Blade had only a few seconds to realize his situation, then a few more to act as the water swept him along. He squeezed himself as flat as possible, until his head was under the water. Pain seared across the top of his head as one spike gouged his scalp. Then he was past the barrier, sliding down into the shadows. He raised his head, took a deep breath, and in the next moment plunged out into thin air again.

This was the longest fall of all and Blade had time to wonder if it was going to be the last one of his life. Then he plunged into another icy pool with a splash so loud that it was still echoing from the stone walls as his head broke the surface.

Before Blade could do anything more, a metallic clank sounded from high overhead, then suddenly light flared close at hand. The glare after so much darkness half-dazzled Blade. It was a moment before he could make out a ledge at the side of the pool, glistening gray walls rising all around him, and seven fully armed Wolves standing on the ledge.

Blade saw at once there was no way out of there except past the Wolves and through a doorway at the rear of the ledge. He swam to the ledge and heaved himself out of the water. He stood up, water dripping from him, keeping his hands carefully in view and well away from his knife. He took a step forward, the Wolf leader waved his arms, and the six men-at-arms ran at Blade.

Blade had no time to see that the Wolves were coming at him barehanded. All he could see was that, after all he'd gone through, the Wolves were going to slaughter him. He'd never see the Wizard of Rentoro. It had all been wasted.

So rage filled him and he let out a roar of sheer fury that made even the Wolf leader jump. As the echoes of that roar boomed around the cave, Blade leaped forward, his knife rasping out and gleaming in the torchlight. He slashed at one Wolf, wheeling as he did to aim a kick at the groin of a second.

The knife sprayed sparks as it grated across the man's helmet, then drew a spurt of blood as it opened his cheek. Blade's kick missed the second man's groin, but slammed into his thigh hard enough to knock him off balance. He staggered into the path of a third Wolf, both men went down together, and Blade leaped on them.

He drove a booted foot down on a man's throat, felt bone and cartilage shatter, heard the man scream. He whirled as two men tried to grab his arms, his clubbed hands smashing both of them aside. He kicked one man in the knee and chopped him in the back of the neck as he screamed and tried to hop away on one leg. He fought like a mad robot, hammering and kicking and stabbing, until the floor ran with the blood of the Wolves and his own fists and arms were raw and bloody from pounding on steel armor.

He fought, until a Wolf got behind him for just long enough. Then pain and fire exploded in his head, he was briefly aware of staggering and falling, knew that he was lying on the floor helpless-and finally stopped knowing anything at all.

Blade awoke in a canopied bed large enough for six people, under a pile of quilts thick enough to keep him warm at the North Pole. Every muscle in his body was complaining and he was bruised and scraped all over, as if he'd taken a quick trip through a cement mixer.

None of this was enough to keep him in bed. Blade rolled out of bed and did a few exercises. If it came to a fight, he would do well enough. Anything less than a strong force of Wolves in top shape was going to get badly mauled if they tried anything.

With an effort, he forced himself out of this bloodthirsty mood. Why assume he was going to have to fight again, when he didn't know what orders the Wizard had given? He now realized that the Wolves had taken him prisoner, when they could have easily chopped him to pieces and fed him to the castle's watchdogs. They'd taken him with their bare hands, and some of them had been killed doing this. He'd been allowed to reach the end of his long journey alive, well, and fit to meet the Wizard. Quite probably the Wizard of Rentoro didn't want him killed.

His mind settled on this point, Blade began to inspect his room. It was one of those rooms that made him wonder if he was a guest or a prisoner. The walls were hung with tapestries, the floor covered with fleeces and furs, the bed and the other furniture richly carved out of some pale hardwood. In one corner was a silver watertap and a wooden stand with two jeweled cups, in another corner a marble toilet.

There were also bars on the one high narrow window, iron rings hanging from the walls, and a door of solid iron, heavy enough to stop a tank. He was going to be quite comfortable in this room-but he was also going to be staying in it, whether he liked it or not, until someone outside let him leave.

After three days without food or clothing, Blade began to wonder just how comfortable he was supposed to be. He'd heard and seen nothing to suggest the castle was even inhabited. He knew it was, but he now knew as well that the Wizard and his men were ignoring his existence.

Maybe they hoped to weaken him by hunger, but they wouldn't find that easy. It would be another week before they could hope to find him seriously weakened. Until then, he would be both willing and able to put up a fight. His original bloodthirsty mood was beginning to return, stronger than before.

After another three days without food, Blade's stomach shrank down and its angry rumblings stopped. Blade's mood was more savage than ever. He was about ready to kill the first person who stepped through the door, then tear him apart, roast him over a fire of tapestries and furniture, and eat him!

Blade laughed at the vision this thought conjured up. In a few more days, his situation would no longer be a laughing matter. He would start losing strength, until he would be an easy victim for even one Wolf, let alone half a dozen. Eventually he would start losing his willpower and self-control. Then what? He might not actually go mad, but he could become horribly vulnerable to whatever the Wizard might do to him. He was more vulnerable to hypnosis when his system was depressed by drugs, fatigue, illness, or hunger. Would he also be more vulnerable to the Wizard's mental powers? Would the Wizard be able to strip his mind of all defenses, extract its contents like the meat from a coconut, and turn him into a helpless puppet? Would the Wizard-

Whatever the Wizard might do, he, Richard Blade, would spend no more time worrying about it. The six days of hunger must already be working on him, if he could let his mind spin horrifying fantasies this way.

The Wizards of Rentoro might once have been telepaths. In fact, Blade was prepared to believe they had been. But what about the present Wizard? Everything about the way he wielded his power over Rentoro could be explained without telepathy. Even the trances of the Wolf leaders could be nothing more than a ritual of meditation. With enough men loyal to him, the Wizard could give the appearance of having all the «magical» powers of his ancestors.

Still, telepathy or not, if the Wizard did not come within the next week, he would find Blade helpless, physically and perhaps mentally. What would happen then, Blade didn't care to guess, and firmly put any further wild fantasies out of his mind.

That night Blade enjoyed his best sleep since reaching the castle. He woke with a memory of strange dreams, to hear an almost equally strange sound. It was an iron key, turning in the lock of the door.

Blade sprang out of bed as the door opened. He crouched behind the bed as five Wolf leaders in full armor clanked into the room. Then he rose to face the man who followed the Wolves into the room.

His journey was really over. At last he was in the presence of the Wizard of Rentoro.