When he was ready he went to the door and called to the single guard who monitored the line. «Send the next one in.
He serviced three of the women, taking a brief respite between them, and knew he was through for the day. He was sure that he would never achieve another erection. He spoke to the guard. The women were sent away grumbling.
Blade called for Sart. He wanted food, a bath and sleep — long and blessed sleep.
Sart did not answer after repeated calls. Blade went looking for his man. He was not in the kitchen nor the bathroom; not in his sleeping chamber. Blade stroked his beard, puzzled. The man had to be here. There was no way he could get past the guards or pass through the only entrance without Blade knowing.
He took a torch from a wall sconce and went back along a dark corridor to the rooms he had not yet explored. With the torch flaring before him, he stalked through the gloom to the rearmost chamber.
«Sart?» he called.
From a dark corner came a whimpering sound. Blade thrust the torch in that direction. Sart was on his knees, cowering and groveling, covered with sweat and blood. On his shiny bald head were bloody streaks where he had made the fylfot sign. Blade came to stand beside him. His temper had grown short again.
«What is it now, fool? Get up. Why did you not answer my call?»
Sart whimpered and would not look at Blade. Blade nudged the Gnoman with his foot. «Get up, I said. What is it? What's wrong?»
Sart groveled, moved obscenely on his knees and tried to embrace Blade's legs. The great brute was crying. «Save me, master. Save me. I did not mean to do it. I swear I did not. But she taunted me. She would not leave me alone. I-«
Blade's brain went cold. He pushed Sart away from him, held the torch high and swept it about the chamber. Alixe was in a corner, broken and crumpled, her head twisted, her childish breasts bitten and bloody. Her slim thighs were covered with blood.
Blade went to stand beside her. He knelt and held the torch close. Her features were pulped and her mouth gaped toothlessly. Sart must have struck her a terrible blow with his fist. Blade made sure that she was dead and then turned to Sart.
The man wriggled toward Blade on his knees and began to beat his forehead against the sandy floor. He trembled, sobbing and crying.
«I did it, master. I cannot remember much now, but I did it. She taunted me and I begged her to stop but she would not. When at last I made to take her, she laughed and struck me and said she would tell Jantor and have me sent to the pits for daring to touch her.»
Blade had seen worse things in Dimension X, but not much worse. He felt ill. He kicked Sart away from him and said, «Get on your feet. Stop crying. And be quiet. I must have time to think.»
He did not look at Alixe again. Poor stupid, spoiled little bitch. She had asked for it, no doubt of that, but none of that mattered now.
Blade was responsible for his slave. That was Gnomen law. He thought fast. As precious as he was to the Gnomen, he did not believe that it would counterbalance Jantor's first wild rage when he found out what had happened to his daughter. He was likely to have Blade slain on the spot or sent to the pits. As for Sart, that miserable creature was doomed beyond all saving.
Sart lumbered to his feet. He watched Blade, cringing and continually making the sign of the fylfot on his bald head, but now there was a crafty gleam in his reddish brown eyes. Suddenly Blade realized what was happening. Sart was thinking.
Gnomen did not weigh or consider words or ideas. A rare thought, when it came, was blurted out.
Sart said, «You must help me, master. Save me. Else I will swear that you did this thing.»
Blade struck him, a terrible blow that knocked Sart sprawling across the chamber. He made no effort to rise but spat out teeth and looked up at Blade.
«I will, master. Blows will not change it. You must kill me or help me, or I will swear to Jantor that you killed his Alixe. He will believe me, for you have been seen quarreling with her. Remember the woman who entered unbidden and saw you striking her?»
Blade regarded him calmly, chin in hand. He was back in control of himself now. There was truth in what the man said. He had quarreled with Alixe and he had struck her; the impatient Gnoman woman had been a witness. Whether she would remember or not, or if her story ever reached Jantor's ears did not much matter now. The die was cast and the crunch was upon him.
Jantor was coming. He had sent word to that effect. Soon or late made no difference. Jantor was coming and he would expect to see his Alixe. Whether or not Sart's story was believed made no real difference. There was the Gnomen law-Blade was responsible for his slave's act.
Blade looked at Sart with distaste. He must use the slave as best he could, for what he had in mind could not be done alone. This was going to take all his skill and cunning and strength.
He kept his voice as calm and friendly as possible. He told Sart to get up. When the man shambled to his feet, looking distrustful, Blade continued in the same calm tone.
«You are right in one thing, Sart. I am in as much trouble as you are so something must be done. Are you man enough to fight for your life?»
Sart nodded. «I will fight, master, but how? We have no bars. We are prisoners. The guard outnumber us many to one. How can we fight?»
«Come,» ordered Blade. «We will speak elsewhere. I do not like this place.»
He lighted the way out of the chamber. He saw Sart glance once at the slight body in the corner and again make the sign of the fylfot. Blade led the way to Sart's chamber, a small barren room with only a sleeping pad. He thrust the torch into an empty sconce.
«From this point on,» said Blade, «we will forget what you have done. No word of it will be spoken. Do you understand that?»
Blade meant it. Recrimination or squeamishness was a luxury one could not afford in Dimension X.
Sart mumbled that he understood, but his eyes shifted and he did not look Blade in the face. He was thinking again and Blade left him to it.
«Time is important,» Blade explained. «Jantor is coming to see me.»
Sart trembled and nearly went to his knees again. «Jantor-here, master? When?»
«I do not know that. Late or early. Let us hope it is late. We must not be here when he comes.»
Sart nodded. That he understood well enough. «But how, master? How can we escape? There is but one way out and twenty guards. They have arms and we have none. It is certain death.»
Blade laughed at him. «It is certain death if we stay, for me, at least, and certainly either death or the pits for you. Do you think, Sart, that even if Jantor believes your lie that he will spare you? Think again, man! You are long overdue in the pits. Only the fact that I took you for slave saved you. Can you remember that far back?»
Sart let out a bubbling moan. «Not the five mile pits, master. I beg you kill me here and now. With blows or strangle me, anything, but I cannot go to the pits»
Blade smiled cruelly. «Yes. You would like me to kill you, and you would gain by it. But I would lose. I would then face Jantor alone. Who knows what he would believe? And I need you. You are going to fight for your life, Sart, as I must fight for mine. If you do not, if you fail me, then I will kill you.»
Blade watched Sart's face, saw the small intelligence at work, waited patiently while the slave figured it out. At last he saw submission and resignation. Blade nodded. From now on Sart was only an extension of Blade and, out of fear and hope, would do as he was told.
«But how?» Sart asked again. «If I had a spear bar-«
«You will get one,» said Blade grimly, «as I must, from the guards. Now listen well to me. You will approach them first, for you are a Gnoman and they will not be so suspicious….»