She turned to look up at him. "You really mean it? Now? Just like that, just walk off and . . . "
"What other way is there? This is as good a time as any."
"Roan, it's crazy! But if you're going, I'm going with you. But listen. Wait until after Iron Robert's act. We can slip away while the tops are going down. Somebody might notice if we tried it now—and whatever we do, we don't want to get caught. Gom Bulj has some pretty drastic ideas about what to do with deserters."
"All right. As soon as the fight's over and the noisemakers come on, we'll mingle with the marks and go out gate nineteen. There's a patch of big plants growing over on that side, and we can duck in there and work out way to the town."
There was scattered applause as Iron Robert tossed his victim aside and raised his huge, square hands in his victory sign. He came over to where Roan and Stellaraire stood, accepted a towel tossed to him by Mag or his twin brother. He wiped pale pink blood from his face and hands, then took a scraper from his belt pouch and began to clean himself, frowning as he worked. He was very neat and meticulous and it made a tooth-cracking noise.
"How you like fight, Terry?" he asked suddenly, scraping his arm with long strokes.
"I didn't really see it," Roan answered. "When I got here it was already over."
Iron Robert chuckled, a sound like a boulder rolling downhill. "Fans like see plenty action," he said. "Iron Robert kill too quick, have to ham up act little, give everybody money's worth." He finished his toilet and put the scraper away.
"Next fight different maybe," he said. "Parlagon easy. Tear up whole parlagon with bare hands. Chinazell next. Never see chinazell before. Chinazell pretty tough, some say. What is chinazell? Who care? Tear him up, too."
"I guess you can beat just about anything they put in against you," Roan commented, looking around to see if Gom Bulj was in sight. It wouldn't do to have him watching when they made their try.
"So far, Terry," the giant said. He looked at Roan with an unreadable expression in his green-glass eyes. "Iron Robert meet all comers. Some day meet being too tough to kill." He waved a hand at the stands. "That what all come, hope for. Some day they see. Maybe today. Maybe next year. Maybe hundred years. Meantime, fight to win. Iron Robert born to fight. Fight until die."
A horn blew long, nerve-shredding blasts. Crews were hauling sections of heavy fencing into the cleared arena. The PA system boomed out a description of the coming battle. Iron Robert took a gallon-sized swig from a bottle, tossed it aside, stalked out into the center of the ring under the glare of the lights. Jumbo appeared, hauling a vast, iron-barred cage. Its sides trembled as something inside slammed against the bars. The crowd fell suddenly silent. An immensely tall, thin being dressed in green silks that flapped about its long shins pulled a rope and the end of the cage fell aside.
A triangular, scaled head poked out, swaying inquiringly on its serpentine neck. Then the chinazell bounded from the cage and shook the ground when it landed. It was an incredibly monstrous creature, a primitive world dinosaur type with bony plates along its high-arched spine. But the fearsome thing about it was the gleam of intelligence in the small, glittering eyes. It paused a moment, surveying the sea of faces behind the barriers, and gauging Iron Robert, half its size, who stood watching it and gauging it back.
Roan heard Stellaraire's quick intake of breath. "No wonder the betting was so high," she said. "Gom Bulj said a syndicate was importing something special from Algol III, just for the fight. It's a high-G planet, and that monster's used to weighing twice as much as he does now. Look at him! I don't think I want to watch this . . . "
"You're not really worried, are you?" Roan asked. "I mean, it's fixed, isn't it?"
Stellaraire whirled on Roan. "I've known Iron Robert ever since I was a little girl," she said. "I've seen him go up against the awfullest fighters and the cruelest killers on a hundred worlds, and he's always won. He wins with his strength and his courage. Nothing else. Nobody helps him—any more than they helped me—or you!" She looked back toward the arena, where the chinazell had seen Iron Robert now. It gathered its legs under it, watching him standing with his back to his opponent, his arms raised to the crowd in the ancient salute of the gladiator.
"I'm afraid, Roan," Stellaraire said. "He's never fought anything like this before!"
The chinazell moved suddenly; it rose up on its hind legs and charged like a huge, ungainly bird straight toward Iron Robert's exposed back. Stellaraire's fingers dug deep into Roan's arm.
"Why doesn't he turn . . . !"
At the last possible moment, Iron Robert pivoted with a speed that seemed unbelievable in anything so massive, leaned aside from the chinazell's charge, and struck out with a clublike arm. The blow resounded against the beast's armored hide like a cannonball striking masonry; it staggered, broke stride, sent up a spray of dust as it caught itself, wheeled and pounced. The vicious triangular head whipped down with open jaws that clashed against Iron Robert's stony hide, dragged him from his feet—
His arms encircled the scaled neck, hugging the monster close. In sudden alarm, it braced its feet and backed, and Iron Robert held on, twisting the broad head sideways, his fingers locked in the corners of the clamped mouth. The heavy reptilian tail slammed the ground in a roil of dust; sparks flew where the bright talons of the creature's short arms raked Iron Robert's invulnerable chest and shoulders. Then it opened its jaws, whipped its neck, flung Iron Robert aside. He rolled in the dust, and before he could come to his feet, the chinazell sprang to him, brought an immense hind foot down in an earthshaking kick.
