Jeffrey Lord - Jewel of Tharn

Blade pulled away and tilted her chin with his fingers. "You do not like kissing?"

"Kissing? I do not understand, Lord Mazda. I do not know the word."

"I will explain," said Blade. "Come. It is my wish." He swept her into his arms again and kissed her hard. Again she did not resist, or aid him, but after a moment her lips quivered under his. Blade forced her lips open with his tongue. She began to tremble quietly in his arms. At last he released her.

"That," said Blade, "is kissing. You will know how the next time. Did you like it?"

"I liked it, Lord Mazda. This is what the Gods do?"

"When they can," he said lightly. "When they can. What is your name, girl?"

"I am Zulekia. Of the Maidukes of THEY." By now Blade had read enough to know that the Maidukes were privileged upperclass servants, handmaidens, of THEY. But his reading must have led him astray; his understanding had been that the Maidukes never left Urcit, the great Capital of Tharn.

He took her by the hand and led her toward a great low bed that filled one corner of the room. She went docilely at first, then she pulled away, staring at him. She fell to her knees again.

"No! No, Lord Mazda. I cannot. I am not fit. I am not one intended for HE WHO COMES TO THEY. I am karno! I am karno!"

Blade gazed at her, puzzled and impatient. Karno? He had not come across the word in his reading.

Zulekia saw that he did not understand. Plainly she was puzzled by this, but she squirmed around to show him the back of the bikini-like panties she wore. "I am karno," she insisted again. "Karno. My seal has been broken."

Blade was impatient...and intrigued. He bent to examine the back of the panties. There was a slim belt of teksin holding them up, with both ends set cunningly into a seal-like medallion. Zulekia made a deft movement with her hand and the seal fell apart She looked at Blade.

"You understand, Lord Mazda? My seal has been broken. It was broken and could not be put back as the Priestess does. So I am karno. Impure. I have been with the Lordsmen and was caught. It is why I was banished from Urcit and sent here to be punished.

I am evil. Not clean. Impure. That is why the Lord Mazda cannot make coi with me."

Blade looked around the room. The dull walls of teksin stared back at him. He hoped that Honcho was enjoying his eavesdropping. Blade was beginning to understand something else about Honcho: the neuter was more than a watcher and a listener. Honcho was a voyeur, a pervert! Honcho had no sex, and yet...and yet...

Blade took her hand again and led her firmly to the bed. "I do understand," he said. "It does not matter. I do not care. Now, obey me!"

And he did understand. Zulekia was a homid, a human for all intents and purposes, and she had been caught doing what came" naturally to homids. Caught, Blade knew, was the operative word. Caught! Now she was to be punished. Blade's smile was grim, but he was not at all unhappy. This was something he recognized and understood.

And now he could wait no longer. He turned her so that she stood with her back to him. He fumbled with the catch holding on her breastplates and they fell to the floor with a little click of teksin on teksin. Zulekia stared straight before her, unmoving.

"Raise your arms a bit," said Blade. He was whispering.

She raised her arms.

Her breasts were cool golden orbs in his hands, the nipples infinitesimal buttons only a moment before and now rising to his finger stroke. Blade's knees began to shake, he had to fight to restrain himself, and yet he was determined that this play would serve a double purpose. His mouth was close to her ear.

"You know that Honcho is watching?"

She surprised him by answering aloud. "Yes. I know."

"Nod," said Blade fiercely. "Nod! Don't speak."

She half turned to face him, the great violet eyes filled with puzzlement, and again she saw that he did not understand. She reached to pluck out a long red-bronze strand of her hair. She let it float to the floor. Blade watched. When the hair wafted against the teksin she said: "Honcho heard that."

Blade suppressed anger. What was the use of raging? And it was good to know that the spiscreens were so sensitive. It was nearly beyond belief, yet he did believe. Whispering was no good. And there was no place to hide. Then he had an inspiration. Just maybe...but it could wait. Everything could wait.

He turned her about and caressed her breasts again for a moment. He led her to the bed and commanded her to lie down. She did so without demur. Now that she had warned him, told him she was karno, and he did not appear to care, she was prepared to do as the God pleased. So Blade read her thoughts.

Zulekia gazed up at him, the violet eyes watching without expression. Blade stripped away her brief pants. Her pubic hair was a swatch of color against her tawniness. Blade hurled away his own clothes.

As he prepared to enter her Blade wondered, for one sickening moment, if this was another of Honcho's devilish tricks. Was this woman real? Or was this simlu? A wraith and not woman?

A moment later he knew. It was not simlu. She was real. She was more than real. Zulekia was the essence of all the women Blade had ever had, and he knew that he had never had a woman before. This was the mystery, the unattainable, and Blade was solving it and attaining it.

Zulekia made no sound. Not the whole time. She did not put her arms about Blade. Yet she moved beneath him as he had never suspected a woman could move. The odor of her arose and engulfed him. Taunting and satisfying him at the same time. He had the feeling that what she was doing was as natural as breathing to her. She did not pretend. She did not try. She simply was. Her body perfectly fitted to his, flesh exactly measured to flesh, thrust to thrust, moistness to moistness, pestle to mortar.

It was Blade who groaned and cried aloud. Blade who threshed in frenzy. Blade who poured out in one great spill of ecstasy.

They lay quietly. Blade, from the corner of his eye, saw something move in a corner of the room. He turned to see Honcho's simlu slowly fading, vanishing. The mocking sneer was the last to go.

Blade had hoped to work out some secret means of communication with Zulekia, perhaps body pressures or blinking their eyes, but he was given no chance. A troop of ceboid soldiers came immediately and he was escorted back to his own chambers. Blade, glancing back at the woman, thought he detected a hint of entreaty in her violet eyes. Did she expect him to save her from her fate? Could he?

Honcho was waiting for Blade. He was wearing a breastplate and a heavy cloak of transparent teksin. In his hand he carried two odd-looking belts. They reminded Blade of cartridge belts with bandoliers attached.

The neuter handed Blade one of the belts. "Put it on." He touched Blade lightly to show that he was real, not simlu, then said: "Come with me. We have a long journey to make. Perhaps it would be well if you took a cloak. We are going into the Gorge and there will be weather there."

From his reading Blade knew that Tharnians understood weather, could in fact control it, but it had never been mentioned before. He could not help wondering how such a state of affairs would work out in England. Most people would be struck dumb!

Honcho touched a wall and a panel slid back. Blade followed the neuter into darkness. Immediately a misty blob of light appeared and began to dance along before them.

They made their way along a smooth floored passage so narrow they had to walk in single file. Honcho led the way. For a moment Blade was greatly tempted. This was real Honcho, not simlu, and he could surely kill the neuter with his bare hands.

He fought back the urge. It was not yet the time. He was still very much a stranger in a strange land and the truth was that he needed the neuter as much as Honcho appeared to need him.