In fact, there was nobody in sight around the entire building. The fourth side of the enclosure was wide open except for a solid wooden hut about twenty feet square blocking off part of it. Blade could see almost the entire space within the walls. Most of it was laid out with delicately pruned shrubs between white gravel paths and small pools, but there was nobody in it. The building-a temple, probably-seemed deserted.

That was obviously impossible. Behind the hut stood a bronze gong at least nine feet in diameter, hanging on a heavy frame of blackish brown wood. Somebody had been beating that gong not more than twenty minutes ago. Where had they gone? Perhaps there was only a caretaker in the hut, who beat the gong at regular intervals for some religious reason and had now gone back into the hut to get out of the weather.

That seemed likely enough. Blade decided to explore further. He was going to need to get out of the weather himself, sooner or later. So he headed straight in, walking carefully so that his bare feet made no sound on the gravel.

In the rear of the temple, out of sight of the hut, Blade stopped and looked again. A small, polished door with a gilded, many-rayed bronze sun on it let him into the temple itself. Inside was darkness that smelled of varnish, old wood, dust, and incense. A narrow flight of stairs rose upward and vanished.

The second floor was a single, large, bare chamber, its walls and floor both whitewashed. In one corner was a pile of what seemed to be temple gear-brass and porcelain urns, censers on gilded chains, screens, mats, small lacquered boxes, and assorted bamboolike poles of various lengths. Blade picked up an eight-foot pole and tested it for balance and ease of handling. It wasn't much of a weapon, even for a quarterstaff expert like Blade. But it was a damned sight better than bare hands!

Blade was turning toward the stairs to the third floor when he heard the gong sounding again from below. It sounded eight times, in two groups of four beats. As the echoes of the last beat faded away into the forest, Blade heard quick, light footsteps descending the stairs from above. He froze, realized there was no place to hide in the room, and dashed for the stairs leading down.

Before he could get out of sight, a woman appeared at the foot of the stairs from the third floor and froze to stare in amazement at Blade. She wore a blue and white patterned kimono-like robe with a golden sash and a large, gold-lacquered mask shoved up onto the top of her head. In one hand she carried a blue porcelain urn and in the other a small, gilded bronze censer on a chain.

Before Blade could move or speak, the woman leaped violently to one side. The leap carried her halfway to the pile of temple gear. As she landed she let out a raw, wordless screech that sounded more like a wildcat than anything human. Then she ran to the open window on the side of the building toward the hut and screamed:

«Blasphemy! Blasphemy! A madman in the Temple of Kunkoi! A naked madman! Avenge the honor of the goddess!»

Blade raised the bamboo pole. The woman spun around and hurled the urn straight at Blade's head. He ducked, just in time for the urn to sail past his ear and smash into the wall behind him. From the crash it made, he knew that it would have smashed his skull if it had connected. Then the priestess was advancing on him, swinging the censer around and around her head on its chain. Not wildly, like a panic-stricken woman, but like someone who knew very well what she was doing and had trained for years with the weapon she was using.

Blade held his ground. If he could disarm the woman without hurting her, perhaps he could- The woman suddenly let out another foot of chain, and the censer whirled close enough to Blade to make him jump back.

He raised his pole, ready to thrust it into the circle and entangle the whirling chain. But as fast as Blade moved, the woman moved just as fast. She swung the censer low, snagging the lower end of Blade's pole. Then she threw herself backward in a complete somersault, putting all of her weight and all her strength behind the pull on the chain. The pole leaped out of Blade's hands, smashing him across the left cheek as it did so and flew like a spear across the room. Before he could recover, the woman was back on her feet. She snatched up another pole from the pile with one hand and drew a short, curved dagger from her sash with the other.

Then from outside came the booming of the gong. It was sounding in a rapid beat. Along with the gong came the rattle of doors and weapons, the scrape of running feet on gravel, and shouted orders. The temple's guards were turning out in answer to the priestess' call. It went against Blade's instincts to run like a rabbit, but he didn't see what else to do. He couldn't face the guards barehanded until he got some maneuvering room. That meant getting out of the temple, for a starter.

Blade plunged down the stairs three at a time. The priestess followed close on his heels, waving her dagger and shouting at the top of her lungs, «Blasphemer! Slay, slay, slay for the honor of Kunkoi!»

As Blade reached the foot of the stairs the temple door flew open and a spear whistled past his nose and chunked into the wall behind him. By pure reflex he whirled, jerked the spear loose, and jabbed it butt-first at the priestess as she came within range. She jumped aside, Blade whirled the spear over and around, then slammed the shaft across the back of her knees. She went down the last four steps with a screech and a clatter of wooden clogs, sprawling face-down on the floor. Her dagger flew out of her hand and went spinning away.

Blade bent to pick it up. As he did so, the first guard came charging through the open door. In the close quarters and the dim light the man looked at least seven feet tall and six feet wide; he must have been a good deal bigger than Blade. He gave a yell of fury as he saw the priestess sprawled on the floor and charged straight at Blade. As he came he snatched a six-foot curved sword from a scabbard across his back and sent it whistling down toward Blade.

Blade swung his spear around in front of him and held it out to block the stroke. If the guard had been able to let loose a full swing, the sword would have split Blade down the middle as neatly as a barbecued chicken. But the low ceiling saved him. The sword whistled down in front of him, effortlessly chopping his spear in two.

Now Blade had the advantage for a moment, the advantage any good fighting man has at close quarters against an opponent with a two-handed weapon. He used that advantage, feinting at the guard's groin with the severed point of his spear. The guard took his eyes off Blade's other hand for a second, long enough for Blade to ram the butt of the spear straight up under his chin. The guard reeled and toppled with a crash that seemed to shake the whole temple.

Behind him Blade heard the priestess getting to her feet still screeching, «Slay the blasphemer! Avenge the honor of the Sun Goddess!» Having no desire to be slain to avenge the honor of the Sun Goddess, or for any other reason, Blade dashed out of the temple like a sprinter trying to set a world's record.

He was rounding the corner of the temple on the side where the scaffolding stood when he met six guards coming the other way. They all carried spears and the long curved swords, and wore cotton coats and kilts sewn with small iron discs and lacquered-metal hats and greaves. None of them was much smaller than the one Blade had disabled inside the temple, and all of them looked just as unfriendly.

Blade had a brief feeling that this was the end of the road for him. But it wasn't in him to die tamely. He grabbed at one of the poles in the scaffolding, jerking it loose and raising it high. If he could keep the guards at bay long enough to explain himself-