Eventually Fierssa awoke, kissed him, pulled on her clothes, and was gone into the rain. Blade stayed awake long enough to see her safely on the ground, slipping away through the trees. There were no guards in sight, and no trace of dawn in the dark sky that still dripped rain. She should be able to reach home without being challenged.

Then he lurched back into the bedroom, and was asleep before he could even properly stretch out on the bed.

Blade's first night with Fierssa wasn't the last night he went short of sleep while in Gohar. He now found himself dealing with two women who liked his company in bed, two political conspiracies, all his public social activities, and the normal daily routine of eating, sleeping, bathing, and going to the toilet.

To make matters worse, he had to be careful not to let Princess Elyana know anything about his dealings with Fierssa and the Friends of Mythor, or give Fierssa any idea he was on intimate terms with Princess Elyana. Both women hated Kloret, but otherwise Blade couldn't be sure they'd have much in common. Elyana wanted to learn about the rebels, but she could hardly want to help them against her own husband. Fierssa already knew about the rebels, and wanted to get Blade on their side.

There was also the matter of jealousy. Very few people were completely immune to it, and Blade doubted that either Fierssa or the princess were among these few. When he was sleeping with more than one woman at a time, Blade always preferred to say too little rather than too much.

Fortunately he and Fierssa weren't able to get together often enough to require explanations to Elyana, or as often as the girl would have liked. There weren't enough safe places for them to meet, and even Fierssa admitted this. «I'm not going to put my friends in danger just to have more fun in bed,» she said.

«Good for you,» said Blade. Half the time Fierssa seemed as naive and foolish as a child about what she was doing. The other half she seemed as thoroughly clear-headed as anyone could ask. She was a strange mixture of child and woman, and if she lived long enough for the woman to replace the child, the Friends of Mythor might have the leader they needed. How desperately they needed such leadership was clear after his first meeting with them. They had plenty of courage, but were short of practically everything else.

It was also clear that he was going to have to get to Mythor as soon as possible. Ideally, he should be ready to leave as soon as he'd met with the rebel envoys and found out who to meet in the south. Any unnecessary delay could be an open invitation to trouble from the Prime Minister.

It was the wrong season for a swift voyage to the south, so Blade's choices would be limited. Degyat's galley squadron was already at sea, and might not be back for weeks. Blue Swallow had returned with her load of timber and might be making an out-of-season voyage to Mythor, but Blade was reluctant to drag Captain Nemyet into his affairs. The captain might already be a marked man in Kloret's eyes, and any further involvement with Blade could put him in real danger.

Eventually Blade decided to put the whole matter before Elyana, so that if all else failed she could ask her husband's help. Before he could arrange the necessary meeting with the princess, events suddenly moved completely out of his control.

It was announced that His Radiance Thrayket IV had taken to his bed. A congestion of the chest and a fever, said the official report. There was no need to fear. The less official and almost certainly more reliable word said that Thrayket was never going to rise from his bed, and might leave it in his shroud within a few days.

Two days after that, Blade met Fierssa and learned that she'd arranged the meeting with the envoys of the Mythoran rebels for the next night.

«There's a beach north of Berkyut's Tomb. Do you know where that is?»

«No.»

«Well, then. Meet me here at the first night hour, and we'll go together.» She kissed him, drew the hood over her face again, and hurried off.

Blade was reasonably certain nobody trailed him to his rendezvous with Fierssa, but this wasn't much comfort. He doubted if Kloret wasted any time or men trailing him now. It would be so much easier to keep a watch on the Friends of Mythor and let them act as bait for larger fish. Blade had shown that he had both skill and determination in covering his tracks, while the Friends had neither.

Even less reassuring was the complete absence of any official news about the Emperor's health. This almost certainly meant Thrayket was so sick that it was no longer safe to tell the truth. Blade would be very surprised if the maneuvering for position, which always follows the death of a king, hadn't already begun. Everybody would be doing it, whatever faction they supported. The only consolation was that Kloret might now be too busy watching his own back to watch anyone else.

«On the other hand, he might think no one is watching him, so he can strike freely,» Blade told Fierssa, as they walked along the shore. A mile ahead, the chopped-off black pyramid of Berkyut's Tomb was fading into the twilight. Beyond the trees on the other side of it was the beach where they'd meet the rebel envoys.

«I couldn't say,» she replied. «Father's told me even less than usual. That might be a good sign. When things are going well for him, he always boasts. If he's silent…»

She seemed to be taking some comfort from this reasoning, and Blade didn't feel like pointing out its faults. She was dressed as a man, so he couldn't take her hand as they walked. Side by side, they tramped across the hard-packed beach sand, rounded the base of the dune where the tomb stood, and climbed up through the trees. By the time they came out on the beach beyond, it was nearly dark.

As they descended the slope, slipping and lurching in the loose sand, a cluster of dark shapes rose from the sand to their right.

«Mythor,» said someone.

«Shall,» replied Fierssa.

«Be,» from another shape.

«Free,» said Fierssa.

A lantern glowed yellow, and Blade saw three faces he recognized from the Friends of Mythor, two young men and a girl. Four others must be the rebel envoys. Mythorans were slightly darker than Goharans from exposure to the fiercer southern sun, and the men were usually clean-shaven.

Blade stepped forward to greet them. As he took his third step a sharp voice rose behind him, drowning out the wind and the sea and freezing him in midstride.

«Stop, traitors to Gohar!»

It was Kloret's voice.

Each of the «traitors» reacted at his own speed. Blade was the fastest, the four rebels next, and the Friends of Mythor a bad last.

Blade whirled, drawing his sword and shielding Fierssa. The four envoys also drew their swords, looked up and down the beach, then as if they'd been one man sprinted off toward the west. Before Blade could take two deep breaths the Mythorans were out of sight in the darkness. They must also have been out of sight from above, because Blade heard Kloret's voice again, sharp and angry.

«Don't waste arrows, you fools! Some of you go after them. The rest come with me.»

Two lanterns glowed, showing half a dozen armed men dashing off after the Mythorans. The rest followed Kloret down onto the beach. Five of them were archers, with arrows nocked and ready to shoot. Blade estimated the chances of doing anything, and decided that they weren't good. In fact, the chances of doing anything except taking Kloret with him were small, and he'd have to pick the right moment for that.

Even waiting and watching would still help gain time for the Mythorans. As long as Kloret was dealing with Blade and the Friends, he might not send more men after the rebels. In the darkness, the Mythorans could probably evade or kill the ones on their trail now.