"Terbo has been talking, hasn't he?"

"Yes."

The Monitor shrugged. "I don't blame him for talking or you for listening. The only way you could have shut him up was by strangling him, and he probably told you the truth anyway. Beer?" He held up a pitcher.

Blade shook his head. Although he'd eaten a large breakfast, he still felt light-headed with fatigue.

The Monitor poured himself a cup and drank, then went on. "I keep to the Old Law, myself. A man and a woman can get together as they wish, as long as they have her mate's or father's consent. I try to make everyone who serves me keep to the Old Law, too.

"But years pa.s.s and things change. Now there are men who follow the New Law, which says a woman must be faithful to the man who gives her a child. Or says he gave her children," he added, swallowing more beer. "The New Law is a gift to any liar who wants to make his woman a slave. I do not understand why any man could wish children from a woman who would bow like that, but then I grew up under the Old Law. I was the father of three children by three different women before the Sky Master Blade came." Another swallow.

"Chyatho led those men of my lands who wanted the New Law followed here. He had a good many friends, or at least people ready to avenge him. I cannot protect you forever from all of them, particularly not if you're going to be in any more fighting. In battle, it's easy to make murder look like an accident or the enemy's work."

Bekror drained the cup and refilled it. "However, there's a way for you to leave here with honor and find safety. The Commander of the Fourth Battalion of the City Regiment has asked if you would like to volunteer for the Regiment. Most of the time, I'd secede from Kaldak before I let a man as good as you go to the Sitters. That's how they keep up their strength-sucking all the best blood away from where it's really needed. But you're a special case. What do you say, Voros?"

Seeing Blade hesitate, the Monitor added, "I don't know what you think of the Sitters, but they do know how to fight. The Fourth particularly. You may remember that they're called Kareena's Own."

Blade managed to suppress a violent start into a small one. "Kareena?"

"Peython's daughter, who was consort to the Sky Master Blade. You know the name?"

"It seems-familiar."

"You probably had a girl named after the original one. The Laws know there were enough of them, for a couple of years after she was killed."

"Killed?"

"You don't remember the story? Well, Kareena was leading the Fourth when they got into a Doimari ambush. She took the rear guard and held off the Doimari long enough for most of her people to get away. She was hurt and told the rear guard to leave her, but one of them stayed with her. She played dead, but hid a grenade under her body. When the Doimari came to get her, she pulled the pin and blew up about a dozen of them along with herself."

"That sounds like-"

The Monitor interrupted before Blade could say anything too revealing. "I don't wonder if it sounds familiar. If your girl was named after Kareena, she must have sucked in the story with her mother's milk." He swallowed more beer. "Why don't you take a walk and think it over? Don't go too far, though. I don't think Chyatho's friends would try anything with the Fourth all over the place, but why take chances?"

Why indeed? thought Blade, as he walked along the riverbank an hour later. Overhead the sky was gray, matching Blade's mood.

Which was taking unnecessary chances, going or staying? If he stayed, he would have an honorable place in Bekror's service. He might even be able to find some subtle way of hunting for Cheeky.

However, Cheeky was probably dead or hopelessly lost. The search could be a waste of time. Or the Tribesmen might attack again and he could never make it at all. Meanwhile, he would have to guard his back from Chyatho's friends day and night.

If he went to join the Fourth Battalion, he would have another kind of honorable place, in the crack troops of Kaldak. He should be safe from Chyatho's friends. He would not be able to search for Cheeky, but he would certainly learn a lot more about what was going on in this Dimension.

He would have to go to Kaldak, then, even though he might wind up facing someone who'd known the Sky Master Blade. And he would be serving in "Kareena's Own," where he'd face reminders of her every time he turned around. He wondered if she'd had his child safely. That would be a little too much to ask outright here, but in the ranks of the Fourth Battalion he might learn without having to ask.

It helped him feel better to know that she'd died like a soldier, and been spared another ordeal as a Doimari prisoner. She could never have survived it, not after her first time in their hands.

