Now, in the center of the ring, it hesitated; paused there, teetering, like some great ball come to rest. The Baemae girl caught her breath, the sound rasping over-loud in the sudden hush that had fallen upon the crowd. Eyes wild and wide, she shrank, back against the wall, hands splayed out flat against the polished duroid surface. Still smiling, Vydys spoke to her victim--gentle, coaxing: "This is a game wench--a game betwixt you and me. Do not fear the roller. In itself it is harmless, a mere ball of flesh with so little brain that it barely knows enough to feed. But through this helm"--she touched her headdress--"my thoughts can project waves that stimulate its nervous system, so that it moves wherever I may will it. You understand?" The girl below gave no sign that she had even heard. Vydys pressed on: "So, now, I'll spin the roller at you, while you try to dodge it. That is the game. To win, you have only to leap atop the thing and scale the ring-wall." Among the barons, someone laughed aloud, harsh and explosive. The Baemae youth who was the victim's brother buried his face in his hands. Still the girl in the pit said nothing. She seemed to have eyes only for the roller. Zenaor's black brows drew together. "Get on with it!" Vydys murmured, "The game begins...." Her face set in a mask of concentration. Down in the ring, the roller began to move once more. Slowly at first, then faster, it bowled around in a long curve. The girl slid along the wall, keeping space between her and the creature. Vydys' lips parted, peeled back over sharp white teeth. Her fingers wrapped tight around the throne-arm. The roller swerved sharply. Gathering speed, it hurtled towards the girl. She darted sideways. The roller struck the wall with a meaty thud. Then, rotating so rapidly its pad-facets blurred, it raced along the pitside, close on its victim's heels. The girl gave a small, shrill cry of panic, and fled across the center of the ring. Again the roller spun; lanced after her. * * * * * The girl threw herself aside barely in time. The roller missed her by scant inches. Racing on, once more it struck the ring-wall, even harder than before ... caromed off like a huge ball bouncing ... hurtled back, straight at the girl. She stumbled to the left, seeking desperately to dodge it. The roller veered. The girl screamed; twisted. But not quite far enough, nor fast enough. One side of the speeding roller ticked her; knocked her backward. She sprawled in a heap on the ring's floor. The crowd roared; strained forward. Up on the dais, the Baemae youth surged to his feet--fists clenched, face working. Vydys laughed aloud ... a throaty chortle, somehow hideous, more befitting fiend than woman. "Ah, Zenaor! Was that not well turned?" Her features shone with strange, evil radiance. The chief of barons shrugged, face wooden.