Two days passed, days in which Lomax did his best to keep to himself—or at least keep away from the Anointed One.

He complained that his medication made him groggy, then spent hours each afternoon feigning sleep on his bed, just in case his room was under surveillance. He insisted that the Anointed One's security was paramount, and spent more hours each day walking the perimeter of the castle and even the sun-baked grounds, checking every means of ingress, trying to imagine how he might gain access to the fortress if he was an assassin. He spent an hour a day cleaning and polishing his weapons, and another half hour taking target practice.

And still he found himself in the Anointed One's presence too often for his liking. He took lunches and dinners with him, and his presence was requested for the evening entertainments (a request no one dared refuse). Strangely, the Anointed One made no attempt to convert him to the One True Faith, probably because he made it clear early on that he had no interest in any religion, and this one—a combination of the harsher features of Christianity, Judaism and Islam—made less sense to him than most.

He arose on the morning of the third day, allowed himself the luxury of a shower with actual water, shaved, dressed, and ordered his door to open. He no longer needed assistance finding his way around the fortress, though it was nonetheless frequently given, but on this particular morning there were no guards to be seen, and he walked to the enormous kitchen, where he usually had a glass of juice and a cup of coffee before the Anointed One could find him and invite him to breakfast.

This morning, though, there was no one working in the kitchen, and the coffee had not yet been made. Shrugging, he walked to the enormous refrigerator, pulled out a container of fruit juice, held it to his lips, and took a long swallow before replacing it.

As he was leaving the kitchen, he looked out the window, which overlooked the same garden as his bedroom, but from a different angle, and something caught his eye. Not a movement, for nothing was moving in the morning sun, but a patch of color that didn't seem to belong. He stared at it for a moment, then blinked his eyes and stared again—and suddenly the whole picture seemed to take shape, and he realized that he was staring at the leg of a dead man who had recently been the Anointed One's personal chef.

He drew his laser pistol and walked carefully to the kitchen door. It opened out to the dining room where the Anointed One took his meals, but the room was totally deserted, and Lomax quickly walked through it, into the high-ceilinged corridor beyond.

Here he came to two more bodies, both dead, both displaying the effects of sonic distortion. He couldn't remember if the Silicon Kid used a sonic pistol—in fact, he couldn't recall the Kid carrying a weapon at all—but there was no doubt in his mind that this was the Kid's doing. The Iceman had predicted it, and he had come to the conclusion that the cagey old man was damned near as good at predicting the future as was Penelope Bailey.

He stepped over the two bodies, then looked out into a nearby courtyard. There were no bodies there—but there also weren't any guards, and two men were usually positioned there, even in the heat of the day.

The Kid was good, he had to give him that. He'd killed at least three men, possibly more, and done it swiftly and silently, without alerting anyone to his presence. But he couldn't keep it up; there were close to a thousand armed men in and around the fortress, and any moment now he would have to hear the explosions of projectile weapons, the crackling of lasers, the eerie humming of sonic guns.

But he heard nothing as he proceeded along the corridor. He came to a turn, very near the front entrance to the fortress, and looked out a circular window. There were some thirty men in the courtyard, some standing at attention, a few in conversation with each other, four of them picking up tiny pieces of litter. He considered alerting them to the Kid's presence, but thought better of it: if he was to win the Anointed One's total confidence, he would have to go up against the Kid alone, as the Iceman had said. Calling in the army might save the day, but it wouldn't win the war.

Gun still in hand, walking in a semi-crouch, his left arm still hanging limply by his side, Lomax increased his pace to the “throne room", for it was there that the Anointed One conducted his morning business. He turned two more corners, then found himself facing the massive double doors. Four men lay dead in front of them.

He walked past them silently, then gave one of the doors a slight push. It didn't give.

“Open,” he murmured.

The door swung open just enough for him to pass through, then closed behind him.

The Kid, his back to the door, was facing the Anointed One and three of his closest advisors, a sonic pistol in each hand. The three advisors had their hands above their heads, and the Anointed One's feline carnivore lay dead on the floor, but Moses Mohammed Christ sat passively upon his throne, staring at the Kid as if he somehow held the advantage.

“That wasn't so difficult at all,” the Kid was saying. “She told me getting to you would be easy; I should have believed her.”

“Did she tell you how you were going to get back out?” asked Lomax.

The Kid whirled to face him.

“She warned me about you, too, Gravedancer,” he said. “You're the one to watch out for.” He grinned. “I can't imagine why.”

“Probably because I'm going to kill you,” said Lomax in level tones.

“I'm the only one who's doing any killing today,” said the Kid. “Because we were friends once, I'll give you five seconds to get out of here.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” said Lomax. “Now drop your guns and you just might live long enough to leave the room in one piece.”

The Kid laughed. “You've got a gun aimed at me, I've got a pair aimed at you. It's a standoff.”

“No it's not,” said Lomax. “I'm prepared to die for the Anointed One. You've got your whole life ahead of you, Kid; are you ready to throw it away for a woman who hasn't got the guts to do her own dirty work?”

Just in case I come out of this alive, you'd damned well better have been listening to every word. I could just as easily have backshot him, but the Iceman says I've got to be a hero for you.

