Wizard Of Rentoro Part 6

Blade did not hesitate before replying. He could not mistake the sincerity-and the utter loneliness-in the Wizard's voice. It would be safe to risk anything, even his life, on the Wizard's need for his help. He nodded.

"I understand-friend Bernardo."

"That is good-friend Richard."

They shook hands. Then the Wizard opened the door and shouted into the hall outside, "Ho! Bring food and clothing for Richard Blade. At once!"

The Wizard stood by the door until his servants appeared with a chamber robe and a meal of bread, cheese, hot soup, and wine for Blade. Blade ate and drank cautiously, to avoid straining his stomach after the long fast. At last the meal was over and the Wizard silently followed his servants out of the room, leaving Blade alone.

Blade leaned back against the heaped pillows on the bed and ran the scene just finished through his mind again. Now he had a better idea of what he faced and the prospect would have appalled him if it hadn't been so enormously exciting.

Leighton and J would be more than happy to send the Wizard back to Renaissance Italy, if they could. But first they would insist on his revealing all the secrets of his paranormal powers. Examined by competent scientists, the Wizard might reveal the secret of traveling between the Dimensions by sheer mental power.

Then Dimension X would lie open to Britain, and all at once the Project would have justified itself ten times over. Lord Leighton might grumble about his magnificent computer being made obsolete, but he was too good a scientist to protest seriously.

There was going to be much more talking with the Wizard before anything happened, though. The man had raised almost as many questions as he'd answered. One in particular stood out.

In all his words and thoughts, the Wizard had shown only one man, himself, doing everything that must have been done by several generations of Wizards. He seemed to think he was the same man who'd served in the armies of the Visconti, still alive and ruling in Rentoro after more than a century.

Was the Wizard simply mad-at least on that one point?

Had his ancestors pa.s.sed on their memories to him by telepathy, so that he knew everything they'd seen and done as if he'd done it himself? Perhaps there had been four or five Wizards, but only one mind and only one set of memories, now in its fourth or fifth body?

Or could it be that the Wizard was just one man? In that case he would be well into his second century, although he looked no more than thirty-five. Did the powers of his mind extend to r.e.t.a.r.ding the aging process? This seemed the most fantastic notion of all, but was it much less fantastic than the existence of the Wizard in the first place?

Blade laughed. His exploration of the mysteries of the Wizard of Rentoro was not over. In fact, it had just begun.

Chapter 14.

Blade spent the next three days resting, exercising, and eating five meals a day to restore his strength. He half expected that by the time he was back in fighting trim, the Wizard might have changed his mind about their alliance. Whether or not the Wizard was actually a man from the Italian Renaissance, he seemed to think like one. That meant double-edged words and open treachery would be a normal part of his life. Blade knew he had to rely as much as possible on his own strength and skill, and as little as possible on the Wizard's friendship.

In fact, the Wizard kept every promise he'd made, then made a few more and kept those as well. Bernardo Sembruzo (or Bernardo Sembruzo's great-grandson) seemed more and more a man of the Renaissance as Blade came to know him better. He ruled as a tyrant, was more than capable of treachery, and had a wide streak of s.a.d.i.s.tic cruelty in him. He was also brilliant, cultivated, and extraordinarily charming when he chose to be. In short, a man of fascinating (even if sometimes alarming) contradictions.

The Wolves were another matter. Few of them had any charm or knowledge of anything except fighting. They were nothing more than the faithful servants of a tyrant. Blade did not regret the ones he'd killed, and sometimes hoped for a chance to kill a few more.

He soon forgot about the Wolves. Indeed, he soon forgot to wonder whether the Wizard was immortal or a madman. Whoever he was, the man had amazing powers and showed Blade one amazing sight after another.

