Return to Kaldak Part 6

Ezarn came up to Blade outside Sidas's office and gave an exaggerated salute. "Sir, do I have permission to speak, sir?"

"Next time you ask my permission to speak, I won't give it." Blade growled. His voice was harsher than he'd intended. He'd rather looked forward to having Ezarn's rough comrades.h.i.+p while he was in Kaldak. Now he was going to be all alone again inevitable, perhaps, but even the inevitable can get a little wearing if it happens too often!

"All right. Thing is, this is the first time you and I can hit the taverns together. Also gonna be the last time, without some mother-raping Law-sucker kicking me for it. So let's get some of the boys together and move out."

"You won't have to drag me, Ezarn."

A long night of drinking sounded like a good idea. Blade wondered if Kaldakan liquor had improved any in the last thirty years. Even if it hadn't, it would let him forget about the Dimension X secret for a few hours.

Chapter 12.

The soldiers' tavern was like others Blade had seen in many Dimensions. It was overcrowded, hot, noisy, and smoky. Here in Kaldak the smoke came from something burned in bra.s.s pots hung from the ceiling on chains. To Blade it smelled like old rubber tires, but the Kaldakans didn't seem to mind it. He wondered if it was a narcotic, an aphrodisiac, or simply intended to make people get drunk faster so they wouldn't have to go on smelling it!

The bra.s.s pots hung so low that Blade had to duck his head to get under most of them. Many of the Kaldakans were short enough not to have this problem, but Ezarn had already knocked himself out. Now he lay snoring quietly in one corner. A comrade mounted guard over him, to keep people from robbing, trampling, or vomiting on him.

Blade had put down several large jugs of beer. The dark-haired girl on his lap kept trying to make him drink hard liquor. He kept refusing. Kaldakan liquor was bad enough straight. Taking it on top of beer-well, he didn't want to show up for his first day at the Commander's School with a history-making hangover.

After a while the girl started to plaster herself against Blade. She was pleasantly curved and felt warm and comfortable against him. It helped that her blouse was now open and her skirt hiked up to mid-thigh, and she wasn't wearing any underclothes.

As her blouse slipped down off her shoulders, Blade saw tattoos on the upper slopes of both b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He prodded them with a forefinger.

"Tribe?" he said.

The girl wouldn't meet his eyes. He put a hand under her chin and lifted her head gently until she did. "Yes," she said finally. "I was taken when I was fourteen. The son of the farmer who bought me freed me when I was twenty. But what could I do with the freedom, except come here?" Blade caught the note of desperate defiance in her voice. She'd swallowed her pride enough to let her earn a living as a tavern wh.o.r.e, but it was still there.

Blade decided to make the Tribal girl's evening profitable and his own a little more enjoyable. He ran a hand up her leg to the edge of her skirt. When she didn't protest he ran it up farther. As he stroked the inside of her thigh, she opened his s.h.i.+rt and ran her hand over his bare chest.

"Old scars," she murmured. "Not from the battle we've all heard about. Where did you get them, Voros?"

"I wish I knew," he said. "I know I was a soldier, because I remember everything about how to fight. I don't remember where I fought."

"Hmmmm," she said, laying her lips against Blade's bare skin. "Couldn't you have them truth-see you?"

"I suppose I could," said Blade, more casually than he felt. "But what if something happened to me to make me lose my memory? Something so horrible that I had to forget it or go mad? Would I gain anything by remembering it now?"

"I understand," the girl murmured. "If I could forget the night they took our village . . ."

A gong sounded from the end of the room. "Fill up, fill up, my friends," shouted the tavern owner. "Fill up, and do justice to Rokhana, the unique, wonderful, exquisite Rokhana. You can't see any of her anywhere else but you can see all of her here tonight and every night at the Defenders' Rest!"

He repeated this announcement several times in a whiskey baritone, beating the gong all the while. The tavern girls circulated with bottles and pitchers, filling everybody's cups and gla.s.ses, dancing out of the way of any man who grabbed at them. Some didn't-they'd "brought their own" in the form of a female comrade. Blade saw two of the women soldiers leading their men toward the stairs to the upper floors of the tavern. Up there were forty or so "sleeping rooms"; sometimes they really were used for sleeping.

The tavern owner went on beating the gong until Blade felt a strong desire to stuff the padded stick he was using down his gullet. A drummer and a horn player came out from behind the bar and sat under the gong. The drummer started pounding a steady beat in time with the gong, while the horn player tuned his instrument. At least Blade supposed he was tuning it; one dying-cow blast sounded very much like another.

Finally the band was ready. At a signal from the tavern keeper the girls pulled back half a dozen tables to make a clear s.p.a.ce in the middle of the floor. The horn player blew such a long blast that Blade wondered where he got the breath for it. Then the curtain over the door to the stairs flew aside and the long-awaited Rokhana pranced into the room.

