At the gate two men, frenzied, worked at the spear that fastened their fellow to the beam. Four others crowded about. The man who held the torch at the gate was facing the fighting in the center of the stockade.
Four times my blade thrust, and four men of Tyros slipped back, stumbling from the gate.
The two men working at the spear jerked it free of the wood and the body, impaled, was rudely thrown aside.
They turned and saw me.
Twice more my blade struck.
The man, then, with the torch, turned to face the gate. The torch fell. The gate was again in darkness.
“Get your weapons!” screamed Hura.
In the center of the stockade, two torches were lifted. I placed my sword in the dirt before the gate and, turning the impaled body on its back, drew free the great war spear, pulling the shaft through the body, holding the body beneath my foot to free the shaft.
“Our bowstrings have been cut!” wailed a panther woman. Others, too, cried out. I heard, from one side, the laughter of Verna, and saw her briefly, a sleen knife in her hand.
Then she disappeared in the shadows.
“We must escape!” cried one of the panther girls. “Escape!” cried others. “Stand where you are!” cried Hura, her voice shrill. ”We do not know where he is!” “Take knives!” cried another girl.
They scrambled among their discarded skins and accouterments.
“They are gone!” cried one of the girls.
“Our spears, too, are gone!” cried another.
I saw, in the light of two torches, men fighting, still in the center of the stockade. I saw two more men of Tyros fall, one with Sarus, one with those who had attempted to flee.
Then there was the light of only one torch, for the Gorean war spear had left my hand.
Another man of Tyros fell, at the hands of one of his fellows, and then another. “Stop fighting!” cried Sarus. “Stop fighting!” Still blades clashed.
I breathed heavily, standing at the gate, in the darkness.
“Stop!” cried Sarus. “Stop, in the name of Chenbar!”
The men of Tyros, wild-eyed, half crazed with fear, fell back.
I knew then how in Tyros stood the word of Chenbar.
“Stand side by side,” ordered Sarus. “Form a circle!”
“We are weaponless!” cried Hura. “Let us within your circle!”
None knew where within the stockade I stood.
The girls looked about, crouching and cowering. They had no weapons. They were naked. Their wrist doubtless still bore the deep, red, circular marks of Gorean binding fiber. About the necks of most, knotted still, was a tight loop of binding fiber, though it had been cut on both sides, to free them from the coffle. They were terrified.
“Please!” wept Hura.
They were defenseless. And they knew I stood, somewhere, within the stockade, unseen, with a steel blade.
Perhaps I stood at their very side.
Would the blade, suddenly, without warning, from the darkness leap forward to claim them? “Please let us within your circle!” cried Hura. “Please!”
“Please!” cried Mira. “Please!” cried others.
“Be silent!” snapped Sarus, looking about, peering into the darkness. He had little concern with the women, particularly inasmuch as their weapons had been destroyed, or had vanished.
He had freed them, it seemed, for nothing.
“You are men!” cried Hura. “We are only women!” She fell to her knees before Sarus. “As women,” she cried, “we beg your protection!” “Proud Hura!” sneered Sarus.
“Please, Sarus!” she wept.
“Into the circle,” he snapped.
Gratefully the women, weaponless and naked, defenseless, crept within the circle.
“Bosk of Port Kar!” called Sarus. “Bosk of Port Kar!”
I did not, of course, answer him.
I wondered where in the stockade were Sheera and Verna.
“You have done well!” called Sarus. “But now we stand in formation. Soon we shall rebuild the fire. We shall then be able to see you. You will not then escape us.” Only silence answered him.
“No longer do we fear you!” he called. “Yet that there be less bloodshed we are prepared to be merciful. We are prepared to bargain.” I did not respond.
“You man have all the women,” said Sarus, “all.”
Within their circle, naked and helpless, crouching, huddled together, the women of Hura moaned.
“Sleen,” cried Hura.
“And, too,” called Sarus, “you may have all male slaves, including your men, saving only Marlenus, Ubar of Ar.” There was silence.
“On him there can be no compromise!” cried Sarus. “Can you hear me? Do you accept these terms?” I made no sound.
“He is gone!” cried one of the men. “He has escaped! He has left!”
“hold your formation,” said Sarus. “Keep formation!”
There was only silence.
Sarus called the name of two men. “Gather,” said he, “Wood.”
“No!” cried one of the men. “No!”
He had no wish to leave the circle.
“There is wood within the circle,” said Hura.
“Gather it,” said Sarus.
Within the circle, obediently, the women, in the light of the torch, gathered wood, mostly the remains of the original fire, which I had destroyed earlier. In the darkness, silently, I prowled the interior of the stockade. A man from the circle darted from it, clutched a fallen torch, and retreated to the circle. This torch was lit from the other.
“He is here!” suddenly cried a voice, that of Rim.
My heart leaped.
“Do not break formation!” cried Sarus.
But already two men, eager, blades ready, had sped toward Rim’s voice. It was not difficult, accordingly, to follow them.
“He is not here!” cried one of the men.
He was mistaken.
Twice my blade struck.
I heard a woman scream to one side. Then she cried, “He is here!”
“Hold formation!” screamed Sarus.
They should have understood that the slave girls had been bound and gagged, and that the women of Hura were within their own circle.
Two men again rushed toward the sound. Again they did not find me.
It was they who instead were found.
I moved my blade back from the body of the second. I saw Sheera slip away in the darkness.
“Keep your formation!” cried Sarus.
“We must escape!” screamed one of the men. “He will kill us all!” he ran toward the gate. I caught him at the gate and, with my fist, sword in it, struck him across the face. He spun back, staggering, turning, and fell at the feet of Sarus.
“He is at the gate,” said one of the men. He lifted the torch.
I stood at the gate, sword drawn.
“More torches,” said Sarus. “More fire.”
In a few moments, two more torches had been lit. and, within the circle, lit by torches, burned a fire.
The men of Sarus broke their circle and faced me.
There were haggard. They breathed heavily. Some were bloodied.
There were now, standing, seven of them, together with Sarus. The man I had struck lay unconscious before them. Elsewhere two men moaned, somewhere in the darkness.
I felt my tunic thick with blood at my left side. There was blood from a cut on my left arm. I could feel it running to my wrist.
At the line of the men of Tyros the torches were lifted.
“Greetings, Bosk of Port Kar,” said Sarus.
“Greetings,” said I, “Sarus of the island of Tyros.”
“We have searched for you,” he said.
