Blade relaxed. Their vision would be very poor in those clumsy things.

The taller of the two black robes was questioning with both voice and gesture as they approached the dangling Blade.

«I understand, Ptol, why the living Juna must be given to the Samostans, to Hectoris himself, as tribute and propitiation. But why must we torture and disfigure the girl? This I do not understand. I am not opposed to cruelty, as you know, but in this case it is senseless. I-«

The priest thus addressed, a short and rotund figure who had obviously dined well all his life, stopped in his tracks. He put a hand on the taller man's arm and began to harangue him in a soft, lisping voice. Blade cursed Ptol's mushy guts and the growing pain in his own arm. They would pick this particular place to stop and natter. If they spotted him he was going to enjoy killing them, especially Ptol.

Not was talking-and talking-and talking. That slow lisp, running on and on, reminded Blade of syrup leaking out of a cask. If good syrup could be defiled by calling it obscene and hypocritical.

«. we have gained a day of truce, of mercy, for all priests. Is this not so?»

The tall man nodded. «Of course, Ptol. You went to Hectoris in person and wheedled this boon of him. For priests only. That will not set well with the people when all this is over. Oh, I know your motives were pure-the mysteries must be preserved and we priests are the only guardians of those mysteries. But the common folk will not understand. They will call it treason and, when Hectoris and his men depart, there will be trouble.»

Ptol laughed. It was a nasty sound. like noxious gas leaking from a bladder. But when the fat priest rapped the other on the shoulder and spoke again there was no mirth in his voice.

«You are twice a fool, Zox. Thrice, four times a fool. Now try again to comprehend. Listen, really listen, whilst I explain once more. For by Juna's golden pudendum I will not say it again.»

Blade's arm, locked around the window bar, began to cramp. He scowled and gritted his teeth. Why not simply drop down and dispatch both of them? Because he was hearing something of value and he wanted to go on listening.

The taller priest appeared to shrink away as Rol alluded to Juna's intimate parts. «There is no need for blasphemy, Ptol. Surely we are in enough trouble without that.»

Rol shook his golden mask from side to side in a gesture that spoke of despair, contempt and fondness for a not too bright proteg6.

«Zox! Zox, listen to me. Just listen. Do not speak again or I will forget that I am a priest and fetch you a blow that you will never forget-if you live.

«First-you are beginning to believe your own lies. Our liesl We, the priests, are the essence of Thyme's religion. It is we who manage things and reap the benefits. It is we who select the girl who is the living Juna, and we who train her, and we who oversee and supervise her, and we who dispose of her when the time has come. The priests, Zox! You. Me. All the rest of the brethren. We make the rules and we play the game according to them. And we are men, Zox. Mortal men. We can be killed and tortured and flung into filthy dungeons just as can any ordinary man. Hectoris knows all this. He is no fool, no mindless peasant. He intends to use us, Zox, to use us to help him rule Thyme. And we are going to let him use us. Gladly. Because we have no choice. Far from it-we have left just eight of the hours allotted to us. Eight hours to recover from this disaster and get our affairs in order and begin serving the new ruler of Thyme. And we must serve him well, efficiently, or Hectoris will serve us-a fate that you will not like, Zox. Think of it-you a priest, used to the good things of life, condemned to slavery or the axe or the gallows. Put to the sword on a whim. Or if not that, poor Zox, and you are simply turned into the streets, what would you do? Beg for your bread? What else could you do? You have been a priest all your life-what could you do to earn a living?»

The tall man nodded, but was still stubborn. Blade damned them both as the pain in his arm approached the unbearable.

«I understand all that,» Zox admitted. «You are right, Ptol. But as you know I have always studied the deeper cause of things. I do not, as I said before, object to the torture of this girl. I want to know why she must be tortured and her face burned away?»

Ptol sighed long and deep. He slapped a fat hand against his golden mask. «Listen, then. I will try to adjust the matter for your wits. It is really very simple-if we give Juna, the living Juna, to Hectoris as she now is he will be captivated with her. As any man would be. This is so, Zox. You have enjoyed her favors?»

The-golden mask moved in what Blade interpreted as a reluctant negative. «No. I am one of the few who has not, uh, availed himself of priestly privilege.»

«The more fool you,» said Ptol curtly. «But never mind that-you know her beauty and her skill in giving pleasure. Hectoris is a brutal barbarian but he is a man. He will take Juna to bed. More likely he will rape her, not, because it is required but because he is Hectoris and prefers rape. And, mind this closely, Zox, if he rapes and dishonors Juna he also rapes and dishonors us, the priests of Thyrne. Do you begin to see now?»

The tall man nodded. «To a point. You have thought it out well, Ptol. If you give him a disfigured and tortured goddess he will only turn her out or have her slain. Yes. I think I begin to grasp-«

The fat priest held up a hand. «Do not strain, Zox. There is more. See if you can grasp it as well.» Ptol began to tick off points on his pudgy fingers.

Blade thought: 1 cannot last another minute. 1 may as well drop now. 1 will kill Ptol first by putting my sword into his skull as 1 fall. «tuna hates us,» said Ptol. «She hates all priests. All living Junas hate all priests because of the life they must undergo through us. Nothing new about that-but if this Juna is fancied by Hectoris, and gains his bed and his ear, she will waste no time in plotting against us. My fat trembles to think about it.

«Another point when this Juna is disposed of I intend to flatter Hectoris by giving him the honor of selecting the next Juna. He is shrewd and he is cunning, but like any man he can be flattered if it is done by an expert.»

Zox wrung his emaciated hands. «Clever, Rol. Most clever. Most subtle.»

«Not so much,» said Ptol. «But it might do. Hectoris is not a fool and will not be fooled for a moment, but that is the insidious thing about flattery. A wise man can recognize it and still be pleasured by it-so long as it is not grossly overdone. In this case it will not be. We will punish the present Juna for false counsel, a crime of which she is clearly guilty. This gives us a legal basis for destroying her and I do not think Hectoris will quibble when confronted with the fact. Then all he need do is to select a tender virgin, break her in and allow us to — bestow goddess-hood upon her. You begin to see now, Zox? If Hectoris selects the next Juna himself, and sacrifices her in person, he can scarcely disown her priests. So long as we mind our manners and do nothing to anger him.»

Zox clasped his golden mask in both hands and nodded vehemently and said, «You are a genius, Ptol. A master. I always knew it. But had not we better get on with it? Time grows short.»

Ptol's golden mask nodded in approval. «For once you are right, my thick-headed friend. Let us be on our way. They have Juna and we are awaited-the matter cannot begin until I arrive.»

The two black robes went scuffing on down the passage.

Blade, his arm devoid of all feeling; thought they resem bled two carrion crows. He waited until they rounded a turn then dropped to the corridor floor with a sigh of re lief. His left arm dangled uselessly at his side as he ran softly after the priests. A plan of sorts began to grow in his mind he did not intend to stand idly by and let these creatures torture a helpless girl. He would rescue her if he could-and if she had friends, powerful friends and resources, so much the better. He needed entry into high circles if he were to survive, and he did not much fancy his chances with Hectoris and his barbarian hordes. Even if this Juna, this living goddess who was about to be de posed in so cruel a way, even if she had no actual power,