The Wizard's knowledge of everything that went on in Rentoro was easily explained after he showed Blade the gla.s.s b.a.l.l.s on shelves in the Great Hall of the castle. They were actually b.a.l.l.s of a sort of crystal. The Wizard or one of his dozen trained and trusted a.s.sistants would rest their hands on one of the b.a.l.l.s and concentrate. There would be a milky swirling within the ball, and then a scene would flash into view, every detail and movement shown perfectly. Each ball was "tuned" to a particular city or town. By a simple exercise of will, the man at the view-ball could send his vision anywhere in the city or town. He could see anything-wedding nights, births and deaths, or the hatching of plots against the Wizard. He could also see the messages of the Wizard's allies and spies.

It appeared that the Wizard could send thought messages to trained men-spies or Wolf leaders-anywhere in Rentoro. He could not so easily receive messages or read minds over long distances. His spies either sent their reports to the view-b.a.l.l.s, or rode in person to his castle and let him hear their words and thoughts.

Blade found it oddly consoling that the Wizard could not do everything, or at least wouldn't admit to doing everything.

Blade was getting used to the idea of dealing with a telepathic genius. He was glad he wouldn't have to deal with an out and out superman!

The crystal had another use beside giving the Wizard his magical, all-seeing eyes. In a slightly different form, it created the "sky-bridges"-the teleportation links that hurled the Wolves from one end of Rentoro to another in the s.p.a.ce of a single breath.

The sky-bridge was simple enough, once Blade got used to the idea that it existed at all. A selected crystal was carefully divided into four precisely equal components. One pair was placed somewhere in the castle, the other near a city or town. When activated by the Wizard or one of his a.s.sistants, the four pieces together formed a sky-bridge. Then the Wolves could ride or march between the two crystals at the castle end, appear between the other pair, and descend on the city or town.

There were more than sixty sky-bridges. There was one for each large city or town in Rentoro, and as many more scattered about the country, carefully hidden. Among them, the sixty let the Wizard put down a force of Wolves, ready for action, close to any place in Rentoro, within an hour of giving the order. Of the total of six thousand Wolves, two hundred were always in armor, their heudas saddled and their weapons ready at hand. They were the first, and if more were needed all the rest of the Wolves could follow within a day.

None of it would have made any sense to Blade, if he hadn't seen it in action with his own eyes. He could not doubt it, and therefore had to force his sometimes half-numb mind to understand it. Certainly it explained why the Wolves were invincible. If all the fighting men of Rentoro gathered into a single army, they would outnumber the Wolves five or six to one. The problem lay in gathering them, before the Wizard could detect them and the Wolves could strike. So far no one in Rentoro had ever solved that problem, so the Wizard's rule remained unbroken after more than a century.

The Wizard knew very well that he had to keep the skybridges a closely guarded secret from the Rentorans. "It is the most vital link in the chain that holds up my power," he said. "It is also the weakest. If the Rentorans knew of the crystals at the far end of each bridge, they would search high and low. Certainly they would find and destroy many, perhaps most. Then I would be thrown back into the castle, to stand or die. The sky-bridges must be made of a perfect crystal, cut with great art and tuned with great skill. So if the sky-bridges fell down, it would be hard to replace them before the Rentorans cast aside their fear of the Wolves and rose against me."

"Is that why your spies must ride to the castle to make their reports?" asked Blade.

"Yes. They do not know of the sky-bridges, and they will never be allowed to learn. They must live among the Rentorans, and sooner or later one who knew would have the secret tortured out of him. The Wolves, on the other hand, never spend a single night in any town or city. They never allow themselves to be captured, and I have also hypnotized each one so that he would go mad if anyone asked him about the sky-bridges."

Once more, the Wizard seemed to have laid out an impressive defense in depth. Not surprising, considering the importance of what he was defending. Blade wondered if the Wizard had a map showing all the outer crystals of the skybridges. He stopped wondering. If the map existed at all outside the Wizard's own mind, there was no chance of his allowing Blade to see it and no point in Blade's even asking.

There was also no point in his sending a message to Lorya, waiting in Peloff. Now that he knew the Wizard's secrets, the Wizard would be very careful about letting Blade communicate with the outside world. Trying to rea.s.sure Lorya could arouse the Wizard's suspicions and lead to her death. Blade realized he would just have to remain silent, and hope Lorya would get safely out of Peloff when the agreed-on waiting period came to an end.

