Blade turned as the door rumbled open again and saw Idrana stalk in, followed by a file of armed women. By the time the door closed behind them, there were more than fifty packed into the chamber. Blade noticed that all carried bows and very well-filled quivers.

The women arranged themselves around the chamber, keeping close to the walls and leaving an open space in the middle for Blade and his guards. They seemed reluctant to approach him, as though he were a wild animal. Or perhaps they sensed the fury that was bubbling in him and feared it might suddenly boil over onto them.

Idrana had no such fear. She stepped up to Blade until she was close enough to reach out and touch him. Her nostrils flared at his odor. Otherwise she seemed poised and ready, like an arrow about to fly from the bow. Blade decided against taunting her. She looked able to kill him on the spot, even if it spoiled part of her show.

«You look worried, Blade. Is it that you do not know what will be done with you?» Blade made no reply, and after a moment Idrana realized that he would make none. She grinned.

«You-you and your, friend the Senar-will be taken to the center of the arena. My women and I will stand around the edge of the arena with our bows. And we will shoot arrows at you. We will try not to hit you-at first. We want good sport, and the good sight of men-men-running about like bugs from a fire, while our arrows whistle past their ears. And then, when we have put so many arrows into you that you look like spine-fruit, we-«She broke off abruptly, as though she had suddenly realized she might be about to say too much.

Blade carefully kept his face expressionless, but inside he was a churning mass of thoughts. Nugun was alive-for the moment. And they were both going to be shoved out to die as-archery targets-to put on a show for the city.

A final roar of cheers and shouts came from up above. It died away, and in the silence that followed Blade heard drums roll and a single trumpet call out, high and brassy. Idrana spoke to Blade's guards. «Lead him out,» she said briskly.

As she spoke, the gate to the arena itself rumbled open. Blade stared out across two hundred yards of hard-packed sand. It was bare and featureless with only a few patches of blood here and there. On it nothing moved, except a two-wheeled cart drawn by an ambling ox. The cart was piled high with the bodies of Senar. Blade saw arms and legs trailing down.

Then the trumpet sounded again, and Blade's guards pulled him out into the sunlight. He blinked-and then stiffened as he saw another door open in the wall of the arena. Eight guards emerged, pulling a wheeled cage. In that cage was a single Senar.

Nugun.

Blade did not realize that he had shouted the name aloud. Idrana bared even white teeth in a savage grin as she heard him. «So he is-something unnatural-to you after all? Well, well. It is said that such pairs have a great desire to die together. At least you cannot deny that we have granted you that wish.»

If Idrana had spoken three more words, Blade would have strangled her on the spot. But she said nothing, and the rope tightened around his neck as the guards stepped up their pace.

Five minutes later he stood in the very center of the arena. Twenty feet away stood Nugun, staring at Blade as though he were someone returned from the dead. Perhaps to the Senar he was.

Blade raised a hand in greeting. «It seems we cannot kill Blenar or bad Senar or women of the city today, Nugun. They are going to kill us.»

Nugun shrugged. His massive body was thinner and reeked of filth and neglect. But he held himself as erect as ever, and his eyes were not dimmed. «Nugun know. But Nugun not die easy. Nugun fight.»

«I will fight too,» said Blade. «Perhaps we can kill some women.» He was not optimistic, though. If he and Nugun tried to rush the archers across a hundred yards of open sand, they would indeed be sprouting arrows all over before they had gone very far. Their only hope was Truja's making her move, and he had no idea when that would be-or whether she would even be able to make it at all. To snatch Blade and Nugun from the middle of fifty archers would be a neat trick.

Idrana herself was striding out now to take her position in the circle of archers. Blade used the extra time to look carefully around him. The arena was no more than one-third full, yet that one-third must have held better than twenty thousand people. Blade noticed that most of the women wore sober browns, grays, and blacks, except for those who were showing off their loyalty to their faction. One whole section was filled with a solid mass of women in bright blue. Fifty yards farther on, he saw an equally large mass of equally bright green. Blade saw banners floating above the rear ranks of each faction and the glint of weapons on either side.

Idrana was in position now. Her voice rose high and clear, carrying across the arena and rising above the continued murmur of the crowd. «Oh, Sisters of the City of Brega, look upon us. This day, to Kina, Mother of All, we offer as sacrifice-these men.» The trumpet sounded a third time, and the drums rolled to be promptly drowned out by cheers and shouts.

Idrana stepped forward a pace, pulling an arrow from her quiver and nocking it to her bow. This was a signal for all the other archers around the arena to do the same.

Blade stared at the archers drawing a bead on him. Then he took a deep breath, grinned at Nugun, and made himself ready for what would literally be a dance of death.

Blade realized that the length of time he could dance before death came depended largely on the skill of Idrana and her archers. If they were good, he would not be hit as long as they were not aiming to hit him. But if they were inept, they would almost certainly not be able to avoid accidents. And the longer he stayed alive and on his feet, the longer Truja and her party would have to act.

Far away across the arena, he saw Idrana's arm draw back, then straighten. A faint black blur high against the blue sky told him of an arrow on its way. For a split second more, he stood still. Would Idrana be aiming directly at him, assuming he would dodge? Or would it appeal to her game-playing instincts to try to guess where he would jump and put her arrow there?

With a sudden snap of leg muscles, Blade swung to the left, going down and rolling. As he did so, the Wheeeesh of a descending arrow sounded loud in his ears. A split second later came a solid whunk as it plunged into the sand just behind where Blade had been standing. If he had not moved, it would have plunged down into his chest. That settled two things about Idrana. She could shoot well, and she would aim to hit-at least for now. Blade brushed the sand off his arms and looked at the distant circle again. Now the woman to the right of Idrana was drawing and shooting. Blade jumped back, not rolling this time. In the same moment he shouted «Move!» to Nugun. The Senar responded with a tremendous leap that must have carried him a good eight feet. He nearly lost his balance on landing-but the arrow aimed at him whistled down and struck harmlessly ten feet away.

One by one, each woman around the circle took her shot. Before half the women had shot, it was obvious that they were alternating between Blade and Nugun. But still both of them went on moving each time they saw an arrow headed their way. Blade wasn't going to take chances on Idrana's playing tricks.

It was also obvious that Idrana had hand-picked her archers. Blade suspected that this was for reasons other than putting on a good show in the games. But they were certainly doing that. Each woman in the circle could obviously pick off a man-sized target at far more than a hundred yards' range. And equally obviously, they could also miss such a target with the same ease-as long as they wanted to. How long would they want to? And how long could Blade and Nugun keep up the leaps and bounds and rolls that had so far kept the arrows out of their flesh?