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.
I rode at full speed, for there was not a beat to lose. Even if by good fortune I managed to tie Albrecht, Elizabeth would still belong to the Kassars, for Conrad had a clear win over Kamchak. It is dangerous, of course, to approach any but a naive, straight-running, perhaps terrified, girl at full speed, for should she dodge or move to one side, one will have to slow the kaiila to turn it after her, lest one be carried past her too rapidly, even at the margins of bole range. But I could judge Dina's run, two left, one right, so I set the kaiila running at full speed for what would seem to be the unwilling point of rendezvous between Dina and the leather of the bole. I was surprised at the simplicity of her pattern.- I wondered how it could be that such a girl had never been taken in less than thirty-two beats, that she had reached the lance forty times.
I would release the bole in another beat as she took her second sprint to the left.
Then I remembered the intelligence of her eyes, her confi- dence, that never had she been taken in less than thirty-two beats, that she had reached the lance forty times. Her skills must be subtle, her timing marvelous.
I released the bole, risking all, hurling it not to the expect- ed rendezvous of the second left but to a first right, unex- pected, the first break in the two-left, one-right pattern. I heard her startled cry as the weighted leather straps flashed about her thighs, calves and ankles, in an instant lashing them together as tightly as though by binding fiber. Hardly slack- ening speed I swept past the girl, turned the kaiila to face her, and again kicked it into a full gallop. I briefly saw a look of utter astonishment on her beautiful face. Her hands were out, trying instinctively to maintain her balance; the bole weights were still snapping about her ankles in tiny, angry circles; in an instant she would fall to the grass; racing past I seized her by the hair and threw her over the saddle; scarcely did she comprehend what was happening before she found herself my prisoner, while yet the kaiila did still gallop, bound about the pommel of the saddle. I had not taken even the time to dismount. Only perhaps a beat or two before the kaiila leapt into the circle had I finished the knots that confined her. I threw her to the turf at the judge's feet. The judge, and the crowd, seemed speechless.
"Time!" called Kamchak.
The judge looked startled, as though he could not believe what he had seen. He took his hand from the side of the "Time!" called Kamchak.
The judge looked at him. "Seventeen," he whispered. The crowd was silent, then, suddenly, as unexpectedly as a clap of thunder, they began to roar and cheer Kamchak was thumping a very despondent looking Conrad and Albrecht on the shoulders.
I looked down at Dina of Turia. Looking at me in rage, she began to pull and squirm in the thongs, twisting in the grass.
The judge allowed her to do so for perhaps a few lien, may- be thirty seconds or so,"The wench is secured," he said.
There was another great cry and cheer from the crowd. They were mostly Tuchuks, and were highly pleased with what they had seen, but I saw, too, that even the Kassars and the one or two Paravaci present and the Kataii were unstint- ing in their acclaim. The crowd had gone mad.
Elizabeth Cardwell was leaping up and down clapping her hands.
I looked down at Dina, who lay at my feet, now no longer struggling.
I removed the bole from her legs.
With my quiva I slashed the thong on her ankles, permit- ting her to struggle to her feet.
She stood facing me, clad Kajir, her wrists still thonged behind her.
I refastened the bole at my saddle. "I keep my bole, it seems," I said.
She tried to free her wrists, but could not, of course, do so.
Helpless she stood waiting for me.
I then took Dina of Turia in my arms and, at some length, and with a certain admitted satisfaction, collected my win- nings. Because she had annoyed me the kiss that was hers was that of master to a slave girl; yet was I patient because the kiss itself was not enough; I was not satisfied until, despite herself, I read in my arms her body's sudden, involun- tary admission that I had conquered. "Master," she said, her eyes glazed, too weak to struggle against the thongs that encircled her wrists. With a cheerful slap I sped her back to Albrecht, who, angry, with the tip of his lance, severed the bonds that had confined her. Kamchak was laughing, and Conrad as well. And, too, many in the crowd. Elizabeth Cardwell, however, to my surprise, seemed furious. She had pulled on her furs. When I looked at her, she looked away, angrily.
I wondered what was the matter with her.
Had I not saved her?
Were not the points between Kamchak and I, and Conrad and Albrecht event Was she not safe and the match at an end?
"The score is tied," said Kamchak, "and the wager is concluded. There is no winner."
"/Agreed," said Conrad.
"No," said Albrecht.
We looked at him.
"Lance and tospit," he said.
"The match is at an end," I said.
"There is no winner," protested Albrecht.