I smiled. "The tarn will know me," I said.

"The tarn has tasted blood," said the leader. "It has killed. It feeds. Do not approach the tarn now or it will mean your death."

"We have little time to waste," I said.

"Wait!" cried the leader of the crossbowmen.

I stepped toward the great black tarn. It was at the foot of its perch. It was chained by one foot. The run of the chain was perhaps twenty-five feet. I approached slowly, holding my hands open, saying nothing. It eyed me.

"The bird does not know him," said one of the men, he who had suggested I might be a spy of the yellows.

"Be still," whispered the leader of the group.

"He is a fool," whispered another.

"That," agreed the leader, "or Gladius of Cos."

The tarn, the great, fierce saddlebird of Gor, is a savage beast, a monster predator of the high, blue skies of this harsh world; at best it is scarce half domesticated; even tarnsmen seldom approach them without weapons and tarn goad; it is regarded madness to approach one that is feeding; the instincts of the tarn, like those of many predators, are to protect and defend a kill, to the death; Tarn Keepers, with their goads and training wires, have lost their lives with even young birds, trying to alter or correct this covetousness of its quarry; the winged majestic carnivores of Gor, her tarns, do not care to share their kills, until perhaps they have gorged their fill and carry then remnants of their repast to the encliffed nests of the Thentis or Voltai Ranges, there to drop meat into the gaping beats of white tarnlings, the size of ponies.

"Stand back!" warned the leader of the men.

I stepped forward, until I stood within the am bit of the tarn's chain.

I spoke softly. "My Ubar of the Skies," I said, "you know me." I approached more closely, holding my hands open, not hurrying.

The bird regarded me. In its beak there hung the body of a Yellow.

"Come back!" cried one of the crossbowmen, and I was pleased that it was he who had thought I might be a spy for the Yellows. Even he did not care for what might now occur.

"We must ride, Ubar of the Skies," said I, approaching the bird.

I took the body of the man from its beak and laid it to one side.

The bird did not attempt to strike me.

I heard the men behind me gasp with wonder.

"You fought well," said I to the bird. I caressed its bloodied, scimitar-like beak. "And I am pleased to see you live."

The bird gently touched me with its beak.

"Ready the platform," said I, "for the next race."

"Yes," said the leader of the men, "Gladius of Cos!" His three companions, putting aside their bows, rushed to prepare the wheeled platform.

I turned to face the man and he tossed me a leather mask, that which Gladius of Cos wore, that which had, for so many races this fantastic summer, concealed his features. "Mip," said the man, "told me this was for you."

"My gratitude," I said, drawing the mask over my head.

I heard the judge's bar, a bristling fire of wings, and the sudden, wild roar of the crowd. "The eighth race has begun," said the leader of the crossbowmen.

I slapped the beak of the bird affectionately. "I shall see you shortly," said I, "Ubar of the Skies."

I strode from the bird's side and made my way through the readying compound of the Steels until I climbed the stairs inside the low wall separating it from the aria leading out onto the broad path leading to the starting perches; I dropped over the wall and made my way across the sand until I came to the dividing wall separating the two sides of the track. I ascended stairs there until I stood, with many others, on the dividing wall, and from there could watch the race. The leader of the crossbowmen in the compound of the Steels followed me.

I heard cries of astonishment from those I passed. "It is Gladius of Cos!" I heard. "It is he!" "I thought he feared to appear." "No, Fool, not Gladius of Cos!" "Assassins lurk!" "Flee, Rider, flee!" "Flee, Gladius of Cos!"

"Be silent," said the man with me, quieting with his command the cries and admonitions of those about us.

The birds, some nine of them, only a few feet overhead and to one side, flashed past, wings cracking like whips, beaks extended, the riders hunched low in the saddles. Those on the dividing wall staggered back.

I caught a glimpse of Green Ubar, Mip in the saddle, lost in the flurry of whipping wings.

I saw six wooden tarn heads mounted on poles at each end of the dividing wall, indicating the laps remaining.

Some seventy or eighty yards away I saw the box of the Ubar and, upon the throne of the Ubar, Cernus, of the House of Cernus, in the imperial purple of the Ubar.

For the moment his attention was distracted from the race, as a messenger, a fellow I had seen but a moment before on the dividing wall, hastened to his side, whispering something in his ear.

I suddenly saw him look to the dividing wall.

Masked, I stood there, facing him.

Angrily he turned to the man and gave him a command.

Again the furious passage of the tarns overhead was marked in the beating of wings, the cries of the riders, now the flash of tarn goads, the turbulence of the air slashed from their path driving against us.

This time, on the center side ring, a nonfaction tarn was forced into the padded bar by a sudden swerve of Menicius of Port Kar, riding for the Yellows. I had seen him use this several times before. I noted that Mip had been following Menicius, and when Minicius had swerved Mip had taken advantage of the opening thus presented and, like a knife, had plunged for the heart of the ring. The bird that had struck the ring was tumbling stunned into the net. The great heavy ring was swinging on its chains. Menicius, I saw, savagely dragged his bird back to the center of the flight path, cursing, realizing how Mip had waited to take advantage of his momentary surrender of the center.

The crowd, regardless of which patch they wore, cried out with admiration.

A tarn of the Reds, a large-winged bird, goaded almost to madness by a small, bearded rider, wearing a bone talisman about his neck, held the lead. He was followed by two brown racing tarns, their riders wearing the silk of the Blues and the Silvers. Then followed Green Ubar, Mip one with the winged beast, high stirrups, his small body hunched down, not giving the bird its head. I wondered at the bird. I knew its age, the diminishment of its strength, that it had not raced in many years. Its feathers lacked the fiery sheen of the young tarn; its beak was not the gleaming yellow of the other birds, but a whitish yellow; its breathing was not that of the other birds; but its eyes were those of the unconquerable tarn, wild, black, fierce; gleaming with pride and fury; determined that no other bird nor beast shall stand before it.

I feared for the strain of that old heart, redoubtable and valiant.

"Beware!" cried my fellow, he with the crossbow and I spun to catch the wrist of a man striking toward my back with a dagger.

I broke his neck and threw him to the sand at the foot of the dividing wall.

He was the man who had reported my presence to Cernus, he to whom Cernus had issued an order.

I turned and regarded the box of the Ubar. Saphronicus, of the Taurentians, stood beside him.

The hand of Saphronicus was on the hilt of his sword. The fists of Cernus were white, clenched on the arms of the Ubar's throne.

I returned my attention to the race.

My fellow, now, instead of watching the race, stood, armed, with this back to mine, his crossbow ready.

The tarns, like a torrent of beating wings and talons, swept by again.

The large-winged tarn had fallen back now, the lead being taken by the rider of the blue, a small, shrewd man, a veteran rider but one too precipitate. I knew his bird. He had moved to soon.