Twice I had engaged in hand-to-hand combat, as Joro's Fighting Man, in the Annual Sport--the wars between the cities. Twice I had fought, and now one contest remained. I had a long ugly scar on the inside of my right arm. My left foot was prosthetic from the calf down. My right eye was gone; I wore a false one next to the cheekbone that had been restored by a series of grafts. Flesh healed quickly and bone knitted fast in Uru. The Uru doctors could heal anyone who lived. But they could not heal the dead and there was no quarter in the Sport. I expected none for myself as I had given none to the two men I had killed. Two down and one to go. If I won the third I'd be a noble like Joro, my patron, my fighting days over. If I didn't I'd be dead. Joro had started me out in the back rank, where the danger was least. But I moved up fast, and fought. Again I was in the back rank, because of my old wounds--but I knew I'd move up this time, too, though there were two good men ahead of me. Like me they were Joro's men, each of us equipped for the Sport. The equipment: Steel-claw appendages on our hands. Feet shod in hooves, sharpened to razor-edge. Teeth fitted with fangs. A diagram explained the pattern of battle better--U for Urula, T for Tara. Us against Them, even as in Madison Square Garden or the San Francisco Cow Palace: T T T T T T T T T T T T T T T U U U U U U U U U U U U U U U Joro's men were in the file at the extreme right. I, Boru, was in the southeast corner, standing in the crowded arena naked except for armor at my loins and the fearful appendages of hand, foot and mouth. At last the ceremonial speeches and blessings were over. Joro took his place to our rear, on a high seat, our coach and our mentor. There was a clang of great cymbals and the battle was joined. I watched tensely as the first man in my file advanced to meet his opponent in the Circle of Death. To their left, in the other four circles, similar battles were taking place, but I had eyes only for the struggle in my own file. Rans, our lead-off man, was down! Before he could recover, his opponent had slashed his neck with a razored hoof and Rans was dead. Rans was dragged off and our file moved up, as the other battles continued. Now the man ahead of me, Karn, was in the Circle of Death with Rans' killer. Karn of Karna, whose planet was as far from Uru as my own and who, fleeing Karna's law when Joro found him, had been as glad to come as I had been. And poor dead Rans, from still a third world among the galaxies that Joro had explored to recruit his Fighting Men. Karn, toe to toe with his tiring opponent, feinted and enticed his man to lunge. Karn sidestepped and his steel claws raked the other from neck to waist. A pivot then, a well-placed kick and Karn alone still lived in the Circle of Death.