The man who had spoken to Honcho, the leader, fell to his knees and touched his short sword to his forehead. "Lord," he said in Tharnian. "We obey."
Blade was watching Honcho's green eyes. He saw amusement, and something of relief.
Blade touched the kneeling man's shoulder. "Rise," he said. "You are my friends. So it shall be, now and always." One of the great dogs whined softly and came to lick Blade's hand. Blade felt a strange sense of pleasure, or power, that he had never known before. He was playing a role, but at the same time he was living it!
Honcho clapped his hands. "Take us to King Org now."
The leader of the band plucked a torch from the fire and led the way. The others did not follow.
They followed the wavering torch back into a narrow ravine. The wind gusted and guttered the torch, which tossed smoky red shadows on the rain streaked rocks. Honcho, walking beside Blade, said in a low voice: "You did that well. I admit that you have fine presence. I begin to think that you have not told me all about this place of yours. Were you a king there?"
"I am no king," said Blade curtly.
They left the ravine and approached a wide opening to a vast cavern. Before they reached it Blade heard the murmur of hundreds of voices. The place was ablaze with the light of a thousand torches.
The Pethdne who was leading them flung down his torch and stood aside. He looked at Honcho in a strange manner and there was defiance in his voice. "We are having the feast of our own Sacer, as you see. Not as THEY of Tharn have it, but as we Pethcines have it, and will have it again in Urcit."
The neuter nodded and touched the man on the shoulder. "So it will be. Go now. My thanks. When you come to Urcit I will not forget you."
The man vanished into the dark. Blade gazed at the blazing entrance of the cave, from which came the roar and mumble and shouting of a great crowd. And, as Blade recognized at once, not a sober crowd. He looked at Honcho and gestured toward the cave mouth. "Soka?"
The neuter's smile was faint. "They call it dema. It is the same, with the same effects. I told you they are a swinish, brutish lot, and there is danger. Do exactly as I told you. Come, Mazda!" Again the sneering little smile.
They walked into the vast cave and paused. For a moment they were not noticed, then someone saw them and shouted. A hush fell over the crowd as all peered to see. Blade gazed around, feeling his heart step up its beating. It was a garish and barbarous spectacle.
The cavern was gigantic, in the form of an amphitheater, with myriad torches ringing it. The crude stone seats were packed with Pethcines in every stage of disarray and disorder and drunkenness. Most were staring at Blade and Honcho, but some were not. The couples who were copulating nearby, in plain view of the mob, and without anyone seeming to care or notice, did not so much as glance at the two interlopers.
Honcho nudged Blade. "The stone! Go to it at once and bow. Do not touch the sword!"
Blade nodded. He remembered his instructions well. He glanced down the huge oval to the great block of stone that stood exactly in the middle of it. The stone was at least ten feet long and stood shoulderhigh to Blade. He began to walk toward the stone. His stride was firm, his shoulders squared, his head high. He glanced about him as he walked, deliberately making his gaze arrogant. The Pethcines would understand arrogance.
He was walking on sand now. His foot struck something and he saw that it was a severed head. Another one lay near by. Gouts of blood stained the sand. He passed a naked and headless body and approached the stone. Honcho had been most explicit about this.
Blade paused at the end of the stone. The silence was nearly absolute now. Beyond the stone, fifty feet or so, was a high double throne on which sat a man and a young woman. King Org and his daughter Totha. Blade's glance flicked over them without hesitating. He stared down at the huge sword on the stone.
He had seen swords like it before. In museums. It was not unlike a medieval broadsword, double edged and with a sharp point. The long hilt was a mass of twisted gold, tarnished now, and heavily studded with jewels. Blade knew it would be tremendously heavy. No Pethcine, Honcho had said, had ever been able to wield it with one hand.
Blade fell to his knees before the stone. He placed his forehead against the cold edge and raised his hands, careful not to touch the sword. Then he stood up. A great roar filled the cavern. Blade could not tell if it was approbation or bloodlust. He stepped around the stone and stood waiting, as the neuter had said to do.
Honcho now approached the stone and made his obeisance. He joined Blade and together they approached the throne. The throng was still howling like a mad thing. Yet Honcho spoke clearly enough for Blade to hear above the roar.
"I will bow to Org and his daughter. You will not bow! Mazda does not bow. Do not speak until you are spoken to. Be proud, be haughty, but do not overdo it. Follow my lead in all things, but if something arises that I have not foreseen you must handle it yourself."
They halted before the throne. The crowd was still riotous. Honcho fell to one knee. "Org. Totha. I bring the one of whom I spoke. Mazda. HE WHO COMES TO THEY!"
King Org had eyes that were bloodshot and piggish in a fat, ringlet bearded face. They were also very shrewd. They stared at Blade for a very long time. Blade, unflinching, stared back. The roaring of the crowd died now to a gusty whispering and when Org spoke his words came clear and sharp.
"You say it, Honcho. I do not have to believe it. I will admit that he looks the part. But you have proof? He has proof?"
Honcho inclined his head. His smile was slight. "In time, Org, in time. But not before this mob. You know they will accept him if you do. One thing at a time. The important thing is that if he is Mazda, HE WHO COMES TO THEY, he has not gone to they. He has come to us! So what is written in the Tharnian Book is not true. It is false. He is our God, the Pethcine God, and not theirs. He will lead you back to Urcit, where you should be ruling now. It is so easy, Org. All you have to do is allow me to guide you."
Org was squat and powerful, with an enormous paunch. His slitted eyes were nearly concealed in fat, yet they surveyed Honcho and Blade with a cold inquisitional stare.
"So you still say, Honcho. You may be right. I do not say you are not. I do not even say that, for our purposes, he is not Mazda."
Org turned suddenly to his daughter. "What say you, Totha?"
All this time Blade and Totha had been dueling with their eyes. She had never taken her eyes off him, since his approach to the throne, and there was no mistaking the message. Her eyes were oval, almond, true Mongoloid, and at that distance appeared a deep brown. Her mouth was wide and red, her teeth sparkling white, her nose small and straight, her ears tiny. Her glistening black hair was set high on her head and garnished with small golden combs. Her skin was dusky ivory, her pear-shaped breasts sharp and firm with long brown nipples. She wore only a very short skirt of some animal skin and her legs were slim and well formed with exquisite ankles.
Blade stared back at her, his face impassive. The impact of her eyes was a physical thing, crawling over his flesh like insects that excited instead of repulsing him. They rested for a long time on his groin and her lips moved in what could only have been anticipation. He had never seen a girl so lovely and at the same time so lewd". He could detect the stark honesty, along with cruelty and desire.
Totha's eyes played over his long legs, his torso, his tremendous chest and shoulders, the majestic tallness of him. Her smile grew. At last her glance met his again and again there was no mistaking the offering. Take me if you want me. And if you can!
Totha leaned toward her father and said something.
Honcho, without moving his head, spoke through thin lips. "She wants you. I had not counted on this. Not so soon. Be very careful now. I cannot help you. But perhaps it will not be so bad after all...if you win."