Cabot saw necklaces of strung coins being exchanged in the tiers.
"Ramar has taken the meat six times,” said Peisistratus. “He permits the other sleen to reach the meat first, and find distraction in it, and then he attacks."
"I see,” said Cabot.
A Kur, with a long pole, with a hook on its end, sunk it into the meat, and drew the meat, the sleen, Ramar, feeding and following, through one of the gates at the level of the sand.
A large Kur then entered the arena, carrying a length of rope, and crouched down, waiting.
Shortly thereafter two other Kurii, from opposite sides of the arena, entered upon the sand, and approached the large Kur, and stood some ten feet before him, and apart from one another, by some ten feet, as well.
"They are not armed,” said Cabot.
"They do not need to be,” said Peisistratus. “Note the larger beast. See the rings on the left wrist."
"Yes."
"He stands high in the rings,” said Peisistratus. “His seed is avidly sought."
"I do not understand,” said Cabot.
"Surely you see the two before him are female,” said Peisistratus.
"No,” said Cabot. “It is hard to tell."
"They are smaller, the pelting is smoother, glossier, less shaggy."
"I see they are differently harnessed,” said Cabot.
"That, too,” said Peisistratus, amused.
One might note that in the human species the sexes are radically dimorphic, anatomically, emotionally, psychologically, and so on. They are very different, and are interestingly complementary. Even a Kur can instantly see the difference between a human male and a human female. It is sometimes annoying to a Kur that some humans cannot immediately, similarly, distinguish between a Kur male and a Kur female. It is less annoying that they sometimes fail to distinguish between a typical Kur male and a Kur nondominant. To be sure, the differences there are mostly behavioral. Most humans, incidentally, have never seen a Kur womb, either of the shelf or wall type, as they tend to be hidden, and guarded. The female's egg, once fertilized, is deposited in the womb, and develops within it, the infant later to chew and claw its way free, that in something between a half year and a year. Some wombs perish after one child; some hardy wombs have produced as many as forty or fifty infants. The womb itself makes no contribution to the genetic endowments of the offspring. The womb, in historical times, at least, replicates itself, parthenogenetically, by budding, so to speak. As indicated earlier in the text, certain obscurities obtain with respect to the origin of the earlier wombs.
With a sudden screech of rage the two females flung themselves upon one another.
Kurii in the stands leaped about and called out encouragement to their favorite in what seemed doubtless to Cabot a surprising and unusual contest. The crouching male, with the length of rope grasped in one paw, scarcely moved.
The two females tore at one another, until at last one lay in the sand, bloodied, trembling, and lifted one paw, pathetically, for mercy.
"The male Kur does not beg for mercy,” commented Peisistratus. “That is another difference."
"Surely that is cultural,” said Cabot.
"Doubtless,” said Peisistratus.
"She is going to kill her!” said Cabot.
The victor had crouched down and savagely pulled back the head of the vanquished, and set her fangs at the throat of the vanquished.
A roar of approbation coursed through the crowd. Perhaps the vanquished had not fought well enough.
Again a paw was lifted pathetically, begging for mercy.
The victor, encouraged, licensed, so to speak, widened her jaws, and thrust forward.
But a roar of prohibition emanated from the throat of the male, and the victor stopped, and then thrust the vanquished from her, contemptuously, and leaped in the sand, shrieking in triumph.
The vanquished Kur female crawled some feet away, bloodying the sand.
The victor then approached the male.
He cuffed her, half spinning her about. She was already bloodied from the fray from which she had emerged victorious.
"It seems,” said Cabot, “he is not pleased with the outcome of the battle."
"No,” said Peisistratus. “It would be the same with either. He is merely asserting his dominance."
"She has accepted his blow,” said Cabot.
"Of course,” said Peisistratus. “Were he not dominant she would despise him. She wishes his dominance. She would be insulted to submit to any other sort of male. What Kur female would? What do you think this is all about?"
"What if she had not accepted his blow?"
"I do not understand."
"What if she had retaliated, attacked him? She is surely a fearsome creature, as we have seen."
"Then he would beaten her, if not maimed or killed her,” said Peisistratus. “Did you not see the rings on his wrist. He has killed male Kurii to obtain those rings."
"Look,” said Peisistratus.
"I see,” said Cabot.
The female now stood before the male, her head down, and her arms at her sides. The male then encircled her body several times with the length of rope he carried, fastening her arms to her sides, and then, with the length of rope left, he fashioned a leash for her, and led her toward an exit gate. She half danced in his wake, and howled to the stands.
"It is a noise of pleasure, of triumph,” said Peisistratus. “She has conquered her rival, and she has been acquired, at least for some days, by the male of her desires."
"I think I prefer our human ways,” said Cabot.
"Perhaps they are not so different,” said Peisistratus.
"Look!” said Cabot, pointing to the sand.
The vanquished Kur female had struggled to her feet, and begun to hobble from the sand. Several Kurii would have assisted her, but she bared her fangs, and warned them away, viciously.
They regarded one another, frightened, and then looked piteously upon the torn, bleeding female.
Again they tried to approach, solicitously, but, again, with a baring of fangs and a snarl, she warned them back.
They fled back, and then, as she regarded them, one after another, they moved back further, and bent down, to make themselves smaller in her presence.
"They are cringing,” said Cabot. “Are they her hand maidens?"
"They are males,” said Peisistratus. “They are her attendants, assigned to serve her."
The female then hobbled toward an exit gate, before the others, alone, blood in her footprints.
The others then followed her.
"They are males?” asked Cabot.
"In a sense,” said Peisistratus. “They are nondominants."
"I see,” said Cabot.
The drums then beat again.
"What is that?” asked Cabot, in disgust. “What are those things?"
From several of the lower gates a number of unusual creatures, crowded together, clumsy, heavy, confused, bleating and whining, were driven by cries and whips into the arena.
"Surely you know,” said Peisistratus.
"They are large, sluggish, surely well-fed,” said Cabot, peering downward.
"They have been fattened,” said Peisistratus.
"What are they?"
"Cattle humans,” said Peisistratus.
"They cannot be human,” said Cabot.
"Perhaps not,” said Peisistratus. “But it is a matter of breeding. Great changes may be so wrought. Consider Earth. How many of your dogs recall in appearance and demeanor their remote, swift, hungry, far-ranging ancestor, the gray wolf?"
"We would not breed even dogs so,” said Cabot, in fury.
"Because you do not raise them for meat,” said Peisistratus.
"Those are small Kurii!” said Cabot, observing the entry unto the sand of a swarm of eager, shaggy forms.
"Actually Kur children,” said Peisistratus. “Many have not lost their womb teeth."