What the Wizard did with the crystals was marvelous. How he got them in the first place was almost depressingly ordinary. They came out of a secret mine in the mountains that formed the eastern border of Rentoro. There was no route to the mines from the plains below. The Wizard and the Wolves who guarded the mine went back and forth through a sky-bridge. The slaves they escorted were the young men taken from the cities and towns of Rentoro, and they never left the mine alive.

The Wizard took Blade to the mine once. Blade saw the same things he'd seen in the Wizard's thoughts-the shafts and tunnels, the pits, the hoists and pulleys, and the gaunt, hairy men everywhere. He also saw the hunted, savage look in the men's eyes, and the comparative handful of Wolves who guarded them.

"How many men does the mine need?"

"I only need a few hundred," said the Wizard. "But there are more than a thousand here now, and sometimes there are even more. I take more young men than I need, to remind the people that I rule in Rentoro. It is also a good punishment for rebels. Not even the strongest man can last for more than a year in the crystal mine." The look in the Wizard's eyes as he spoke the last words turned Blade's stomach. The Wizard might not be mad, but certainly the streak of s.a.d.i.s.tic cruelty in him was not fully under control. Taking him back to Home Dimension was still absolutely necessary, but would it be absolutely safe? Blade couldn't help wondering.

Compared to the view-b.a.l.l.s and the sky-bridges, even compared to the crystal mine, the castle was almost commonplace. It had everything needed for the Wizard's comfort or luxury, everything an Italian Renaissance n.o.bleman would have allowed himself, if he'd been in a position to indulge every whim. There was a cellar full of barrels of wine, there was a library of scrolls and illuminated books richly bound in leather, there was a roomful of jewels and another of fine weapons and armor. There was a kitchen that could turn out delicate sauces or roast a whole ox, and piles of silver and gold dishes for serving anything the kitchen turned out. There was a state apartment, with a jeweled bed hung with silk curtains embroidered in pearls and golden thread. There was luxury to wallow in until Blade found himself surprised that the Wizard wasn't a bloated hulk of flesh instead of a hard-muscled fighting man. Only an iron will could have kept him from decaying-but then, any man who could rule as the Wizard did had enough willpower to do almost anything.

All this luxury was for the Wizard himself. There was more for those who served him. The dozen a.s.sistants he'd trained each had a luxurious apartment of their own. The Wolves had their barracks, warm, snug, and comfortable. The craftsmen, the servants, the house guards, even the farm laborers had their own quarters and never went short of food or clothing.

Then there were the women. Some were slaves, some were free servants. All the young ones were also concubines-for the Wizard, for his a.s.sistants, for the Wolves, for the male servants and laborers. Since nature was allowed to take its course, they were also the mothers of future Wolves, concubines, and laborers.

The Wizard was not only the distant tyrant who ruled over Rentoro. He was also the personal and quite absolute ruler of a community of thousands of men and women. Every one of them existed to serve him and his rule, and most of them worshipped or feared him as if he was very nearly a G.o.d.

It was a situation that would have corrupted a saint, and there was very little saintliness in Bernardo Sembruzo. Blade didn't like the Wizard's streak of self-indulgent cruelty any better, but he gradually came to understand it.

At first Blade wasn't sure what to do about the women. It was impossible to ignore them. Most of those who waited on him and the Wizard were beautiful. None of them wore very much, and some of them wore nothing at all except subtle and exciting perfumes. Blade wondered if he was supposed to keep his hands off them, and if so, how long he would be able to do so. In some things, Richard Blade was no more of a saint than Bernardo Sembruzo.

The Wizard was not long in realizing Blade's doubts, and in cheerfully inviting him to make free with the women. "After all," he said, "you have all my secrets. Why should you not have a few of my women as well? You are the only ally and the only true friend I have ever had since I came to Rentoro, and one of the few I have ever had. Only you have been able to offer me a road home."

"I have offered a hope of one," said Blade quietly. "I would rather you did not depend too much on that hope. I will not promise that either or both of us will safely reach England, or that my friends can send you back to your own land and time from there."

