"So?"

"The estate is owned by the Emperor, and that lizard-ape thing killed one of his tenants within minutes of escaping! You've got to help me recapture it before worse happens!"

"Lady Fortune!" swore Lycon softly, understanding why the loss of the animal had made a trembling wreck of the dealer. "How did it get loose?"

"That's the worst of it!" Vonones protested, in the tone of someone who knew he would be called a liar. "It must have unlocked the cage somehow-I checked the fastenings myself before the caravan left. But nobody will believe that-they'll think I was careless and didn't have the cage locked properly in the first place. And if our lord and god learns that one of his estates is being ravaged…"

"Domitian shows his displeasure in interesting ways," Lycon finished somberly. "Are you sure it isn't already too late to hush this business up?"

Vonones struggled for composure. "For now it's all right. The steward is no more interested in letting this get out than I am, knowing the Emperor's temper. But there's a limit to what he can cover up, and… It won't take very much of what happened to that farmer to exceed that limit. You've got to catch the thing for me, Lycon!"

"All right," Lycon decided. The sane voice of reason warned that he was plunging into a situation that might call down Domitian's wrath on all concerned, but his own voice was edged with excitement. "Let's get out to where the lizard-ape escaped."

The caravan was still strung out along the road when they arrived in Vonones' mud-spattered carriage. There were thirty carts, mostly loaded with only a single cage to avoid fights between the bars. Despite wind, rain and jostling, the beasts seemed less restive than in the compound. Perhaps there was a reason. The third cage from the end stood open.

Lycon stepped between a pair of carts-then ducked quickly as a taloned paw ripped through the bars at him. Disappointed, the huge tiger snarled as he hunched back in his cage.

The hunter glanced to be certain his arm was still in place. "There's one to watch out for," he cautioned Vonones. "That one was a man-killer when we captured him-and out of preference, not just because he was lame or too old to take other prey. When they turn him loose in the arena, he'll take on anything in sight."

"Maybe," muttered Vonones. "But he'd like to start with that lizard-ape. I never saw anything drive every animal around it to a killing rage the way it does. Maybe it's its scent, but at times I could swear it was somehow taunting them."

Lycon grunted noncommittally.

"Suppose I should let the rest of the caravan go on?" Vonones suggested. "They're just causing comment stopped here like this."

Lycon considered. "Why not get them off the road as much as you can and spread out. Don't let them get too far away though, because I'll need some men for this. Say, there aren't any hunting dogs here, are there?"

Vonones shook his balding head. "No, I don't often handle dogs. There's a small pack in Ostia for the local arena though. I know the trainer, and I think I can have them here by noon."

"Better do it, then," Lycon advised. "It's going to be easiest just to run the lizard-ape down and let the dogs have it. If we can pull them off in time, maybe there'll be enough left for your buyer in Rome."

"Forget the sale," Vonones urged him. "Just get that damned thing!"

But Lycon was studying the lock of the cage. It clearly had not been forced. There were only a few fine scratches on the wards.

"Any of your men mess with this?"

"Are you serious? They don't like it any better than the animals do."

"Vonones, I think it had to have opened the lock with its claws."

The merchant looked sick.

Twenty feet from the cart were the first footprints of the lizard-ape, sunk deeply into the mud of the wheat field beside the road. In the black earth their stamp was as ambiguous as the beast itself. More lizard than bird-like, Lycon decided. Long toes leading a narrow, arched foot, but with a thick, sharp-spurred heel.

"First I knew anything was wrong," explained the arm-waving driver of the next cart back, "was when this thing all of a sudden swings out of its cage and jumps into the field. Why, it could just as easy have jumped back on me-and then where would I have been, I ask you?"

Lycon did not bother to tell him. "Vonones, you've got a couple of archers in your caravan, haven't you?"

"Yes, but they weren't of any use-it was too sudden. The one in the rear of the column aimed where he could see the wheat waving, but he didn't really have a target. If only the thing had turned back on the rest of the caravan, instead of diving through the hedges! My archers would have skewered it for sure then, and I wouldn't be in this fix. Lycon, this creature is a killer! If it gets away…"

"All right, steady," the beastcatcher growled. "Going to pieces isn't going to help." He rose from where he knelt in the wheat.

"You won't be so self-assured once you've seen the farmer," Vonones warned.

The tenant's hut was a windowless beehive of wattle and daub, stuck up on the edge of his holdings. Huddled in the doorway, three of his children watched the strangers apathetically, numbed by the cold drizzle and their father's death.

The farmer lay about thirty yards into the field. A scythe, its rough iron blade unstained, had fallen near the body. Blank amazement still showed in his glazed eyes. A sudden, tearing thrust of the creature's taloned hands had eviscerated the man-totally, violently. He lay on his back in a welter of gore and entrails, naked ribs jagged through his ripped-open chest cavity.

Lycon studied the fragments of flesh strewn over the furrows. "What did you feed it in the compound?"

"The same as the other carnivores," Vonones replied shakily. "Scrap beef and parts of any animals that happened to die. It was always hungry, and it wasn't fussy."

"Well, if you manage to get it back alive, you'll know what it really likes," Lycon said grimly. "Do you see any sign of his lungs?"

Vonones swallowed and stared at the corpse in dread. The archers held arrows to their bows and looked about nervously.

Lycon, who had been following the tracks with his eye as they crossed the gullied field, suddenly frowned. "How's your bow strung?" he asked sharply of the nearest archer.

"With gut," he answered, blinking.

Lycon swore in disgust. "In this rain a gut string is going to stretch like a judge's honor! Vonones, we've got to have spears and bows strung with waxed horsehair before we do anything. I don't want to be found turned inside out with a silly expression like this poor bastard!"

Lycon chose a dozen of Vonones' men to follow the dogs with him. After that nothing happened for hours, while Vonones fumed and paced beside the wagons. At the prospect of extricating himself from his dilemma, the Armenian's frantic fear gave way to impatience.

About mid-afternoon a battered farm cart creaked into view behind a pair of spavined mules. The driver was a stocky North Italian, whose short whip and leather armlets proclaimed him the trainer of the six huge dogs that almost filled the wagon bed. Following was a much sharper carriage packed with hunting equipment, nets as well as bows and spears.

"What took you so long, Galerius!" Vonones demanded. "I sent for you hours ago-told you to spare no expense in hiring a wagon! Damn it, man-the whole business could have been taken care of by now if you hadn't come in this wreck!"