Blade hoped that he was breaking no vital taboo among the Ganthi. If he was, he had the choice between dying at Geddo's hands and being lynched by the crowd for killing the High Chief. Neither appealed to him, and both would leave Catherine helpless. He threw her a brief glance. Her face was set and pale, and sweat made trails in the dust on her skin.
The duel went on. Blade began pushing his attacks home faster and faster, taking more chances in order to do more damage. The more wounds the High Chief took, the slower he would be.
Once Blade took too big a chance. One of Geddo's spears pinked him lightly in the left shoulder as he pulled back. The crowd murmured at the first sight of blood on the Stranger. But that was the only time Geddo drew blood. Blade drew blood four more times. The High Chief was beginning to look like a statue of red mud, as the blood and the dust on his skin mixed, caked, and dried. Blade had to admit that the man had courage, and an enormous ability to take punishment.
But no man could go on much longer with as many wounds as Geddo had taken.
The two fighters were no longer standing still as they exchanged thrusts and slashes. Now they were slowly shifting position, one step at a time, circling around each other like a pair of fighting cocks. Blade threw a quick glance upward at the sun. They were slowly shifting toward a position where the sun would be shining in his eyes. That would be Geddo's best chance to launch his attack. Blade stepped up the pressure, determined to weaken Geddo still more. In the next three minutes, he drew blood three more times and took a slash across his left cheek. He could taste the oozing blood in the corner of his mouth. Geddo looked totally hideous, and he was beginning to stagger. Insects droned around his head, drawn by the scent of the blood. Blade looked at the sun again. In another minute-
Pain seared through the calf of his right leg. He bit back a yell of sheer agony and looked down. A hard-thrown spear had gone clear through the flesh of the calf. The bloody head stood out on one side, the shaft on the other. Shouts, yells, and gasps of surprise and confusion rose from the crowd. Geddo stared over Blade's shoulder. Blade turned and looked in the same direction.
Stul was trying to back out of sight into the crowd, his face drawn and pale. He had only one spear. Blade bent down, gritted his teeth, snapped the shaft of the spear, then drew it out. He had to bite back another yell of pain as he did, and the blood flowed freely as the spear came out. He was able to control the bleeding with a rough bandage torn from his loincloth. But he could no longer move fast on his right leg. In fact, he had to grit his teeth to stand at all.
Meanwhile Geddo glowered around at the crowd, his bloody, filthy face set in a terrible mask. Blade saw that no one would meet the High Chief's eyes. The message was plain. What Stul had done was contrary to all law and custom. But it had also given Geddo back the advantage in the fight. The High Chief would win this fight, slay Blade, and then be free to deal with anyone who might protest against what Stul had done. No one would lift a hand to punish Stul or help Blade. For Blade, that meant the end-a quick and bloody end. For Catherine-
Blade looked toward the woman. She had gone a bleached white under her dirt and sunburn. He'd promised himself that she would not have to endure slavery to Geddo. He would keep that promise. Blade estimated the distance to the woman, knew that he could throw accurately that far, and was fairly sure he could give her a quick death with a spear to the heart. That would leave him with only one spear and nothing to do but launch his own last-ditch attack. He might still take Geddo with him.
The High Chief was raising his spears again and looking arrogantly toward the limping, slow-footed Stranger who would now be his latest easy victim. All Geddo's pride and self-confidence had returned. If the man would just go on striking that pose, showing off rather than keeping his mind on business-Blade raised a spear, aimed at a point just below Catherine's left breast, and got ready to throw. Another second-
As Blade's arm snapped forward, the ground under his feet heaved upward and sideways in one sharp motion. His wounded leg gave under him and he sat down abruptly. The spear sailed off wildly. He never saw where it went or what it hit. A sudden silence fell on the crowd.
Then the earth heaved again. The silence dissolved in a pandemonium of screams and yells. A thousand people or more were all crying out at once, cursing, praying to gods and ancestors, shouting out in fear and anger.
The earth heaved a third time. Blade staggered to his feet in time to see clouds of dust rise from inside Thessu as buildings collapsed. Part of the mud-brick wall went down in a whirlwind of brown dust, carrying a dozen banner-bearing warriors with it. Distant screams of pain joined the rest of the uproar.
Geddo stood in the center of the circle, staring wildly about him with a mad look in his eyes. He seemed stunned and numb. The earthquake had struck at the moment when he was tasting victory. Now he seemed unable to imagine what to do next.
Blade had no such problem. His wits had never worked as fast as they did in the next few seconds, as he realized that the earthquake had given him a sudden, unexpected chance at victory.
He took a deep breath and let out a terrible wordless roar, louder than Geddo's, trying to beat down and drown out the noise of the panic-stricken crowd. Scores of heads turned toward him. He raised his spear and pointed first at the earth and then at the sky.
«The gods have spoken!» he thundered. «Stul's treachery has called down their wrath. The earth moves because of it. It will move again and again until Thessu lies in ruins if we do not turn away the wrath of the gods. Find Stul! Find Stul and slay him for his treachery! Offer his blood to the gods, offer his flesh and his bones. Turn their wrath away and save your city, save your land!» He was tempted to go on and ask them to slay the High Chief himself, but that would have been asking too much.
Blade's words struck home in the crowd. The sounds of panic began to fade, the sounds of anger began to swell. Spears and cries both rose.
«Slay Stul!»
«Cut his throat!»
«Take his manhood!»
«KILL!»
The crowd churned and heaved as people looked about them for their victim. Geddo continued to stare wildly about him. Blade raised his spear and sighted on the High Chief's blood-smeared chest. A single well-aimed spear, and Geddo exploded out of his daze and charged at Blade, both spears flailing the air. His eyes seemed blind with blood, dirt, sweat, and sheer rage. He still came straight at Blade, his feet leaving bloody prints on the ground.
Blade stood his ground again. He doubted if he could move fast enough to get clear in any case, with his wounded leg. He also knew that he could still turn the crowd back to Geddo's side by showing anything they would call cowardice. As Geddo charged in, Blade raised his spear in both hands and thrust forward with all his strength and all his weight behind the thrust.
Geddo did not stop or slow his mad-bull's charge at Blade. Instead he ran himself straight onto the out thrust spear. The point tore through his chest and burst out his back. He screamed and kept on coming, his three hundred pounds driving him right up the spearshaft at Blade.
Blade held on to his spear as Geddo loomed monstrously over him. He heard the blood gurgle in the High Chief's throat and felt one of Geddo's spearpoints slash his right ear. Geddo choked and coughed again, drenching Blade in blood. Then he fell. Blade had no time to jump clear before the High Chief's three hundred pounds of dead weight hammered him to the ground.