Part 2 (1/2)

Blade's captors led him through one of the gates in the outer walls, past ragged sentries mostly armed with magazine rifles or crossbows. A more neatly dressed man with a pistol led the whole party through the maze inside the walls to the Great House. There Chyatho went inside, to learn if the Monitor would receive them today. The others waited outside, giving Blade a chance to study the weird contrasts all around him.

There was the door itself. It was twice as high as a man, of elaborately carved wood, and closed by a wrought-iron bar as thick as Blade's thigh. Above it in the wall was a niche, with two sentries on guard. They wore medieval-looking mail, but they sat by a water-cooled machine gun which might have come from the trenches of World War I. On top of the machine gun was something remarkably like a laser sight. Without moving his head, Blade could see five centuries of weapons and fortifications staring back at him.

By turning his head slightly, Blade could get even more confused. Of the five buildings in sight, two were log huts. One was a barracks, with soldiers coming in and out, and more sitting on the doorstep. Between the two huts was a large and thickly planted vegetable garden, with men and women working in it under the eyes of a couple of overseers. Both the men and the women wore nothing but loincloths. The people of Kaldak hadn't worried much about nudity the last time Blade was here; this didn't seem to have changed.

Of the three other buildings, one was stone like the walls, one was brand-new brick, and one was metal. The metal one was probably the oldest thing in sight. It was completely overgrown with vines and bushes and even small trees. The only clean spots were part of the roof and around the doorway. There the metal shone rustless and bright after what must have been centuries. Blade had the feeling that several Dimensions had all run together like puddles.

Eventually Chyatho came out, looking triumphant. Another guard came with him. ”Monitor Bekror will see you now,” the guard said.

Inside the hall, the first thing Blade saw was two clerks. Both wore monkish-looking robes and carried jewel-hilted daggers in their belts. One was using an adding machine, the other a crude typewriter. They sat in a cubicle hung with colorful tapestries. Just outside the cubicle four armed men sat on sandbags piled around a heavy laser, placed so that it could sweep the whole hall in a matter of seconds. The soldiers wore uniforms instead of chain mail, but they also carried sheathed swords. Blade had to listen to the language around him to remember that he was in Kaldak, or indeed in any place real.

Monitor Bekror met them seated at a long table at the far end of the hall. Several guards stood close by, but he obviously wasn't relying completely on them. He wore a s.h.i.+rt of plastic discs over leather, a sword, and a laser pistol.

How long has it been? Blade nearly shouted the question out loud. Then he saw a large tapestry hanging on the wall over the Monitor's head. It showed a powerful dark-haired man flying above a ruined city on the strangest creature Blade had ever seen or imagined. It looked like one of the big metal waldos he'd learned how to control-the twelve-foot humanoid Fighting Machines. But it had a man's face on top of its metal body, and great feathered wings growing out of its back. Laser beams shot out of its eyes, and the man held a flaming sword.

This question he had to ask, risky as it might be. He pointed at the tapestry. ”The-the High One?”

Sparra shook her head. ”That is the Sky Master Blade.”

Fortunately no one expected Blade to make a quick reply to that. He shook his head slowly. ”The High One-I know him.”

”Is that your name for the Sky Master?” said Sparra.

Chyatho made a disgusted noise. ”Sparra, do not waste Monitor Bekror's time trying to get from this fool answers he will never give. Honored Monitor, we found this man on the bank of the Sclath.” He told the story of Blade's capture. ”I think Sparra hopes he may get back his wits. I do not. I think he has either lost them for good or is only pretending. If he is only pretending, we should learn what he really is.”

Sparra had been fizzing like a gla.s.s of champagne while Chyatho spoke. Now she bubbled over. ”Chyatho wants this man killed or tortured only because he touched me. Clearly Chyatho is so proud of the power of his loins in giving me a child that he wishes me to be his alone. I am sorry to have to shame him by saying this here, Honored Monitor. But I do not think you want to judge this man on Chyatho's word and nothing else.”

The Monitor cleaned his gla.s.ses, pulled at his goatee, and scratched his heavy belly, then shook his head. ”I do not. Chyatho, is what Sparra says true? That you would bond with her by the New Law, not the Old?”

Chyatho sighed. ”Yes. I have asked her a hundred times!”

”I have refused a hundred times, too,” snapped Sparra. ”If Chyatho were not a fool, he would have stopped-”

The Monitor raised a hand and thumped the table with the other fist. ”Enough of your quarrel. My hall is not the place for it. By the power of justice given me under both the Old Law and the New Law, I give my judgment.

”I shall take this man into my care. If he can be taught to work, he shall work. Even if not, he shall not go naked or hungry. The Sky Master Blade taught us that when we have both the Oltec and the Newtec, it is wrong to let men starve who can be fed.” Everyone in the hall bowed their heads at the mention of the sacred name ”Blade.”

”I shall also send to Kaldak for a truth-seeing machine. It is said that no man can hide his inner self from them.”

”Would it not be wiser to send him to Kaldak?” said Sparra. ”I would be glad to take him.” Chyatho glared but said nothing.

”It is time that the rulers of Kaldak learned we of Sclathdon are their allies, not their slaves like captured Tribesmen,” said Bekror sharply. ”If they mean any of their promises to us, they will send the truthseer here. If they do not, it is as well to learn now. If they do not want to learn about this man, the gardens can always use a strong man.”

”But if he is lying, and has some dangerous plans-” began Chyatho.

Bekror raised his cup as if he wanted to throw it at Chyatho. ”Use your brains instead of your b.a.l.l.s for once, Chyatho! We are so far from Doimar that they could not have sent him without magic, let alone just Oltec! The Tribes have been peaceful, and does he look like any sort of Tribesman anyway?”

”No,” said Chyatho, with a sigh.