“Neither of us has to die,” said the Kid, and suddenly Lomax saw what he was looking for: the first tiny flickering of uncertainty.

“Oh?”

“You can throw in with me.”

“Why should I want to?”

“So you can be on the winning side,” said the Kid.

“What does she pay?”

“The sky's the limit,” said the Kid enthusiastically. “You wouldn't believe it.” He relaxed slightly. “What do you say, Gravedancer?”

“This is what I say,” answered Lomax, firing his laser weapon and hurling himself to the ground, rolling rapidly to his left.

The Kid uttered a strangled gurgle and swept Lomax's vicinity with his sonic pistols, but they were aimed too high, and before he could lower them he had collapsed to the floor.

“This can't be happening,” rasped the Kid, coughing up mouthfuls of blood. “I can't lose!”

Lomax walked over to him and kicked his weapons across the floor.

“I told you you should have stayed on Greycloud, Kid,” he said.

The Kid tried to answer, but couldn't.

“You could have been a farmer or a chip manufacturer or half a hundred other things.” Lomax paused and stared down at him, “Now you're just one more fool who came out to the Frontier and wound up in an unmarked grave.”

The Kid glared at him for just an instant. Then a look of terror crossed his face, he tried to say something else, coughed again, and died.

“Are you all right, My Lord?” asked Lomax, turning to the Anointed One.

“I am, thanks to you,” answered the Anointed One.

“I'm glad I arrived in time.”

“You knew this man?”

“Yes, My Lord,” replied Lomax. “He called himself the Silicon Kid. His real name was Neil Cayman.” He paused. A little distortion of the truth probably won't hurt. “I took him in, fed him, gave him money. He used it to implant some biochips in his body, chips that made him a killer with phenomenal reflexes.” He looked at the Anointed One. “Then he deserted me and went to work for the Prophet.”

“He offered you your life,” said the Anointed One.

“Yes, he did.”

“Knowing that these chips made him a formidable opponent, and still recovering from your wounds as you are, why did you not accept his offer?”

Lomax's first instinct was to look him in the eye and say, “Because you are my leader, My Lord, and I am loyal only to you.” He caught himself just in time. Once you were finished laughing at that, you just might decide to lop off my head.

He paused for a moment, and then spoke: “It was a value judgment, My Lord.”

“A value judgment?”

Lomax nodded. “If I agreed to join him, it would be an admission to both him and to myself that I couldn't defeat him, and no matter how high I rose in the Prophet's organization, I would always take my orders from him.” He paused and smiled a properly self-satisfied smile at the Anointed One. “But by taking him on and killing him, I've proved both my worth and my loyalty to you. I ask for no specific reward for my actions; I shall trust to your wisdom and generosity.”

The Anointed One nodded. “You are a simple man, Mr. Lomax, but an honest one and a brave one.” He smiled. “You shall have your reward.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

The Anointed One sighed deeply. “I wish I could read the Prophet as easily as I can read you.”

“Perhaps when you meet her, you'll discover that you can,” answered Lomax.

“Perhaps,” said the Anointed One. He turned to his three advisors, who had remained where they stood, silent and motionless. “Summon my military leaders.”

The three men practically ran from the room, and returned a few minutes later with six uniformed soldiers.

“My Lord,” began the largest of them. “I had no idea. I—”

“Silence!” commanded the Anointed One.

The man snapped to attention.

“While you and your subordinates were doing God only knows what, this man"—he indicated Lomax—"stood side by side with me and helped me dispatch the notorious assassin known as the Silicon Kid, the very same assassin who entered this fortress as if there were no guards at all!”

Well, thanks for admitting that I helped you, thought Lomax wryly.

“This man,” he repeated, again pointing to Lomax, “and this man alone, was prepared to defend me with his life.”

“That is not so, My Lord! We all—”

“Shut up!” snapped the Anointed One. “In all matters of security, this man, this Gravedancer, now speaks for me, and must be obeyed as I would be obeyed. Is that clear?”

The six men stared sullenly at Lomax and muttered their acquiescence.

Wonderful. Six more men waiting to stick knives in my back. Just what I needed.

“I want you to conduct an immediate investigation and find out how this assassin was able to penetrate our defenses, how he came to sneak into the fortress past hundreds of armed men who were supposed to be protecting me from just such an occurrence.” The Anointed One smiled a humorless smile. “When the report is in my hands, and I expect it no later than this evening, we shall mete out justice to those deserving of it.”

The men's expression betrayed a certain uneasiness at his notion of justice.

“Your arm is bleeding again, Mr. Lomax,” said the Anointed One, turning to Lomax. “Tend to it, and then join me in the dining room. We have many things to discuss.”

“We do, My Lord?”

The Anointed One nodded. “She couldn't protect him. Perhaps she is not superhuman after all.” His eyes blazed with passion. “You may soon have your wish, Mr. Lomax.”

“My wish?”

“You wish to kill her, do you not?”

“Yes, My Lord,” said Lomax, wondering just what he was getting himself into.

“I think as soon as your arm is healed, I shall give you the opportunity.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” said Lomax, bowing and backing out of the room.

And just how do I get out of this one, Iceman?