"All at once you seem very doubtful of your success," said the Wizard, his eyes narrowing.

"I am no more doubtful of my success than I was before," said Blade. "What I doubt is my own safety, if you hope for too much and then are disappointed."

"Richard, my friend, that is an unworthy thought between men of gentle birth. You should be ashamed of it."

"I would be more ashamed to walk blindly to my death, when a few words could make us understand each other clearly. Such foolish carelessness is not for men of gentle birth, either."

"Perhaps not. Very well-on my honor I swear that if we cannot return to your England, no harm will come to you. Indeed, you shall continue at my right hand, and be my friend and comrade in the ruling of Rentoro. Though we shall be alone, yet we shall have no small pleasure in our lives from that rule."

"I can ask nothing more," said Blade. Indeed, he could not, or at least he didn't care to try. For all the friendship the Wizard had shown him, he was still as vulnerable as ever to the man's whims. The less the Wizard was provoked, the better.

Chapter 15.

Although the Wizard gave Blade free run of the women of the castle, nothing came of it for a while except a certain amount of pleasure. Even that was limited, at least from Blade's point of view. The Wizard's women were so desperate in their eagerness to please that the mere possibility of angering Blade made them shiver with fright and even burst into tears. Or was it the Wizard's displeasure they feared, for not doing their best for their master's sworn friend and comrade? All the women showed the signs of years of obedience to the Wizard's whims and temper. A few of them showed fresh bruises from the Wizard's more violent moments. After a while, none of them could really please Blade.

In spite of the odds against him, he tried asking some of the women questions about the Wizard's affairs. A few of them answered, but none of them told him anything new and important. Others seemed so frightened at his questions that he abandoned the effort before the women were driven to telling the Wizard.

Blade did learn one thing from the women. The Wizard hadn't aged visibly during the time that any of the women had been serving in the castle. Still, that was no more than ten years, and a man who kept himself in good shape and dyed his hair and beard might very well not change. Blade was no nearer finding out if the Wizard was immortal, mad, or simply shared his ancestors' memories.

In any case, it really did not matter that much. Even if the present Wizard of Rentoro was not the same man as the one who'd traveled across the Dimensions, he was certainly a telepath and the master of the view-b.a.l.l.s and skybridges. He could also teach many of his skills to other men. This was more than enough to make bringing him back to Home Dimension a monumental victory for Project Dimension X and for Britain. Blade saw no need to change any of his plans.

One evening over dinner he casually remarked that he found some of the women of the castle "a boring lot."

"I see that you've beaten obedience into them," Blade continued, "but you also seem to have beaten the spirit out of them."

The Wizard shrugged. "The wise ones, I didn't have to beat. They knew or could guess what I wanted from the first. But others-yes, I did have to use the stick a trifle. A few I even had to throw to the Wolves for a night or two. That cured them." A satisfied smile spread across the Wizard's face. "I take it you'd prefer someone with-more life, shall we say?"

"You might say that," said Blade.

"I think that can be arranged," said the Wizard. "There's one lady I have here I was never able to cure. Even throwing her to the Wolves just made her go astray in her wits. I've given up on her, but if you want to try?"

"I'll think about it," said Blade. "Why do you keep her around, if she's so hard to tame?" The Wizard seldom kept the useless or the disobedient around his castle or in his service at all.

"I wouldn't, except that she's a high n.o.ble of Morina. Sister to the ruling duke, in fact, and highly thought of by the people. Her brother was more than happy to send her to me, but the Morinans weren't happy to see her go. I've got to keep her around until she dies a natural death, otherwise the city will be in an uproar. I'd have to send in the Wolves and make such a shambles I'd get no taxes out of the place for two years.

"By all means try her, if you're interested. If you get her down it might improve her disposition. Don't kill her, but otherwise-" The Wizard waved a casual hand.

Blade wished he could hit the Wizard over the head and lock him in a closet until the time came to return to Home Dimension. Enduring the man's whims for the sake of their "friendship" was becoming something of a strain. Now he was being invited-indeed, practically ordered-to rape a madwoman. He should have kept his mouth shut about the castle's women!

