Down in the ring, the roller came to rest. Panting, shaking, the Baemae girl scrambled to her feet. Vydys' smooth brow furrowed. Slowly, the roller began to move again--in a spiral, this time, circling and converging on its fear-straught prey. Sobbing, the girl tottered backward. Swiftly, the roller changed course ... spun towards her. The girl fled, running off wildly at right angles, not even pausing to look behind her. Veering once more, the roller raced to intercept her. Too late, the girl threw a mad glance back over her shoulder. But now the roller was upon her, striking at her legs even as she tried to spring aside. There was the brittle _crack_ of a femur snapping. A scream--high, shrill, alive with surging terror. The crowd shrieked its delight. Only then a new voice slashed through the uproar: "No--! No!" The roller thudded against the wall; lay still. Heads came round, searching for the shouter. They found him on the dais, with Vydys and Zenaor. It was the Baemae youth, the downed girl's brother. "Curse you!" he shouted, face white with fury. "Curse you all, you vermin!" He turned as he yelled; started towards Vydys. She went rigid. Beside her, the Lord Zenaor brought up his hand in a quick, tight gesture. Guards lunged forward, weapons drawn and ready. The youth whipped a knife from beneath his livery. Slashing, he leaped back, eyes rolling wildly. But there was no escape ... only the closing circle of hard-faced guards with their leveled fire-guns. The youth's face set in a sort of feverish desperation. Whirling, he charged down from the dais, straight for the walled ring. Curses rang from the barons, shrieks from their ladies. Bellowing, trampling, they threw themselves clear of the flashing blade. The youth reached the ring-wall. For an instant he poised atop it, wavering. Then, tight-lipped, he leaped down into the pit itself and stumbled to the side of his fallen sister. The crowd breathed again. On the dais, Vydys tensed and gripped the throne-arms till her knuckles gleamed white as djevoda ivory. The scarlet lips quivered in a grimace of hate. Below, the roller lurched into motion. A thousand crushing, crippling pounds of flesh and gristle, gaining momentum with every second, it spun across the ring. The youth leaped to meet it. Savagely, he slashed at the thing's leathery outer hide. But the pads turned away his blade. Ball-like, not even slowing, the sphere knocked him aside as, moments earlier, it had the girl. Then, while he still fought for balance, it was past him, hurtling ever faster ... thundering towards the spot where his sister lay in a huddled heap upon the floor. She tried to rise. Failed. The rocketing roller cut short her scream. Then the creature was bowling to a stop on the ring's far side. A hush fell over the great vaulted hall. * * * * *