There was a cheer from the crowd, which, though largely composed of Tuchuks, relished a splendid performance. Weeping Elizabeth jerked and pulled at the thongs re- straining her, helpless.
The judge inspected the bonds. `The wench is secured," he said.
Elizabeth moaned.
"Rejoice, Little Barbarian," said Albrecht, "tonight in Pleasure Silk you will dance the Chain Dance for Kassar Warriors."
The girl turned her head to one side, shuddering in the thongs. A cry of misery escaped her.
"Be silent," said Kamchak.
Elizabeth was silent and, fighting her tears; lay quietly waiting to be freed.
I cut the thongs from her wrists and ankles.
"I tried," she said, looking up at me, tears in her eyes. "I tried."
"Some girls," I told her, "have run from the bole more than a hundred times. Some are trained to do so."
"Do you concede?" Conrad asked Kamchak.
"No," said Kamchak. "My second rider must ride."
"He is not even of the Wagon Peoples," said Conrad. "Nonetheless," said Kamchak, "he will ride."
"He will not beat twenty-five," said Conrad.
Kamchak shrugged. I knew myself that twenty-five was a remarkable time. Albrecht was a fine rider and skilled in this sport and, of course, this time, his quary had been only an untrained barbarian slave, indeed, a girl who had never before run from the bole.
"To the circle," said Albrecht, to the other Kassar girl. She was a beauty.
She stepped to the circle quickly, throwing her head back, breathing deeply.
She was an intelligent looking girl.
Black-haired.
Her ankles, I noted, were a bit sturdier than are thought desirable in a slave girl. They had withstood the shock of her body weight many times I gathered, in quick turnings, in leaps.
I wished that I had seen her run before, because most girls will have a running pattern, even in their dodging which, if you have seen it, several times, you can sense. Nothing simple, but something that, somehow, you can anticipate, if only to a degree. It is probably the result of gathering, from their running, how they think; then one tries to think with them and thus meet them with the bole. She was now breathing deeply, regularly. Prior to her entering the circle I had seen her moving about in the background, running a bit, loosening her legs, speeding the circulation of her blood.
It was my guess that this was not the first time she had run from the bole.
"If you win for us," Albrecht said to her, grinning down from the saddle of the kaiila, "this night you will be given a silver bracelet and five yards of scarlet silk."
"I will win for you, Master," she said.
I thought that a bit arrogant for a slave.
Albrecht looked at me. "This wench," he said, "has never been snared in less than thirty-two beats."
I noted a flicker pass through the eyes of Kamchak, but he seemed otherwise impassive.
"She is an excellent runner," I said.
The girl laughed.
Then, to my surprise, she looked at me boldly, though wearing the Turian collar; though she wore the nose ring; though she were only a branded slave clad Kajir.
"I wager," she said, "that I will reach the lance." This irritated me. Moreover, I was not insensitive to the fact that though she were slave and I a free man, she had not addressed me, as the custom is, by the title of Master. I had no objection to the omission itself, but I did object to the affront therein implied. For some reason this wench seemed to me rather arrogant, rather contemptuous.
"I wager that you do not," I said.
"Your terms!" she challenged.
"What are yours?" I asked.
She laughed. "If I win," she said, "you give me your bole, which I will present to my master."
"Agreed," I said. "And if I should win?"
"You will not," she said.
"But if so?"
"Then," said she, "I will give you a golden ring and a silver cup."
"How is it that a slave has such riches?" I asked. She tossed her head in the air, not deigning to respond. "I have given her several such things," said Albrecht. I now gathered that the girl facing me was not a typical slave, and that there must be a very good reason why she should have such things.
"I do not want your golden ring and silver cup," I said. "What then could you want?" asked she.
"Should I win," I said, "I will claim as my prize the kiss of an insolent wench."
"Tuchuk sleep!" she cried, eyes flashing.
Conrad and Albrecht laughed. Albrecht said to the girl, "It is permitted."
"Very well, he-tharlarion," said the girl, "your bola against a kiss." Her shoulders were trembling with rage. "I will show you how a Kassar girl can run! ) "You think well of yourself," I remarked. "You are not a Kassar girl you are only a Turian slave of Kassars." Her fists clenched.
In fury she looked at Albrecht and Conrad. "I will run as I have never run before," she cried.
My heart sank a bit. I recalled Albrecht had said that the girl had never been snared in less than thirty-two beats. Then she had doubtless run from the bole several times before, perhaps as many as ten or fifteen.
"I gather," I said to Albrecht, casually, "that the girl has run several times."
"Yes," said Albrecht, "that is true." Then he added, "You may have heard of her. She is Dina of Turia."
Conrad and Albrecht slapped their saddles and laughed uproariously. Kamchak laughed, too, so hard tears ran down the scarred furrows of his face. He pointed a finger at Conrad. "Wily Kassar!" he laughed. This was a joke. Even I had to smile. The Tuchuks were commonly called the Wily Ones. But, though the moment might have been amusing to those of the Wagon Peoples, even to Kamchak, I was not prepared to look on the event with such good humor. If might have been a good trick, but I was in no state of mind to relish it. How cleverly Conrad had pretended to mock Albrecht when he had bet two girls against one. Little did we know that one of those girls was Dina of Turia, who, of course, would run not for the skilled Kamchak, but for his awkward friend, the clumsy Tarl Cabot, not even of the Wagon Peoples, new to the kaiila and bole! Conrad and Albrecht had perhaps even come to the camp of the Tuchuks with this in mind. Undoubtedly! What could they lose? Noth- ing. The best that we might have hoped for was a tie, had Kamchak beaten Conrad. But he had not; the fine little Turian wench who had been able to bite the neck of the kaiila, thereby risking her life incidentally, had seen to that. Albrecht and Conrad had come for a simple purpose, to best a Tuchuk and, in the process, pick up a girl or two; Eliza- beth Cardwell, of course, was the only one we had on hand. Even the Turian girl, Dina, perhaps the best slave among all the wagons in this sport, was laughing, hanging on the stirrup of Albrecht, looking up at him. I noted that his kaiila was within the whip circle, within which the girl stood. Her- feet were off the ground and she had the side of her head pressed against his furred boot.
"Run," I said.
She cried out angrily, as did Albrecht, and Kamchak laughed. "Run, you little fool," shouted Conrad. The girl had released the stirrup and her feet struck the ground. She was off balance but righted herself and with an angry cry she sped from the circle. By surprising her I had gained perhaps ten or fifteen yards.
I took the binding thong from my belt and put it in my teeth.
I began to swing the bole.
To my amazement, as I swung the hole in ever faster circles, never taking my eyes off her, she broke the straight running pattern only about fifty yards from the whip circle, and began to dodge, moving always, however, toward the lance. This puzzled me. Surely she had not miscounted, not Dina of Turia. As the judge counted aloud I observed the pattern, two left, then a long right to compensate, moving toward the lance; two left, then right; two left, then right. "Fifteen!" called the judge, and I streaked on kailla back from the circle of the boskhide whip.