She was a tall, well-built blonde, who moved in a way both erotic and graceful at the same time. Everything she wore was in a shade of green which went well with her hair-cloak, hat, jacket, blouse under the jacket, calf-length skirt, and boots so floppy Blade wondered how she was going to dance in them.

A moment later, Blade found out. Rokhana simply swayed and wiggled in time to the musicians' beat where she stood. With most women that would have been unimaginative or even boring. With Rokhana it was exciting by itself, and gave promise of better things to come.

After a minute she undid the clasps of her cloak and shrugged it free of first one shoulder, then the other. She caught it before it hit the floor, without missing a beat. Then, still in time with the musicians, she threw it accurately onto the sleeping Ezarn. Blade joined in the roar of laughter.

The hat followed. It pa.s.sed so close to Blade that he could have caught it without the girl on his lap. Then Rokhana kicked high twice, sending her boots sailing over the bar. Somehow she managed the high kicks without showing anyone what she wore under the skirt. She did show off long, elegant legs. Laughter turned into bawdy shouts.

Now Rokhana could move freely about the floor. Her bare feet seemed to twinkle-or was it the beer and the smoke making Blade's vision uncertain? All he knew was that suddenly the jacket was flying toward him, draping itself over the girl on his lap. There was something ugly in the laughter this time. Blade thought he heard the girl curse in her Tribal tongue.

By the time Blade got his girl untangled, Rokhana was undoing her blouse a hutton at a time. It didn't really matter that much, since she was wearing something under it. The cheers and the handclapping still swelled until they began to drown out the musicians. The musicians played louder, and the din hammered at Blade's ears.

Rokhana's blouse had b.u.t.tons at the wrists as well as down the front. She undid the wrist b.u.t.tons with her teeth, while holding the free hand modestly in front of her gaping blouse. Then she started wriggling her shoulders and torso. Slowly the blouse slid down, while an inch at a time she pulled it out of the waist of her skirt. She had to stand still while she was doing this, but n.o.body would have been watching her feet in any case.

Rokhana's upper body seemed to move. in three directions at once, and suddenly the blouse was on the floor. Under it she wore a sort of halter top, which did nothing to hide the shape of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s or much to restrain their movement. For a moment one long-fingered hand rested lightly over a nipple. Then Rokhana was on the move again. So was her skirt-down her hips.

Things began to flow together now for Blade. He suspected he was actually calmer than most of the men in the tavern. All around he heard heavy breathing, as if the soldiers had run hard or lifted heavy weights. In one corner a man and a woman stood locked so close together he couldn't tell if they were actually making love or not.

Rokhana stepped out of her long skirt and pranced freely in a short skirt and the halter. Somehow her hair had come undone, and as her dancing grew wilder it tossed like a golden mane around her head. It caressed her bare freckled shoulders, and Blade felt his hands, itching to do the same. He also felt the girl on his lap moving, and her hand between his legs. The raw s.e.x in the air of the tavern was getting to everyone.

Half a dozen men stood up to catch Rokhana's short skirt when she tore it off. For a moment it looked as if they would fight for it, then they all drew back. They must have known that a brawl would end the striptease before it reached its climax. They would sit on an anthill or fight Tribesmen bare-handed before they would do that. Not when Rokhana was now parading in the halter and shorts so short they hardly covered more than a G-string .... Blade had to remind himself to breathe.

He wouldn't have believed that the music could get louder, but it did. So did the stamping and clapping. Several more couples were now in secluded corners. There was no doubt about what some of them were doing. Blade's eyes lingered on one couple just long enough to miss the moment when Rokhana's halter top came off. From the wolfpack howl all around him, he still knew what to expect when he looked back at the woman.

Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s would have been too large for any woman smaller or less broad-shouldered. On her they were just right. Their large nipples were now fully erect. She writhed in place, so that each breast seemed to move independently. Meanwhile her hand crept tantalizingly down one smooth flank to the front of her shorts. The cheering began to fade, because everyone was now too dry-throated.

One b.u.t.ton at the front of the shorts. Two. Three. Rokhana flowed down onto the floor until she was lying on her back. Now she writhed as if she felt a lover already deep inside her. Suddenly she threw her legs and pelvis clear of the floor. At the same time she s.n.a.t.c.hed the shorts down to her knees. As if she had springs in her legs, she bounced to her feet, kicked high and sent the shorts flying. Everyone was too paralyzed to move, as she stood stark naked in the middle of the room. The musicians stopped playing. Blade had never heard such a complete silence in a room with so many people in it.

Blade raised his head, and Rokhana's wide blue eyes met his. A little shudder went through her, starting at the ankles and working up. It made her b.r.e.a.s.t.s sway. Then she was walking toward him, suddenly almost awkward, feeling her way as if she were walking over stony ground. The proud l.u.s.t-G.o.ddess was gone, and in her place a woman who desperately wanted the hero of the hour but was afraid of being rejected.

