Nob did so. Blade nodded at him, then smiled, and clapped him on the shoulder. «It appears that you and I have sworn friendship, Nob, and so bound our lives, or our deaths, together. So you tell 'me and so I take it to be, for though I am sure you are a great liar when it is required I do not think you lie to me.»

The man showed his gums. «Aye, sire, that is the truth of it. We swore an oath each to the other.»

«Then be about your tasks, man. And I will be about mine. I must find out what I have been doing, rightly or wrongly, to save our lives and defeat this barbarian Heatoris.»

«Ye have done a great deal, master. Some of it, mind ye, I did not approve of-such as enlisting the Gray People and taking away the penthe and-«

Blade pointed at the door. «Go.»

Nob had the last word as he brushed aside the door hanging. «If ye want to see Ptol alive, master, ye had best hurry. He has not so much blood in him as a fat man might be thought to have. And he is a stubborn wretchhe has spoken nothing yet of import.»

«I will see to it,» said Blade. «Ptol will talk.»

Blade marveled at his own cruelty. He knew that the Richard Blade of Dimension X was not the gentlemanly Blade of Home Dimension; still he wondered. And wondered also at the Patmosian idea of torture. They had merely locked the fat priest into a dungeon and there, after bleeding him a little, and touching him lightly with hot irons, had left him for Blade to deal with.

Ptol cowered at the sight of Blade. He whimpered and lisped and clutched his leather-cuffed right stump to his flabby chest. Blade, accoutered all in black leather and metal harness, wearing a gleaming helmet with the medallion of Izmia on it, loomed near seven feet tall. He drew his great sword and, leaning easily on it, surveyed the priest. He remembered nothing of Ptol save what Nob had told him. Ptol did not know that.

Blade prodded with his sword at the leather bandage. Ptol screamed and tried to squirm away.

«What happened to your hand, priest?»

Ptol had lost weight. His flabby jowls swayed as he raised his head to stare at Blade. Blade credited him his due-there was still a hint of defiance in-the man.

«You ask that?» Ptol was sullen. «You who struck it from me?»

Blade touched his sword to the man's remaining hand.

«So I did. And it occurs to me that, since I have taken one of your hands, I may as well have the other. What say you to that, priest?»

Ptol thrust his left hand at Blade. «I say strike it off and be damned! Kill me. Juna will revenge me.»

Blade smiled. «You are hardly one to call on Juna,

priest. But keep your hand. There are other ways. But first will you talk? I would know everything you hide in that fat little carcass. Everythingl The plans of Hectoris,

his numbers of men and ships, his landing places and, not least, the intrigue you were sent to carry out in the Pal ace.»

Something flickered in Ptol's eyes, then was gone. Blade turned on his heel and stalked out. «You have five minutes, priest.»

It took ten minutes for Blade to make his arrangements. When he returned to the dungeon Ptol was still defiant. To Blade's vast amusement he offered Blade a deal.

«We should be friends,» Rol lisped. «I come bearing an offer of great honor from Hectoris-he has heard of you and wants you for his friend and companion in arms.» He stared bitterly at his leather stump, then added, «I will forgive this, Blade. Come over to us. Patmos is doomed and you cannot save her. The king and queen have declared war on lzmia and have fled to the safety of Thyrne, which Hectoris now rules. They-«

A faint memory stirred in Blade's mind. A will-o'-thewisp, yet he thought it of something physical remembered, something physical and emotional. He broke in.

«What of Juna, priest?»

Ptol did exactly the wrong thing. He smiled craftily and, with spite, said, «She is taken along as hostage, naturally.» Again the crafty smile.

Blade leaned on his sword and frowned. «What value could she have as hostage?»

Ptol's small eyes were lewd. He nodded and a thread of spittle dribbled from a corner of his pursy mouth. «We have many spies in both Patmos and Thyrne-there was a spy in the party you took through the salt marshes, Blade. We have heard that the goddess Juna, or Vilja, if you will,

is very fond of you. And you of her. It is rumored that you have lain together and were seen thus.»

«A lie,» said Blade. Or was it? He did not know the truth himself. If it had happened he had not confided it to Nob, so could not hear it back. And yet Nob must have guessed, or suspicioned.

Ptol touched his stub with dirty fingers. It must be painful, thought Blade.

«We do not think it a lie,» said Ptol. «But no matterthere is lzmia and she is grandmother to Juna. Yet another string to our bow. Would she see Per grandchild torn apart and fed to dogs? For such it may come to.»

Blade fingered his beard. «You mistake lzmia,» he said. «I think she would do just that. But enough of talk. You have had your chance. Bring him along, guards.»

By this time Blade well knew that he was inside a living volcano. The quakings. and the rumblings, the jets of steam and scalding water, and ever and anon a thunderous explosion, all bore witness to that. It did not take him long to find what he — sought.

When they reached it the pulley and scaffold had been rigged as Blade ordered. The crevice was deep and jagged, irregular, and some hundred feet down was the terrible surge and writhing of molten lava. The heat and stink of it spewed from the crevice. Some of the guards, brawny men wearing the black pearl, looked fearful and tried to hang back. Blade urged them with the flat of his sword.

He pointed to the priest. «Rig him by the heels, and mind you do it securely, and swing him out over the pit. Hurry.»

Ptol cringed back and began to whimper. «No-no-«

Blade bared his strong white teeth at the sniveler. «You are a priest. You should welcome a chance to gaze into hell, if only to avoid it. And you can avoid it, for a time, if you talk. Well?» 0

Ptol began to sob and shook his head. Blade motioned to his men.

The priest was lowered head down into the pit. Blade pointed his sword at the guards manning the tackle. «Drop him and you will follow. And be alert-I do not want him dead. Quite.»

He alone would venture to the edge of the pit. And he alone could bear the sight of the white hot caldron seething and bubbling and sending up its stinking vapors. He did not reckon Ptol to last long, and soon raised a hand. The priest was drawn up. Cold water was douched into 'his face. For a moment Blade feared he had overdone it and bent to listen. The heart was still beating.

When Ptol opened his eyes Blade knew he had won. The priest was finished. He had come back from hell and would not venture again. He nodded and gasped. «I–I will tell you. I will tell everything. Everythingl»

It was no time to show mercy or compassion. Blade put the point of his sword against the priest's throat. «Mind you do. One lie, just one-and I will know-and next time there will be no rope to fetch you up.»

He gave Ptol no chance to recover his nerve or to think of lies. He summoned a council at once of all officers. He invited Izmia, as he knew he must, but she did not appear and he was thankful for it. And he made reacquaintance with Edyrn, whom he now proposed to use as chief liaison with Izmia until he had matters well in hand and could cope with her. If Edyrn, as cool and capable as ever, had suspicions of Blade's loss of memory he avoided mentioning it.

The counsel lasted for hours and Blade gave none of them any respite, least of all Ptol. When he was satisfied, and he had good reason to be, he ordered that the priest's stub be seen to and that he be well treated so long as he behaved. He was to be closely guarded. Then he dismissed them all but Edyrn and Nob, who had not been bidden to the gathering of.his betters, but had come anyway and gained entrance and had been hovering about Blade with the nervous air of a man with something to impart.