A platoon of soldiers from the Fourth marched past. Blade noticed that their blue uniforms were clean but well worn. These weren't parade-ground soldiers. Their weapons were also shining and bright, and some of the men wore beards. All of them marched as if they not only knew they were the best but wanted the whole world to know it.

There could be worse ways to spend a trip to Dimension X than serving in the ranks of a good fighting outfit. If he could keep his beard, he might not even have to worry about being recognized in Kaldak.

In his mind Blade said good-bye to Cheeky, and after a moment another good-bye to Kareena. Then he started up the bank, toward Bekror's gate.

Chapter 8.

Sparra's legs clamped hard around Blade, and she let out a long groan of delighted release. A moment later Blade echoed her.

They lay locked together until the sweat dried off. Blade raised himself on one elbow and looked along Sparra's solid, well-curved brown body. Then he traced with one finger the path his eyes had followed.

"I'm going to miss you," he said. This was quite true. It was equally true that he'd got used to a life which was just one good-bye after another.

"And I you," said Sparra, gripping his hand and pulling it against one breast. "Were things otherwise, I would gladly take you for my man. But it would not be seemly, even though Chyatho was killed more by his own rage than by your hands. Also, it would make more danger for you."

It would probably be d.a.m.ned close to signing his death warrant, Blade knew. Aloud he said, "It might make Chyatho's friends turn against you as well. Without me around, they may not risk angering Monitor Bekror."

"I will save the money you have given me," she said. "It will be enough to let me start in another part of the land in case Chyatho's friends cause trouble for me and I must leave Sclathdon."

The Monitor had given Blade a year's pay that morning. Blade promptly gave three-quarters of it to Sparra. He was also leaving his gear with her. She didn't want it, but he wouldn't need it in the Fourth Battalion. Also, the farther it stayed from Kaldak and its curious scientists the better.

"Good luck," he said.

"I wish you the same. You are more likely to need it."

Blade grinned. "In the Sitting Regiment?"

"There will be more fighting in the next few years than there has been since the Great Doimari War, I think."

"Others do not think so," said Blade cautiously, to draw her out on the military situation.

"Others do not see even what jumps up and hits them in the face," said Sparra. She sat up, arms crossed over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, eyes wide with indignation. "They say that Feragga of Doimar is old and wants peace. Perhaps they are right. But can they be sure that what Feragga wants is what Doimar will do? She may be so old that they ignore her. A whole generation of Doimari has grown up since the war. They have shame to avenge, and we do not have the Sky Master Blade this time."

"You seem to have much of what he taught you," said Blade. So that shrewd amazon Feragga had survived! He'd last seen her in the arms of a Fighting Machine, being carried away over the hills while her War Leader Nungor covered her retreat at the cost of his own life. She must be well into her seventies now. He could easily believe that she wanted peace.

Unfortunately, he could also believe that she no longer had enough power in Doimar to bring it about. The arming of the Tribesmen was certainly no peaceful gesture!

"Yes. But will it be enough?" said Sparra grimly.

Since he had no answer to that, Blade kissed her, and they wound up making love again. Then they slept until late afternoon, when a servant came to summon Blade to the waterfront. As the sun set, he boarded the steamboat as Recruit Private Voros of the Fourth Battalion, City Regiment of Kaldak.

To make it easier to feed and house them, each Battalion of the City Regiment was based in a different city. Since each Battalion had its own balloons, hovercraft, and Fighting Machines, each one could fight a fair-sized battle all by itself. If more than one Battalion was needed, it could be called by radio and quickly moved by balloon and riverboat. Apparently no one in this Dimension had invented the railroad.

The Fourth Battalion was quartered in Gilmarg, the city where Blade found the vast h.o.a.rd of power cells which helped Kaldak start its climb back to civilization. It was a strange and not a completely pleasant sensation, wandering the streets where he'd met the first of the Doimari Fighting Machines and dueled to the death with the arrogant warrior Hota.

