Pelops pointed. 'Before I answer that, sire, you had best kill more of the capado. They are still hungry.'
The crabs were creeping in once more. Blade slew four of them with the sharp pole and tossed it aside. He grinned at the little man. 'Can you run?'
Pelops could. He and Blade backed away from the feeding crabs and broke into a lope, Blade tempering his stride to his companion. They ran in silence until the brown sand ended and rough shingle began to hurt their feet. The beach narrowed and Blade led the way into a marshy area where rushes grew thick and tall. A mile ahead of them the land jutted out in a sharp finger-like promontory.
Watery sun began to leak through the overcast. They squatted in the dense rushes and Pelops broke off a stalk and thrust it into the muddy earth to observe the shadow. Blade watched in silence.
Pelops crumbled the reed in his fingers. 'In less than an hour the patrol will start from the fort.' He indicated the promontory with a finger. 'There is a fort there and a small harbor. You cannot see them from this side. The patrol comes this way and will spend the night at another fort far down the beach. Tomorrow they will return. Or so is the ordinary way - today it will be different.'
Blade stared out to sea. For just an instant he saw a ship moving in the light fog. Or had it been his imagination? A rakish galley with a great golden sail and a double bank of oars?
He turned to look at Pelops. 'How will it be different?'
The little man spread his hands before him. 'It must be, sire. They will not find my bones, that is the trouble. They will find only a hole in the sand and a lot of dead capado. I have escaped again. They will: begin looking for me. They will never stop until I have been found and killed. And this time, because I have escaped again, I will be gutted and cooked on a slow fire in public.'
Suddenly, with no warning, two silver tears left the dark eyes and slid down the hairless cheeks. 'I am afraid,' said the man Pelops. 'The fire will be worse than the capado. And the sharp knife - '
Blade patted his shoulder. 'That will not happen,' he promised. 'I am a stranger, cast ashore by a terrible storm, but I come from a far land where we know how to deal with such matters. Obey me, Pelops, serve me well, and I promise that you shall not be harmed.'
Pelops nodded and wiped away his tears. Blade, after a moment, added, 'Or, if it must be, I will suffer with you. I will not desert you.'
Blade was an honest man. It would not do to promise more than he could deliver. He was in Sarma now, not Home Dimension. And still without clothing, arms, or shelter. This he mentioned to Pelops, who was beginning to watch the promontory with anxious eyes.
'Slaves are not permitted clothes.' said the man. 'Nor weapons. Except the battlemen, of course. They are permitted both clothing and arms, though they are still slaves.'
Blade watched him. 'Battlemen?'
Pelops nodded. 'The ones who fight in public. For entertainment. Those who die to make a show for others. But you, as a stranger, would not know of this.'
Blade snapped his fingers. 'You are wrong. I, as a Stranger, do know of this.' Gladiators. His agile mind, in that moment, began to weave a plan.
Pelops pointed to the spit of land. 'No matter now. See there - the patrol is coming. They always search these marshes, without fail, for many foolish slaves hide here. They are always caught. We will be caught.'
Pelops began to search the ground about him. 'I must have a sharp stone - I will cut my veins. I will not be a slave again.'
Blade scanned the sea. No sign of the galley now. The fog was about the same. He peered from beneath his hand at the file of foot soldiers and horsemen just winding down the far away cliff to the shingle below. He made a quick estimate. They had half an hour at most.
Blade plucked a tall reed and examined it. It was hollow. He blew a thin little tune through it. Pelops watched him.
Blade pointed to the sea a hundred yards away. 'We will hide in there, beneath the water, and breathe through these. Select a good one.'
Pelops did so, but his small shoulders were still hunched in dejection. 'It may work,' he admitted. 'It is clever. I would never have thought of it. But we gain nothing but a little time - I told you, when they do not find my body the alarm will be spread all through Sarma. We will be hunted down. A slave hunt is a great festival in Sarma. And you, sire, because you are so - '
He broke off and would not look at Blade.
Blade smiled grimly. 'You are thinking that I am too big? Because of my size I cannot hide easily and will be taken soon - and you will be taken all the easier with me? That is what you are thinking, Pelops!'
The little man did not deny it.
Blade said, 'You must make up your mind about that, then. Stay with me or take your chances alone. I am going to hide in the sea while there is still time.'
He began to crawl over the rough shingle to the sea. At the water's edge he glanced back. Pelops was coming along behind him.
The purple tinged water was tepid and so heavy with salt that they had difficulty staying under. Pelops especially, so light boned, kept popping to the top. He had trouble with his hollow reed and sputtered and thrashed about after a mouthful of water. Blade swore and helped him as best he could. He sounded the bottom until he found heavy rocks. By holding on to these they could stay under.
Blade sent Pelops under first and told him to stay there. Only a scant three inches of reed was above the waves, which were small, and Blade nodded in satisfaction. Barring bad luck it should work and the patrol pass them by. He lingered on the surface, his eyes and nose just above the water, and watched the slave patrol approach.
There was a double file of foot soldiers. Fifty of them. They wore kilts and short jerkins of leather, sandals cross- gaitered to the knee, and flat leather caps on which sparkled metal badges. Some carried long spears, some