"Very well," Blade said. "I'll see about paying her a visit tomorrow."

"Good. I'll leave the necessary orders with the guards. And now-more wine?"

The Morinan lady's room was high up in one of the towers, where she could get a reasonable amount of sunlight and fresh air. This had nothing to do with kindness-the Wizard would have done as much for a prize sow that he had to keep in good health.

Two of the house guards were on duty outside the room when Blade arrived. One of them unlocked the iron-bound door and held it slightly ajar.

"Now, 'member, lord-any trouble, gi' us a shout-we be in straight."

"Don't worry," said Blade. "I'm sure I'm big enough to handle her." The guards caught his double meaning and were still laughing as he slipped into the room.

It was circular, twenty feet across, eight feet high, and whitewashed so heavily Blade felt as if he'd stepped inside a wedding cake. It was a moment before he noticed the low bed on the far side of the room, under the barred window. It was another moment before he noticed the woman in the stained white robe, lying face down on the bed.

As Blade stepped toward the bed, the woman rolled over in a swirl of silk and pale legs, then raised her head to look at Blade. Her eyes were enormous, staring wildly without understanding, and with huge dark circles under them. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess, dark and stiff with grime. She laughed, a low bubbling sound deep in her throat that made Blade's flesh crawl and nearly made him turn around and leave the room much faster than he'd come in. She raised a thin hand to point at him, a shaking hand with black circles under untrimmed fingernails. She laughed again, and then she swung her legs off the bed, sprang to her feet, and came toward Blade.

Blade forced himself to stand and meet the woman's eyes as she came at him. As he got a better look at her, he realized that she was beautiful, or at least would have been, except for the look in her eyes and her unhealthy thinness. Pale, freckled skin was stretched too tightly over fine bones, and what should have been the generous curves of breast, hip, and thigh were shrunken and flattened. She looked as if she hadn't eaten regularly for months or years.

Then her hands clawed at Blade's shoulders until her fingernails sank through his silk shirt into his flesh. He gripped her arms, trying to control her, but she broke free and stepped back just out of his reach. Her hands made another quick dart, this time to grip her robe at the level of her knees. Before Blade could move or speak, she jerked the robe over her head and flung it away from her so violently that it flew clear across the room.

Certainly the beauty was there, as if asleep under that pale skin showing too many bones. The b.r.e.a.s.t.s rose in a proud challenge, the hips and thighs curved gracefully even now, the long legs held both power and elegance. She tossed her head, and Blade wished her hair was clean, loose, and flowing, so he could see it swirl about her high cheekbones and the long, graceful throat. Then she was coming toward him again. There was still a madness in her eyes, but it was a madness of desire, and Blade no longer feared that his own manhood would collapse at the woman's touch.

She went down on her knees before him, her bands tore the seams of his hose, and her lips descended on his bared flesh. They worked upon him until desire was almost pain, and his hands were clutched in her hair, gripping her as if releasing her would release his own hold on life. She stood, and her hands clawed his shirt from his chest and shoulders. Then she gripped both his hands and dragged him toward the bed.

Blade still wore his hose as they lay down on the bed, and he wore them as he thrust deep into the woman. After that it did not matter, for he wouldn't have noticed or cared if he'd been wearing a full suit of plate armor, as long as the woman was there and he was in her.

Blade couldn't have imagined a joining like this before, and he could never describe it afterward. There were no words to do justice to the mixture of pleasure, amazement, and doubt. All he knew was that his joining-he would never call it a lovemaking-was at the same time one of the most exciting and one of the most terrible experiences of his life. He was aware of the woman's body and the incredible joy it was giving him and taking from him. He was just as aware of the ruined mind within that body, and what this joining might do to it or for it.

