He stooped over the limp body of a feline, hands deft, fingers probing, grunting as he jerked a splinter from the thick, black fur. A slender shaft, pointed, tipped with a tuft of wool at the thick end.
'Nice.' He handed it to Dumarest and slammed shut the cage. 'Some bastard wanted a little fun and used a blowpipe. I've warned Reiza about that trick of hers but she won't listen. She'd be crazy to try it anywhere else.'
Dumarest turned the dart in his fingers. 'Do you get much of this?'
'Not on Baatz. Other worlds are different. You'd think people would have more sense but they want more than entertainment. They want blood.'
'Maybe they should be catered to,' Dumarest handed back the dart. 'Fights,' he explained. 'Open bouts and championships. Mixed pairs, even. Bets on first blood, third or to the death. There's money in it. I'm surprised you aren't running them.'
'Shakira wouldn't hear of it.'
'How about Zucco?'
'Maybe, but Zucco isn't the boss.' Valaban looked at the limp body in the cage. 'But he's good at his job. He saw the cat twitch and gave the signal without delay. Before it could jump the clowns went in with gas and knocked it out. It'll recover soon.' '
'And Reiza?'
'Lucky-but mad as hell.'
'About the cat?'
Valaban hesitated then said, 'Look, Earl, maybe it's none of my business but it wouldn't do any harm for you to be careful. When we got back she spent some time with Zucco. They were talking and she didn't like what he said. I guess you haven't seen her since you left?'
'No. I've been busy.'
'And she's been alone. Thinking, brooding-remember what I told you about cats and women? You can't trust either. And she's handy with that whip.'
Too handy. Dumarest felt the bite of it as he turned. The raw sting as again the lash touched his cheek.
Facing him Reiza said, 'You bastard! This time you lose your eyes!'
She wore a gown of yellow edged with black, draped so as to bare one shoulder, belted at the waist, the fabric taut over the mounds of her breasts, the swell of her hips and thighs. A garment designed to enhance her femininity but there was nothing soft or gentle about her face or eyes. It was the mask of a tiger illuminated by the narrowed, blazing slits of rampant jealousy. Her voice carried the echo of the crack of the whip she held in her right hand.
Backing, Dumarest said, 'Reiza! Be careful!'
'Like hell I'll be careful!' The lash tore the air before her. 'I trusted you! Wanted you! Loved you more than I'd ever loved anyone before. And you run off with that pallid freak. Spent the night with her under the stars. How was she, Earl? Did you lie to her too? Tell her you loved her? Use her as you used me!'
He said, 'Reiza! Shut up and listen!'
'I've listened to all I want. I've heard how you were found snuggling close. How she clung to you and cried when you parted. The state she was in. You dirty swine! You filth! To prefer that bitch to me!'
Jealousy bordering on madness. Dumarest dodged as the lash tore at his face, feeling the wind of it, the heat of its passing. Leather moving at supersonic speed and able to slice flesh as if it had been a knife. To kill a fly without disturbing the sweat it was drinking-or to tear out an eye as a man would thumb a pea from its pod.
A threat he had faced before and from the same source but now there was a difference. Then she had been playing, teasing him as a cat would tease a mouse, enjoying the game and the demonstration of her skill. Now she wanted to hurt, to maim and blind-and she had the ability to do it.
'Reiza, listen to me.' Again Dumarest dodged, the whip slicing the plastic of his tunic at one shoulder. 'Damn you, woman, listen! To Valaban if not to me. He was there. He'll tell you what he saw.'
'I know what he saw. If he says different he'll be lying. You were with that girl. That freak Melome. You slept with her. You chose her over me. Me!'
A woman too much like a cat. One who had suffered imagined insult and who now wanted nothing but a savage revenge.
Dumarest backed as the lash whined toward his face, felt the bars of the cage slam against his spine, moved quickly to one side the thong hitting metal. A grab and he had it in his hand, a twist and it was around his knuckles. A moment in which each faced the other as she pulled and then, with a sudden jerk, he had thrown her off balance, to stagger, to trip over his foot, to sprawl in an ungainly heap on the littered floor.
She screamed in fury as he slammed his foot hard on the hand holding the whip.
'Jac! Kill him, Jac! Kill him!'
Dumarest stooped, snatched up the whip and rose with it in his hand. Zucco stepped from the shadows as he turned, tall in his ringmaster finery, his own whip lifted before him. One he lost as Dumarest sent his lash against the tall stock, ripping it from the other's grasp and sending it flying to one side.
'Jac!' Reiza almost sobbed in her rage as she rose to her feet, one hand nursing her bruised wrist. 'Kill him! Kill him and I'm yours!'
'You have always been mine.' Zucco looked at Dumarest. 'Do you understand, you poor fool? She went with you for a whim. A momentary passion which I permitted for reasons of my own. Later, perhaps, we shall laugh at your ineptitude.'
'As you laughed at Hayter's death?' Dumarest saw the cold, sneering mask of the ringmaster change a little. 'You did kill him, didn't you? You wanted the woman that badly. So you made sure he carried a scent which would turn the cats into a fury. The act of a coward-but what else are you?'
'Your better,' said Zucco tightly. 'Your superior. Now and at any time.'
'As you demonstrated in the sump.' Dumarest shrugged and half-turned toward Reiza, the whip dangling in his hand. 'If you want revenge,' he said, 'pick yourself another champion. Only a man has the guts to fight for a woman he wants. Zucco hasn't got what it takes.'
'You think not?'
'He's a murderer, a liar, a cheat and a thief. Things once said about me. Maybe the accusation holds an element of truth. But I'm not a coward.'
'Neither is Jac.' Reiza looked at Zucco. 'Please, don't shame me. Kill him and take me in any way you want-but kill him. Kill him!'
'He can't,' said Dumarest. 'Not in the open. Not when I'm unchained and he hasn't got a gun and some bullies like Ruval to back him up. Scum like Zucco work in the dark with poison and hired assassins. Take him for what he is if you want him so badly. Let him own you, use you, beat you as he wants. But never make the mistake of thinking him a man.'
Her laughter surprised him. 'You think that? You believe him helpless? Afraid? Jac!'
'A challenge,' he said, and smiled, standing relaxed, arrogant in his confidence. 'Us facing each other on equal terms. Armed with knives and battling to the death. Is that what you have in mind?'
From where he stood Valaban said, urgently, 'Don't listen to him, Earl. Don't let him goad you. Let him have the bitch and good riddance. She isn't worth fighting over.'
'Shut up, you old fool!' Reiza snapped her anger. 'Stay out of this.'
Dumarest ignored them both. To Zucco he said, 'I don't fight for nothing. If we meet what is the prize?'
'The girl. I win and she is mine. If you beat me-'
'I gain nothing,' said Dumarest. 'I don't want her.'
'The pleasure of killing me then-if you can.'
'I can do that now.' Steel glimmered as Dumarest jerked free the blade from the stock of the whip he held. 'In fact I'd be a fool not to. So-'
'No!' Shakira stepped forward from where he had stood watching from the shadows. He wore emerald traced with silver, ornamentation which caught and reflected the light to clothe him in the semblance of shimmering scales. Gleams Dumarest had spotted before Zucco had made his challenge. 'There will be no murder. A fair fight is another matter.'
Dumarest shrugged and lowered the blade. 'Why give an enemy the chance of killing you?'
'You think he could?'
