"This is not a time-space thing," Blade said. "Nor is it an all a dream, a reversal of reality. Nothing like that at all. There is no time slippage that can be corrected. I can't really explain it, and wouldn't if I could, but take my word for it. You are not going to suddenly wake up. Your brain was altered, molecularly restructured, by the computer. What has happened, in the simplest of terms, is that you have become aware of a new dimension that has been there all the time. You may very well have been walking through it, without perception, every time you entered the Kremlin. And the computer is the only way back."

"Wizard," said the Russian. "Absolutely wizard. You chaps are far ahead of us. Our boffins haven't a clue to anything like this."

Blade smiled. "We hope to keep it that way. And I may as well tell you, by the way, that you overdo the 'British' bit a little. You sound like a stage Englishman."

"Do I now? Strange, that I've only been copying you, Blade."

Blade had to grin. "Then I had better look to myself. Funny. I thought I was beginning to sound like a bloody Yank."

"The proposition, old man?"

"Just that you defect to us."

The Russian's amazement was genuine. "Defect? Me? My very dear fellow, I - "

Blade watched him closely. "Why not? In time, after all your security stuff is out of the way, you would have a better life. England is a better place to live, you know."

The other man nodded slowly. He stared at Blade over the wine mug. "That is opinion, not fact. But granting it - how could this be arranged?"

"Not difficult at all. You arrived naked, did you not?"

Another nod. A wry smile. "Did I! Naked in a raging sea. Thinking I had lost my mind. If I hadn't found some floating wreckage I would have drowned."

"You will be naked when you go back," Blade said. "You will be stunned and helpless and you will be arrested immediately. As a spy, an enemy agent, a man who threatened to blow up half of London. You will be put away for a very long time. You might want to defect then, but coming after the fact it won't carry much plausibility. But if you defect now, if you arrange it now with me, I can vouch for you when we get back. If we get back."

The man leaned toward Blade. "If, old man?"

Blade wanted to ruffle him, to worry him a bit. The man was too cool and sure of himself and Blade didn't like it. Psyche him a little, as the Americans said.

"There always has to be a first time," he said gravely, "when the computer will fail. When they won't be able to take contact."

The Russian lit his pipe again. He took his mug of wine and went to the balcony and peered out. It was beginning to get dark. It was a trick to keep Blade from seeing his face and there was nothing Blade could do about it.

"Tell me, old man - can a dead man be transported back to your Home Dimension? A body?"

"No. A man is dead when his brain dies. The computer can't alter dead cells."

A blare of weird music came from the courtyard beneath the window. Blade could see torches weaving patterns in the gloom. The Russian came back to the center of the room.

"That little celebration is for us," he explained. "For you, really. I had mine when I first arrived. But we are reunited now, twins who love each other, and they will really turn it on tonight. Feasting, dancing girls, the whole lot. Afterwards you will have your audience with El Kal. That will be rather important, you know. The Kal is going to decide which one of us remains as consort to Canda - and which one goes into exile. Classic situation, eh?"

Blade kept his face impassive. This was a new situation, an abrupt volte-face, and he needed time to cope. At the same time he was a trifle angered and let it show through.

"Canda? Who the hell cares about Canda? I thought we were discussing a serious matter! About your possible defection - you may not have all the time in the world, you realize? When the computer really finds us - "

His double smiled with all the Blade charm. "Oh, that. No problem there, old man. Of course I'll defect. I had already made up my mind about it. You have my promise as of now. What you don't understand is that we have to stay alive until the computer finds us. And you say that you can't know when that will be?"

Blade shook his head. "I can't. It might be in the next second. Might be a year. All I know is that they are trying - We've both had the pains. But I don't understand - "

"About Canda? And death? No, of course not. So listen to the morbid news, old chappie. El Kal runs the Moghs and Moghland, but Canda runs El Kal. But good, as the Yanks say. No mistake about it. What Canda wants Canda gets. And Canda wants both of us."

Blade, still puzzled, shook his head. "So? Still nothing but a trifle - surely an arrangement can be made."

The Russian went back to the couch and sank onto it. He filled his mug again. "One would think so. One would be wrong. There are several good reasons why - the chief one being that exile, here, is just another word for murder. Mogh law is very complicated and tricky. As I have good cause to know. God - they haven't found the wheel yet and they have a legal system that makes ours look on kindergarten level. All based on ignorance and superstition, but laws just the same. Unwritten laws are just as binding as the written ones, maybe more so.

"Anyway - any suitor for a royal Princess who is refused is sent into exile. Naked. Literally. Stripped of all his possessions. They give him a day's start. Then the pursuit starts - there is a nomad tribe, called the Ouled, who make a specialty of tracking down these poor bastards and killing them. They bring the head back and El Kal sticks it on a pike on the wall. This, mind you, is supposed to ensure a happy marriage."

Blade stared. "A happy marriage!"

"Yes. The rival is dead, you see, and can never trouble again. Mogh women are very highly sexed and very promiscuous. But that particular suitor will never cause trouble - his head is the proof of that."

"But - "

"Hear me out, old man. Under Mogh law a Princess can have only one consort."

Blade's smile was limp. "And Canda wants both of us?"

"That is the bind, old bean. She says she can't make up her mind which of us is better in bed. I would gladly surrender the honor to you, but she isn't having any."

"For my part," said Blade, "you can have the honor."

The double sighed loudly. "Like something out of the Arabian Nights, isn't it? But it does have its compensations, eh? That Canda is a bit of all right, no? One beautiful bird! But damned if I want to die for a bit of quiff. I want to stay alive and defect."

All Blade could say was that he would be eternally goddamned.

"I don't know about that," his double said, "but I do know that we are both in a spot of trouble unless we can figure something out. One of us is for it. Are you sure there is no way you can hurry that computer?"

"I am positive. It may never find us. I told you that."

The Russian agent stood up and raised his glass to Blade. "Well, here's to us. I hate to be smug about it, but at the moment I am the front runner. I left Canda just before I came here and she seemed very much satisfied. Of course it won't last You'll have your chance tonight after your seance with El Kal."

"Seance?" Blade thought it a strange choice of words.

"You'll find out," said the double. He poured them more wine and raised his glass.

"They'll be coming for us any moment now, I expect Cheers, old man."

Blade drank. The wine had gone bitter.