”Very well. Then there is nothing he can do to harm us. That is my judgment, given by my power to take away your rank if you go on arguing.”

Chyatho nodded stiffly. Blade rather wished the Monitor hadn't been so harsh. He'd probably guaranteed that Chyatho would take out his resentment on Blade the first time he thought he had a chance.

The Monitor signaled to his guards to take charge of Blade. They took his rucksack and knives, which made him uneasy for a moment, until he saw them given to Sparra-”spoils of the hunt,” the Monitor said. As the guards led Blade out, he knew he'd learned something, although it wasn't exactly good news.

The Sky Master Blade was an almost divine figure in the history of this Dimension. If the people here learned that the man they held prisoner was the Sky Master himself, everyone would be curious about his return. Much too curious. They might not dare using the lie detector on him, but there would be a lot of questions asked. Scientists and engineers would be asking some of them. What would come of that? Nothing good for the Dimension X secret.

So-how safe was his ident.i.ty? Apparently he was a long way from Kaldak, in an area brought under the city's rule since his first trip. Bekror seemed openly resentful of Kaldak's authority, in fact. It was unlikely that anyone here had ever seen the Sky Master Blade in the flesh, even if Blade's earlier trip to this Dimension was not so long ago that people who had seen him then were still alive today.

If he stayed out of Kaldak and away from lie detectors, he would probably be safe. He couldn't do much to find Cheeky while disguised as a feebleminded farmhand, but at least he'd be doing the more important job adequately.

And who could say? He might find a way to do both. Blade knew that as long as he was alive and alert, things could always change-sometimes even for the better. And at least he could hope to see trouble coming far enough in advance to run like h.e.l.l, if that was the best he could do!

Chapter 5.

As one of Bekror's farmhands, Blade had food, simple work, and plenty of chances to keep his eyes and ears open. It would have been hard to come up with a safer way of learning about this Dimension. Only the loss of Cheeky and the need to keep up the act of losing his memory spoiled the fun.

He finally decided that it must have been at least a generation since his last trip to Kaldak. He couldn't imagine so many changes taking place in less time. Of course the cold war with Doimar was still going on, and that sort of thing always pushed technology forward. It still took a certain amount of time to make the machines to make the machines to make the weapons! Twenty-five to thirty years at least, Blade guessed.

Since the Sky Master Blade came, there were two Laws in all the lands ruled from Kaldak, the Old Law and the New Law. Some people apparently preferred one, some the other. For example, under the Old Law women didn't have to be chaste or faithful. The custom arose in the days when most people were sterile. All the fertile ones had to get together sooner or later for there to be any children at all.

Under the New Law, a man who had fathered a child on a woman could ask her to remain faithful to him for life. Often she agreed. If she did the father was obliged to protect her and the child.

On the other hand, some mothers still preferred their independence. Sparra was one of these. When a New Law man wanted fidelity from an Old Law woman, there was usually trouble. Blade only hoped he wouldn't get caught in the middle of any more of it.

There was also Oltec and Newtec. The Oltec-or old technology-was the same as last time: the knowledge and machines left over from the prewar civilization, such as the lasers and the power cells. In his last visit, Blade had helped the inhabitants of this Dimension relearn the use of these devices.

However, the superst.i.tious fear of Oltec was gone. ”The Sky Master Blade taught us wisdom” was the standard phrase. People could now repair a laser or recharge a power cell. They'd also rediscovered more Oltec which hadn't been used since the fall of the old civilization. The antigravity skytugs were the best example of that, although they were still rare.

They had also rediscovered minicomputers. Already Kaldak had Fighting Machines better, more compact, and more powerful than the old waldo robots. Before long these computers would be used by civilians; that clerk with his adding machine would be out of work within a generation at most.

There was also Newtec-what the Kaldakans had reinvented for themselves since the time of the Sky Master Blade. Most of the storehouses of Oltec were long since exhausted. There still weren't many places where new Oltec could be built or even repaired. It was much easier to build a hydrogen balloon and then tow it with a skytug, or build a steamboat and arm it with lasers, or build pistols, rifles, grenades, and mortars using plain old smokeless powder.

So the weird stew of technologies Blade saw around him actually showed a good deal of common sense and ingenuity on the part of the Kaldakans. He wondered how Doimar had done, with less prejudice against Oltec to begin with. However, since the two cities were still hostile, no one seemed to be willing to talk much about ”the enemy.”

It was really ironic. Blade had expected great things of the people of this Dimension once they got started on the road back toward civilization. They hadn't disappointed him either. But he couldn't possibly step forward and take any of the credit he deserved. That would threaten the Dimension X secret! Blade had to laugh.

When Blade went to bed, the moon was out. He could tell this from the spot of pale light on the floor of his cubicle. Like the other farmhands, Blade lived underground, in what he suspected was once an Oltec bomb shelter. Now it was divided into cubicles by brick and timber walls. Most of the farmhands slept two to a cubicle, but no one wanted to share a cubicle with a half-wit. Once they'd seen that Blade could take care of himself, they let him have a cubicle alone.

Over the centuries, the ground and the rubble of the building on the surface s.h.i.+fted. A shaft opened from the surface into Blade's cubicle. It would be a tight squeeze, but if he had to leave in a hurry he now had a line of retreat.

This let him sleep more easily at night. Not that he needed much help, after twelve hours' work and a heavy meal washed down with beer. The bed was crude but comfortable, too. Monitor Bekror was clearly the sort of master who believed that happy workers did their best. He was not one of the tyrannical masters who could drive their workers to the desperate step of running off to the Tribes.

The Tribes of mutants were much weaker now than the first time Blade came to Kaldak. Both of the great cities had expanded their lands. Where the cities ruled, the Tribesmen either died in the wars of conquest or fled beyond the reach of the cities.