“Tensius to the left, Abnik to the right!” screamed the lieutenant. “You have him now. He has no time to reload.”
The figure had alighted on the opposite side of the walkway, before the middle gate of the three gates on the side of the pool.
I thought the prisoner might have time to reload, but he, surely would not have time to fire twice.
“Run! Run!” screamed the lieutenant.
One man, Tensius, sped to the left. It was he who had been the first of the two men who had refrained from attacking the sleen, and had later been bloodied, separating the urts. The other man, Abnik, limping, hurried to the right. He it was whose foot had been injured yesterday in the cell, in the stirrup of the crossbow. He had been the man with the lieutenant, in the investigation of the gates.
The prisoner would not have time to fire twice.
“You have him!” cried the lieutenant.
Only a few feet below me urts were tearing at the bodies of Herminius and Titus. The water of the pool was scarlet. The Lady Ilene, out of the cage, tied to it by a rope fastened under her arms, bound hand and foot, gagged, dangled over the urt pool. But she seemed of no interest now to the urts. None circled beneath her. None tried to leap up to seize a foot or leg. Readier meat lay within their province now. I did not know, but I thought that the urts would not be able to reach her. It was a risk, of course, which the peasant had been willing to take. I wondered what thoughts went through her head. She had figured, but a bit ago, as a diversion. Now she had another role to play, I suspected, one which had doubtless been projected for her earlier, one independent of the entry of the determined, tenacious black-tunicked men onto the walkway, the role of a dangling lure, one which might serve, for some purpose, as a distraction to urts. Certainly she had figured at least once in the plans of a man. Perhaps she understood herself better now as a female, and what might be done with her. Surely to the collar would now be but a short step for her. To be sure, she now seemed, as things had turned out, of little current interest to the urts. They, feeding eagerly, had been drawn away from her, to the blood and bodies below the railing. The peasant, presumably, would not have been able to count on that development, it was, presumably, a fortunate one for the Lady Ilene, particularly if the peasant had underestimated the capacity of the urts to leap from the water.
Tensius, from the left, Abnik, from the right, hurried toward the peasant.
But he did not load the bow, for a last shot. Rather, to my horror, he took a quarrel between his teeth and, bow in hand, leapt over the railing, into the urt pool itself.
“He is insane!” cried the officer of Treve.
Almost at the same moment Tensius had come to the place on the walkway from which the peasant had dived into the pool. He looked into the water, in consternation. Abnik, a moment later, came to the same place.
“Fire! Fire!” cried the lieutenant.
Uncertain, Tensius and Abnik, judging as they could the likely path beneath the water of the peasant, loosed their quarrels. They hissed down into the water. “Reload!” cried the lieutenant. He himself bent down and picked up the bow which had been that of Herminius. Its quarrel had become dislodged but, in a moment, it was again fitted in the guide. I did not doubt but what, at one time or another, the lieutenant had been quite practiced with such a weapon. It, like the dagger, would doubtless be familiar to the wearers of the dark habiliments.
“Illuminate the pool!” cried the lieutenant.
We all, then, save the pit master, with his torch, brought our lamps or torches to the railing.
The light reflected up from the surface of the pool. Below me the urts were still feeding.
The lieutenant scanned the water tensely.
No body surfaced, penetrated with quarrels.
There seemed no sign of the peasant.
Then Tensius and Abnik had reset their bows.
“Where is he!” cried the lieutenant, his bow in hand.
But he received no answer.
We waited, about the railing. The urts continued to feed. The remains of the bodies rolled about in the water, under the stress of the feeding. Sometimes they were tugged under, and then, again, in a moment, surfaced. They were pulled back and forth.
They light of the torches and the lamps shone, reflected, from the water.
“He must have drowned,” called Tensius, from across the pool.
Certainly one would have expected the peasant to surface by now, if he were still alive. It was, of course, dark in the pool, and the light was uncertain.
“Urts have taken him, under the water,” called Abnik.
“Is there an exit from the pool!” demanded the lieutenant of the pit master, standing behind him, his torch lifted. “Of course,” said the pit master, “that through which the urts enter it, through their nest.”
“Where is the exit?” demanded the lieutenant.
“There, under the water, at the side,” said the pit master, indicating an area of the pool to our right, as we faced the pool, we near the portal through which we had entered the pool area, the point indicated rather opposite where the cage dangled.
“Close the panels which permit access to the walkway!” said the lieutenant.
This took but a moment to do, as the pertinent levers were just outside the portal.
The peasant now could not return though the nest, even if he survived there, to the walkway.
I did think it possible, as doubtless so, too, did the lieutenant, that the peasant might now, at this time, the urts otherwise occupied, successfully reach the nest, which would be above water, on the other side of the wall. Indeed that might explain why he had not surfaced. To be sure, he might have surfaced, unnoticed. As I have indicated, the light was uncertain.
“Tensius, Abnik, into the water!” cried the lieutenant, gesticulating to the pool.
They looked across the pool as though their officer might be mad.
“I am bloodied,” said Tensius. He had lost blood from the bites of urts, when he had separated them, near the closed gate, earlier.
“It is safe now,” said the lieutenant.
The urts did seem to be feeding now. To be sure, I doubted that all of them, and there must have been seventeen or eighteen of them, had had their fill.
“The nest opening is there!” pointed the lieutenant. “Enter it! Find him! Kill him!”
“Would you send them to their deaths?” asked the officer of Treve.
“We have taken fee,” said the lieutenant.
I supposed that the nest might be empty now. But it would not be likely to long remain empty.
I shivered.
In dealing with urts there are certain things to keep in mind. One does not intrude into their nest. One tries to avoid placing oneself between them. And one never denies them an avenue of escape.
“Into the water!” screamed the lieutenant.
The men looked at him.
“It is safe now,” said the lieutenant. “The urts feed. Go! Go!”
“He is drowned!” cried Tensius.
“Urts took him!” said Abnik.
“Bring me the body!” said the lieutenant.
The lieutenant, this officer of the men in the black habiliments, seemed as tenacious as might be a sleen itself, this world’s finest and most relentless tracker, a sleen on its scent, single-minded, implacable, driven. He wanted confirmation of the kill. Too, I supposed, in a short while, the urts about, it might be difficult to obtain remains sufficient to constitute convincing evidence to a fee giver that the task which had been agreed upon had been successfully accomplished.
Tensius first, who had refrained from attacking the sleen in the passage, but who had later separated the urts, removed his helmet and set aside his bow. The black dagger was still on his forehead, from yesterday morning. He then put his knife between his teeth and, with care, lowered himself over the railing, and dropped down into the pool. He did this as gently as was possible. Abnik followed him, similarly. The lieutenant remained on guard, with the bow, surveying the water.