade. I think you have something of the power in you. But I cannot help you in this. I do not know the source of the power.»
Blade looked blankly at him. «You do not know? You are king-intelligent, ruler of the Gnomen-and you do not know?»
Jantor scowled. «Do not make me sound as stupid as my people, Blade. No Gnoman has this information. I doubt that many of the Morphi themselves knew where the power came from. There is only one person who knows.»
Blade guessed. «Sybelline?»
«Yes. Sybelline. She alone. I do not know how she knows but she does. Once I doubted, back when I first became king and began to plan, but she convinced me. She disappeared and I crept up to a kiosk to watch the city streets. At a time she had promised, the sleepers came alive again. They wakened and moved, and for an instant all was as it had been before-for just an instant. Then they slept again. She knows. She keeps the secret in her head.»
After a moment Jantor added, «Why do you think I have not killed Sybelline before this?»
Blade could see the labyrinth of intrigue before him. He had no choice but to enter.
«Perhaps,» he said, «I can prevail on Sybelline to show me the power source. It is worth trying. Is she friendly to me?»
Jantor guffawed and slapped his belly. «She is friendly indeed. She desires you, Blade, even though she is long past childbearing. And more than that she will plot with you against me. She will whisper to you-in bed if she can get you there-that you and she can rule better than Jantor.»
Blade did not answer. What was there to say? Jantor was right. Norn had already hinted at trouble to come.
Jantor might have been reading his mind. «Sybelline will soon make overtures to you, Blade. You will pretend to fall in with her. You will seek the location of the power source. You will plot against me in everything but deed. You will agree to whatever she suggests, but you will take no action.»
Blade was curious. «You trust me so far, Jantor?»
«I trust you not at all, Blade, but I have spies also. And I have a thousand good men with spear bars while Sybelline cannot muster fifty. If you betray me, Blade, it will be bloody war and I will win. All my plans will be smashed and the Gnomen may become a dying race, but you and Sybelline will die first. It is a simple choice, Blade. Play me false and suffer. Be loyal and serve me and, in time, rule with me. You are much younger than I am. Would it not be a comfort in your old age to rule and to look upon the thousands of your children and grandchildren?»
Blade would have spoken again, but Jantor waved him silent. «Go now. Keep me informed through the little one, Alixe. Use her well, Blade, and keep her carefully. She is very dear to me.»
«And a spy to you,» said Blade as he left.
He heard Jantor laugh.
CHAPTER 8
It was the habit of Sybelline, now and again, to sleep with her son Wilf. He had been fathered by a Gnoman long ago-she had long since forgotten the man's name-and so was only one-quarter Morphi. This showed only in his features, which were regular and well formed, and he had a full head of hair. Otherwise his body was that of a Gnoman, squat, powerful and bowlegged. Wilf was not as intelligent as Sybelline would have liked, nor was he much of a bed partner, but bed was the one place they could talk without danger of being overheard. Sybelline well knew that Jantor had spies planted among her bodyguard. When she slept with these young Gnomen, as she had with most of them, she was careful to guard her tongue.
Wilf, having tried dutifully to satisfy his mother, was at the moment getting dressed in the plastic garments on which his mother insisted. She had always detested the Gnomen half of her, and did everything she could to forget it. Her apartment was filled with furniture and hangings looted from the city above and her cupboards were stocked with Morphi food. She preferred Morphi liquids to good Gnomen water. Left to herself and in her own province, she was in all things more Morphi than Gnomen. Only when she must deal with the creature Jantor, who possessed brute power along with a desire to see her dead, did Sybelline smile and don a Gnomen robe and a mask of hypocrisy. It had not been easy but she had managed. For she, and she alone, knew the secret of the power.