"Attaboy!" the Butcher encouraged. Then the warrior was standing outside the bubble, blinking toward the shadows, rain dripping from his beard and furs. "Oh, _boy_!" the Butcher cheered in ecstasy. "Butcher, you've done it!" Hal said, aghast. "I sure did," the Butcher agreed blandly, "but that old guy in the bubble helped me. Must take two to work it." "Keep your seats!" the interpreter said loudly. "We are energizing the safeguards!" * * * * * The warriors inside the bubble stared in stupid astonishment after the one who had disappeared from their view. The sorcerer leaped about, pushing them in his direction. Abrupt light flooded the Time Theater. The warriors who had emerged from the bubble stiffened themselves, baring their teeth. "The safeguards are now energized," the interpreter said. A woman in a short golden tunic stood up uncertainly from the front row of the audience. The first warrior looked her up and down, took one hesitant step forward, then another, then suddenly grabbed her and flung her over his left shoulder, looking around menacingly and swinging his sword in his right hand. "I repeat, the safeguards have been fully energized! Keep your seats!" the interpreter enjoined. In the cubicle, Hal and Joggy gasped, the two girls squeaked, but the Butcher yelled a "Hey!" of disapproval, snatched up something from the floor and darted out through the sphincter. Here and there in the audience, other adults stood up. The emerged warriors formed a ring of swinging swords and questing eyes. Between their legs their wolfish dogs, emerged with them, crouched and snarled. Then the warriors began to fan out. "There has been an unavoidable delay in energizing the safeguards," the interpreter said. "Please be patient." At that moment, the Butcher entered the main auditorium, brandishing a levitator above his head and striding purposefully down the aisle. At his heels, five stocky forms trotted. In a definitely pre-civilization voice, or at least with pre-civilization volume, he bellowed: "Hey, you! You quit that!" The first warrior looked toward him, gave his left shoulder a shake to quiet his wriggling captive, gave his right shoulder one to supple his sword arm, and waited until the dwarfish challenger came into range. Then his sword swished down in a flashing arc. Next moment, the Butcher was on his knees and the warrior was staring at him open-mouthed. The sword had rebounded from something invisible an arm's length above the gnomelike creature's head. The warrior backed a step. The Butcher stayed down, crouching half behind an aisle seat and digging for something in his pocket. But he didn't stay quiet. "Sic 'em, Brute!" he shrilled. "Sic 'em, Darter! Sic 'em, Pinkie and Whitie and Blue!" Then he stopped shouting and raised his hand to his mouth. * * * * *