Blade stared. So did Aumara. Then Blade realized what was happening-or at least what might be happening. Kleptor was pretending that the queen's arena men had revolted, and was sending his own to wipe them out-and incidentally to wipe out Blade and rescue Aumara. The second goal Blade approved of, the first not so much. But with luck, though, Kleptor's move would hurl things into such confusion that nobody would pay attention to Blade and Aumara. All at once they had a chance of escape.
But it was only a chance. The arena was still surrounded by Keptor's soldiers, who could trap them if anybody gave the right orders. He and Aumara would have to move fast, before anybody thought of those right orders. Blade knew that whether he survived or not there would be more bad blood between Kleptor and Roxala over this day's work, but he had a preference for surviving.
Here came a new danger. And, Blade suddenly realized, their best chance of safety! Horun had wheeled his mount out of the line before the stands and was goading it across the arena toward Blade and Aumara. The officer was crouching low in his saddle, bending far out and down and swinging a long sword in his right hand. The other soldiers that had ridden the beast had dismounted. Horun could not resist the chance to be a hero in front of the whole Rulami army by striking down Blade.
The big beast was moving at a trot by the time it approached Blade. Blade stood his ground as Horun thundered down at him. As the animal's long tusks came within reach, Blade calculated the precise moment, then grabbed a tusk in each hand. Swinging his whole weight upward on his powerful arms, he vaulted onto the animal's forehead before Horun could react. Blade's sword rasped out of its scabbard again, whistled through the air, and sank with a meaty chunk into Horun's neck. Blood spurted high, Horun's eyes rolled up in his head, and with a bewildered and stunned expression he toppled off his mount onto the ground. Blade snatched the man's goad out of his hand as he went down and pulled the animal to a stop. Then he yelled to Aumara, and a moment later she was lithely scrambling up beside him. Blade grabbed her around the waist and rapped the animal smartly with the goad again.
Before anybody realized what was happening and could give those necessary orders, Blade had his mount up to a full trot again. Everybody was too stunned by the swift flurry of events, or perhaps too engrossed in watching the arena men slaughtering each other to notice. Blade headed his mount to the right, toward the gap between the two masses of soldiers. A few hardy spirits broke out of formation and tried to block the animal's path, then lost their nerve at the last minute and scampered to safety. One of them, slower of foot than his comrades, died screaming, spitted on the beast's left tusk. Blade applied the goad again, and they thundered down the passage at a full gallop.
Blade kept the beast moving at that speed as he swung it still further to the right, down the main street of the camp and toward the main gate. If any orders to close those gates were given, the sentries either never heard them or were too stunned to obey. Blade took his mount through the wide-open gates at full speed in a cloud of dust and the cheerful curses hurled at the guards by Aumara.
Almost at the gate of the camp lay forest, the northern fringes of the great Rulami forests that stretched south toward Kanda-and now toward the Zungan army. Again Blade did not spare the goad, and they plunged into the forest still at a gallop. They trampled bushes and smashed aside small trees like a runaway tank, putting more and more miles behind them, between them and Kleptor's army.
It was not until late afternoon that Blade let the animal drop below a trot. Even then, he would have kept it going if he thought it could have stood the pace any longer. But even the fabulous endurance of the Ivory People had its limits. A little while later they came to a stream, and Blade let the animal drink while he and Aumara dismounted and did the same.
After drinking, they let the animal browse among the bushes and saplings while they bathed. Blade felt as though he were bathing away more than the sweat and grime caked on him by the battle and the mad flight. He felt as though he were washing away the strain and frustration of his captivity as Roxala's chosen stud, and all the filth and decadence of Rulam in general.
He looked at Aumara. She was almost as pleasing to the eye as before, as she splashed about with the water beading on her dark skin. She had not been a slave more than a few days, not long enough for hunger or confinement to thin her ripe body or take the spirit out of her. But her back showed a mass of criss-crossing welts, and her wrists and ankles were half raw from the chafing of the irons.
Blade pointed at her back. «Queen Roxala's doing, by any chance?»
She nodded. Then she looked at him and said, «Blade, I knew you were favored by the Sky Father. But I did not think that he would work such a miracle for you and for me. How did we ever get away? I can hardly believe that we are here, free.»
«We're not completely in the clear yet,» Blade cautioned her. «Kleptor and Roxala may not be at each other's throats enough to prevent a search party from being sent out. But at least we've got a good headstart.» He shook his head to clear the water from his ears, then went on.
«I knew that Roxala and Kleptor were just short of open warfare. Not very short, considering that he tried to start off the day's business by poisoning me in full sight of his whole army. And your death by torture was Roxala's project-Kleptor didn't approve of it at all. At least not right then. When Roxala ordered her arena men to kill me and get you ready for the torture, it looked to the crowd like they were getting out of hand. So Kleptor could order his arena men to move in on the queen's, wipe them out, kill me, rescue you-and nobody in the crowd would know what was really involved. After that, Horun made us the gift of his mount, and there was nothing left to do but run like the wind. There's an English saying that covers what happened today. 'Order, — counterorder-disorder.' And there was certainly enough disorder!»
Aumara nodded. «But before that?»
«Yes. I would have killed you, to spare you what Roxala had planned. I'd seen what her mind ran to, in the way of tortures.»
«So had I. I didn't mind dying so much myself, but-Blade, I am carrying your child. I am glad that is safe for now.»
Blade held her for a moment, then said, «I think our friend of the Ivory People has got back some of his strength. It's time we were on the move again.»
They were almost continuously on the move for two days without hearing any signs of pursuit. Occasionally they had to sneak past isolated forest dwellings or across roads, but there was little activity and less habitation in these forests. Aumara recognized this as more good luck, and made solemn prayers to the Sky Father in thanks for it and hope that it would continue.
Possibly the prayers were effective. Possibly also the fact that the Zungan invasion had scared the normal forest population into fleeing north helped. But for whatever reason, natural or otherwise, their luck held all the way south.
It was on the morning of the fourth day that Blade was scouting ahead across a clearing rank with long, dew-laden grass. He saw dark figures moving in the woods across the clearing, froze, watched, and waited. The mahogany colored skins and spears became visible. His spears too-he recognized the balance weights at the butts. He stepped out into the open, made the Peace Hand, and shouted.
All the Zungans instantly faded into the undergrowth, except for one who stepped out into the open, made the Peace Hand in reply-and then dropped his spear in astonishment. His mouth sagged open so wide it was awhile before he could choke out the words, «Richard Blade of the English?»