Blade bowed politely, drew his knife, laid it down on the ground with the point toward him, then bowed again. It was a symbolic disarming only. He could snatch up the knife and pick off at least one man long before any of them could do anything to him, even the one with the musket.

Everyone remained as motionless as figures in a waxworks for a moment. Then the father smiled, thrust his sword back into its scabbard, and stepped forward. His son hesitated for a moment, then did the same. The man with the matchlock blew out his match and lowered his weapon butt first to the ground.

The father stepped up to Blade, hand outthrust. Blade took it, matching the other's firm grip.

«Well, my-«began the father, then shook his head. «No, I cannot call you friend, not now, and not ever without the Emperor's permission. You are still a stranger, and the laws of the Empire are strict when they speak of strangers.» He smiled. «But though you are a stranger, certainly you are no Steppeman. You are just as certainly a warrior, whom I am happy to have met, and very probably a truthful man as well. Blade, I am Boros, Duke of Kudai. This is my son, Tulu. And these»-he pointed to the other men-«serve in the House of Kudai. Though we cannot call you friend, yet we can say that here and now we are happy to have you among us.

«Prince Blade, welcome to the Empire of Saram.»

Chapter 6

Blade sipped from his cup of hot, spiced wine, found that he'd emptied it, and held it out to the girl. She took it, refilled it from a large jar near the mouth of the tent, and handed it back. Blade took another swallow of the steaming liquid, feeling it warm him all the way down, and looked at the girl for about the tenth time. She now wore a blue linen shift belted around her slim waist with a gilded silk cord. She was just as pleasant to look at the tenth time as she'd been the first.