She came up to Blade and leaned over him until her nipples were at the level of his eyes. She smiled. He smiled back. She laid a hand on his shoulder. He reached up and patted her on one hip.

Then the Tribal girl in Blade's lap turned around and punched Rokhana hard in the stomach.

The blow caught Rokhana off-balance. She let out a whuff and staggered backward. She would have gone down if she hadn't stumbled over someone's outstretched foot and landed in his lap. The soldier laughed and threw an arm around her waist. She cursed, twisted around, and slapped his face. Before he could reach for her again, she was on her feet, striding back toward Blade and the Tribal girl. She no longer looked in the least vulnerable. Instead she looked ready for murder.

The Tribal girl slid off Blade's lap and got ready to defend herself. She looked frightened half out of her wits at her own boldness, but determined to die rather than beg for the mercy Rokhana probably wouldn't show. In fact, it was the girl who launched herself at the other woman.

They grappled, too much in deadly earnest to waste time screaming or pulling hair. The girl tried to punch Rokhana in the stomach again. Rokhana aimed a punch at the girl's breast. It connected. She gasped at the pain but closed with her opponent, trying to grapple again. That would take away some of the advantage Rokhana's longer reach gave her.

Rokhana danced out of range and kicked at the girl's groin. The girl rode the blow and gripped Rokhana's ankle, but Rokhana twisted free before the girl could throw her. As she did, she missed her footing and went down. Before she could get up, the girl was on top of her. Her st.u.r.dy legs clamped around Rokhana's waist and her hands felt for the blonde woman's throat. An animal roar went up as the girl started to squeeze. Blade looked at the tavern keeper, hoping to see him ready to interfere. Instead the man was staring at the fight with glazed eyes, licking his lips as the girl's fingers tightened.

Rokhana kicked and clawed at the girl. Her nails shredded the girl's blouse and left b.l.o.o.d.y streaks down her bare back, but didn't break her grip. Then Rokhana's desperately searching eyes fell on a heavy metal beer pitcher lying on the floor just within reach. She grabbed it and smashed it across the girl's forehead. The girl gave a little whimper but held on. Rokhana's lips were beginning to turn blue.

Then she somehow found the strength to swing the pitcher again. It crashed against the girl's temple. This time her grip broke, and she toppled sideways. She sprawled on the floor, bare to the waist and nearly as exposed below, while Rokhana gasped for air.

Then the blonde was on her feet again, swaying, stumbling, ignoring the hands which darted out to pinch and feel her sweating flesh. She stood over the half-conscious Tribal girl and kicked her in the stomach. The crowd roared. Rokhana kicked again, harder.

Blade stood up. Whatever the Tribal girl might deserve, he wasn't going to sit quietly by and let her be murdered. Still less was he going to cheer it on. He moved out onto the floor so fast he was behind Rokhana before anyone noticed. She'd just kicked again when he threw both arms around her and pulled her back out of reach of the girl.

For a moment Rokhana struggled, until Blade found himself gripping her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Then she stopped struggling and turned to face him. He almost recoiled from the look in her eyes. She was so near the edge of madness with anger and arousal that she'd be quite happy if he took her here, now, on the floor in front of everybody. The howl from all around them told Blade other men saw the same thing.

Instead he put one arm under her thighs and another under the small of her back and lifted her. Ignoring the girl and the shouts, he carried her to the stairway door. He kicked the door shut behind them, then carried Rokhana up the stairs to the nearest unoccupied room with a bed.

The bed was narrow and rickety and the room smelled of stale beer and unwashed bodies, but it didn't matter. Neither of them could have waited long enough to find anything better.

In the darkness Blade felt Rokhana stretch and press herself against him. Even now, she felt incredibly good.

He cupped a breast and stroked her hair with the other hand. She didn't respond as she had before. After a moment he said, "You're thinking about the Tribal girl."

He heard a little gasp. "Are you a truth-seeing wizard, like the Sky Master Blade?"

"No. But if I'd just been nearly strangled by someone, I might be thinking about them, too."

"I was. At first I thought I would see that she was tried. That would mean death, for her."

"She's a free woman."

"Her blood is of the Tribes. The Law can be bent for such. And I know how to bend judges, if it is needed." She put her hand on Blade in the appropriate place.

"Don't try to bend that, or you'll have my hands on your neck."

"I'll gladly have your hands on me anywhere."

"Prove it."

She did, and so thoroughly it was quite a while before they were talking again. "You say you thought you would have the girl tried?" asked Blade. "What now?"

