Melyna was really not soft at all. Under the tanned skin there were muscles toughened into whipcord by two years' back-breaking labor for the Senar. Her breasts and hips and buttocks were firm and solid, but spare of flesh, barely breaking the outline of her bones. It was almost like making love to the sketch of a woman.

But it was a warm, living, breathing sketch. And it was breathing harder and harder, as it wriggled and writhed and heaved under the movement of Blade's hands. He was being as gentle as if Melyna had been made of sand that would crumble away under too rough a touch. Before long, it was clear that he didn't need that kind of gentleness. Melyna was too ecstatic over making love to a civilized man after two years of barbarians to care very much.

So Blade's hands roamed all up and down Melyna's body, and hers did the same on his. He felt his own erection tightening into a solid, burning rod as small hands stroked and caressed, small, hard nipples traced patterns on his chest. She wriggled up on him even farther, and his lips brushed across her throat and over the bones that stood out in her thin neck. He kept on kissing her, down across the shoulder blades, down under one breast and up onto its long, jutting brown nipple, across to the other nipple, then back and forth between them for a long time. By the time Blade's lips moved away from her breasts, Melyna was whimpering and sobbing deep in her throat, and her breath was coming with a rasp.

Again Melyna shifted up-and this time as she settled down, she placed herself squarely on Blade's upthrust phallus. She stiffened for a moment as the solid rod of flesh drove upward. Her mouth opened in a tremendous gasp. Then Blade pushed his own hips up, Melyna pushed hers down, and his solid, swollen member drove all the way into an already slick-wet canal.

For a moment after that Melyna did not move. Then she began to rock slowly back and forth, occasionally shifting from side to side. She was not tight, but her movements kept a continuous friction on Blade and a continuous arousal in him. He found his own hips beginning to move up and down. Occasionally his upward thrusts would meet Melyna coming down, and her eyes would widen as she felt him driving deep within her. Other times he would sink down as Melyna rose up. Then her face would contort with a feeling of loss, and she would promptly sink back down, trying desperately to recapture what seemed to be slipping out of her.

This went on long enough for Blade to lose all track of time, and for a good long while after that. Melyna's movements became faster and faster, until she was practically swinging herself around in a circle centered on Blade's maleness. Her hips gyrated wildly and then all her pelvic muscles began jerking convulsively. Her head went back, her eyes closed, her face contorted from the delicious agony pulsing through her, while she gulped for air like a dying fish. Below, Blade felt a hot, warm gushing all over his groin and the frantic contractions of the canal embracing him.

Blade held on for a little while longer, although it seemed like a very long while indeed. But eventually he could no longer do anything except thrust frantically upward to make a desperate final few strokes.

Then he felt the beginning of his release, the frantic, furious pumping, and after another incredibly long time, the final fading away. He sagged back on the bed, every part of his body going limp and for the moment useless.

After a little while the fog cleared from Blade's head and the limpness left his muscles. He sat up, patted Melyna on her flat, hard stomach, and rolled himself out of bed to start the day. There was a large jug of water on the table by the bed, and Blade spent a long time splashing it on his face and chest. He was conscious of Melyna watching him from the bed, the erotic glaze slowly fading from her eyes. Then he heard the pad-pad-pad of bare feet on the floor, and felt two slender arms creeping around him from behind, two small hands creeping down toward his groin.

He laughed softly. «What, more?»

She laid her head against his back, and he felt her hair brush the base of his spine. He laughed again. «Really?»

The hands continued their downward motion and stopped in the obvious place. When they arrived there, they got the normal response.

Blade laughed a third time. «All right, Melyna. You want to get back into the habit, right?» There was a small murmur from behind him, which Blade took as a «Yes.» Then he felt the hands on his body grasping him firmly by the hips and trying to turn him around. Blade chuckled deep in his throat and braced himself firmly. It would have taken a block and tackle to turn him around.

After a moment Melyna realized Blade wasn't going to move. So she did. With a quick wriggle she slipped under Blade's wide-spread legs, giving the insides of his thighs a playful pinch as she did. Another quick wriggle, and she was kneeling in front of Blade. Then her head thrust forward, like a bird darting at a particularly juicy worm. Her lips closed around Blade's half-awake erection. In a moment it was no longer just half-awake.

Eventually Blade and Melyna reached the point where they couldn't have conjured up a single erotic impulse between them if their lives had depended on it. Melyna used the rest of the water in the jug for her own washing, and together they went out into the morning.

It was just as well for Blade that he and Melyna got along so well-out of bed as well as in it. The next month was an ordeal of boredom and frustration for Blade.

It was not that the Councilors objected to Himgar's plans. They were more than willing to have Blade train the scouts in unarmed combat and help lead them down to the city. They were even willing to accept his proposal for the move north. But most of the people of the Purple River seemed to be doing nothing to get ready for the move.

Blade could understand their reluctance, and perhaps sympathize with it more than Himgar could. The War Councilor was a man with a mission. Like most such people, he was not overly willing to take into account mere human emotions in pursuing that mission.

Blade, on the other hand, was an outsider, a recent recruit to Himgar's projects. He could understand the people's fear of abandoning their homes and possessions. They would be striking out for a new and unknown land, where they might or might not be able to settle in peace. Finally, they would be making the new settlement with some of the women of the city of Brega. Himgar might see in the city and its learning the last hope of civilization in Brega. But for most of his followers, this was at best the lesser of two evils.

One of the most open doubters about Himgar's plan was also one of his staunchest supporters. Truja, the intended leader of the scouting party, had been a huntress of the city before Rilgon's Senar captured her a year ago. She hadn't even pretended to submit, so she had received the spread-eagling and the lash almost at once. By chance Truja had received barely a hundred lashes. So when they threw her out into the forest to live or die, she had lived, and made her way to the Purple River lands. They had taken her in and healed her. At least they had healed her body, although from neck to buttocks her back was still one mass of ridged scars. Eventually Himgar had talked with her, and she had joined his band. Soon she had become leader of the scouts.

Truja was shorter than the other city women Blade had met, with a large-featured face and dark brown hair showing some streaks of gray. Her body was almost stocky, but well proportioned, and must have been quite desirable before the Senar whipman had left his marks on it. Now, however, Truja was altogether indifferent to her appearance. She was almost as indifferent to sex. Blade did notice, however, that Truja's eyes occasionally softened when they rested on Himgar. If Himgar had ever looked back… But the War Councilor lived with passion only for his mission.