Then the snake moved. Perhaps it was cunning, perhaps it was blind rage. But the huge head shot forward and then up, rising under the balcony, smashing into it with a tremendous clang. The queen staggered and went sprawling. The head rose again with another clang. Blade heard the screech of metal twisting. A third time the snake drove its head like a battering ram into the balcony. This time the whole balcony pulled free of the wall. Balcony, queen, and trumpeters plunged down fifteen feet to land with a thundering crash on the stone walk. The snake reared up and back, then swung forward again. Now its jaws opened, revealing foot-long teeth and a tongue the thickness of a fire hose. The tongue flicked in and out, the eyes stared down at the victims below. The queen lay sprawled on the walk, motionless, her gown half ripped off by the fall.

Horun seemed as stunned as his queen. The officer stood motionless. His mouth kept opening and closing, but no sound came out.

«Do something, you useless little palace pimp!» roared Blade. «Don't just stand there.» But Horun still did not move, nor did he give any orders to his soldiers. Both soldiers and slaves had scattered in panic. Some had hidden under the bushes, others had vanished into the porticoes and peeped nervously out from behind the pillars. The four soldiers holding Blade had not fled, however. Either they had their orders, or like Horun they were too paralyzed with fear to move an inch.

Suddenly Blade slumped backward, catching the four men holding him by surprise. He let himself fall to the grass, feeling himself slide through the soldiers' hands. He felt the last set of hands let go-and suddenly jackknifed at the waist and shot to his feet, bowling over the nearest soldier. Before the others could reach for him or draw their swords, he leaped high over a line of bushes. Ignoring Horun, he ran for the iron stake lying on the grass. He saw the snake's head swaying still, but dipping lower and lower toward the sprawled bodies on the walk. Blade knew he would first have to draw the snake away from the queen. To fight it where it was might kill the queen just as surely as letting the snake close those foot-long teeth on her.

Blade reached the stake. He lifted it, feeling his muscles strain under the weight, then jerked. Chain and collar flew off the ground, into the air, and nearly caught in the branches of a tree. Before they came down, Blade spread his legs wide for balance and began whirling the stake around his head. The chain and collar swung through the air like a whip. The massive collar sailed straight at the snake's back and slammed into it with a crunching thud.

Instantly the snake forgot all about the victims almost in its jaws. It reared up with a savage hiss until almost half its length was off the ground. Its head and neck twisted and lashed about, searching for the attacker. Again Blade swung his iron whip. Again the collar cracked into the snake's neck, ten feet below the head. The head dipped, and Blade saw the huge eyes focus on him, glaring at him.

He had its attention. Now he had to fight it. He swung the collar a third time, aiming straight at the vast flat head. The jaws snapped shut and the collar smashed into the scaled nose, just above the nostrils. The jaws opened again, dripping foam, as the snake shook its head back and forth. Blade reversed the stake in a quick shift of hands. Now the chain and collar lay on the grass and he held the stake out with its point toward the snake. A clumsier spear he could perhaps imagine, but he hoped he'd never have to fight with it. Certainly not against a monster like this.

The snake lunged, jaws open, hissing like a leaky boiler. Blade danced to one side, jabbing downward as the head flashed past, aiming for the eyes. The point slammed into the scales with a jar that half-numbed Blade's arms. The snake quivered all over, but its recovery was as fast as ever. A second stroke, a second thrust with the post, and a second recovery. The snake was as fast as before. The massive head showed only a few broken scales to mark where Blade had struck.

Perhaps the throat would be a better target. This time Blade crouched low as the snake came in, thrusting upward. The scaly flank tore along his legs, rasping the skin off like a file. But he felt scales crunch and skin part under the thrusting post. The snake jerked its head back, rearing high. This time there was a trickle of blood flowing down the gleaming scales of its neck.

Blade crouched again, shifted aside again, stabbed again. More blood flowed across the scales. He reversed the post, holding it as a club. The snake came in again, aiming low, seeing Blade crouching before it as he had already done twice. This time it would finish off this annoying interference with its meal!

As the snake came in, Blade leaped to his feet and swung the post down at the full stretch of his arms, with all his strength. Again the jar was rumbling, but the snake jerked and heaved throughout its full sixty-plus feet. For a moment it was motionless. Blade reversed the post again, whipping the hundred and more pounds of iron through a complete circle. Then he stabbed point-down at one of the eyes. This time the thrust went home. The eye burst apart in a spurting of blood and greenish slime.

The hiss that came out of the gaping mouth now had a rasp that set Blade's teeth on edge. Then the snake lashed its head and twenty feet of its body sideways. Blade jerked the post up and held it out, but the whiplash smashed the iron back against his chest and knocked him sprawling. The scales flayed more skin off his arms and chest and stomach, and he felt as though all of his ribs had been smashed.

Blade lay on his back, fighting for breath, while the snake reared up again, swaying back and forth. It was half-blinded and from its slow motions more than half-stunned. It had taken punishment. But so had Blade. He wondered if he could outlast the monster, in what had now become a contest of endurance.

As the snake twisted its head this way and that, Blade lurched to his feet. With a desperate heave of his arms, he lifted the post, point forward. The snake's head loomed in front of him like a mottled brown and black wall now slimy with blood. He lifted the post high over his head. Then he thrust it home with all the strength left in his arms. Again he felt scales crack and flesh tear, and this time a great gout of blood spurted out and all over him. The snake toppled sideways and thudded down onto the grass. Then it gave a final, convulsive jerk, sweeping Blade to the ground again, and lay still.

Gradually Blade felt his strength returning. He relaxed his death grip on the post and sat up. Seeing that all the soldiers were still frozen with surprise and terror, he stood up and walked over to where Queen Roxala lay on the walk. Looking down at her, he found his original impressions of a ripe and mature beauty confirmed. More than confirmed, for in the fall the queen's tight gown had burst from the neck down to the waist. A bruise extended in a purple line across her ribs where the railing of the balcony had caught her. And her magnificent breasts were fully bared.

As Blade stood looking down at the queen, the courtyard gradually came back to life. Horun barked orders, and the soldiers began to rout the slaves out of their refuges, kicking, cursing, and occasionally sword-whipping them. Horun himself drew the sword that had stayed in its scabbard all during Blade's death struggle with the snake, then came over to Blade.

«All right, Blade. Quit staring at the queen. If she saw you doing it now, she'd have your balls cut off.» He jerked his thumb at the center of the courtyard. «Get back where you belong.»

The harsh sound of Horun's voice made Roxala's eyes flicker open. Then they widened as she saw the two men standing over her. She looked down at herself, nodded, but made no effort to close her gaping gown. Then she looked at Blade and said, «This is the Richard Blade of the English I asked to have brought?»