If the idea ever crossed her mind, she rejected it. After only a second's hesitation she nodded, then said formally:

«It is your right by your invocation of the Law of Treason to speak now before the open council.» Her voice took on a slight edge as she continued. «And it is our right, the right of queen and council of Wisdom of the Tower of the Serpent, to punish you forthwith if you bring nothing of worth before us.» She took another deep breath. «Say what you have to say, Nris-Pol, and be quick about it.» That last sentence was not in the formal ritual, and Blade wished Mir-Kasa had not said it. If she was going to succeed in the revolution business, she needed more of a poker face. His own face was frozen into an immobile mask. He shifted his gaze from the First Warrior to Nris-Pol and back again, noting that neither could quite meet his eyes. Then he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms on his chest. He crossed them low down, however-only a few inches above the hilts of his swords.

Nris-Pol launched straight into his accusation. «I bring a charge of treason against the Queen's Steward, the warrior of the First Rank Blade-Liza.»

«What is the nature of my 'treason'?» said Blade. His voice was chill and remote.

«You seek to raise the Low People in rebellion against the-«began Nris-Pol. But the sentence was drowned out halfway through by exclamations and gasps of horror. They started as Blade had expected, with the First Warrior and his two women allies. But they were echoed from around the table, and from outside. In fact, there were howls of rage and bursts of cursing from the crowd in the listening chamber.

«Shut the far-speaker off!» snapped Mir-Kasa. «We can hear this charge without that pack of animals howling outside.» Blade could see sweat breaking out on her forehead, and she licked her lips several times.

«Begging Your Splendor's pardon» said a woman-not one of Nris-Pol's allies «-but the law of the open councils is explicit. Those in the listening chamber have the right to hear what the council says, above all in an affair of treason.»

«Very well,» said Mir-Kasa irritably. «But we do not have to hear their howlings and screamings. This is the Council of Wisdom, not a collection of children who must tremble at their parents' voices!»

Nris-Pol had wit enough to take the opening Mir-Kasa offered him. «Yes, ignore the 'howls' of the people of the tower. Ignore them, ignore me-and then someday soon Blade-Liza's plans will ripen, and you will hear howls that you cannot ignore. They will be the howls of the Low People, rising against you, seeking your blood, seeking to set all the War Wisdom and the Peace Wisdom at naught.»

Nris-Pol went on to describe in loving and obscene detail what would happen when the Low People rose against the High. He carefully avoided mentioning the details of how Blade was planning to bring about this rising and all its attendant horrors.

That was an intelligent move. It meant there were no specific points that Blade-or anybody else-could refute. There was only a growing mood of horror and disgust that Blade could now see on all the faces in the council chamber. Nobody would meet his eyes now, not even Mir-Kasa. It was as though he had suddenly broken out all over his body with some revoltingly unsightly disease. He remembered his own prediction about accusations of treason never being seriously and soberly debated. He wished he had not been so right.

The tumult in the council chamber and the listening chamber alike were rising higher and higher as Nris-Pol continued embroidering his accusation. An exploding bomb could hardly have been heard above the uproar, let alone a request to speak against the accusation. The expressions on some of the faces turned toward Blade were so savage that he checked his swords again. He wasn't sure that the howling mob outside the door wasn't going to break in and try to lynch him on the spot. If they did-well, there was going to be blood on the floor of the council chamber much sooner than even Nris-Pol was predicting. And not all of it was going to be Blade's or Mir-Kasa's.

He wished he knew what to do if there wasn't an obvious attempt to murder him in the council chamber itself. If he offered any sort of provocations, it would certainly set the mob outside into action. And under those circumstances, things might get so completely out of control that Mir-Kasa herself could die in the violence.

Blade shook his head. Whatever happened to him-short of a direct attack-he had to make sure the queen stayed alive and more or less in the saddle. It was no longer a question of maintaining his position and doing anything for the people of the Towers of Melnon. It was a question of the best way to stay alive until Lord Leighton's computer reached out from home dimension to seize his brain and twist his perceptions and snatch him back to England. So he kept his professional poker face on, as though it had been glued in place. Sitting upright in his chair, he contemplated the disorderly council and the now half-hysterical Nris-Pol like a king contemplating a mob of peasants at the gate of his palace.

Eventually Nris-Pol ran out of both things to say and the breath to say them. As his hysterical rabble-rousing died away, so did the hysteria of the rabble. Silence came down on both the council chamber and the listening chamber like a fog. Eyes swiveled toward Blade, and also toward Mir-Kasa. It was up to her now. Blade hoped devoutly that she would not stick her graceful neck out too far for his sake. That would be putting the pleasures of her bed before sensible planning for her revolution, as Bryg-Noz had feared. But Blade knew he could only hope. He did not dare say a word to Mir-Kasa. That would only make his enemies and hers more suspicious, more ferocious.

The silence dragged on, until Blade felt sure that his nerves were going to snap with audible pings, like overstressed wires. He took a deep breath and again fingered his swords.

Mir-Kasa's eyes met his briefly as she rose to her feet. Then they flicked away, and fell on Nris-Pol, who was kneeling before the council table, trying not very successfully to look humble.

«Nris-Pol, councilors,» she said. Her voice was flat and toneless, but Blade could detect the effort that amount of self-control was costing her. «A charge of treason of the vilest sort has been brought against my steward. I had thought him a virtuous man. Hold!» Her hand shot out, to still the rumble of protest that rolled around the room. «Perhaps he was once. But it is clear that he has wandered into evil ways.» The faces around the table relaxed-except for Nris-Pol's. His face split in a triumphant grin. «Therefore he is no longer worthy to remain in his office, nor among the High People. By the Peace Wisdom it is given to me alone to pronounce sentence upon him.»

She turned to Blade and her eyes again met his. «Blade-Liza, formerly Queen's Steward. I degrade you from among the High People. I declare that you shall be sent among the Low People, there to live or die as chance wills it. Never for all the remaining years of your life shall you again come among the High People. If so you do, your life shall be forfeit upon the instant.» She raised her voice to a shout. «Queen's Guards! Come forward, and take Blade-Liza down among the Low People!»