A trumpet sounded from far away over the trees, from the palace itself. The boom of several massive gongs being slowly beaten followed. Yezjaro raised his head, and his dark eyes stared into Blade's. Blade stared back, and met Doifuzan's stare as well. One hand moved to open his tunic, while the other picked up the short sword lying on the grass in front of him.
All around the circle, the others did the same.
Blade unsheathed the short sword and held it out in front of him, its point toward his abdomen.
Again, eighteen uroi did the same.
Then, just before Blade could tense his muscles to drive the sword in, pain flared-suddenly, savagely-in his head. Sweat sprang out on his face and hands, and he had to clamp his mouth shut hard to keep from gasping out loud. He did not want to make any sound that would give his comrades the impression that he was losing his nerve.
But hope was also flaring in him, even more intense than the pain. The computer was calling him, calling him back to home dimension. He was going to make it home! And without dishonor or disgrace. If he simply vanished…
Then the pain faded, and so did the hope. Blade realized that he might make it home. But he also might still die here in Gaikon. He could not delay his blow much longer. If he did, he would do much of the damage he had feared, whether he died in the end or not.
No, it was time to do what had to be done. With a convulsive snap of his wrist, he drove the short sword in.
It struck so hard that the shock kept him from feeling any pain for a moment. Then as the pain struck, before he could start drawing the sword across, his head seemed to explode. His hand dropped away from the sword hilt because he had lost the strength to hold on. Hope rose in him again. With it rose the fear that the soldier standing behind him with a sword might swing prematurely.
It would be a bloody odd situation if he returned to home dimension in two pieces, or as a headless corpse!
The twilight seemed to turn to a shimmering green. Blade looked down, saw the sword in his hand flickering and glowing with raw red and golden hues. Across the circle he saw Yezjaro, bending over as he drew the sword across his stomach. But the instructor's eyes were fixed on Blade, and his face showed more surprise than pain.
A swish, and Blade saw a sword whistling past. He realized that the soldier behind must have swung to behead him. But he was no longer a solid object to those in Gaikon-or their weapons. Soon they would be gone, and he would be home.
The greenness was darkening now. Pain roared again in Blade's head, and he found it hard to keep his eyes open. But Yezjaro was still looking at him, and at last the instructor smiled. In a voice distorted by pain and Blade's fading hearing, he shouted:
«Go in honor, Blade. Go, for Kunkoi has called you first before us all, that you may speak for us.»
Then the instructor started to crumple forward. He could no longer keep agony from twisting his face. The sword of the soldier standing behind him flashed high, then swept down.
The flash of that sword was the last thing Blade saw in Gaikon. The green faded into a blackness and Blade sank down into that blackness, losing awareness of his pain, his body, everything.
Chapter 22
«-glad I didn't betray the people in Gaikon. But I must say I'm glad to be back, though. Very damned glad.»
Richard Blade's voice faded away into silence. Lord Leighton reached over and shut off the tape recorder. The click of the switch seemed to J to echo through the little room like a gunshot. He leaned back in the leather armchair, frowned, and took a firm grip on his whiskey and soda.
«Well, J,» said Lord Leighton into the silence. «What do you make of that?»
«What precisely do you mean?» asked J. He used his best upper-Establishment senior civil servant's voice to conceal his own private doubts and uncertainties.
«Isn't it obvious? It seems to me that Richard was completely-sucked into-the patterns of thought in Gaikon. He was about to commit hara-kiri when we brought him back, damn it!»
«Seppuku,» said J, absently.
«Eh?»
«Seppuku is the more formal name for Japanese style ritual suicide. Hara-kiri is a rather vulgar colloquial term. It roughly translates as 'belly slitting.'»
«I see,» said Lord Leighton. But it was obvious that his mind was not on the correct terminology for what Blade had so so nearly done. After a moment's silence he continued.
«J, you've known Richard a good deal longer than anybody else with the project.»
«I have.»
«Speaking frankly-should we call in the psychiatrists on this one? Does what Richard did indicate that his mind's started to go?»
There it was, out in the open. The painful but unavoidable question that J had been asking himself ever since he heard what had happened to Blade in Gaikon. Fortunately, he had been considering it long enough so that he had come up with some sort of an answer. It didn't entirely satisfy him, but he was damned if he could think of a better one. If Lord Leighton could, more power to him-as long as it didn't involve throwing Richard to the headshrinkers!
«Remember the first trips to Dimension X?» J began. «Richard very nearly forgot that he had a home dimension existence while he was in Dimension X. He was disoriented for some time after coming back. He got over that, however, and he certainly shows no signs of it this time. Does he?»
«No. He seems perfectly normal except for-«
«That may not be a sign of abnormality. In fact, I'm fairly sure it isn't.»
«So?» said Lord Leighton, testily. He did not like being disagreed with or interrupted. J was one of the few people from whom he would tolerate either.
«So consider what an enormous capacity for loyalty Richard has. Loyalty to England, first of all. That's what kept him going for all these trips-that and his love of adventure. For England he'll risk his life again and again and face the prospect of eventually losing it.»
«Yes. But risking his life is one thing. Deliberately sitting down to kill himself seems to me to be another matter entirely. It argues something odd going on in his mind.»
«Not necessarily. I think it's that same capacity for loyalty, showing itself in a new way. He's always been willing to do something to help the people of the dimension where he goes. Most of the time he's succeeded. It was the same thing this time. He realized he couldn't avoid doing damage in Gaikon-specifically, damage to the uroi who had fought beside him-unless he did what their standards of duty called for him to do.»
«Um,» said Leighton, meditatively. He seemed, if not convinced, at least not openly skeptical. «But why should Richard accept their standards?»
«The people in Gaikon lived by them, and couldn't imagine any others. Richard knew that he couldn't expect them to change, so he decided to accept what they were asking him to do. He's always been very good at understanding what other people want and need. I doubt if he'd have survived as a secret agent as long as he did without that gift. I'm damned sure he couldn't have survived in Dimension X without it.»
Lord Leighton nodded, and his face showed understanding for the first time. «In other words, Richard Blade is a magnificently adaptable man. We sent him to Gaikon-and he adapted.»
J laughed. «You've got it in a nutshell.»
Leighton sighed. «Very well. I suppose we can dispense with throwing Richard to the psychiatrists over this. But I devoutly hope he doesn't have to adapt to this sort of thing very often.»
«I couldn't agree with you more,» said J.