“They are clever fellows,” said the lieutenant.

“Doubtless,” said the pit master.

“Picked men.”

“I do not doubt it,” said the pit master.

It was an elite squad, I gathered, which had come to Treve. To someone, it seemed, their mission must have been of great moment.

“They have with them the body, or the head, of the prisoner,” said the lieutenant.

“Possibly,” said the officer of Treve.

“They will return any moment,” said the lieutenant, determinedly.

“Possibly,” said the officer of Treve.

“There is something across the way,” said the pit master. He gestured toward the opposite wall, several yards from the nest entrance. There, something humped, like a cloth filled with air, had come to the surface.

“Where?”

“There.”

“What is it? A dead urt?”

“It is a body,” said the pit master.

“Excellent!” said the lieutenant. “It has come to the surface!”

An urt swam to the object and began to bite at it. Once it pulled it beneath the surface. It then emerged, again, closer to us. Another urt then swam toward it.

“It is Tensius,” said the lieutenant.

The eyes were still open, staring upward. One could see the dagger on the forehead. When the body was pulled back, again, one could see that the left leg was gone, and the left hand.

“Urts,” said the lieutenant.

I did not know if Tensius had reached the nest or not. I supposed that he might have, as we had not detected a disturbance in the water near the entrance to the nest. But if he had been killed in the nest, why had the urts not fed on him there?

When I looked away from the water I saw that the lieutenant’s attention was returned, intently, to the pool. Indeed, he held his bow more at the ready than before.

It was indeed an elite that had come to Treve.

Had the prisoner died in the pool it seemed his body would have surfaced before that of Tensius.

But the body of Tensius, it seemed, had not served as a diversion.

It was merely meat, floating in the water, being eaten.

The moments taken for its identification, the lapse of attention to the tunnel entrance occasioned by its appearance, had been without cost.

The lieutenant lowered his bow.

One could not climb from the pool to the walkway without a rope, or some such device, the tunnels to the walkway having been sealed.

“The prisoner,” said the officer of Treve, “may have died in the nest. Too, he may have been trapped beneath the water, wedged under an outcropping, or between rocks.”

The latter hypothesis was an interesting one, as water urts sometimes secure prey under the water, saving it for later, rather as certain predatory beasts will bury a kill, or place it in a tree, to be finished later. Some birds impale insects on thorns, for a similar purpose.

“He is alive, somewhere,” said the lieutenant. “I am sure of it.”

“That seems improbably,” said the officer of Treve.

“The body of Tensius shows that he is alive,” said the lieutenant. “If he had been killed by urts his body would have made that clear. It would have been a mass of bites, or the throat would have been gone. The condition of the body, on the other hand, shows that it was not attacked by urts until either it was dead of unable to defend itself. And he would not have drowned unless he had been held under the water, in which case the prisoner is alive. I am sure Tensius was stabbed, and the wound washed free of blood.”

“Interesting,” said the officer of Treve.

“He is clever,” said the lieutenant. “He is cunning. He is magnificent prey. It is a pleasure to hunt him.”

“Those of the black caste are famed for their prowess in hunting,” said the officer of Treve.

“But he has miscalculated,” said the lieutenant. “He thought to use the body of Tensius as a diversion, to cover his exit from the pool, but he could not leave the pool. Instead, he has only managed, unbeknownst to himself, to inform me that he is still alive.”

“Let us get more men,” said Gito, who had crept closer to the portal.

“I need only one clear shot,” said the lieutenant.

“He is surely dead,” said Gito. “Let us hasten to the surface.”

“I have not seen the body,” said the lieutenant.

“You truly think he is alive?” asked the officer of Treve.

“Yes,” said the lieutenant. “He has now inadvertently informed me of that fact. That loses him his advantage. I am now ready for him, quite ready.”

“Come away!” begged Gito.

“I need only one clean shot,” said the lieutenant.

The quarrel lay ready in the guide, as quiet as a bullet.

Suddenly from the part of the pool near the entrance to the nest we saw a hand reach up, breaking the surface, and then an arm. A head momentarily broke the surface, and then the body seemed dragged under again. Then it came back again to the surface, arms thrashing. It cried out with pain. “It is your man!” said the officer of Treve.

It was the black-tunicked fellow, Abnik, who had had his foot injured in the crossbow’s suirrup yesterday morning.

He went under again, seemingly pulled down, and then, choking, spitting water, came again to the surface, closer. “Help! Help!” he cried.

“He is fleeing the nest!” said the officer of Treve.

Abnik tried to swim toward us. It seemed something held him back, under the surface.

“urts have him!” said the officer of Treve.

“Help! Please!” cried Abnik. Then, choking, he was drawn under again.

One of the girls on the other side of the pool, tied by her neck to her cord-mate, screamed, horrified.

“Keep the torch up!” cried the lieutenant.

I suddenly realized his attention was not on the pathetic figure in the pool but on the waters behind it and about it.

“Help!” cried Abnik.

The water was bloody about him.

An urt beneath the railing turned smoothly in the water, orienting itself toward the figure in the water. It did not, however, approach it. Rather it twisted about, suddenly, and returned to its work at hand. We saw the figure of Tensius pulled under, beneath the railing. Then it surfaced, again. The side of its face was gone.

“Help!” cried Abnik.

We could now see, surfaced behind him, the head and neck of an urt, one that was very large.

Then it dove down again and Abnik cried out in misery.

“Please!” he wept.

His face was contorted. It was hideous. His hands clutched at the air as though he might gain purchase there to drag himself to safety.

“Help! Help!” he cried.

The attention of the lieutenant I noted, to my horror, was not on the struggling figure of Abnik. He was intensely considering, rather, the waters to the side and back.

The head and neck of the urt surfaced again, behind Abnik.

I screamed.

“There it is!” cried out the officer of Treve. “Kill it! Kill it! Save your man!”

“Do not be foolish,” said the lieutenant, without taking his attention from the pool. “Do you not understand what is occurring?”

“Please, help me!” cried Abnik.

“Give me the bow,” said the officer of Treve. “I will kill it.”

But the lieutenant, angrily, pulled the bow away.

The pit master stood rather behind the lieutenant, his torch lifted. I could see the urts below us, at the bodies near the wall, beneath where we stood.

“Kill the thing!” said the officer of Treve. “Kill it!”

“No,” said the lieutenant.

“Save him!” begged the officer of Treve.

“I have ten fee, as has he,” said the lieutenant.

“Kill it, kill it!” said the officer of Treve.

The man in the water, thrashing about, screaming in misery.

“No,” said the lieutenant.

“It is an easy shot,” said the officer of Treve, desperately.

“At this distance you could not miss!”

“I will not waste the quarrel,” said the lieutenant.

“Help!” screamed Abnik.

“He will die,” said the officer of Treve.