Katerina ran the arguments back and forth in her mind, looking at them as calmly and carefully as she could manage. She couldn't come up with any real answers. This might not even be Earth, for all she knew. The British might have discovered a method of transmission not only through time but through space as well. She might be-she shuddered at the thought-light-years from Earth. In that case, the spearmakers were certainly not human.

At this point she stopped arguing with herself. She realized that she was once again about to frighten herself into panic or paralysis. She didn't like any of the possibilities she faced, and she didn't mind admitting it.

All of the possibilities meant the same thing. She was not alone in this jungle. She would not have to play Robinson Crusoe to the end of her life, however long or short that might be. Sooner or later she would meet the spearmakers. She stood up and walked up to the body.

Close up, it was obvious what had killed the monster. Three feet of spearshaft jutted out of one eye socket. The spear had either been thrown with tremendous force and accuracy or else driven in from close at hand.

A few minutes' more exploring the area turned up two fresh graves, no more than a day or two old. Katerina was tempted to take a spear and dig up one of the bodies. That would answer the question of what sort of being the spearmakers were.

But the day was hot, the smell of the decaying carcass was about to make her sick, and something inside her balked at descrating a grave. Besides, the spearmakers might be rather touchy about their graves. Many primitive peoples were, she recalled.

Instead she took two of the spears. They had heavy wooden shafts and solid iron heads, but they were well made and well balanced. She swung them up on her shoulder and headed on down the river. It was nearly half an hour before the air around her no longer stank of a hundred feet of decaying dinosaur.

By now it was close to noon. Katerina crawled under some bushes, making sure to brush out her trail as well as she could. Under the bushes the air was stiflingly close. But there was shade, and with luck she would be hidden from anything-dinosaur or spearmaker-that might wander along. Enfolded in the darkness, she felt the morning's built-up tension slowly ease out of her. It was easy to fall asleep.

When she awoke, the sun was already well down toward the horizon. She grabbed her spears and scrambled out into the open. Then she picked out a convenient tree and began practicing throwing the spears.

Katerina was a natural athlete, with superb muscles and reflexes made even better by years of training. She found it easy to get used to the spears, not only for throwing but for thrusting and even for swinging like clubs. In half an hour she decided she knew everything about the spears she needed to, shouldered them again, and went over to the river to drink.

She was kneeling down, hands cupped to scoop up the water, when she heard a crackle of bushes behind her. She sprang up, snatching up a spear with each hand as she turned.

Ten men-ten entirely human men, as far as she could tell-were filing out of the bushes. They were brown skinned, lean, and naked except for feather headdresses, belts, and loincloths. Each carried two spears slung over his back and a club hanging from his belt. Each one turned to stare at Katerina as he emerged into the open. The stares did not look at all friendly.

Chapter Fifteen

Katerina felt one moment of an overwhelming sense of relief. Whenever and wherever she was, the spearmakers were apparently human. Or at least they weren't nine feet tall, three feet wide, and six feet long, with two heads, six arms, a tail, and bright blue skin covered with purple feathers.

The stares of the ten men were so hostile that the feeling of relief vanished after that one moment. Katerina wondered if she'd made a mistake in greeting them with her spears in her hands. Empty hands were an ancient gesture of peaceful intent. But it went against her training and instincts to disarm herself this close to an enemy.

Slowly and carefully she lowered both spears, until the points rested on the grass. That way they did not threaten the natives, but she could still easily raise and hurl them.

None of the ten men unslung a spear or raised a club. They stood silently like so many statues carved from dark brown wood, glowering at Katerina. She fought down an impulse to turn and run for cover. The nearest cover that would stop a spear was a good fifty meters away. She couldn't hope to get that far without at least being wounded. Alone in this jungle and hunted by men who knew it, she would have a slim chance at best. Wounded, she would have no chance at all.

Minutes passed. The sun was sinking down in the west, but it was still stiflingly hot. Only the faintest breeze blew in from the river. Katerina felt sweat trickling down her face and thighs. The faces of the men still showed hostility. Now they also began to show curiosity. They might be wondering at her pale skin, blond hair, and odd clothing. So far they'd shown no sign of realizing that they faced a woman. Her improvised robe of leaves was as shapeless as a tent. As long as it stayed in place she'd be able to conceal her sex.

Finally nine of the men formed themselves into two clusters, one on either side of the tenth man, who wore a blue loincloth and a blue headdress. Each man drew one of his spears and held it out in the same position Katerina was using, point forward and resting on the grass. Katerina acknowledged the gesture with a bow. Then she bent, took off her bark shoes, and tied her hat and hair in place with the bark strips.

She was going to have to fight. These people seemed to have the custom of giving even strangers a fair fight. That would help. Katerina was reasonably confident she could take any one of these warriors in a fair fight, perhaps two or three. Would custom also demand that she fight and overcome all ten in succession?

If that was the case, she would probably not live until sunset, and all her skill couldn't change that. Each fight would leave her weaker, facing a completely fresh opponent. Sooner or later the end would come.

She accepted this fact, hoped the end would come quickly, and put the matter out of her mind. There was no fear in her any more. She stared hard at the leader who would be her first opponent. He stared back, his face now completely expressionless. Then he raised his spear high over his head and twirled it.

«Hai, Stranger! Are you ready for the Rites of Meeting?»

Katerina's fingers suddenly lost all their strength and her spears thudded to the grass. A desperate effort at self-control kept her from doing anything else. She slowly shook her head, keeping her eyes on the leader as she tried to grapple with what had happened.

It had happened. She could not doubt that unless she wanted to believe she was going mad. She did not want to believe that. So what had happened was real, however impossible it might seem-except that if it was real, then it wasn't impossible, and-She desperately shut off that line of thinking and tried to tell herself what had happened in a few simple words.

The leader spoke in his own language, a series of growling guttural sounds. That was what her ears had heard. In her mind they registered as plain, simple Russian words, as clear and understandable as a headline in Pravda. She knew exactly what the leader had said, completely, clearly, and perfectly.

She might not be going mad. But certainly there was something in her mind that hadn't been there before. Something had happened to her brain when the British hurled her out of the Tower of London and out of the world she knew. Somehow, something-