"Give him the key," whispered the prisoner. "Give it to him!"
"Never!" said the keeper.
"It seems to me a trade to your advantage," I said, "a bit of metal, on a string, for your fellow."
"Never!" said the keeper.
"Very well," I said.
"No!" said the keeper. "I will give you the key!"
"Put it on the sand," I said, "between us."
"Release Titus," he said.
"Place the key on the sand, first," I said.
"Perhaps you will kill him," he said, "once you have the key."
"Perhaps you will attack me," I said, "once he is free."
"I need only call out," be said, "and there will be a dozen men here."
"And Titus," I said, "will not be among them."
"Give him the key, Plenius," whispered Titus, his head back.
"Let him first free you," said Plenius, the keeper.
"Plenius!" begged my prisoner.
"Very well," I said. I lifted my chained wrists from about the neck of Titus and he, swiftly, falling, half crawling, moved away, scattering sand. He only stopped when he was a dozen feet from us. He withdrew his arms from his belt, where they had been held to his sides.
"Give him the key, Plenius," said Titus.
The keeper smiled. He brushed flies from his fate. He drew the key, on its string, from about his neck. "Fetch it!" he suddenly cried, and hurled it back, over my head. I turned to see it fall in the water and, at the same time, heard the swift departure of steel from a Gorean sheath.
"No, Plenius!" I heard.
I spun about, lifting my chained wrists and caught the descending blade on the linkage between the manacles. There were sparks sprung from the metals, among the swarming flies. Then the blade was withdrawn. I had been unable to twist it in the chain or secure it. I had slashed back with the knife but Plenius was even then beyond my reach. "Your honor!" I cried in fury. "There is nothing of honor owed to spies, to sleen of Cos!" he said. "Ho!" he cried. "Up! To arms!" Men sprang up. They had doubtless heard the cry of Titus, the clash of the metals, even before the cries of Plenius. Men were crying out, stung. I backed away, toward the water. "The flies!" cried a man. "What is wrong!" cried another. "I cannot see!" cried another. "Is the enemy upon us?" queried another. Plenius wiped flies from his face with his forearm, that of the hand clutching the sword. There were flies even on the blade. Plenius pushed toward me, through the flies. I saw Titus try to restrain him, but the keeper, a much larger, stronger man, thrust him away. "The spy is amongst us! Cut him down!" he cried. I backed into the water. Plenius waded into the water. Twice I turned the blade with the knife I carried. Then, suddenly, Plenius turned to the side and began to wade into the marsh. I saw that he was intent to retrieve the key, its position marked by the tiny float. I waded after him, stumbling. He turned and kept me at bay with the blade. I saw the float amidst the hundreds of tiny bodies swarming there over the water. I tried to circle Plenius, to my left, to get to the side where his eye was swollen shut. There was rage in my heart against him. I could not get within his guard. He swung the sword about. I slipped in the marsh, to one knee. He turned to face me. I heard other men wading toward us.
"Come back!" someone was crying, the fellow, Titus, I suppose. "Let him go! He has won the key!"
"Kill the spy!" men were crying.
"Au!" cried fellows, stung.
I could hardly see for the flies clustered about my eyes. I brushed them away, angrily, searching again for the float.
"Au!" cried Plenius, backing away, suddenly, thrashing about with his blade, in the air, through the flies, sometimes into the water. He now had his left hand raised to his face. I think he had been stung in the vicinity of his other eye. I did not know if he could even see me any longer. Other fellows came about him now. The striking of his blade in the water had moved the float. He had, I supposed, been trying to cut the string. On the other hand, perhaps he had merely wanted to keep me from it.
"Beware!" cried a fellow, suddenly, pointing.
"Shark!" cried a man.
"Shark!" cried another.
Almost at my side, so close I could reach out and touch it, I saw a dark dorsal fin moving through the water. It was raised something like a foot from the marsh. I could also see, like a knife, part of the creature's back.
It was now dusk.
Men were backing from the water.
I turned about and saw the float and its string lifted on the back of the shark, resting on it, then sliding back into the water. I clutched the string. The float had been cut by the blade, but, giving in the water, submerging, had not been cut in two. The key was still on the string. I thrust the shark away with my foot, sending it elsewhere, and flung the key about my neck.
"There is another!" cried a fellow.
A spear entered the water, flung from the bar.
I submerged and swam back into the rence. I brushed against another shark under the water. There is no mistaking the feel of such a creature. Its skin is very rough, surprisingly, I think, for an aquatic creature. Indeed, it is even abrasive. One can burn oneself upon it. Rencers use it in smoothing. I pushed the creature away, I felt the movement of its departure in the water, from the snap of that sicklelike tail. Men are not, no more than for the tharlarion, the natural prey of such creatures. Accordingly men, being unfamiliar prey for them, are usually scouted first, bumped, rubbed against, and so on, before the courage, or confidence, is built up for a strike. To be sure, this is not worth depending on as these creatures, like others, differ, the one from the other. Also, once one has taken human meat, or has witnessed it being taken, it is likely to become much more aggressive. Blood in the water, too, it might be mentioned, tends to have a stimulatory effect on their aggression. Another apparent stimulant is irregular motion in the water, for example, a thrashing about. Such, I suppose, is often connected with an injured fish. I suspected that these sharks had been drawn to the bar by the striking about of the sword of Plenius in the water. I do not believe, however, that he understood this, or had intended to lure them to the vicinity.
From the rence I looked back to the bar. The men had now withdrawn to the sand. They were looking out, over the marsh, indeed, toward me, though I do not think they could see me in the poor light, through the flies, like a dark wind, in the rence. "Pursue him!" a fellow was crying. "I cannot see!" That would be, I supposed, Plenius. Unless the stings had taken effect in the eye itself, and sometimes even then, I expected he would recover. To be sure, he doubtless had in Store for him a few very unpleasant days, in any case. "Pursue him!" he cried. But none, it seemed, cared to follow me into the water.
"The sharks will have him," I heard.
"Surely," said another fellow. "Get boats!" screamed Plenius. But none moved to do so.
"The flies!" screamed a man, in agony.
"Take cover!" said another.
I saw Plenius then left alone on the beach, his sword sheathed, raise his fists and shake them at the marsh.
I considered the probabilities that I might return and kill him, where he stood alone on the sand. They seemed excellent. Then I saw one of his fellows, Titus, I think, come and take him by the arm. Unwillingly was he then conducted' back on the bar, among the others.
Standing in the rence, in the light of the moons, intermittently darkened by the living clouds passing overhead, I removed the rusted manacles, discarding them, with the key, in the marsh.
I tried to control my hatred for the men of Ar.
What would it serve me to ascend the sand, to seize a sword, to go amongst them doing slaughter?
Too, there was one only amongst them whose blood I truly wanted.
No, I said to myself. Leave them to the marsh.