Blade forgot his hunger. Anger filled his belly. «And Ogier stands for this?»

The officer did not meet Blade's eye. He glanced back at his raggle-taggle men and said, «For the time, sire. Captain Ogier bides his time. He camps now on the Plain of Pyramids with half an army. All who would follow him. He confers daily with Casta and they meet halfway between the palace-city and the Plain, for neither trusts the other. You have returned at a bad time, Prince Blade.»

Blade smiled faintly. «On the contrary, lad. Maybe it is a good time. We want no civil war in Zir. Perhaps I can stop it.»

«How sire?»

Blade could not answer. He had not the slightest idea at the moment. But something would come to him. It always did.

«I had thought you dead before now,» said the Captain Ogier. «But you stand alive before me and so I do not know my Hitts so well, after all.»

They were in Ogier's tent on the Plain of Pyramids. Blade, new clothed and armored, anointed and shorn and clipped, and with his belly full, sipped at wine as he told his story. He did not tell the Captain everything.

When he had done, Ogier clawed at his stubble and nodded and regarded Blade. He was the same Ogier, round as a barrel and taciturn as ever, though now he dressed in grander fashion and, so Blade had heard, called himself General.

Blade went straight to that point now. «You and I must have an understanding, Ogier. You have taken command of the army and you have done well. I would leave it so.»

Ogier looked surprised. «But you are son and heir of the Izmir, may his soul repose.»

Blade shook his head. «I forego that from now on-though for the moment it were best kept to ourselves. But we must work together in harmony, and I would have you understand you will be General and in command. I have tasks to complete, and when I have done them I will leave Zir. What you call yourself then is of no matter to me. King, Emperor, Izmir-what you will. I think you are a good man at heart, Ogier, and that Zir will prosper under you.»

Ogier smiled and looked pleased. It was, Blade thought, like seeing a block of granite smile.

«I will be as honest as you,» said Ogier. «I would take no pleasure in giving up the power I have come to since we thought you dead. But in the way you put it-and you have always kept your word-I see no cause for quarrel.»

They clasped hands and Ogier poured more wine. He tipped his cup and let a little of the wine spill on the ground. «For Thane. He was a good man. I am glad you slew Galligantus.»

Blade spilt his own libation and they drank. Ogier retired to his camp desk and Blade to a chair. «And now,» said Blade, «let us get to it. Tell me of the black crow, the big one.»

At that moment, as though summoned by Blade's words, a black priest came into the tent. Without formality or permission he strode arrogantly to Ogier and spoke in a harsh voice. Blade, caught up in the figure of speech, thought it more a croaking caw than ordinary speech.

«Casta, the High Priest, comes this night to the Plain. The Princess Hirga will accompany him. Casta will be in his quarters in the monolith of the Izmir and he bids you attend him there when the moon rises.»

Ogier opened his mouth. Before he could speak the priest held up a hand and turned to stare at Blade. Blade stared back. The priest was hooded, his face cloaked but for the burning dark eyes that examined Blade and missed nothing. The priest turned back to Ogier. «You are to come alone.» He stalked out.

Ogier cursed for a full minute. Blade listened and grinned. He had been a soldier himself in Dimension H. He waited until Ogier ran out of breath. Then he said, «I begin to see your plight. I was told, but now I have seen. They are arrogant, these crows.»

Ogier nodded glumly. «And full of guile. And powerful and numerous. I have sought to fight guile with guile, to avoid an open break, but I think I am not the man for it. I had best fight Casta before he seduces more of my troops, whilst I still have at least half an army.»

Blade had noted the priests on his way inland. At the coastal camp and at every camp on the way-always there were the priests with groups of soldiers around them to listen. The black priests talked and talked and talked.

«That is your problem. now,» he told Ogier. «Mine is why Casta did not invite me to this meeting. He must know that I have returned. In minutes now he will know that I have been closeted with you. The news will be signaled to the palace-city.»

«That is no great mystery, Blade. He will seek to talk to us alone, each apart, and make the best bargain he can with each. And to set us at each other's throats if he can.»

Blade smiled at the warrior. «That he will never do, my friend. But still I am puzzled-why does Casta come here, to the tomb of the Izmir where he is surrounded by your troops?»

Ogier poured wine. «We have a truce. I observe such vows and, until now, he had done so. He comes at least twice weekly to the monolith. I know not why, but it must be that there is something there he needs, must have or must do, something that can only be done there. I have not inquired nor will I. I do not wish to know, for I have heard stories that chill my blood and I am not a superstitious or unnatural man.»

Blade remembered that living skeleton seated behind the table and fondling a skull. The eyes like dark coals aflame. He thought of Hirga and her scorn and the foul smell, and the scales littered about her bed. There was something in all this that mystified and frightened him. That was Dimension-X thinking.

There was a natural, or an unnatural, explanation for everything. Logic of a particular context, a relative frame of reference, a way of doing and seeing and understanding that made sense within its own limitations. That was Home-Dimension thinking.

Blade made up his mind.

He went to Ogier and clapped him on the shoulder and gazed deep into his eyes. «Ogier, there are some things I would ask of you. The first is that you hear me out and make no objection until I have finished.»

Ogier nodded. «Ask then.»

«When does the moon rise tonight?»

The General fumbled through a pile of charts on his desk. «It is late tonight-a little past the night noon.»

«Good. Now, you have no objections if I kill a few priests?»

Ogier shook his head and did not speak.

«I thought not. And you have no objections if I kill Casta, the blackest crow of all?»

Ogier stared with wide eyes. «I do not object. I would like to do it myself. But how? You cannot come at him. He is too well guarded. And even an attempt on his life will begin the war I have been seeking to avert.»

Blade studied the tent wall for a moment. Had that bulge been there before? He moved closer to the bulge, signaling to Ogier for silence. Dusk had fallen and the night was purpling fast. Blade drew his dagger.

He spoke loudly. «I do but jest, Ogier. We would both like to kill Casta, but it would be wiser not to. We must deal with him. Make bargains. And keep our vows at least until he breaks his.»

Blade thrust his dagger hard into the bulge. There was a muted scream. The bulge slithered and collapsed and was gone. Blade raced out of the tent.

Nothing. Nothing but some blood on the tent wall and the ground. Blade cursed. Ogier, behind him with drawn sword, explained it.

«Some of the crows wear armor now under their robes. This one did. It turned your point enough.»

He turned to the soldier who had been standing sentry before the tent. «You saw nothing of a black priest slinking about?»

«Nothing sires. I have only just come on duty.» The man did not meet their eyes.

Ogier took his name and company and they went back into the tent.