Blade shaded his eyes and stared long at the black cone. The snow reflected sunlight in a dazzle of gold. Blade turned at last back to Osric. «The music comes from that mountain?».

The officer smiled and nodded. «It does. Ask hie not how, nor why, for I do not know. Only the Pearl knows that secret. But come it does, through pipes of wind to Cybar and all of Patmos. It never stops, though at times it is louder than at other times, and the legend is that when the music stops Patmos will cease to exist. But enough of. that-you asked why we stopped? Look for yourself, then. It is midway through first music and time for the Gray People to have their second penthe of the day.»

This Blade understood. He watched intently as a soldier passed among the Gray People and handed out small cakes of the stuff. Each cake was the size of a yeast cake in HD, and of the same smooth white color, wrapped in a single leaf. The Gray People, all men, grabbed eagerly at the penthe and chewed it rapidly while still staring at the ground or, vaguely, at the loti fields around them.

Blade, listening to the faint strange harmony and watching the Gray People partake so eagerly of what he knew must be a will-eliminating drug, decided to test his own position. He wanted a reaction. When the soldier returned with the leather box containing the penthe Blade held out his hand. The soldier looked startled, then glanced at his officer.

Osric nodded. «If you like, sir, you are welcome to the penthe. You are a guest of honor and the orders of Juna are that you have every desire.»

Blade took a cake of the stuff and examined it closely. Osric watched. Blade smelled the stuff and crumbled it in his fingers. -It was moist and velvety in texture and had the same perfumed odor as the fields around 'him. He put a fragment on his tongue and found it flat and tasteless. He smiled at Osric and flung the penthe away. «I do not think I would like it.»

Osric smiled-obviously he could not have cared less either way-and waved a hand to his sub-officer. The cart began to move again.

Blade calculated that an hour had passed before they entered the outskirts of Cybar itself. He was much impressed by what he saw. This city had been planned by a genius. There were broad avenues and spacious squares, long vistas where flowers bloomed and fountains played, and scores of small green parks where children ran and played. And music everywhere, traceable now to small white kiosks in the squares and at the corners of the avenues. From vents in the pointed tops of these kiosks the music leaked into the air. Again he was impressed-music somehow piped in from a volcano! Music such as he had never heard before; music that promised and lured and lulled; ineffable and treacherous, sinister in its very sweetness; Pied Piper music, at once compelling and enervating, insistent that the listener swoon and surrender and forget.

Blade began to feel sleepy again. He clawed at his flesh with his ragged dirty nails, inflicting pain, and deliberately seeking cause for anger and affront so that he would not lose his senses. Turning on Osric he demanded harshly how much farther it was to the prison.

«I itch,» Blade complained, «and I have great hunger and thirst. I would have fresh clothing. If we do not reach this prison soon it may enter my mind not to accompany you at all.»

It was an empty threat and Blade knew it. So did Osric, but with his customary politeness did not point this out. Instead he gestured down a long colonnade, flanked by myriad fountains and flower beds, to where an enormous palace glistened white in the sun. From a pinnacle there floated an enormous white banner decorated with a scarlet flower. Blade recognized the ioti bloom and his mood turned even grimmer and more sour-this sweet smelling blossom against the evil circled snake. There could be little doubt of the outcome. Unless he, Blade, could do something and, at the moment, he did not see any great possibilities. What could he, one stranger in a land of flowers and drugs, where intrigue must be as omnipresent as the seductive music, what could he do to prevent the victory of the ringed serpent?

Blade shook his head savagely and told himself that this was negative thinking. But that was the troubleeverything in Patmos, so far at least, was negative. He had been ashore little more than two hours and already he could see that-Patmos was a lazy land where matters were let slide and even efficiency, though it did exist, was muted. Blade frowned in near despair and paid some attention to Osric, who was still talking about the palace.

«It is the home of Kador and Smyr, our king and queen. It is possible that you will one day meet them, though such things are not for me to speculate on.»

Blade gave him a savage leer, quite prepared to force a quarrel now, no matter where it led; anything to cast off. the opiate of this place, the will- and strength-sapping effect of the sensuous air and music that promised paradise and, for all Blade knew, might even deliver it.

So he scowled and gibed at Osric. «And yet you do speculate, Osric. I have no doubt that that must be a crime of sorts in Patmos-for it involves thinking. And, from what I have seen, and smelled and heard so far, that must be the greatest crime of all. Thinking! Tell 'me, Osric, what is the penalty for that? For thinking, for using your own brain? The gallows? The axe? Or perhaps more subtle ways? Locked away in solitary with a lifetime supply of penthz and that cursed music piped into your cell? Answer me, man, and when you do, try to stand like a soldier at least and do not lollygag so.»

But Osric, that dandy, would not be drawn. He smiled and bowed a trifle and flicked his mustache again, all courtesy, but it was evident that he would not be sorry to be rid of his charge. And this time, as he spoke, his hand rested on the hilt of his rapier. Blade marked it and wondered if he had underestimated Osric. He chided himself. He had made enough mistakes on this mission.

«The Goddess Juna,» said Osric, «warned me that you might be difficult, sir. My task is to cope with you, and so I shall do. And answer your questions, as I was also instructed to do. There are no such penalties as you describe in Patmos, sir. We have crime, as do Thyme and Samosta, but we do not punish as they do. We do not, in short, resort to crime to cure crime. If you take my meaning, sir?»

Blade, cooling a bit, and interested, took up the point at once. «But you have prisons. I am being taken to prison now, unless you have lied.»

Osric smiled and pointed ahead of them. «We also lie in Patmos. We lie a great deal, especially the upper classes. It is a way of life and necessary for survival.»

Osric preened his mustache and feed Blade with a bored gaze. «And who is to say, after all, what is a lie and what is truth? They change from day to day.»

Blade was about to ask to be spared the philosophy when Osric. pointed ahead. «There is the prison. I will leave you and bid you good fortune.»

«That is a prison?» Blade could not believe it.

«Aye,» said Osric. «Another of the things you will find strange in Patmos. Our problem is not to keep men in prison, but to keep them out. Once they have spent a little time here they do not wish to leave. But if you observe, and think it through, sir, you will find it not such a paradox after all.»

The cart rolled through the gates into a vast courtyard. There were fountains and flowers everywhere scattered on lawns as green and finely clipped as putting greens in Home Dimension. Here and there was a music kiosk with the strange harmonies emanating from it. There were numerous benches and tables for games and in the distance a group of men were kicking a ball around. The complex of buildings was low and scrubbed to a glistening sheen.

The cart stopped and Osric leaped down. The guard detail had halted at the gate. Blade looked around for other guards, for prison personnel of any kind, and could see none. He did see Gray People, both men and women, tending lawns and clipping hedges and carrying pots and pans about. The prisoners-or what he took to be the prisoners-were dressed in short white kilts and sleeveless singlets. They all wore red sandals. None of them paid any attention to Blade and — none 'of them seemed to be doing any work.