It was definitely not pleasant to stand by the site of the building where the power cells had been hidden. Far below it was the underground shelter where he and Kareena first made love. In the busy street on either side of him the Doimari ambushed and captured them, raping and torturing Kareena. Then the Doimari set off the b.o.o.by traps Blade left behind, and the building collapsed on its treasure house of Oltec.

The Kaldakans dug it all out many years ago, and built on the site. You could even take a guided tour of the underground shelter if you wanted to. Blade didn't, and after one visit he stayed away from the street altogether. He wasn't sure if it was the ghosts there or the feeling that he was a ghost himself, but either way he didn't like it.

He didn't have that much time for playing tourist, in any case. The training was rigorous, although Blade quickly pa.s.sed out of the Recruit's course and was sent on to the Advanced Infantry School. Everyone knew that he'd been a soldier before he lost his memory, so no one saw anything particularly odd in this.

He still had to keep his wits about him. Working with the new Fighting Machines, for example, wasn't quite like working with Home Dimension tanks. The Fighting Machines were miniature hovercraft, each armed with a grenade launcher and a powerful laser. Some also had machine guns. On the march, a man rode in each one and steered it. In combat, the Fighting Machines were controlled by radio, or could even be programmed to operate on their own.

Otherwise, Blade led the usual life of a new recruit in any well-run military outfit. He had plenty of time to listen to the talk around him. Bit by bit, he filled in the gaps in his knowledge of what had happened in Kaldak and which of the people he'd known had survived.

He knew Kareena was dead in battle. Her father, Peython, was also dead, apparently of pure old age. Sidas had married Kareena, then remarried after her death. He was still alive; in fact he was the High Commander of the armed forces of Kaldak. Blade was glad to hear that. Sidas had a rare combination of ingenuity, courage, and common sense.

Kareena's brother, Bairam, had married the merchant Saorm's daughter, Geyrna, and produced a fine family. Then after his father's death he got into some sort of trouble-Blade couldn't learn the details. In any case, he was now in polite exile in a remote part of Kaldak's empire. Geyrna divorced him and was now a member of the Council of Nine, the highest political body in Kaldak.

Blade was glad to discover that so many of his friends had survived and done well. He was sorry about Bairam, but "trouble" sounded like just the sort of thing he might have expected. Bairam probably never did learn to keep his mouth shut!

Still, it would be wiser to stay out of Kaldak as much as he could. If he couldn't do that, he could at least avoid making himself conspicuous. He realized he'd been very lucky with his heroism at the estate. It only got him a chance at anonymity in the City Regiment, instead of a call to Kaldak for public honor.

The lie detectors and computers in Kaldak sounded much too good for Blade's comfort. If they once got the idea that travel into other Dimensions was possible...

However, nothing could make Blade stop looking for opportunities. A good secret agent needs among his other qualities the persistence of an ant or a door-to-door salesman, and Blade had been one of the best. He kept his eyes and ears open. He wasn't optimistic, particularly about doing anything to find Cheeky, but he declined to curl up into a little ball.

The thing he hoped most to learn was the fate of his child- by Kareena. "Kareena's daughter" was mentioned occasionally, but quietly and cautiously, as if she'd committed some disgraceful crime. It was impossible to tell who her father was, the Sky Master Blade or Commander Sidas.

Before Blade could learn more, the Fourth Battalion was off to war again.

Chapter 9.

The dim light in the tail of the antigravity sky-tug suddenly blinked twice. The sergeant in the bow of the balloon gondola unhooked the towing cable and let it drop away into the night. The whine of the tug's propellers died away, and the three balloon-loads of Fourth Battalion paratroopers were alone in the silent darkness.

"Count off," came the word, in whispers. They were a good mile up and several miles from the nearest Tribesmen, so it really made no sense to whisper. A hundred-and-twenty Fourth Battalion infantrymen rode in the three balloon gondolas. Now that the tug had cast off, they were drifting before the wind.

