"Wait here," he said.
I waited on the height of the stadium, looking down into that vast, open structure, empty and white.
Mip on his tarn, Green Ubar, seemed a swift, dark movement against the white sand and tiers, the shadow coursing behind them, seeming to break geometrically over the tiers.
I saw the bird stop on the first perch.
They waited there for a moment. The judge's bar, hanging on its chain from a pole on the dividing wall, was silent.
Suddenly with a snap of its wings I could hear more than two hundred yards away the tarn exploded from the perch, Mip low on its back, and streaked toward the first «ring», the first of three huge metal rectangles, before the round «rings» mounted at the corners and at the end of the dividing wall. Startled, I saw the bird flash through the three first rings, veer and speed through the first of the round «rings», and in the same motion, still turning, pass through the second and third of the round «rings», and then, wings beating with incredible velocity, its beak forward, Mip low on its back, pass in a moment through the three rectangular «rings» on the other side of the dividing wall, negotiating the three round «rings» in one swift, fierce trajectory and alight, wings snapping, talons, extended, on the last perch of the line, that of the winner.
Mip and the bird remained there for some moments, and then I saw the bird lift itself and turn toward me. In a moment Mip had alighted beside me on the high rail circling the top of the stadium.
He stayed there for a moment, looking back over the stadium. Then he took his bird from the rail and I followed him. In a few Ehn we had returned to the perch outside the portal of the tarncot.
We returned the birds to their perches and put the tarn hobble on them there. We removed the small saddles and control straps from the birds, and hung them on vertical beams, a portion of the perch framework.
When we were finished I stepped again out onto the perch extending from the portal in the cot, that perch fixed far above the street below. I wanted once more to feel the air, the beauty of the night.
Mip stood somewhat behind me and I walked out to the end of the perch.
"I have enjoyed myself this night," said I, "Mip."
"I am pleased," said Mip.
I did not face him. "I shall ask you a question," I said, "but do not feel obligated to answer if you do not wish."
"Very well," said Mip.
"You know I hunt," I said.
"Those of the black caste often hunt," said Mip.
"Do you know of any," I asked, "of the Greens who were in Ko-ro-ba in En'Var this year."
"Yes," said Mip.
I turned to face him.
"Only one that I know of," said Mip.
"And who would he be?" I asked.
"I," said Mip. "I was in Ko-ro-ba in En'Var this year."
In Mip's hand I saw a small dagger, a throwing knife, of a sort manufactured in Ar; it was smaller than the southern quiva; it was tapered on only one side.
"It is an interesting knife," I said.
"All Tarn Keepers carry a knife," said Mip, playing with the blade.
"This afternoon," I said, "at the races, I saw a rider cut the safety straps and free himself from a falling bird."
"It was probably with such a knife as this," said Mip. He now held it by the tip.
I felt the breeze pick up, moving past me, cool and fresh that summer evening.
"Are you skilled with such a knife?" I asked.
"Yes," said Mip. "I think so. I could hit the eye of a tarn at thirty paces."
"You are skilled indeed," I said.
"Are you familiar with such knives?" asked Mip.
"Not particularly," I said. My body was apparently relaxed, but each nerve was alive and ready. I knew he could throw the knife before I could reach him, before I could hope to unsheath the sword at my side. I was keenly aware of the height of the perch, the street far below. I heard two men hailing one another below. The sound drifted up.
"Would you like to examine the knife?" asked Mip.
"Yes," I said. I tensed myself.
Mip tossed the knife underhanded to me, and I caught it. My heart had nearly stopped beating.
I examined the knife, the balance of it, the hilt, the tapered blade.
"You had better come in from the tarn perch," said Mip. "It is dangerous."
I tossed him back the knife and retraced my steps along the narrow perch. In a few Ehn I had left the cylinder and was returning to the House of Cernus.
14 — THE PRISONER
When I had returned to the House of Cernus I passed the heavy bolted door which led to the hallway off which was the luxurious cell in which Cernus was accustomed to keep his special captures, which cell had been shown to me earlier by Ho-Tu. I was surprised to see that now four guards were posted at this door.
When I returned to our compartment I found Elizabeth sleeping on a mat, wrapped in a rep-cloth blanket, under the slave ring. The collar and chain had been snapped about her throat. It is a rule in the House of Cernus that all slaves, save those who may be on house business, be secured by the eighteenth bar. This precaution is implemented by guards who make the rounds shortly before that bar. When I was in the compartment, however, as I normally was at that time, she would not be secured, my presence being taken as a sufficient guarantee of her custody. On such nights we would double beam the door and sleep in one another's arms.
I entered the compartment, closed the door and put the beams in place.
Elizabeth, with a rustle of chain, sat up, rubbing her eyes.
She was attired in a brief gown of red Pleasure Silk, prescribed for her because she was a Red Silk Girl and in training. Virginia and Phyllis, in their cells, would wear similar gowns, but of white silk.
Elizabeth's collar had also been changed. She now wore a red-enameled collar. Virginia and Phyllis, however, Elizabeth had told me, still wore the simple iron collars which had been hammered about their necks by the smith days before.
I turned up the lamp and noted that the floor of the compartment had been washed down with sponge and towel, that the chests and cabinets had been dusted and straightened, that cleaned furs lay neatly folded on the stone couch. I had insisted that the girl keep the compartment spotless. I think it was not so much I minded an occasional bit of silk lying on the floor as that I derived great pleasure from the fact that the lovely Miss Elizabeth Cardwell, slave in the House of Cernus, must keep my quarters. Elizabeth's puttering about, dusting, a cloth about her hair, serving me with these small domesticities, was a sight I relished. She had had the temerity to suggest that such chores be shared but, when threatened with thong and slave ring, she had irritably understood that she must conform to my wishes. Interestingly, one evening, after learning that she would be forced to do these things, and alone, she had been unusually submissive, responsive, passionate. Women, I suspected, even proud, beautiful, intelligent women like Elizabeth Cardwell, secretly wish their men to be strong, and upon occasion to prove it to them, commanding them as mere females, giving them no choice but to do precisely as he wishes.
I released Elizabeth from the slave ring, the chain and collar.
She sniffed suspiciously. "You have been to the baths again," she said.
"It is true," I said.
"The Pool of Blue Flowers?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Are the girls pretty there?" she asked.
"Not so pretty as you," I said.
"You are a sweet beast," she said. She looked up at me. "You will take me to the Pool of Blue Flowers sometime, will you not?"