Gradually the noises died away, except for the crackling of the fire and a faint sizzling sound that Blade could not identify. Probably the women had settled down to their evening meal. Blade decided to slip in closer and spy out the camp. He wanted to release the prisoners, not just blunder about in the darkness, tripping over roots and the sleeping bodies of the women.

As silent as a ghost, he slipped from one tree to another, and yet another. Each time he was a little closer to the fire's glow. Each time he stopped and waited, almost holding his breath, listening for any reaction from the camp to suggest that he might have been heard. But there was only the wind in the treetops high above, the crackle of the fire, and that sizzling. He continued his slow, stalking approach. In a few more minutes, he found a tree that gave him a clear view of the camp.

He saw then that he didn't need to worry any more about helping the wild men. They were beyond help. Parts of their bodies lay in a mangled and bloody heap under a bush. Other parts, stuck on long wooden poles, were turning slowly over the campfire. As the fat dripped off into the flames, it made the sizzling noise Blade had heard.

Blade recognized arms, legs, and various internal organs on the spits. Then he saw one of the women reach into the coals on the edge of the fire with a long stick and rake out a steaming, blackened head. A sharp blow with one of the axes; and the skull was opened. The woman motioned the leader over, and the leader squatted down and began rummaging around in the skull with her knife. Apparently the brains of the kill were the leader's right.

Then the wind shifted and brought to Blade's nose a powerful odor of roasting meat and burning fat. At that point he knew that he could not sit here watching the cannibal feast any longer. He turned and bolted for the safe, secure darkness. He was careless of noise, but the women behind him were too busy stuffing themselves to listen for noises in the darkness around them. Blade was able to get a good hundred yards from the camp before his outraged stomach finally gave up the struggle for self-control. There was not much in his stomach, for it had been a long time since his breakfast in Home Dimension. But it was also a long time before his stomach stopped heaving-a long time after there was anything in it to heave up. At the thought of having to deal with the cannibal huntresses as the highest civilization in this dimension, his stomach nearly revolted a second time.

But if he could not save the wild men, he could certainly make sure that the huntresses didn't get back home without at least the scare of their lives. Blade ran over his memories of the campsite. As careless as they seemed to be, they would still probably leave at least one woman on guard. But she might not be very alert. And after gorging themselves, the rest of the women would most likely be so fast asleep that a hand grenade tossed among them would not wake them. It should be fairly easy. But Blade still considered every possible pitfall and obstacle to his planned raid on the camp. When it still seemed like a good idea after that, he gave a small sigh of relief. Then he crept in carefully to where he could again see the camp clearly and settled down to wait.

Blade had to wait longer than he had expected, or found comfortable. Night settled down on the forest, and with it the night's chill and the night's own swarm of insects. In his nakedness, Blade found the chill very uncomfortable. He was exceptionally resistant to extremes of temperature and knew that the chill would not impair his fighting ability, but he didn't like it any better for that.

The insects were not as bad. Unlike the biting swarms of the day, the insects of the night merely whined endlessly around his head. They got into his eyes, they got into his ears, they got into his mouth and had to be spat out with half-muttered curses.

Nor were the insects the only wildlife on the move in the forest. Cracking branches and soft footfalls told of animals passing by. Occasionally Blade would see a red flash as eyes reflected the light of the campfire. He was not particularly bothered by this. He knew that he could outfight barehanded most of the wild animals he was likely to meet. But some would be too large. And there was always the possibility that one of the animals might attract the attention of the camp.

But the huntresses paid no attention to what might be happening in the forest around them. They stuffed themselves with more meat than Blade thought seven women could eat, taking their time at it. They also prepared a broth and spooned several bowls of it into their comrade with the broken jaw. Gradually the meat that had been roasting over the fire vanished, and white, shiny bones piled up. The bare-breasted woman had now pulled on her tunic against the night's chill. Blade saw her take the bones and crack them open with an axe, then pass around the pieces. As the women sucked out the marrow, Blade felt his stomach heaving again. But there was nothing left in it. After a while he got it back under control and continued to watch in grim silence, as motionless as a statue.

After they had eaten, the women drank and washed their greasy hands and faces with water from skin bags. They collected dry branches from all around their campsite and piled up the fire until it was a roaring orange pyramid shooting flames and sparks ten feet into the air. They dug into their sacks and pulled out heavy hide cloaks. Finally they pulled off their moccasins and tunics, wrapped themselves in the cloaks until they looked like giant sausages, and lay down to sleep.

As Blade had expected, the women left only one sentry on guard. It was the woman who had gone bare-breasted. She was fully armed, with bow, quiver, sword, and knife. Step by step, Blade began to work his way around the camp to a spot where he could take the guard from behind.

Each time he stopped, he looked at the camp. It was obvious that the woman's heart really wasn't in her job. The first time Blade looked, she was energetically striding about the camp, hand on her sword hilt, eyes trying to look into the darkness in all directions at once. The second time he looked, she was standing still, but straight as a tree. The third time, her shoulders were drooping. The fourth time, she was squatting by the fire, balancing herself on her bow. The fifth time…

Moving without making a sound, Blade took nearly half an hour to get into position on the opposite side of the camp. By that time the woman had given up any effort to stay on her feet. She was sitting on the ground, legs crossed, bow laid across her knees, shoulders bowed, and head nodding. She was so obviously fighting to stay awake that Blade could hardly keep from laughing. All he had to do was wait until she dozed off, then move in. He would get no more resistance from the camp than he would get from eight newborn babies.

He waited a while longer, until he could be sure that the sentry was as deeply asleep as the other seven. The chill was beginning to numb his toes and fingers before he decided to move in. He stood up and worked them to get the blood flowing again. Then he began a slow, stalking approach, step by step, feeling his way forward. There was silence in the forest now, except for the whine of the insects and the occasional crackles of the dying fire. The eight women made no sound, not even a snore or a moan.

Closer and closer Blade crept. He grinned savagely when he saw that the women had carefully stacked their weapons in the center of their camp. Once he was between them and their weapons…

Two, three, four more steps, and he was at the edge of the clearing. Four more steps and he would be in striking range of the slumped-over sentry. He could have the whole camp at his mercy within seconds.

And knowing that made it impossible for him to kill. If the eight women had been coming at him with swords in their hands, he would not have held back from killing them. Anyone who hesitates in such a situation doesn't live to be praised for his chivalry. But, as he had anticipated, the women were and would be as helpless as so many babies. It was hardly in Blade to cut the throats of eight sleeping men. It was beyond him to do the same to eight sleeping women, whatever their vices.