If the wind cooperated, the balloons would drift toward an important Tribesman village. According to aerial reconnaissance, the village held much of the ammunition and weapons sent by the Doimari for the Tribesmen in the area. It might even hold a few Doimari advisers.

Parachuting from balloons drifting silently in the night sky, the Kaldakans hoped to surprise the village. The ammunition and weapons would be destroyed, the advisers captured.

Then the company would dig in and wait for a Kaldakan offensive against the Tribesmen between the village and the border. Faced with Fighting Machines and artillery, the Tribesmen would have to retreat. Their main line of retreat lay through a pa.s.s controlled by the village. They would be retreating right into the company's arms.

At least that was the plan, as Blade understood it from the briefing. He also understood how many things could go wrong with it, and how fatal some of them could be to the isolated company. Since he was supposed to be a new recruit, about to jump into his first battle with the Fourth Battalion, he kept his mouth shut. It wouldn't do for him to be caught thinking like a combat veteran and an officer.

At least he would be down on the ground, not up here with the balloon crews. Infantry combat was nasty, vicious, and dangerous, but you still had solid ground under your feet and usually some place to hide. The balloon crews would fight their battle high in the sky, hanging helplessly from a couple of million cubic feet of highly explosive hydrogen. Even if they took to their parachutes, they weren't necessarily out of the woods. They could land in wilderness and die of starvation, or land among Tribesmen and be tortured to death.

Even in the civilized lands, few lights showed on the ground at night. Here in the Tribal lands it was like looking down into a bottomless pit. Far away Blade saw what might have been a campfire, or maybe just the reflection of the half-moon on a pond.

Finally the order came to hook up. Blade clipped the static line of his parachute to the cable which ran around the edge of the gondola. Then he began to breathe slowly and steadily, to relax himself. He'd made more than forty parachute jumps, some in combat, but he still got a few b.u.t.terflies in his stomach before each one. You were just as dead if your chute failed on the hundredth jump as on the first.

"Five-four-three-two"-by alternate numbers-"jump?" came the sergeant's growl.

Dark shapes began hurling themselves over the edge and plummeting out of sight. Moments later Blade saw the ghostly shapes of camouflaged parachutes deploying. The men were jumping alternately from the left and right sides of the gondolas, to keep them balanced.

The man to Blade's right was gone. Then the man opposite him followed. There was a hand on Blade's shoulder, and he heaved himself up on to the rim of the gondola. He was carrying sixty pounds of weapons and gear plus his chute. Then the hand was pushing into the small of his back, and he was stepping out into s.p.a.ce.

As always, the fall until his chute opened seemed to go on forever. Once he was swaying under the canopy, Blade stopped worrying. It was an almost windless night at low alt.i.tude. He wouldn't be dragged helplessly across rough ground by a runaway parachute.

From somewhere off in the darkness came a long ghastly scream, dying away as the soldier with the faulty chute plunged to death. Blade swallowed and unslung his laser rifle. He might need to discourage a reception committee on the ground.

Nothing of the kind happened. Blade floated down to a standing-up landing in a meadow of long, sweet-smelling gra.s.s. By the time he'd got rid of his chute, three more men joined him. Two more came with a few minutes, one of them a female corporal from another platoon. Blade knew they were lucky not to be even more scattered and confused than this.

When it was clear that no one else was likely to show up soon, the corporal took command. She took her bearings and led her improvised squad off in what she hoped was the direction of the target village.

Blade rather hoped the corporal was wrong. If they did find the village, they might easily be hopelessly outnumbered by its defenders. Even if they weren't ma.s.sacred, they would probably destroy the surprise and alert the Doimari advisers in time for them to flee. The Intelligence people would make life very difficult for anyone who wrecked their hopes of getting prisoners.

