The King contemplated that for a moment, then said, «Likewise true. Or true enough to deserve our consideration. But it would still be an ill thing for our capital to be besieged by the Neralers. Have you a scheme for indeed leading them to some place under the noses of our fighting men?»

Blade swallowed. The War Council had been purged of the treasonous, he hoped, but had it been purged of the garrulous? He-or the half-forgotten Richard Blade of Home Dimension, actually-had seen too many cover stories or ruses blown to smithereens because some fool knew too much and then had one drink too many. But he was in too deep to back out.

«I do. Let the rumor be circulated that the Kingdom's gold and other valuables from both public and private sources are being moved-for safety-to some place in this area.» He tapped the map in the general area of the northeast corner of the Kingdom. «The thought of carrying away the whole royal treasury of Royth at a single blow will be enough to make the pirates search every hayloft and under every rock for it. And if we also fortify a number of towns and villages in the area, we can provide refuges for the country people and also delay the advance of the pirates until the royal army is ready to strike.»

Pelthros nodded, with a look on his face of a man becoming largely but not yet entirely convinced.

«We would prefer to see some reliable way of getting word of the bait to the pirates. If Indhios had not been killed and his faction smashed, we could have dropped hints where he would pick them up and convey them to his allies. Perhaps we could present the rumor as coming from him still?» He appeared to be asking Blade.

Blade shook his head. «I fear not, Your Majesty. Had we smashed Indhios' faction less publicly, we could expect the pirates not to know that it had gone. But I am sure that boats are already bound for Neral, carrying the word. Indhios not only fell from power, he fell from a great height before a thousand witnesses. Anything that was supposed to come from Indhios, the pirates would know to be a trap.»

Before Pelthros could say anything in reply, Blade went on. «I think the best way for passing word of the bait might be for me to take a small ship, manned by my own men, and sail out to meet the pirates as though I were joining them. Or rejoining them,» he added with a wry grin.

There were murmurs and rumbles of surprise all around the Council table, from younger and older members alike: Pelthros was the first to put his thoughts into words, and shocked enough to let the royal «we» slip.

«I appreciate your-your idea. But-won't they simply kill you outright before you can speak to them?»

Blade shook his head. «I know the Truce Code of the Brotherhood, which is inviolate. Even a man forsworn from the Brotherhood or outlawed from it can invoke Truce for twenty-four hours once in his life. I admit, some hothead may still put an arrow-through me. But I could be supplied with maps and documents that will get the word to the pirates even if I die. And of course, if they kill me after I have spoken to them, my job will have been done.»

If Blade had, like the late countess, been striving for dramatic effects, he would have been amply rewarded by the spectacle of twenty of the highest statesmen and soldiers in Royth reduced to an amazed silence. And when he saw Pelthros nod slowly, and go on nodding until looks of approval appeared on the faces all around the table, he knew that he had won. He would enjoy honor and influence in Royth second only to Pelthros himself, for his idea had impressed the younger leaders and his grand gesture in laying his own life on the line had impressed the older ones. Whether he would ever live to enjoy that honor and influence was, of course, another matter.

Blade watched the horizon grow sawtoothed with the sails of the pirate fleet. He suddenly realized that at last he was as calm as he had pretended to be since the War Council three weeks ago.

He had been on edge with the strain of waiting all during those weeks, a strain which not even the frantic bouts of lovemaking with Alixa could relieve. The strain was made worse by the fact that he himself had little to do with the preparations for trapping the pirates. His moment would come only when the fleet was reported in sight, and Pelthros insisted that in the meantime he and his crew (actually, Brora's crew) have a chance to rest, gain strength, and indulge themselves. There was a certain note of «the hearty last meal for the condemned man» in Pelthros' well-intentioned decision that made Blade feel no better.

So he watched from the windows of his luxurious suite in the palace, with Alixa beside him, as the royal fleet sailed north, a hundred warships and a hundred merchant vessels carrying extra soldiers, supplies, and the labor gangs who would dredge out the mouths of the Keltz. By night, he heard the rumble of wheels, the tramp of soldiers, and the harsh voices of sergeants calling cadence as the Royal Guard and a brigade from the garrison of High Royth moved out, northward bound also, to join the army assembling there. In the early morning as he walked through the marketplaces and arcades, unable to sleep or even lie still beside the sleeping Alixa, he saw men polishing pikes and halberds, piling stones and firewood, weaving ropes for catapults. And then he would go home, to sit detached and distant over a breakfast prepared by the King's own cooks, replying to Alixa's questions only with grunts or mutters until she sometimes burst into tears.

Then finally word came from a merchant vessel that ran herself frantically on the rocks at the mouth of the harbor in her flight. The pirates were in sight and no more than a day's sail off the coast. That night, Blade had no trouble talking to Alixa, nor she to him, as they writhed and tossed in a wild passionate agony and then lay feeble as children in the tangled sheets.

Blade was up long before dawn the next morning, riding alone through the dark and dew-slick streets to the pier where Brora was putting the final touches on their ship, a light galley named Charger. Brora threw Blade a salute as he rode up, then grinned and said, «Aye, I'm becomin' too much the naval officer to remember how to be a pirate!»

«You'll be a better naval officer for having been a pirate, I think,» said Blade. «We can all learn something from a man like Tuabir.»

«Aye,» said Brora. «May Druk keep him an' be merciful. Perhaps we'll be findin' out about Druk's mercy ourselves before the day be o'er.»

Blade grinned. «Don't give up the ship until she sinks under you.» He sprang down from the saddle and strode up the gangplank, calling greetings to the men he recognized. That was most of them, for all but a handful of Charger's forty-odd men had been part of Thunderbolt's crew or at least of Brora's action squads in the dockyard.

Half an hour later, with her blue and white sails to a rising dawn breeze and the sky behind her beginning to pale, Charger slipped past the breakwater and plunged out to sea. She was out of sight of land by mid-morning, and the cook had just called the hands to lunch when the foremast lookout squalled his warning. Blade ran forward, and a few minutes later he could see it too-the entire seaward horizon a forest of sails as the pirate fleet rose into view.

He suspected it would be a while before the pirates sighted Charger, small and low as she was. But before too long, he knew that two or three of the pirate galleys would race out toward her from the long line ahead. The interesting part would begin when they recognized his personal code flags and the Truce flags flying from Charger's masthead. He gave the orders for the crew to pull in their oars and pull on their armor, then went below to his own cabin to equip himself. Seeing Charger completely defenseless might be enough to overcome some of the pirates' scruples about violating Truce.