At last the peak came for both of them, and with terrible violence. Blade found the strength to lie beside the woman and the will to keep his arms protectively about her. He would not simply jump up and leave her lying here, whatever she might do next. He wasn't going to come here again, either. That might offend the Wizard, but his mind was made up. He would look for some excuse that would satisfy the Wizard, but if he couldn't find one, then- As Blade's thoughts turned to making up a tale for the Wizard, he became aware that the woman was shifting her position, so that her lips were against his left ear. Then those lips were moving, and in another moment he could make out words, in a whisper so faint they would have been lost a foot away.

"Thank you," the woman was saying. "I could not hope that you would do as well, when I had to keep up my playacting. It is good acting, for it has confused the Wizard himself. I feared it might also confuse you. Now-let us talk, and swiftly. There is much to say, and not much time for saying it."

"You-" said Blade, then broke off as he realized why the woman was whispering so close to his ear. The room doubtless had eves-droppers listening for whatever was said within it.

"Yes," she said. "They listen to know if I am truly mad, and they must hear nothing to make them doubt. That would be danger for me, perhaps even for you. Lie where you are and listen. They say you are the Wizard's trusted friend and ally, who has penetrated all his secrets as no man has ever done before. I am Serana Zotair of Morina, who would free my people from the Wizard, and I am as sane as you are. Perhaps saner, if you are truly a friend of the Wizard."

Blade listened, curious, fascinated, excited, and hardly suspicious or surprised at all. Why should she lie? As for being surprised, Blade was past that now in this mad Dimension, he would not have been particularly surprised if she'd told him she was the Empress of j.a.pan!

She was alone here in the castle, she said, and she had few supporters of her plans even in her native Morina. There were many who hated the Wizard, but few willing to risk the fate he dealt out to his enemies.

She had not planned to become the Wizard's prisoner. That would have been the act of a madwoman. Then her brother conceived of showing his loyalty to the Wizard and getting rid of her by sending her to the castle. She could not ignore the opportunity this offered for digging out the Wizard's secrets.

Blade would know, she said, what she'd endured during the past two years. The Wizard would have told him of the beatings, the brutality from the Wolves, the confinement. Then there was the endless strain of seeming to be mad, a grim battle that at times had almost driven her into real madness. She'd endured it all, and for nothing. The Wolves had knowledge of the Wizard's secrets, but never spoke of them in her presence. The household guards and servants spoke freely, but they knew nothing.

Now Blade had come. He could make it all worthwhile, if he chose to help her. She could neither promise nor threaten anything if he didn't help her. She could only pray that what he knew of the Wizard would tell him what he should do.

Perhaps she was foolish, trusting Blade, the Wizard's intimate friend. Certainly he was the best opportunity she'd ever had. Long before she had another one as good, she would have lost her sanity, if not her life. So what choice did she have?

At this point Blade shifted position, so that his lips were against Serana's ear. In a whisper as soft as hers, he said, "What makes you think I would not help you?" and squeezed her hand.

There was a very long silence, during which Blade held on to Serana's hand and she was obviously trying hard not to burst into tears. Then she rolled over, nuzzled at his cheek, and put her lips back against his ear.

There was not much more to tell and after a few more minutes Blade rose, pulled on his clothes, and left the room. He got rid of his escorts as fast as possible, not wanting to hear any more of their coa.r.s.e jokes. He also wanted to be alone to think through his plans in the light of this new situation.

Fortunately, he couldn't see that many changes would be needed. He would be visiting Serana again, probably several times, but that wouldn't bother the Wizard. During those visits, he could tell the woman everything he'd learned-enough to let Morina lead a successful rebellion against the Wizard.

Such a rebellion might not be necessary, of course. If the Wizard returned to Home Dimension with Blade, his rule over Rentoro would come to an end naturally. His trained a.s.sistants and the Wolves might do their best for a few years, but they would go down sooner or later, whether Morina rebelled or not.

Yet he had to guard against failure. The techniques for getting other people back from Dimension X were uncertain, unreliable, hardly more than guesswork. There was a good chance Blade would end up back in London while the Wizard stayed in Rentoro. That would not only cost Home Dimension the Wizard's secrets, but leave Rentoro under his tyranny. Blade was determined to at least prevent the second, if he could not accomplish the first.