"Kreed would be desolate," she said softly. "He would beat his breast, put on mourning and leap into the fiery mouth of Tor."
Blade nodded. "I think, my Queen, that I know at least one of your spies. He even spies against himself."
"And against Equebus," she added. "Equebus whispers to Kreed and Kreed whispers to me. He must, and knows it, to save his lover. And now, Blade, I must ask you a question. Are you my man? Will you cleave to me when Otto the Black arrives? For this time Equebus plots with Otto himself - for the promise that Otto will place him on my throne. Otto himself would like this - he wants a docile puppet on the throne of Sarma instead of a trouble-maker."
Although Pelops had briefed Blade well on Sarmaian politics he was not prepared for this. He was out of his depth and admitted it.
He frowned. "At my first audience you reproached Kreed for speaking against Otto the Black. You spoke of being a fief and - "
She put a soft little hand on his lips. "So I did. I pay lip service to Otto, as does every Sarmaian who wants to live, but in our hearts we are all rebels. We would be free of Otto's yoke. But this cannot be spoken aloud - for every spy I have, Otto has ten. That is why this time Equebus has gone too far. He really intends to serve Otto when I am killed. Equebus is no true rebel. He is - he - "
She put her face against Blade's chest. He felt a tear on his flesh and marveled at it. This woman weeping? And over Equebus the Cruel! There was much, far too much, that he did not understand.
Pphira did not look at him. She clung, a woman for the moment disarmed, soft and vulnerable, and said: "Equebus is no true Sarmaian. Only half. I alone in Sarma know this."
He held her close. "How do you know it?" And half guessed the answer.
"Equebus is my son," said Queen Pphira. "The only son I have ever borne. Years ago there came a man from the land of the Moghs - a far place beyond even the Burning Land - and I fancied him and he me. It did not last long, but I have never forgotten him. He was a warrior, fierce and proud, and much learned. He did not like Sarma and returned to his own land. I wept but I was too proud to beg him to stay. A few months later I bore Equebus and, as must be done with all male children, put him away from me. He does not know his birth. No one knows but me, for those that did know I had slain on some pretext. And now, Blade, you know. Two of us. See that you keep the secret, for it can be used against me. And knowledge of his birth can be of no use to Equebus, for no man can rise above the rank of Captain and none can rule in Sarma."
"Unless," said Blade, "Equebus and Otto scheme to overthrow you. Then Equebus can rule - by mandate of Otto."
"For a time," she agreed. "Not for long. Otto has a son, Jamar, whom he hopes to place on the Sarmaian throne when he is old enough. When that time comes Equebus will be killed like any slave. I am a fool, Blade, and weak in this, but I would not have my only son slain thus. He must not reach the throne of Sarma."
Blade was already planning far ahead, and his plans were cruel and hard, but for the moment he had a certain tenderness for her. He held her close, marveling, remembering the gray in the beard of Equebus, knowing that she must be an old woman by Home Dimension standards. This was hard to believe as he stroked the tender white flesh and gazed down at the firm unwrinkled face, the taut little breasts, the firm legs. Ageless indeed.
"You have watched over Equebus as best you can," he told her gently. "You have protected him and favored him and, I daresay, saved him many times from his own folly. But now you must have done. He is a man and so is accountable and must stand on his own feet. You agree?"
Blade wanted her acquiescence, for he was sure that he was going to have to kill Equebus.
Her nod was slight. "Yes. I - I can do no more."
A thought occurred to Blade. "You are sure, positive, that Kreed does not know of this?"
Again the nod. "Only you and I know the truth, Blade. Until this moment it has been my secret. You see how much I trust you, Blade."
He saw it was another burden to shoulder. Later he would think of that. Now to plunge once more into dangerous waters.
"I would speak of Zeena," he said. "As you must know, we were married soon after I came to Sarma. She is your daughter. Soon after our marriage she came to Sarmacid, leaving me in the camp of the battlemen, to explain to you and intercede. Now I hear that she is put to punishment, on a ship of some sort, and there is only silence when I ask questions. I would know all the whats and whys of this matter, Pphira. You say you trust me. Prove it now, for I know there is something very strange about this disappearance of Zeena."
Blade dared. Now he waited the consequences. She tightened one hand into a claw and raked at the flesh on his chest. A trace of blood seeped through his heavy chest hair. She raised herself and peered long into his eyes, looking for falseness there and not finding it, though, by her interests Blade was not pure at heart. Blade was looking after Blade. And the mission - to find his double and kill him. None of this was visible in the clear stare he gave her.
Pphira was thoughtful now, as though debating how much to tell him. Blade grew uneasy. Had he gone too far? She nibbled at the tip of a red tongue with sparkling little teeth, all the while watching him.
At last: "It is true. Zeena is my daughter and as such may one day rule in Sarma. Or may not. There are - that is, I have many daughters, Blade. You must understand that. It is my function, my duty, as Queen to bear daughters. Women who will rule and strengthen Sarma, since this is forbidden to men. What do you know of all this, Blade? Of how these things go in Sarma?"
Pelops had been helpful on this point. Blade winced a little even now as he remembered the lectures. He explained this to the Queen.
She nodded. "Yes. You know much. But not all. So listen - there can be no natural heir to my throne. I bear children, females when I can, but I do not raise them. No Queen is also mother. I put my daughters from me as soon as they cry the first time. That is the law. Tutors bring them up. Teachers. Women slaves look after them when they are young. Then the priests take over. I am told nothing. It is not my concern to know. Some die, some are killed one way or the other, some plot and some do not, some marry and so renounce all rights to my throne. For no Queen of Sarma may have a male as consort. All are taught, Blade, and all must struggle, learning and serving, if they would come to the throne at last. It is harsh but it is the only way. I myself did it, Blade. I had thirty sisters and I survived and came to the throne. So impatient was I that I grew tired of waiting and poisoned my mother, the Queen. She would not die to please me, so I had no other course."
Blade masked his eyes. It was said so naturally, so utterly matter of fact, that he took it nearly as much in stride as she did. It was simply the way things worked in Sarma. And Blade knew he was hearing utter truth. Life in Sarma was dog eat dog - or rather cat eat cat - and no bones about it The Sarmian court had treachery and intrigue, and all the by-products thereof, built into its very structure.
He mulled this over for a time, pulling at his beard. Her eyes left him now again to gaze downward, to see if he was once again ready for love - he wasn't and she began to help out - but now some of the tenderness had left her gaze. He noted it and trod carefully.
"Zeena is safe, then? On this punishment ship?"
Pphira shrugged her smooth white shoulders. "Safe? Of course. No common person dares to touch a daughter of mine. Except myself or one of her sisters. Only we can strike Zeena, or punish her in any way. We have the right. As she has the right to plot against us, or punish us, if she can find the power and the will to use it."