"If her skull isn't cracked and her guts bleeding, it won't be because I didn't try. She'll lose her job and not find it easy to get another in Kaldak. If she has to go back to the farms, that will be enough vengeance for me."

"You're being rather easy on someone who tried to kill you."

"She won't get a second chance, believe me, For now, I do as the Sky Master Blade and his consort the Blessed Kareena taught us. She sought peace with the Doimari, even after what she suffered at their hands. It was not her fault that they would not see reason."

Blade couldn't recall what he'd said when he was Sky Master which might be the basis for this "teaching," but was still glad. His influence had reached out across thirty years and saved an ex-slave girl from an ugly death. It was an oddly satisfying feeling.

Then Rokhana was moving again, and he felt something just as satisfying in a different way. She rolled over on top of him, her lips traced a path down his throat, chest, and belly, then closed hungrily on his shaft. He sank his fingers into her hair to hold her in position while she worked . . . .

Blade didn't appear at the Commander's School next morning with a hangover, but he was very short of sleep.

Chapter 13.

"Commander's School Company-attention!"

Blade slammed his booted heels together with a smart thump. On either side of him, a hundred and fifty men and women did the same thing.

"Flag Guard-forward!"

Blade took three steps forward, then to the right to close up with the other members of the squad. Members.h.i.+p in the Flag Guard was a considerable honor for a Commander Cadet. You needed a spotless record, high grades, and a natural talent for close-order drill. Or at least they thought it was "natural talent" in Blade's case. He'd fitted in so well at the Commander's School that he sometimes wondered if anyone would believe the truth if he told them.

He still wasn't tempted to do it, though.

Gravel crunched under booted feet to his left as the inspection party made its way along the ranks of the Company. Blade had to keep his eyes rigidly forward, but they walked slowly enough so that he got a good long look at them.

Sidas led, a sash across his broad chest but otherwise looking much the same as he had in his office. Some of the high-ranking Kaldakans went in for fancy uniforms, but not Sidas.

He was escorting Councilor Geyrna. She would be in her mid-forties now, and her red hair was turning gray. She was still a handsome woman, with the full bosom and ready smile Blade remembered in the fifteen year old merchant's daughter who'd loved the chief's son. He wondered what might have happened between her and Bairam, to make her divorce him and stay in Kaldak, rather than share his exile. Had he played around a little too freely with other women? That would be like the man, Blade thought.

Geyrna had her own personal staff, headed by a striking dark-haired woman. She must have been close to six feet tall, with a magnificent figure, although her face was too long and her nose too big for cla.s.sic beauty. She carried herself like a thoroughbred mare. Blade had to force himself not to stare.

Then the inspection party was past, and the drillmaster was shouting, "Company-right face! Flag Guard-lead!" As the Flag Guard took their position at the head of the company, the band struck up, and the drillmaster gave his final order.

"Forward march!"

The company pa.s.sed in review. Blade kept perfect step, and the angle of his laser rifle never varied by a single millimeter. He still could not quite get the dark-haired woman out of his mind. He hadn't seen her before in this Dimension, he was sure. Did she remind him of someone he'd known elsewhere? Perhaps-there'd been so many women.

After the ceremonies, the School Commander announced an unexpected half-day's holiday. Blade was taking a shower and wondering what to do with the free time when one of his comrades stuck his head into the bathroom.

"Huh, Voros. You free tonight?"

"So far, Kabo. Why?"

"Good. Commander Baliza's inviting a few of us to dinner in her quarters."

"Baliza?"

Kabo grinned. "The chief of Councilor Geyrna's staff. Remember her?" His hands outlined a well-built woman.

"Now I do. Dinner, you say?"

Kabo leered. "Don't get your hopes or anything else up, Voros. She's cast-iron all the way through and all the way up and down. Save your b.a.l.l.s for women who'll give them back when they're through."

Blade tried to look innocent. "I won't do anything without orders."

Kabo laughed. "Good. If the evening breaks up early, knock on my door. We can go into town and visit the Golden Munfan. They say the dancers there are even better than Rokhana."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

Baliza's dinner party started off rather bleakly. Blade felt rather like a small boy at a fancy tea party, watched over by a particularly grim nurse. From the look on the faces around him, he wasn't the only one. Baliza sat at the head of the table, her face so expressionless that it was hard to think of her as alive, let alone a woman. She wore civilian clothes cut even more severely than her uniform, and her hair was bound up tightly on top of her head. It made her look positively horse-faced. At least the food and drink were good, and Blade was hungry enough to let that make up for the frigid atmosphere.

Over desert Baliza began to relax, drawing out each of the cadets on what he or she had done before joining the army. She saved Blade for last, so he was able to organize his lies about a loss of memory even better than usual. So why did he get the feeling afterward that she was skeptical? It was a vague feeling, not much he could really put his finger on, rather like the feeling that he'd seen Baliza or someone like her before.