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.She walkedgracefully, insolently, the movement of her firing my blood.Her ankles wereslender, beautiful.The left, as was the case with Phyllis, was now no longerencircled with the steel band, the identification band.About her throat,however, as was the case with Phyllis also, there was now a lock collar,snugly fitting, white-enameled.Both girls, branded and collared, were wellmarked as slave.The belt dance was now moving to its climax and I turned to watch PhyllisRobertson."Capture of Home Stone," I heard Cernus say to Caprus, who spread his handshelplessly, acknowledging defeat.Under the torchlight Phyllis Robertson was now on her knees, the Warrior ather side, holding her behind the small of the back.Her head went fartherback, as her hands moved on the arms of the Warrior, as though once to presshim away, and then again to draw him closer, and her head then touched thefurs, her body a cruel, helpless bow in his hands, and then, her head down, itseemed she struggled and her body straightened itself until she lay, save forher head and heels, on his hands clasped behind her back, her arms extendedover her head to the fur behind her.At this point, with a clash of cymbals,both dancers remained immobile.Then, after this instant of silence under thetorches, the music struck the final note, with a might and jarring clash ofcymbals, and theWarrior had lowered her to the furs and her lips, arms about his neck, soughthis with eagerness.Then, both dancers broke and the male stepped back, andPhyllis now stood, alone on the furs, sweating, breathing deeply, head down.I noted Sura standing somewhat behind the tables.She would not eat with thestaff, of course, for she was slave.I did not know how long she had beenstanding there.Cernus had watched the ending of the dance, his game having been finished.Heglanced to Ho-Tu, who nodded affirmatively to him."Give her a pastry," said Cernus.One of the men at the table threw a pastry to Phyllis, which she caught.Shestood there for an instant, the pastry clutched in her hands, her eyessuddenly brimming with tears, then she turned and fled from the room.Ho-Tu turned to Sura."She is coming along nicely," he said.Sura tossed her head."Tomorrow," said she, "we will work on it further," andturned and left.I took a deep drink of the diluted Ka-la-na wine I had been served.In the past months I had spent my time variously.During the season of theracesI had often attended them, and, on several occasions, had met the small TarnKeeper Mip afterwards, with whom I had occasionally sat table.Several timeswe had taken racing tarns from the cot.He had even showed me, at night in theempty Stadium of Tarns, certain tricks of racing, about which he seemed toknow a great deal, doubtless because of his connection with the Greens.Ilearned such things as the pacing of the bird, the model trajectories fromnegotiating the rings, techniques of avoiding birds and blocking others,sometimes forcing them to hit or miss the rings; racing could be, and oftenwas, as dangerous and cruel as the games in the Stadium of Blades, where menmet men and beasts, and often fought to the death.Sometimes in the races, inpressing through the rings, fighting for position, riders used goads on oneanother, or tried to cut the safety or girth straps of others; more than oneman had been stabbed as the birds, jammed at the corner rings, had fought forpassage and position.Also, Ihad sometimes called at the Capacian Baths, even after the races werePage 104 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlfinished, seeing if Nela was available at that hour.I had come to be fond ofthe sturdy little swimmer, and I think she of me.Also, the girl seemed toknow everything transpired in Ar.The games in the Stadium of Blades finishedtheir season at the end of Se'Kara, a month following the season of races.Iattended the games only once, and found that I did not much care for them.Tothe credit of the men of Ar I point out that the races were more closelyfollowed.I do not choose to describe the nature of the games, except in certain generaldetail.There seems to me little of beauty in them and much of blood.Matchesare arranged between single armed fighters, or teams of such.GenerallyWarriors do not participate in these matches, but men of low caste, slaves,condemned criminals and such.Some of them, however, are quite skillful withthe weapons of their choice, surely the equal of many Warriors.The crowd isfond of seeing various types of weapons used against others, and styles offighting
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