When Blade saw her, he lost his temper. He released the screaming Alixe and pointed at the woman. «OUT!»
The woman scuttled for safety. Seconds later she told the other Gnomen females what she had seen and it passed down the line.
Alixe sought the safety of a corner and sulked, rubbing her bottom. Blade glowered at her. Sart trembled and sweated. He would have fallen to his knees except that Blade hated that, and at the moment he feared Blade even more than Jantor.
Fury and frustration burned in Blade. He dressed rapidly and spoke curtly to Sart. Pointing to Alixe, now quiet and watching with a cat-cunning smile, Blade said, «I am going out for a time. Take that little devil in charge while I am gone. If she causes trouble, you have my permission to beat her.»
Sart stared at him. «Going out, master? You cannot. It is forbidden.»
Blade used some Home Dimension words that Sart could not comprehend. «Forbidden or not,» Blade insisted, «I go. I will try to see Jantor.» He pointed to Alixe. «You are a curse and I can endure you no longer.»
She made a face at him.
When Blade stepped outside his apartment, there was a ripple of sound from the waiting line of women. He regarded them distastefully. How he loathed women-all women.
There was but a single entrance to his apartment. The tunnel outside it had a dead end and at the other end was a subchief with a guard of twenty Gnomen armed with the spear bars. Blade strode toward them. The tunnel was narrow, not more than five feet across, and as Blade approached the subchief moved to block it. He leveled his bar at Blade, point first. Behind him his men moved into position, all with their cruel bars at the ready.
The subchief was taken by surprise. He had his orders concerning Blade, he knew how precious this big stranger was because he carried viable seed, and he knew that if anything happened to Blade that he, the subchief, must answer to Jantor. Until now Blade had caused no trouble. The subchief had scarcely seen him. His main task was to keep the women in order and see that there was no cheating in the line.
The subchief thrust his spear bar to within an inch of Blade's chest. «You cannot pass. It is forbidden.»
Blade halted and scowled. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the man. «Take me to see Jantor. At once!»
The Gnoman shook his head. «That also is forbidden. You cannot go to Jantor when it pleases you. Jantor is king. Jantor will send for you when it pleases him.»
Blade gazed past the man at the guard. Twenty of them. «You have plenty of men to guard me,» he said. «You can spare one. Send him to Jantor. Tell him I must see him. Either I go to him or he comes to me.»
The Gnoman, like all Gnomen except Jantor, had a low level of intelligence. He scratched the hair on his chest, made the sign of the fylfot on his bald head, and regarded Blade with dull eyes.
Blade put everything to the test. He pushed the man's spear bar aside with disdain and took a step forward. «You dare not kill me without orders from Jantor. You know that. Or perhaps you do not fear the five-mile pits?»
A moment of silence. For an instant Blade thought he had gone too far, that the man would impale him on the bar. Then the Gnoman lowered his weapon.
«I will send a man. But take another step and I will have you killed and face the penalty. You understand this?»
Blade smiled. He was already beginning to cool down. «I understand that. But I would ask a favor. I am sick of my apartment and sick of women-«
One of the guards laughed and said: «I wish I might share that sickness.»
The subchief frowned and there was silence in the ranks. He turned to Blade again. «I am sorry for that, but I cannot help you.»
Blade turned on his charm. «You could permit me to stroll a bit, to stretch my legs and free my brain, to cleanse my nostrils of the stench of women.» He pointed to the main sewer just beyond the guard station. «A few paces up and down, what could it matter? And I have Jantor's ear, as you know. I could speak well of you, or ill.»
Still the subchief hesitated. Blade cajoled. «Even if you send a man to Jantor you still have twenty, counting yourself. Ten before and ten behind. What can I do? How could I escape or cause you trouble even if I had a mind?»
The subchief pondered this for what seemed to Blade an eternity. This Gnoman, like all the ordinary ones, thought in slow motion. But at last the man nodded. «All right. A few paces up and down, no more.»
Blade thanked him and added, «I will see that Jantor hears of your kindness.»
Torches flared up and down the main sewer. The tunnel itself was very like the one into which Blade had first dropped. As he walked slowly up and down-he managed nearly a hundred yards before he was prodded back-he noticed one of the huge sewer lids overhead. There would be a kiosk up there, he supposed, and leaning against a nearby wall was a ladder. As he strolled past it a second time he examined it carefully. It would just reach the sewer lid. This must be one of the sally ports by which Jantor's men left the sewers and invaded the city above. Blade remembered the surprise he had felt when Jantor informed him that he had been watched from the beginning. How stealthy they were, these Gnomen, when it suited their purpose. But for that single clanging lid he might still be ignorant of their existence.
He paced the permitted distance a dozen times before the messenger returned, breathless from running. Blade watched as the man spoke to the subchief. They were again at the entrance to the tunnel leading back to Blade's apartment. The subchief came to Blade.
«Jantor has sent his answer. He cannot see you now. He is displeased that you sent to him. But he believes you that it is important and he will come to see you later. At no fixed time, but when he chooses. He warns you not to repeat this thing. He sends his love and desire to Alixe and longs to see her soon. That is all. You are to return to your apartment at once.»
Blade, having worked off his anger, felt that he had won a small victory, unimportant as it was. He had lost his head and his temper, but nothing had had come of it. He was content. He smiled at the subchief and thanked him and once again promised that Jantor would hear good things of him.
As he made his way down the tunnel, past the waiting line of women, he could hear them whispering among themselves. None would meet his eye. They were a mangy lot, dirty and stupid, and he shivered a bit with apprehension. He could not keep up the stud game much longer. If only Norn would bring him word that Sybelline was ready to see him, and if only he could figure out a way to meet the white-haired woman. He was near the breaking point and something must be done. He could not straddle the fence forever. He must soon commit himself, to either Jantor or Sybelline, and if all he heard was true, only Sybelline knew the secret of the power.
When he entered the apartment there was no sign of Sart or the child Alixe. Child? Blade scowled. Vixen. A bitch of tender years.
There were no sounds in the apartment. He went straight to his bedroom and undressed. Might as well get on with his duties, he thought. Sart was probably sleeping or busy with his household duties. Alixe was no doubt sulking in her own chamber. There were nine rooms in the apartment, but Blade, apart from the bath, bedroom, and the eating room, had paid them little attention. He had never been in Sart's room; beyond that lay several other chambers he had not investigated.