As they groped through the darkness, the ground underfoot began to slope sharply. Blade saw they were climbing down the side of a deep crater at least a hundred feet wide. It looked new, with only short gra.s.s and weeds growing on the sides. Blade stumbled over something hard, picked it up, and saw that it was a strip of worked metal. It was oddly light for its size and showed no signs of rust or corrosion.

Something fairly large had fallen or exploded here, not long ago. A sky-tug, either a Kaldakan scout or a Doimari one bringing supplies to the Tribes? Probably. But was there enough energy in the power cells of even the largest sky-tug to make a crater this big? Blade wished it were daylight. Maybe after the battle he could slip back here and get a closer- An antigravity lifter whined overhead, the biggest Blade had seen. Out here tonight it had to be Doimari. Blade froze. So did the men behind and ahead of him. The man at the rear of the squad panicked and ran for the cover of some bushes. His movement drew the eye of someone in the lifter. A green laser beam speared through his body. He screamed. The corporal ran back to pull him under cover. A moment later the screaming man disintegrated as another laser beam detonated his grenades.

Blade hit the ground in time to escape. So did the two closest men. The corporal was caught by surprise and also by flying fragments. She grunted and sat down, then doubled up, kicking frantically. After a minute, blood trickled from her mouth and she lay still. Blade crawled to where the other survivors could hear him and whispered.

"We've got to go forward. If we pull back, we'll be on open ground and that thing'll laser us down. If we go forward, we'll be under cover."

"But the village must be alerted by now. They'll send out a patrol, and we won't have a chance."

"Not a good one," Blade admitted. "But better than if we try to outrun a laser beam."

The others couldn't deny an obvious truth, even when they heard it stated by a new recruit. It was one of those situations where the first man to make sense inherits the leadership.

The three soldiers crept through underbrush which quickly turned into heavy second-growth forest. They couldn't move through it as quietly as Blade would have liked, but he also knew they would be completely invisible even if somebody did hear them. Maybe they could go to ground here after all? Short of burning down the whole forest, the Tribesmen would only find them by luck. The rest of the company should catch up before that happened.

Before long they saw light through the trees. Finally they thinned out, and Blade crept forward for a closer look at the source of the light. Half a dozen Doimari were bustling around a stack of plastic boxes and wooden crates. Four were hauling them into a large earth and stone shelter, while two mounted guard. Beside the first shelter stood a second. On the roof was a large fish antenna and several radio aerials. Half a dozen timber-and-thatch Tribal huts were scattered around the other side of the clearing. Blade could make out the main village about a quarter of a mile farther down a winding path. Beside the pile of gear stood a lamp on a pole, shrouded so that it was almost invisible from above.

Blade's companions crawled up to join him. "We're in luck," he said. "We've stumbled on the ammo dump, they're not alert, and the village is a bit of a way off. If we hit them hard enough we can get the dump and a couple of prisoners before they wake up."

One man's eyes widened. "You're crazy! They couldn't have missed the shooting back there."

"No. But if the pilot didn't pa.s.s the word, they may not know what it was. They may think he was jumping at shadows."

"They still outnumber us-" began the other man, but the first private put a large hand on his shoulder.

"Shut up, Grudi, or you're gonna be the first casualty. I guess Voros is right. We got a better chance if we get 'em running around and falling over each other."

Blade grinned at his new ally. Private Ezarn was a huge ex-farmer, who took three men to handle him when he got drunk on payday. When he was sober in combat, he was worth half a platoon.

With only three men and no time to spare, Blade's tactics weren't fancy. He lasered out the light and, as darkness swallowed the clearing, threw four grenades as fast as he could pull the pins. The explosions started a fire in the pile of supplies, which lit up the clearing all over again. They also disabled most of the Doimari. Only two were on their feet when Blade and his comrades darted out into the clearing.

Ezarn and Grudi swung left. They were supposed to grenade the ammo dump before anyone inside could get the door shut. Blade shot one of the surviving Doimari, then swung right, heading for the huts and the path which led to the main village. He wanted to discourage the other Tribesmen from joining the fight for just a few minutes.