Still, what Blade was learning was valuable. He'd been close in his guess that Kubin was the local equivalent of a Mafia chief. Certainly it would be wise to treat him as that sort of man-one who would show solid loyalty to faithful servants, and total ruthlessness toward unfaithful ones.

Eventually Kubin ran out of tales to tell and called for beer. The servant brought two cups and two jugs, and on Kubin's signal put one of them within easy reach of Blade.

«Go on,» said Kubin. «No one is watching us to demand that you not drink in the presence of a free man of Dahaura.» He raised his own cup and intoned solemnly, «In the hope of Junah's blessing of a long life without sin and a quick death without pain, I drink.»

Blade filled his own cup, repeated the prayer, and also drank. It was not very good beer, weak and flat, but it was cool and wet. At the moment it seemed one of the most refreshing drinks he'd ever tasted.

Kubin emptied a second cup, then crossed his arms on his chest and looked at Blade. «Doubtless you wonder-what will you be in my service, that you need to know all that I have told you?»

«I can't deny that.»

Kubin laughed. «Very good. It is simple. It was clear to me that you were a man who'd spent most of his life as a free warrior. Am I right?»

«Yes.»

«Good. Many of the others thought the same. They were fools. They saw only how dangerous you might be, and not how useful. I have places for such men as you in my service. There is much that must be done in my houses and elsewhere in my affairs that is best done by a man with a sword in his hands. A strong man, who knows what to do with that sword.»

«Such men are indeed useful, in a business such as yours,» said Blade. «I am pleased that you consider me fit to be one.» That was partly true. Admittedly, Blade would not have freely chosen a job as a combined Mafia bodyguard, hitman, and whorehouse bouncer. But since the job had chosen him, he could live with it better than some. He would have a sword in his hand and a certain amount of freedom of movement. He would not be trapped and defenseless.

«You will not be so pleased if I find that I've made a mistake about you,» said Kubin.

«That is one reason I did not have you trimmed. The trimming knife is something to hold over your head-or over your balls.» He laughed harshly. «Also, most men trimmed at your age do not survive it. I was not going to pay another thirty mahari to have you butchered and lose everything.»

«Then-in my work I will have nothing to do with the women?» said Blade.

Again Kubin laughed. «In your work, no. As for what you do when you are not working-that is your affair. You do not strike me as a lover of boys, and few of my women are lovers of other women. So I do not imagine that you will stay apart from all of them all of the time.

«Just remember, though. If you do anything to make one of the women unfit for her work, you will have me to reckon with. And if you do anything to one that her sisters call an injury, you will have them to deal with.

«If you have a choice, you'd do better to deal with me. The women of my houses are Women Beyond the Law, and they've lived as long as they have by taking no nonsense from any man. Frankly, I'd rather face a trimming knife or even the Baran's executioners than half a dozen of my own women when they're feeling a grievance.»

«I thank you for the warning,» said Blade.

«Thank me by doing everything I think you can do,» said Kubin, rising from the stool. «If you do, I can promise you freedom within three years. If not-«He shrugged. «Junah sends to some men wisdom and to some folly. Who is to know what he shall receive?»

He rang the bell to summon the guards, turned, and strode with massive dignity out of the room.

Blade's first post in the service of Kubin Ben Sarif was as a guard in the House of the Night's Tale in the Street of the Ox-Drovers. He was on duty all night, twelve solid hours, with a club in his hand and a sword at his belt. He kept the customers moving in and out, quietly if possible, forcibly if necessary. He kept track of the comings and goings of the other servants, with their trays of food, their jugs of beer and wine, their flasks of perfume and their hot towels. The House of the Night's Tale offered every luxury that its customers might ask for, along with the women. It charged accordingly. For a full night with one of the four leading ladies of the house, the charge was thirty mahari-more than the purchase price of some of the serving girls.

The job was not boring, but it was tiring, hard on the temper, and sometimes dangerous. There was usually at least one difficult customer each night, and as a slave Blade had to tread a very fine line in his dealings with them. If he was too gentle, the man could wreck the house and cost Blade his job. Too rough, and the man might draw his sword at Blade. Then there would also be a mess, perhaps bloodshed, certainly the loss of Blade's job, and perhaps a sentence to the salt flats. A slave had certain rights against a free man in defense of his master's property, but the courts could not always be persuaded to support them.

Blade's size and strength were an asset in this work. He outweighed the average Dahauran by at least twenty pounds, and could pick up many of the house's customers with one hand and disarm them with the other. In his first five weeks at the House of the Night's Tale, Blade never had to draw his sword on a customer.

More dangerous to Blade than the customers was Hadish, the senior guard at the house. Hadish was only a little smaller than Blade, and was all muscle. He had only one ear and one eye, and no liking whatever for Blade. He felt that Blade had been promoted to a position of trust he didn't deserve. What's more, this had been done without Hadish's consent.

«What's Kubin coming to?» Hadish growled once. «Did you ram him so good he wanted to keep you around?»

Blade knew that Hadish often insisted on younger guards in Kubin's service submitting to his attentions before he'd recommend them for promotion. He smiled blandly and shrugged. «I don't know about Kubin, but something's certainly nipping at you. Does it bother you, that you can't get it off with me? I suppose it might, since now you'll have to try the women, and I doubt if any of them will put up with your scars and your stinks.»

Blade had to draw his sword then, at least briefly, to keep Hadish from trying to push him down the basement stairs. After that they weren't quite open enemies-Kubin's discipline was too tight for that. But Blade was aware that he'd better keep his back covered when Hadish was around.

Fortunately, Blade had an ally in the House of the Night's Tale after his first few weeks there. It began just before dawn one morning, when the sky was paling and the breeze through the windows already held the first hints of a scorching hot day. Dahaura wasn't in the desert, but you could never have told it from the daytime temperatures. Everyone who could afford it had a villa or house outside the city, away from the heat, dust, and smells, with trees, grass, and flowing water close at hand.

Blade climbed the stairs to the third-floor loft where he and the other male servants slept. He stepped onto the floor, hearing a board creak under his foot, and turned toward the loft door.

Then suddenly he felt two hands grip him from behind.

Blade realized just in time that the hands were small and soft. He was already turning, one hand on his sword hilt and the other arm doubling up to drive his elbow backward into his attacker's stomach. Then the «attacker» giggled. Slowly Blade turned around, hand still on the sword hilt, and looked down.

The woman giggled again, and looked up. She had to crane her neck to meet Blade's eyes, for she was no more than five feet tall. Blade recognized Esseta, one of the four High Women of the House of the Night's Tale.