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slain a great many of the Queen's officers and freemen.
You missed the point, Blade. You were to lose and so be spared your own life,
for I know how the
Queen feels about you. Or did feel about you. Now I am not so sure. Are you
mad, Blade? Really mad?"
Equebus shot a glance at the pier, where Otto and Queen Pphira still watched
from their thrones. He frowned.
"You are mad. Or it was a plot you and Pphira! But would she dare so much
against Otto?"
"You should know of plots," said Blade. "You were deep enough in one against
your own Queen."
Blade saw a flicker of movement in the cabin beneath the poop deck. He gave an
order. "In there and fetch me that priest. It is Kreed, I think, hoping to be
overlooked."
The young officer, a slave promoted by Blade only the day before on the word
of Pelops, hesitated.
Blade's smile was grim.
"Make up your mind, young man. Who do you fear more Bek-Tor and his priests,
or me?"
The officer led five men into the cabin and came out a moment later dragging
Kreed, the High Priest, cringing and sniveling and begging for his life.
Blade gave the slaves time enough to take in the sight. "There is your
Bek-Tor," he said. "A false
God and falser priests. As much a coward as the Captain there."
A slave muttered, "Too bad we are not on the plain Kreed would burn well in
the maw of his
God."
Kreed fell to his knees and began to gibber. "No fire for him," said Blade.
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"Water."
He picked Kreed up by the scruff of the neck and carried him to the side
and dropped him overboard. The ship roared with laughter.
Blade made a signal by prearrangement. A black flag was run to the masthead.
He hoped the Queen would see it and understand.
The catapult officer who had been spared was taken to his huge sling and given
instructions. A rock half as large as Blade himself was selected and placed in
the basket.
Blade touched his sword. It quivered in the decking. "For the last time,
Equebus, will you have an honorable death? I will not ask again."
The Captain was on the verge of breaking. He glanced at the chain across the
harbor mouth, then back at Blade, and his mouth worked under the beard. His
eyes were haunted. Yet he tried.
"I do not understand, Blade. You cannot escape. The chain bars that. In time
you and all these slaves
will be hunted down and slain. The quicker if you harm me. Why not take your
victory, try to survive it if you can, and put your trust in Pphira? I doubt
she can save you now, but she might try. Or if you let Otto have his way with
you " And Equebus grinned lewdly through his terror.
Disgust filled Blade. Get it over with. He made a great lap up the ladder and
seized Equebus and flung him down. The Captain did not so much as struggle. He
was dazed, still not quite believing that
Blade would dare what he feared Blade would dare.
Blade made a sign. A screen was raised before the catapult and Equebus hustled
behind it. Blade looked shoreward. Queen Pphira had read the black flag and
was not in view. She had made some excuse and left. Otto the Black, enormous
blob of fat on his throne, was peering out at the harbor and fuming. A small
boat was already halfway to the two locked ships. Otto's couriers coming to
find out the truth of matters.
Equebus, gagged now, watched in growing fear and disbelieving wonder as he was
bound to the great rock. His eyes widened and he made pitiful sounds behind
the gag. He and the rock were readied for flight.
Blade put his sword to the throat of the catapult officer and explained: "I
have seen the accuracy of these weapons. I want it now. You will adjust and
lever it so that the rock, and Equebus, falls directly on
Otto the Black. Fail and you die. It is as simple as that."
The officer blanched. His knees were knocking together. "But I that is, sire,
one cannot always hit a target. Sometimes there is bad luck and the wind, er,
yes, the wind. That is very chancy. The wind is "
The wind was indeed rising, just as Ixion had promised. It was setting
steadily from the land. Blade probed the man's throat with his sword point.
"Adjust for the wind. You are a expert now save your own life. Get ready."
He had no intention of killing the man. He knew how chancy the catapults could
be at times, though they were marvelously accurate. Yet he wanted the
officer's best efforts and fear would ensure that.
The long springy arm was twisted back, this being masked by the screen of
matting. The levers were all in place and the trigger only awaited a slight
tug of the cord. Equebus, staring over his gag in horror and supplication,
trussed to his rock like any fowl, kept shaking his head and drooling horrible
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