"No," she said proudly, "I am unhurt."

It was the answer I had expected, though undoubtedly her body was almost broken, her flesh bruised to the bone.

"You are in pain," I said, "but mostly, now, you are cold and numb from the loss of circulation." I regarded her. "Later," I said, "it will be even more painful."

The expressionless mask gazed upon me.

"I, too," I said, "was once in the talons of a tarn."

"Why did the tarn not kill you in the arena?" she asked.

"It is my tarn," I said simply. What more could I tell her? That it had not killed me, knowing the nature of tarns, seemed almost as incredible to me as it did to her. Had I known more of tarns, I might have guessed that it held me in some sort of affection.

The Tatrix looked about, examining the sky. "When will it return?" she asked. Her voice had been a whisper. I knew that if there was anything that struck terror into the heart of the Tatrix, it was the tarn.

"Soon," I said. "Let us hope it finds something to eat in the fields below."

The Tatrix trembled slightly.

"If it doesn" t find game," she said, "it will return angry and hungry." "Surely," I agreed.

"It may try to feed on us — " she said.

"Perhaps," I said.

At last the words came out, slowly, carefully formed. "If it doesn" t find game," she asked, "are you going to give me to the tarn?"

"Yes," I said.

With a cry of fear the Tatrix fell to her knees before me, her hands extended, pleading. Lara, Tatrix of Tharna, was at my feet, a supplicant. "Unless you behave yourself," I added.

Angrily the Tatrix scrambled to her feet. "You tricked me!" she cried. "You tricked me into assuming the posture of the captive female!"

I smiled.

Her gloved fists struck at me. I caught her wrists and held her fast. I noted that her eyes behind the mask were blue. I allowed her to twist free. She ran to the wall, and stood, her back to me.

"Do I amuse you?" she asked.

"I" m sorry," I said.

"I am your prisoner, am I not?" she asked, insolently.

"Yes," I said.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked, her face to the wall, not deigning to look upon me.

"Sell you for a saddle and weapons," I said. I thought it well to alarm the Tatrix, the better to improve my bargaining position.

Her frame shook with fear, and fury. She spun about to face me, her gloved fists clenched. "Never!" she cried.

"I shall if it pleases me," I said.

The Tatrix, trembling with rage, regarded me. I could scarcely conjecture the hatred that seethed behind that placid golden mask. At last she spoke. Her words were like drops of acid.

"You are joking," she said.

"Remove the mask," I suggested, "in order that I may better judge what you will bring on the Street of Brands."

"No!" she cried, her hands flying to the golden mask.

"I think the mask alone," I said, "might bring the price of a good shield and spear."

The Tatrix laughed bitterly. "It would buy a tarn," she said.

I could tell that she was not certain that I was serious, that she did not really believe I could mean what I said. It was important to my plans to convince her that she stood in jeopardy, that I would dare to put her in a camisk and collar.

She laughed, testing me, holding the tattered hem of her robe towards me. "You see," she said, in mock despair, "I will not bring much in this poor garment."

"That is true," I said.

She laughed.

"You will bring more without it," I added.

She seemed shaken by this matter of fact answer. I could tell she was no longer confident of where she stood. She decided to play her trump card. She squared off against me, regal, haughty, insolent. Her voice was cold, each word a crystal of ice. "You would not dare," she said, "to sell me." "Why not?" I asked.

"Because," she said, drawing herself to her full height, gathering the golden tattered robes about her, "I am Tatrix of Tharna."

I picked up a small rock and threw it from the ledge, watching it sail toward the fields below. I watched the clouds scudding across the darkening sky, listened to the wind whistling among those lonely ridges. I turned to the Tatrix.

"That will improve your price," I said.

The Tatrix seemed stunned. Her haughty manner deserted her.

"Would you truly," she asked, her voice faltering, "put me up for sale?" I looked at her without answering.

Her hands went to the mask. "Would it be taken from me?"

"And your robes," I said.

She shrank back.

"You will be simply another slave girl among slave girls," I said, "neither more nore less."

The words came hard to her. "Would I be — exhibited?"

"Of course," I said.

"— unclothed?"

"Perhaps you will be permitted to wear slave bracelets," I snapped in irritation.

She looked as though she might swoon.

"Only a fool," I said, "would buy a woman clothed."

"No — no," she said.

"It is the custom," I said simply.

She had backed away from me, and now her back touched the obdurate granite of the cliff wall. Her head was shaking. Although that placid mask showed no emotion, I could read the despair in the body of the Tatrix. "You would do this to me?" she asked, her voice a frightened whisper. "Within two nights," I said, "you will stand stripped on the block at Ar and be sold to the highest bidder."

"No, no, no," she whimpered, and her tortured body refused to sustain her any longer. She crumpled piteously against the wall, weeping.

This was more than I had counted on, and I had to resist an urge to comfort her, to tell her that I would not hurt her, that she was safe, but, mindful of Linna and Andreas, and the poor wretches in the Amusements, I restrained my compassion. Indeed, as I thought of the cruel Tatrix, of what she had done, I wondered if, in fact, I should not take her to Ar and dispose of her on the Street of Brands. Surely she would be more harmless in the Pleasure Gardens of a tarnsman than on the throne of Tharna.

"Warrior," she said, her head lifting piteously, "must you exact so terrible a vengeance on me?"

I smiled to myself. It sounded now as though the Tatrix might bargain. "You have wronged me mightily," I said sternly.

"But you are only a man," she said. "Only a beast."

"I, too, am human," I told her.

"Give me my freedom," she begged.

"You put me in a yoke," I said. "You lashed me. You condemned me to the Arena. You would have fed me to the tarn." I laughed. "And you ask for your freedom!"

"I will pay you a thousand times what I would bring on the block at Ar," she pleaded.

"A thousand times what you would bring on the block at Ar," I said harshly, "would not satisfy my vengeance — only you on the block at Ar." She moaned.

Now, I thought, is the time. "And," I said, "not only have you injured me, but you have enslaved my friends."

The Tatrix rose to her knees. "I will free them!" she cried.

"Can you change the laws of Tharna?" I demanded.

"Alas," she cried, "not even I can do that, but I can free your friends! I will free them! My freedom for theirs!"

I appeared to think the matter over.

She sprang to her feet. "Think, Warrior," she cried, "of your honour." Her voice was triumphant. "Would you satisfy your vengeance at the price of slavery for your friends?"

"No," I cried angrily, inwardly delighted, "for I am a warrior!" Her voice was exultant. "Then, Warrior, you must bargain with me!" "Not with you!" I cried, attempting to sound dismayed.

"Yes," she laughed, "my freedom for their!"

"It is not enough," I growled.

"Then what?" she cried.

"Free all those used in the Amusements of Tharna!"

The Tatrix seemed taken aback.

"All," I cried, "- or the block at Ar!"

Her head dropped. "Very well, Warrior," she said. "I will free them all." "Can I trust you?" I asked.