Part 5 (1/2)

You are a liar.

You must not fight me. I am-the Wizard repeated.

And on and on, more intense, more savage with each exchange.

In time Blade sensed that his own thoughts were coming more slowly and knew he would have to find some new defense. So he s.h.i.+fted to problems in calculus. He'd always been competent rather than brilliant at mathematics. To do any problem in calculus in his head took total concentration. As the numbers began to dance across his mental vision. he felt the Wizard driven back-and also felt his growing anger.

In another moment, Blade could no longer read the thoughts the Wizard was using to try breaking through his own mental smokescreen of equations. Perhaps he was winning, or at least holding his own. He decided to test the idea. He thought of taking a step backward, then of raising both hands high over his head and lowering them. His muscles told him that his legs and his arms were obeying his mind. His mind and body were still his own, not the Wizard's.

The moment's break in Blade's mental defenses gave the Wizard his chance for a physical act. He took two swift steps forward, one arm shot out, and a heavy hand pressed itself against Blade's temple.

Blade jerked his mind back to the equations, but he felt the attack against him double its strength. He still read anger in that attack, but also curiosity. A mind as hard to penetrate and control as Blade's was clearly something new and mysterious for the Wizard.

That might be good news, if it kept the Wizard reluctant to kill him. It would also make the Wizard more determined than ever to break into his mind and find out what made it tick! This fight wasn't going to be over for a long time.

Suddenly the Wizard hurled his thoughts with total concentration and tremendous force at Blade. Blade's defenses started to collapse, slowly but inevitably, like a falling wall. He knew they were collapsing, knew that the Wizard was about to enter his mind. Images of London, of the computer room, of his apartment flashed across his mental vision instead of the equations.

This time it was Blade's chance to use his body. With all the willpower he had left, Blade forced his right arm into movement. His hand closed around the hilt of the Wizard's dagger and plucked it from the sash. He raised the sharp steel, holding it well out to one side so the Wizard could not grab it easily. Then he concentrated totally on an image of himself and the Wizard lying on the floor. The Wizard's throat gaped open, while Blade lay with the dagger buried up to the hilt in his chest. Both were as lifeless as the blood-drenched stone under them.

The Wizard jerked his hand away from Blade's temple as if it had suddenly turned red-hot and leaped backward. He made no effort to grab the dagger. Instead he dropped into a wrestler's crouch and raised one hand to send the Wolves into action.

The Wolves took two steps forward. Then Blade raised the dagger and held it with the point almost touching the bare skin of his chest. At the same time he formed in his mind another image-his dead body sprawled on the floor, with the Wizard and the Wolves standing around it, gaping helplessly.

The Wolves took another step forward. Blade gulped in air, realized that he'd bitten his lips hard enough to draw blood, and forced out words.

”No,” he said. ”No, Wizard. Stop them where they are, or you'll never get anything from me. I can be dead long before they reach me.”

The Wizard stiffened for a moment, then nodded. The hand went up again and the Wolves stopped. The Wizard straightened, his eyes narrowed, and Blade knew he was gathering his thoughts for another mental attack.

”No,” said Blade again. ”Stay out of my mind, too. I don't like that, any more than I like the Wolves. Leave me unharmed and free, both in mind and body, or see me dead in front of you.”

”You wouldn't dare,” was the thought that came clearly from the Wizard.

Don't risk it, was Blade's reply. It seems that I have something you value. You will not get it or anything else if I die, and I will die if you touch either my body or my mind again. Do not doubt this for a moment.

Blade was not bluffing. Death might be worse than whatever the Wizard had in store for him, but he doubted it. In any case, he could do nothing to affect the Wizard's behavior once he lost control of his mind. He couldn't risk leaving himself at the man's mercy.

It was literally and brutally a case of liberty or death.

The two men stood glaring at each other for a minute that seemed like an hour. Neither moved an inch, or paid any attention to the five Wolves. The men were blinking and shuffling their steel-shod feet, certain that something was badly wrong, equally certain they didn't know what it was or what they should do.

