Part 23 (1/2)

She bit his arm and, with an oath, he caught her hair and twisted her head back. ”Who are you?” he said. ”Who are you, eh?”

The girl glowered at him.

Pirum dragged her along. She continued to struggle. Shaking his head, he hit her on the jaw with his fist and caught her before she could fall. Then, swinging her up over his broad shoulder, he stalked through the rushes toward Nadia City.

CHAPTER XVII

_The Prison Without Bars_

No one tried to stop Bram Forest until he reached the very gates of the amphitheater. But there a guard with drawn whip-sword barred the way and demanded: ”You don't look Nadian to me. What delegation are you with, man?”

Bram Forest had no time to parry words with words. He tried to push his way past the guard who, too surprised to thrust with his weapon, used his free hand to grab Bram Forest by the shoulder and spin him around. Bram Forest drove his left fist into the guard's belly and heard the whoosh of air escaping from his lungs.

That was the last thing he heard for some time. A second guard crept up quietly behind him and struck expertly with the hilt of his whip-sword just behind the left ear. Bram Forest fell as if the ground dropped out from under him.

”By all the fiery G.o.ds of Tarth, will you look at that!” the first guard exclaimed.

The second guard could only gawk, not comprehending.

The unconscious man was growing tenuous.

The first guard in confused alarm, lashed down with the whip-sword.

But its point pa.s.sed through Bram Forest's now transparent body without meeting any resistance.

”Right through him! Right through him!” cried the guard.

And, by the time he said it, and coiled his sword again, Bram Forest had vanished.

When an urgent message had come for Retoc, the Princess Volna, alone in the royal box, had decided to investigate the matter herself. She had to hurry, though. In not many minutes, Retoc and Bontarc would find themselves face to face on the sands of the amphitheater.

Wouldn't Bontarc be surprised! Too proud to flee, not swordsman enough to match the mighty Retoc....

”Yes, yes, what is it?” she snapped irritably when she entered the dungeon-like ready-room below the amphitheater sands. She was in a hurry to return to her box, lest she miss the duel between Bontarc and Retoc. Alone in the ready-room was a soldier in the uniform of Abaria.

”Begging your pardon, ma'am,” said the soldier. ”My message is for Retoc of Abaria.”

”And I tell you Retoc of Abaria is not here to receive it.” Volna clapped her hands and two of her own guards appeared. ”I am the Princess Volna. Well?”

Pirum looked at her, at the armed guards flanking her on either side, at the door through which she had entered, at the ready-room's second door. ”Very well,” he said at last, and opened the second door, beckoning.

Volna went to the doorway and looked. She gasped involuntarily, hardly able to believe her eyes. There on the stone floor of a smaller ready-room, only now regaining consciousness, was the Virgin Wayfarer of Ofrid, she who had seen Retoc slay Jlomec, she who had been sent by Volna herself to sure death on the Journey of No Return. Terror gripped her.

”What does this mean?” Volna cried. ”Where did you find her? Where, man? Speak!”

”On the river, ladys.h.i.+p.”

”On the river? Returning from the Place of the Dead?”