«Do you swear it by whatever you hold most sacred?»

«I do so swear it. I swear by my honor as a Prince of England that the secret will never pass my lips and will die with me.»

«May the Three Mothers bless you and give you a long life,» said Haleen. She leaned forward and impulsively threw her arms around him, kissing him on both cheeks, on the eyelids, and finally on the lips-along, warm, and lingering kiss. Blade found himself feeling warmer than the kiss alone could make him, and in places where Haleen was not kissing him or even touching him. The girl's happiness was turning itself into desire, and that desire was passing on to him and into hum and finding a response in him.

He ran his own hands up and down her back, his fingers dancing along her spine and his palms cupping her firm buttocks, covered only by the robe. She kissed him again on the lips, even more warmly than before, and pressed against him so hard that he could feel her small, firm breasts through both robe and blanket.

Blade wriggled out from under his blanket, gently pushing Haleen away as she dove for his groin. He was excited enough for the moment. He sat up and Haleen sat up also, facing him. She raised her arms over her head as he reached out and unknotted the golden cord around her waist. The robe fell open and patterns of light and shadow played across the fine skin and the delicately molded breasts within. Blade took the sleeves of the robe and drew it off over Haleen's head, very slowly, tantalizing both of them.

He threw the robe aside, and in the next moment she was lunging forward to crush herself warmly against him and then on top of him as he went over backward onto the furs. He had only a moment's glimpse of dark nipples risen into solid points, a perfect dark triangle between her thighs already sparkling with moisture, trim waist and flat belly, finely molded legs, all her beauty. Then he could see nothing, only feel all the warmth and all the curves as she moved up and down on top of him.

Her hands and lips danced up and down his body, leaping wildly from his throat to his thighs, lingering at the tip, the sides, the base of his monstrously swollen manhood, working their way back up again and then down once more.

Eventually there was nothing more that she could give him or take from him without his entering her. There was neither stranger nor slave girl now in the tent as she raised herself and then came down as Blade came up to meet her. There was nothing except two people, driven together by desire, driven to being as much animal as human.

The groans and the gasps were certainly animal. So were the writhings, the twistings, the heavings as Haleen pressed down and Blade pressed upward. So was the musk of passion that filled the tent, overpowering the smell of furs and leather and wood smoke. It seemed to Blade that the girl above him was even losing the shape of a human being. He was locked with a spirit, a spirit made tangible, exquisite flesh, but whose shape changed at every moment.

Suddenly Haleen's whole body jerked, bowing backward from the waist as violently as a whipcrack, bending so far backward that her head sank down between Blade's feet and her hair stroked his ankles with a thousand tiny brushes. Blade's blurred vision could clearly see her mouth clamped tightly shut and beads of blood creeping out along her lips as she held back her cries. He could clearly see the muscles of her pelvis and flat belly writhing and twisting as her climax charged them with an explosive life of their own.

Then Blade's own climax came, and he had to fight back his own mindless roars as he found release, hold himself down to keep from writhing about and flattening both the girl above him and the tent around him. He shuddered and went on shuddering, spurting steadily upward into her until it seemed that he would never stop, that all the moisture and all the life would drain out of his body into hers and he would fall back beneath her a lifeless corpse. His vision blurred again, and he only felt Haleen toppling forward to sprawl on top of him. Then for a long moment neither of them felt or saw anything at all, even each other.

Eventually Blade realized that they were both lying naked on top of the furs and the blankets, and that it was cold in the tent. He saw that Haleen was sound asleep, her breathing regular and the grin back on her face. Without waking her, he rolled away and stretched her out, then lay down beside her and pulled the blankets over both of them. Haleen's gentle breathing was the last thing Blade heard as he also drifted off to sleep.

Blade and Haleen awoke as the gray light of early morning trickled through the holes in the tent. With tenderness this time rather than blazing, urgent passion, they made love. Then they lay in a warm, pleasant half-doze until they heard the sounds of the camp coming awake around them. Haleen pulled on her robe and slipped out of the tent, her face set in an expression of total innocence.

Blade lay quietly for a few minutes more, to give the impression that he was a heavy sleeper and a late riser, listening as he did so. He had learned never to miss a chance to hear people talking in their unguarded moments.

This time no one talked about anything more revealing than saddle galls on the horses and the rust on one of Tulu's dress spurs. Blade gave up, pulled on his clothes, and crawled out to join his hosts. After a breakfast of porridge and salted meat, they were on the march again.

They moved for three days through the grim border country. All of it was either bare, gray rock towering toward a chill blue sky or endless, gloomy forest penetrated only by a few wretched, twisting roads and trails. Blade watched Dzhai clinging to the reins of his horse with his good hand, wincing every time a rough patch of road sent pain stabbing through his broken arm.

Very few people ever came here. The area was thoroughly inhospitable to man or beast, and it was deliberately allowed to stay that way, by the orders of His Magnificence Kul-Nam, as a barrier to the Steppemen. The lack of fodder, the poor roads, and the even worse weather that prevailed for half the year kept this part of Saram's border as thoroughly guarded against the Steppemen as an army of fifty thousand men could have done. Once more Blade had to admit that Kul-Nam had a certain amount of sense as well as a great lust for blood.

Then why were Duke Boros and his party riding through this land?

The law of Saram was that every noble and freeman above a certain rank had to pay his respect to the Emperor at least once every three years. Boros and Tulu were on their way to pay their visit to the Emperor while he was in residence at one of his southern castles. They had started their journey late, and the only way to reach the Emperor in time was to take a short route through the border country. In spite of the roads and the danger of bandits or Steppemen, the route would save them several days' traveling, enough to bring them before the Emperor on time. That was worth almost any amount of risk and inconvenience. Appearing late before the Emperor carried severe penalties.

Blade wondered if there were any crime or error in the Empire of Saram that did not carry severe penalties. The more he heard, the more he doubted it, and the less he looked forward to his reception by His Sublime Magnificence Kul-Nam, Emperor of All Saram. It did not help Blade's mood to note that Boros and Tulu were almost as nervous as he was, and not concealing it nearly as well. They were of a House with a history stretching back several hundred years. He was a complete stranger, with nothing whatever except their good intentions to protect him from Saram's bloodthirsty laws and Kul-Nam's even more bloodthirsty whims.