Then the Wizard let his breath out in a long sigh and lowered his gaze to the floor. His hands dropped to his sides and Blade noticed that they were visibly shaking. His olive face had gone pale and sweaty, while his eyes blinked furiously.

At last he got control of himself and again met Blade's eyes.

”Who are you?” he rasped. ”Who are you, Richard Blade? Where did you come from, and when did you come from?”

Blade found it hard not to gape stupidly at the Wizard. The questions made no sense at all. He wondered if the strain of the mental duel might not have temporarily muddled the Wizard's mind.

”Do you know who you are?” said the Wizard. ”Do you remember, or have you forgotten?” He was impatient, but there was also a pleading note in his voice. Blade could no longer doubt that this was a desperate man in front of him-but desperate about what? The man's questions still made no sense.

”Who are you?” he shot back. ”Tell me, and then I will know if it is safe to tell you who I am.” The Wizard's face twisted, but Blade raised the dagger again. The Wizard swallowed, then took a deep breath.

”I am Bernardo Sembruzo, Conde di Pietroverde,” he said. ”I was a n.o.bleman of Milan and a captain in the service of the Visconti. I fought against Florence. After the death of the great Gian Galeazzo, I retired to my estates. There I explored the secrets of the world around us and also of the world within our minds. I explored too deeply, and one day I pa.s.sed from my castle to-here, Rentoro.”

The Wizard said all this without stopping for breath. Now he gulped in air and repeated, ”Where did you come from, Richard Blade, and when did you come from there? I came from my castle, north of Milan, in the Christian year 1410. When did you leave Earth, Blade, and come to Rentoro?”

Chapter 13.

For a moment Blade could not have said a single coherent word to save his life. He clamped his mouth firmly shut to keep it from hanging helplessly open. Then he found he had to close his eyes, shutting out the world and the man facing him so he could organize his thoughts.

This man says that he traveled across the Dimensions from Renaissance Italy.

That thought might have been written in giant fiery letters across Blade's mental vision. It was quickly followed by other thoughts, equally clear, equally insistent.

This is the most astonis.h.i.+ng claim I have ever heard any human being make about himself. Do I believe it?

Why should he be lying? In fact, how could he lie? He has mentioned too many places, names, and dates not to have had some contact with Home Dimension. How do you explain it otherwise?

Don't try to explain it. Let the Wizard do the explaining.

How?

You know there is only one way.

Dangerous.

No matter how dangerous it is, you must use it. You cannot let this man slip away. Not if he can cross into Dimension X by the power of his mind alone.

”Too b.l.o.o.d.y right,” muttered Blade, his lips at last able to form words. He looked at the Wizard. ”Bernardo Sembruzo” was staring at him, eyes narrowed, hands clasped behind his back. His dark face was twisted into a frown.

At last the Wizard took a deep breath and forced a thin smile on to his face. ”I see that you do not believe I am telling the truth. No, no, I am not trying to enter your mind again. You have shown me that would not be wise and I have some pride in my wisdom. What you think of me is written large upon your face.”

Blade was able to return the smile. ”I can say the same thing about you. It is very easy to hear in your words and see on your face that you want something from me.”

”Yes,” said the Wizard, irritably. ”I have said it several times. I want to know when you came from Earth to Rentoro, and from where?”

”Yes, but you want to know these things because you want my help. In fact, you want my help desperately. You want to know if I can help you return home.”

The Wizard's face turned even paler than before and his lips tightened into an almost invisible line. Both hands rose, twisting into claws. Blade tightened his grip on the dagger, suspecting that the Wizard was about to leap at his throat, but almost certain his shot in the dark had gone home.

The moment pa.s.sed. The Wizard's hands dropped back to his sides. He turned slowly to the five Wolves. ”Leave, and do not return until I summon you. Chergin, give me your dagger.” One of the Wolves handed his dagger to his master, who stuck it in his sash. The five Wolves clanked out of the room and the door slammed shut behind them. The Wizard turned back to Blade.

”You have guessed wisely. Does that mean you believe my story?”

”It does not.”