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The computer was reaching with a vengeance.
The pain subsided as quickly as it struck. Blade sighed and wiped sweat from
his face. That one had been a bastard! He looked up to see Pelops regarding
him with concern.
"You are ill, sire?"
Blade shook his head weakly. "It is nothing. A headache for a moment. I am all
right now."
Pelops, brave in new clothing and well filled out with food and water,
squatted beside Blade.
"Are you sure, sire? I am something of a medical man, as you know, having seen
me at work among the slaves, and I would be glad to concoct a dosage of "
Blade, hard put to refrain from laughing, held up a hand. "That will not be
necessary, little man. I tell you I am well again. The sight of you, once
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again yourself, has made me well in this instant."
Pelops regarded him with suspicion. "You jibe at me again, sire. I know you do
it often."
Before Blade could protest he went on, "Sometimes I deserve it. I am not
really the fool I seem at times. But what matter I
am feeling well. I have gained weight and I have clothes. When I have armor
again, and a weapon, I will be more than content. I will return to Sarma and
fight for the Queen against
Tyranna."
As Blade studied the little fellow an idea began to creep into his mind. He
had often amused himself with it.
"You would return to Sarma, Pelops?"
A nod. A blank stare; "What else, sire? I am a Sarmaian, am I not? I shall
most certainly return to
Sarma if I live. But there is always that."
Blade inclined his head, deep in thought. "Yes. There is always that. Pelops "
The little man stared at Blade and waited. Blade drew pictures in the sand
with a twig.
"Yes, sire? You were going to speak?"
Blade made up his mind and grinned. He would do it. Why not? He was on his own
in Dimension X.
He had a right and how could he do harm to the time-space-dimensional
continuum? He saw no harm.
And it was only a prank, something that would amuse him for years to come when
he thought of it.
Blade said: "Pelops, how would you like to be a genius?"
The little man tugged at the few hairs on his chin. "I might like it, sire, if
I knew what it was. We do not have the word in Sarma."
Blade reached to pat the scrawny shoulder. "A great man! One who will never be
forgotten. People will write and talk about you for centuries and even build
statues, images, to you."
Pelops' eyes were round. "Build images you mean such as the great effigies of
Bek-Tor?"
"Bigger," said Blade. "And handsomer, too. At least you are all a man! And
statues have a way of looking better than the model."
Pelops nodded. "I would like that very much, sire." Then he looked sly. "But
would I have to die first?"
Blade laughed. "You will have to die sometime, but not because you are a
genius. Are you ready, Pelops? I am going to tell you a secret that will make
you a genius."
Pelops gulped, swallowed, then grinned back at Blade. "I am ready. I trust
you, sire, and I will take a chance. It would be a great thing for me, who was
once a slave, to be a genius and have images built to me."
"Then watch closely."
Blade took his twig and drew a wheel in the sand.
"It is the sun," Pelops said eagerly. "Or the moon. But how does it make me
famous?"
"It is neither the sun nor moon. Keep quiet and watch and listen. It is called
a wheel. And this is another wheel. And this is called an axle. Now listen and
heed well."
In half an hour Blade explained it all to him. Pelops nodding,
somewhat awe-stricken, totally bemused by the simplicity of it. He scratched
his skull fuzz.
"Why has not someone thought of this before?"
Blade could not answer that. "It is always simple, or seems so, after someone
does it for the first time. There was once in my own land a people called
Indians. Also Incas. Both these people had civilizations, religions,
calendars, medicine, many things. Yet they did not think of the wheel. They
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used
sleds and drags, just as you do in Sarma. But never mind that now that you
have thought of the wheel you will be able to change the whole way of life in
Sarma. Look at this!"
Blade made more sketches in the sand, showing how to use cogs and pulleys and
interlocking gears.
Pelops, silent now, followed every word and sketch avidly.
Blade tossed away the twig. "There. You are now a genius. Take heed and keep
it to yourself until you return to Sarma. I do not think the Moghs know of the
wheel, either. Do not put anything on paper.
Keep the secret in your head."
Pelops squared his tiny shoulders. "Ah, yes, sire Blade. I will keep my
secret. And you are right I
am a genius." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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