Blade was accustomed to success in these matters, yet not greatly surprised when, with a single lithe movement, she eluded his grasp and stepped away. Her hands went to where the veil was secured to the golden coronet. Her question was filled with mockery.
"You are sure, Blade! Quite sure that you would see my face? I warn you it is a thing to think on."
So aroused was he now that he gave no thought to anything but the taking of her, as swiftly and fiercely as possible. He moved toward her and again she skipped away, still mocking him.
She was laughing. "I am half beautiful, Blade. Riddle me that. And say again that you wish to see my face. For then I will show it, which will cool you instantly and cheat me of that monster." She was gazing at the front of his thin breeches where the physical manifestation of his lust was plainly writ.
He did not, in that tumescent moment, give a damn what lurked behind the veil. The words, unthought on, came automatically from his lips and it was not until later that he realized the implication. He was more than merely in Alb now. He was Albian!
He leaped at her. "I would see," he said hoarsely. "By Thunor, I will see! And I will have you. Here and now."
She halted him with a hand against his massive chest. Her fingers curled in his dark chest hair.
"Then see, Blade." She whisked away the veil.
Blade could not repress his exclamation. He took a step back and stared. He had seen sights to turn the stomach before, but never anything like this. It was horror. Horror made double by contrast.
The Lady Alwyth was a female Janus, two faced, the schism explicit in exact middle from forehead to chin. One half-face was lovely of skin and contour, the nose high arched and patrician, chin firm, eye blue and sparkling, brow pale and unlined.
The single blue eye watched him. In a tone of mockery and venom she said, "How think you now, Blade? Do you cool?"
The other half of her face was no face at all. Where flesh had been there was now a raw red cicatrix, the fiberous tissue drawn into spiderwebbing scars that reached below her chin and around to her ear. The eye was still there, an eye that glared milky white and ulcerous beneath the maimed lid.
Blade took a deep breath. He was still in rut, but she had been right. The true urge was gone. Instinct warned that he tread as carefully as ever in his life. For his life. A wrong move now and she would see him dead, nor care that it wrecked all her plans.
Lady Alwyth turned so that only her unscathed profile was visible. She was lovely so, and Blade felt pity. And as pity is the death of love, or lust, so he felt himself begin to droop as desire fled.
She raised a hand to touch the side of her face away from him. "A gift from my King husband. Long ago, at childhood play. I was a maiden captured by sea robbers, and tortured by them. Then something I do not now remember something drew the other children away and left Lycanto alone with me. But recently I had quarreled with him and spat in his face. We had a fire against the cold that day and he took a brand but you have seen it. Lycanto's revenge. He was eight years then, I but six."
He understood, then, the hate that welled in her like poison in a cup. Understood her spite for the beautiful Taleen.
He could not feign ardor now, and was too wise to try. To show his pity, or revulsion, was death. In a cold, matter-of-fact voice he said, "It is true that half your beauty is ruined, my lady. But only half. You are fortunate in that, for how many women are beautiful in any fashion?"
"Too many," she said darkly. "A truth that does not please me." He knew she spoke of the Princess Taleen and in the same moment knew she lied when she spoke of returning Taleen unharmed to her father. She would find a way to destroy Taleen.
She turned full face to him again. That blighted milky orb glinted in the gloom. The torch was burning low and the smoke was thickening.
Her husky voice was silken smooth, she spider wise, as she looked at him. "You still desire me, Blade? And I warn you nothing but truth."
He met her good eye without flinching. "I am a man, my lady. I desire you."
"You will do my bidding, then? Find a clever way of killing Lycanto, so no blame attaches to us?"
"I will." He intended it as a lie, but how to be sure? He might very well have to carry it out.
"Then see another part of your prize." She threw open the fur cloak. Beneath it she was naked.
Her minikin body was as flawless as her face was imperfect. She was built in absolute proportion, on a miniscule scale, with a blonde's pale cream skin. Her firm pointed breasts were painted blue and tipped with scarlet. (Blade had already noted that some of the warriors painted themselves, and did not yet know that only married women could do likewise.)
The Lady Alwyth stood on tiptoe and preened for him. Her waist was tiny, and his big hands would have fitted well around it, but when he sought to embrace her he was again ready she moved away like a wraith. Blade did not pursue, but stood glowering, calling himself a simpleton and yet raging to get into her.
She stood wide legged now, her head thrown back and her beautiful half-face turned to him. She caressed her blue painted breasts with her jeweled fingers and watched him with narrowed eyes. As he gazed more intently he saw that her lush small body was marked blue in other parts there was a sort of runic tatooing under each breast.
Her words were barely audible. "You desire me now, Blade?"
His lower brain in command, Blade said fiercely, "I desire you, my lady. Here and now."
She laughed and closed the fur cloak. "That is good. Desire me enough, Blade, do as I have spoken, and you shall have me. And doubt me not I am a prize worth having."
She was gone, so swiftly that Blade, nearly ill with un-appeased lust, his loins aching, stared at the shadows as though she might be hidden there. Her scent lingered in the hut, and but for that he might have thought it all a dream, a fantasy wrought by some potion in his beer.
It was the man Sylvo who brought him back to harsh reality. He entered and pointed his spear at Blade, his lunatic face creased in a leer.
"You have friends above the salt, master. By Thunor you have! The word comes that you are wanted at the king's great house. Gossip has it that you sit at the War Council, though this I do not believe. More likely they mean to have some sport with you before you are hanged or skinned."
Sylvo, bursting with this news, and his wits a bit fuddled by it, for once grew careless. The spear point drooped.
Blade moved like a great serpent. Before the man could breathe again he had him in a full nelson, crunching the misshapen face down into the scrawny chest. Sylvo groaned and dropped his spear. He fumbled for the dirk at his belt and Blade, loosing one hand, nearly broke the man's wrist with a downward slash.
"Now," Blade said softly, "now, Sylvo, who rules in this hut?"
"You, master! You rule." Sylvo was choking, yet he tried to kick back at Blade.
Blade, wide straddled, lifted the man as easily as he might a babe in arms. He turned the man and changed his grip, his left hand about the scrawny neck. Sylvo's tongue lolled and began to turn color, and his eyes popped even as they begged.
Blade drew back his mighty right fist. "I would teach you manners, my man. This is a lesson, nothing more. In future you will know how to speak to your betters."
He deliberately muffled the blow, for he did not wish to maim or kill, yet it was a buffet that might have floored a largish horse. Sylvo went sprawling across the floor to end up against a wall, his little eyes glazed.
Blade prodded him with a foot and grinned. "Get up, man! Escort me to the house of Lycanto."
Chapter Five
Matters went badly from the beginning.
Blade was enjoined to silence, under penalty of immediate death, and so deprived of his only weapon. He was seated in a crude, barrel-shaped chair, with the light of a flaring torch in his face, and harshly told to keep his peace. He dared not defy this his position being so weak so he made do with his eyes and brain, straining to use both to best advantage.