The only consolation was that the music and the roar of the wind in the trees completely covered any noise he might be making. Between the wind and the music, the people around the fire probably couldn't have heard him if he'd been approaching them in a tank!

Sheer determination carried Blade through. Eventually he reached a point where he could see the orange-red fire glow flickering clearly through the trees. He set the most direct course toward it he could manage, crouching low and moving by bounds from one tree to another. Whoever the people were, they had probably put out sentries.

The fire seemed close enough to touch when Blade came out on the edge of what was unmistakably a road. It ran in front of him, then curved around to the left toward the fire, which now showed through the trees on the other side. It was not a road that any people able to build anything better would have tolerated, even in this forest. It was barely one lane wide and totally unpaved. With his bare feet Blade could feel ruts and holes a foot deep and rocks the size of his head.

As he slipped across the road, the sound of the music grew louder than before. For the first time Blade heard human voices, cheering and shouting enthusiastically. The beat of the drums grew more rapid and the shouting grew more frenzied. Then suddenly all the instruments stopped as if the ground had opened up and swallowed the players. More cheering followed, along with applause; then that too died away and left the forest to the moan of the wind. Blade crept forward more cautiously than ever, until he could get a clear view of the camp. Beside the road was a clearing about a hundred feet square and on the far side, an enormous pile of roughly dressed tree trunks. In the lee of the pile half a dozen tents of various sizes were pitched in a rough semicircle. In the middle of the semicircle a campfire burned. Beside the tents a score of horses and pack mules were tethered to trees and bushes.

Blade's attention shifted to the people. There were at least a dozen men seated cross-legged around the fire on furs spread on the ground. All wore variations of the same outfit-a short tunic with baggy sleeves and broad trousers bloused into soft leather boots equipped with spurs. Two of the men wore tunics and trousers of material with a high sheen and had jeweled daggers stuck in broad leather belts. The others wore duller clothes, some of them showing patches and ragged edges. Every man had a weapon, either on him or within easy reach. Five held musical instruments-two drums, a flute, a pair of cymbals, and a spiraling horn with what looked like a pearl mouthpiece.

Beside the fire knelt a girl. She was totally naked except for a broad copper bangle around one wrist and another around one ankle. Blade could see her shivering in the wind in spite of her closeness to the fire. Her skin was olive-hued and beaded with sweat, her short hair was a gleaming copper-gold, tangled and damp. It was obvious she'd just been dancing to the music.

There would never be a better time to catch these people relaxed and off their guard, ready to talk first and shoot afterward. Blade rose to his feet and pushed the sheath around the belt, toward the small of his back. He could still draw fast enough in an emergency, but he would not be flaunting his one and only weapon.

Then he spread out both hands in front of him and walked forward, out of the trees and into the firelit clearing.

All of the men around the fire jumped up, grabbing their weapons. The girl screeched and threw herself flat on the ground. Before Blade could take three steps, he found four crossbows, three lances, and five swords aimed in his direction. A dozen pairs of eyes stared at him over the weapons, hostile but also curious.

The older of the two well-dressed men frowned at Blade, then gave orders.

«Tzimon, Dzhai, climb up on the woodpile. Watch the forest, and call if anyone approaches.»

Two of the other men bowed jerkily and scurried toward the piled tree trunks. Blade looked at the well-dressed men and noticed a strong resemblance between them. Father and son?

The older man sheathed his sword and crossed his hands on his chest. «Well, man who comes forth so strangely from the night. Who are you, and what do you in the Empire of Saram?»

«What I do is seek aid. Food and fire and clothing, to begin with. Then whatever you may wish to offer me.»

«What the Empire of Saram offers those who stray into its borderlands is usually a quick death, if we are feeling merciful. If not, you go to the Emperor and a death that is anything but quick.»

«I have done nothing that honorable men would consider worthy of death, either quick or slow,» said Blade severely. They might take that as an insult, but these men seemed as likely to take the words as the sign of a man with a warrior's pride.

«Who are you, then, that you should ask us to believe such a lie?» said the younger man with a harsh laugh. The older man frowned but turned unfriendly eyes on Blade. «My son speaks wisdom, although his words are not well chosen. This is the borderland where Saram meets the Steppes. You are not of the Empire, and few of the Steppemen have ever traveled here without wishing us harm.»

«What you have said merely proves that those of the Empire of Saram do not know everything,» said Blade. «And do not draw your sword and wave it at me for speaking this truth,» he added, with a pointed look at the son. The young man was glaring at Blade and had his hand firmly clamped on the silver-mounted hilt of his sword.

Blade folded his own arms across his chest. It was a gesture that would have conveyed more dignity if he'd been wearing something besides the knife, belt, and bruises from bumping into and tripping over things in the forest. It served well enough, however. Blade's eyes met the father's and read in them a willingness to listen, if not necessarily to believe.

«Do any of you know of the lands that lie far to the south of the Steppes?» said Blade. This drew blank looks from everyone, exactly as he'd hoped. «Lands that lie far to the south of the Steppes» lay outside local geographical knowledge. They would be willing to believe anything he said about such lands, or at least unwilling to dismiss what he said out of hand.

«I came from one of those lands, a land called England. I am a prince of that land. With six of my warriors I was on my way north to come before the Emperor of Saram. Though knowledge of England has not yet reached Saram, we have heard of the power of your Emperor. We would wish to know more of such a ruler, who might do much for us, either good or ill.»

«His Sublime Magnificence the Emperor Kul-Nam cares little what other people know or think of him,» said the son sharply. «Why did you expect to accomplish anything?»

«We had heard that His Sublime Magnificence was a wise ruler,» said Blade. «Any wise ruler would learn as much about other peoples as he could. Are you asking me to believe that in England we have heard lies, that your Emperor is in truth a fool?»

The son's mouth opened and shut several times but no sound came out. Finally he clamped his jaw tightly shut, as though distrusting what might come out if he spoke again. His father was obviously struggling to keep a straight face. Blade took advantage of all this and continued.

«We could not send through the Steppes a party large enough to fight those who live there,» he said. «Yet we thought a small party of selected warriors might slip across the Steppes and reach the borderlands of the Empire undetected. We were right. We passed across the Steppes as though we were invisible. It was in the borderlands that ill fortune overtook us.»

Swiftly Blade painted a vivid picture of weary and hungry men on wearier and hungrier horses entering the forests, believing that they were safe and thus relaxing their guard. He painted an even more vivid picture of the attackers who slew five of the men at once and drove the others separately into the endless dark forests. He carefully avoided giving too many details, using darkness and surprise as his excuse.