«Including Kloret himself?»

«Yes.»

«But at a price, I suppose?»

She sighed. «Of course. The price was being made Baiham. Since he's a wise man and a good soldier, I don't think he was a bad choice!» She said this almost defiantly.

«No,» said Blade. «But I imagine that as Baiham he was in a much better position to learn Harkrat's secret.»

Elyana honestly didn't know. Certainly nobody would admit telling Kloret, but just as certainly he behaved as if he knew. If he was bluffing, it was a bluff they didn't dare risk calling, not, when he could start a civil war if he really knew.

Fortunately Kloret played his cards very carefully. He never asked for any favors or privileges which would arouse suspicion or jealousy. He only asked for what would make his own position secure. A few estates, a house in Gohar, a squadron of galleys whose captains took orders from him, the right to hire bodyguards more or less as he pleased-all this would pass as the eagerness of a loyal servant of the Emperor to equip himself for the job.

«He also asked one other thing,» said Elyana. «That we not send our spies where he'd already put his own.»

Blade laughed. His experience with the bureaucratic politics of intelligence organizations told him what came next. «And one of those places was Mythor?»

«Yes. So I truly can't tell you what is happening in the south. There are rebels in the city, or at least men who might become rebels. Harkrat has a few men there, and they've learned that much. But he doesn't dare try to learn more, or Kloret will accuse us of breaking the agreement.»

So matters stood. Kloret played the spider, spinning his webs. Harkrat did his public duties and tried to keep up his spirits as well as he could. Most of the time he succeeded. Elyana gave her husband all the help she could, and occasionally refreshed herself with discreet affairs. She preferred men who were not only virile but intelligent.

«If I'd been a man, I think I would have entered one of the houses of scholars and scribes. As a woman, I could not, and Harkrat doesn't give me much help there. He's good and kind and seldom turns his anger against me, and he's wiser than many think who only know how he babbles in his wine. But he would never have made a scholar.» They'd gone on like this for many years, and they might go on for many more if Thrayket lived. Unfortunately it wasn't just Blade's imagination that the Emperor was near the end of his life.

«If he lasts out this year, it will be a miracle. If he lives two years, I will build a shrine to HemiGohar with my own hands, and mix the mortar with Kloret's blood!» The soft body against Blade stiffened at the last words.

It was a race against time. Slowly, quietly, and so far without detection, Harkrat and Elyana had been building up their own system of trusted people and spies. If the Emperor lived another two years, the prince might have a chance to strike at Kloret before the Prime Minister could defend himself.

«And if he dies, his schemes die with him. He has no heirs except his daughter Fierssa, and a girl her age can hardly keep alive a plot against the Emperor.» Blade remembered the gray-eyed girl flashing her bare leg at him. He turned to Elyana, kissed each nipple once, and sat up.

«So you can't tell me about affairs in Mythor. In fact, I suppose you'd be happy if I could learn about them and tell you.»

Elyana stared. «You'd be willing to do that for us?»

«Why not?» said Blade. «Frankly, I don't much care for people like Kloret. Nine times out of ten, they do more harm than good. So I'll go to Mythor and look around. If I'm sure that defeating Kloret won't change history, I'll help.

«Don't expect miracles, either. I can't just disappear and slip off to the south. That would cause too much talk. I'll have to go openly, and I'm fairly sure Kloret already has men watching me. I doubt if he'll strike at me, but he might accuse you of violating the agreement about spies in Mythor.»

Elyana shrugged. «If he does that, I'll take all the blame myself. Then he'll have to try to get Harkrat to repudiate me, and that will throw him into a whole new fight.»

«Just be careful he doesn't decide to have you killed,» said Blade. He bent down and kissed her shoulder. The skin was like satin, and she was using a new perfume today.

She started to shrug again, then — suddenly her face broke and she threw both arms around Blade, pulling him down beside her. «Blade, I'm frightened. I don't want to be, but I can't help it. I think somehow it's your fault.»

«Mine?»

«Yes. Before you came, I couldn't really see there was much hope for us. Now-well, you're something new. Something Kloret may not understand until it's too late. Now I can hope again, and somehow that frightens me.»

Blade was going to tell her again not to expect miracles, but she was arching upward to bring her lips to his and their bodies together. This was no time for talking, only for giving her the reassurance she needed in the way she needed it.

For the first few days after his talk with Elyana, Blade had no time to even think about Mythor, Kloret, the problems of princes, or the plots of Gohar. He was moved bag and baggage to an eight-room suite in one wing of the main palace. The reception hall of the suite was larger than his whole villa in the garden, and the other rooms were in proportion.

At least a dozen permanent servants and as many more on call came with the suite. Blade tried to get this mob reduced as much as he could without making too much of a fuss, then gave up. He simply had to accept the fact that he'd probably have Kloret's spies underfoot morning, noon, and night.

Fortunately, things could be worse. Blade was fairly sure he could give anyone in Gohar the slip if they tried to trail him. Eavesdropping could be more of a problem, but Blade knew all the precautions there too. There was something to be said for primitive societies, when it came to getting involved in political conspiracies. No number of human ears any Prime Minister could buy were equal to one good technician and a dozen well-placed microphones.

For several days, Blade suspected Kloret's spies were close to dying of boredom at what they overheard. He certainly was. Once again the petitioners swarmed around him, trying to make sure their names would be recorded by the Historians of England a thousand years in the future. Now that he was no longer shut in the villa, everybody with access to the palace could come and bother him. Sometimes it seemed to Blade this included half the population of Gohar. When he heard the Third Keeper of the Emperor's racing stable beg to be remembered as a man who was always kind to his horses, it was hard not to laugh in the poor man's face.

Then suddenly one night Blade had a visitor he couldn't laugh at.