The Izmir cackled. «In spite of Casta, eh? His lies have come true. I have a son and heir, full grown in a month and fit to rule a dozen Zirs and- subdue the Hitts. Aha, my friends, this is a sweet moment that I had not thought to see. If only I did not have to die soon, if only I could linger to enjoy it. . which brings to mind something of which I would speak, Blade. You will leave us, Ogier.»

When the Captain had gone the Izmir said, «This has all been a miracle, Blade, whether you call it so or not, and you have kept your word. It has occurred to me that if you can do such things you may be able to do others-in short, can you make me young again?»

Blade leaned back on the ivory throne and crossed his legs. He wore a kilt and light breast armor, an ornate dress helmet and carried a gold-hilted rapier which he had himself chosen from the armory. He stroked his curling beard and stared down at the old man. The question had not taken him by surprise, for he had expected something of the sort.

For a moment he pondered and then said, «To be merciful, Izmir, I must be cruel. No. I cannot restore your youth. My miracles do not extend so far.»

The old man had drawn up a stool and perched on it, wrapped in his brocaded robes, looking like an ancient tortoise. He wiped his eyes, which exuded constantly, and rubbed his beaked nose, nodding slowly.

«So. It may be as well in the long run, but I had hoped. But if not my youth, can you restore my health? For time enough for me to see you accomplish all the things I could not? My infirmities are many, as you know.»

Blade knew all too well. In the past month he had had ample time to study the Izmir. He was no doctor, but back in Home Dimension he had read widely in the field of medicine.

He shook his head. «No, Izmir. I cannot prolong your life a moment beyond its natural span. You have all the diseases of age and something else-what in my world is called cancer. It will kill you when the time comes.»