Roan coughed as dust floated across from the scene of the battle.
"I can't see . . . " Stellaraire wailed. "What's happening?" Iron Robert was on his feet again, grappling a hind leg nearly as big as himself. The chinazell, its weight down on its stunted forelimbs, sidled awkwardly, trying to shake its attacker loose. Its head came around and down, striking at Iron Robert. He hunched his head closer to his shoulders and reached up for a higher grip.
"The thing's too big for him," Stellaraire gasped. "He can't reach a vulnerable spot . . . "
With a surge, the chinazell raised the trapped leg clear of the ground and dashed it down. Iron Robert slammed against the concrete-hard clay—but he kept his grip.
"He's hurt!" Stellaraire choked. "It's all he can do to hold on—and that isn't doing him any good. But if he lets go, it will kick him again—"
"At least its teeth aren't hurting him," Roan said. "He's all right. He'll hold on until he tires it, and then—"
"It won't tire—not in this light gravity . . . "
The chinazell stood, its ribby sides heaving, its head on its long neck twisted to look at Iron Robert, who shifted his grip suddenly, leaped, caught a bony boss that adorned the dino's withers, and hauled himself across the creature's back, his weight bearing it down. Its legs sprawled out, and it plunged violently, striking with its yard-wide jaws as dust rose up in a dense cloud . . .
The chinazell came out of the dust cloud, wheeled, and charged down on Iron Robert as he came to his feet. It bounded past him and struck with its immense tail, a blow like a falling tree. Iron Robert went down, and the dino galloped away, circled, and Roan saw that its tail was broken, the hide torn, blood washing down across the scales, caking the dust. The head writhed on the long neck as the voiceless creature shuddered its pain. It came to a halt, the broken tail dragging now. Its head whipped from side to side as though seeking some escape from its torment. Fifty yards away, Iron Robert came slowly to his hands and knees.
"He's hurt!" Stellaraire cried. "Oh, please, Iron Robert! Get up!" The chinazell moved heavily, painfully. It walked to Iron Robert, stood over him. It maneuvered into position, raised a leg like an ironwood log set with spikes, brought it down square on Iron Robert in a blow that shook the ground.
"Gom Bulj has got to stop it!" Stellaraire screamed. "It will kill him . . . !"
"Wait!" Roan caught her arm. "He's not finished yet! Look!" The chinazell was moving awkwardly sideways, its head held low. Iron Robert's might arms circled the lean neck. As it dragged him, he freed one arm, raised it, drove his stony fist into one small, lizard eye. The chinazell bucked, tried to shake free, but Iron Robert held on, twisted, struck at the other eye. The dino reared and plunged desperately, and Iron Robert dropped away, lay on his back. He raised his bloody fists, let them fall back.
The blinded chinazell stopped, squatted; thick blood ran down the triangular face; the primitive mouth opened in voiceless agony. It rose, ran a few yards, dragging its dead tail, then squatted again, its small cunning gone with its eyes. A murmuring ran through the silent crowd, and someone started a hissing, and at the sound the chinazell leaped up, crashed aimlessly against the thick fence. People scrambled back in fright, screaming, and the panicked beast lunged, brought down a section of the barrier, then turned and blundered back, struck the fence again. There was a blare of noise from the PA system, and Gom Bulj appeared, a vivid, bloated figure in scarlet capes, carrying a heavy power gun. He took aim, blew the head off the maimed beast. It fell over sideways like a mountain, kicked out once, twice, then lay still. The headless neck twitched as blood pumped out to puddle in the dust like black oil.
Gom Bulj walked over to Iron Robert, stood looking at him, still holding the gun in his hand; he raised it . . .
"No!" Stellaraire was round the barrier, running toward the entrepreneur.
"You can't!" Roan heard her voice, almost drowned in the angry shouting of the crowd that had seen the two most deadly fighters in the Galaxy maim each other, and still felt cheated because there hadn't been more blood and agony.
As Roan came up, Gom Bulj was holding up a wide, many-fingered hand.
"As you wish, my dear," he was rumbling. "I merely thought—"
"Iron Robert's not just another wounded animal," Stellaraire flared.
"But of course he is," Gom Bulj boomed, lighting up a foot-long cigar.
"What else would you call him? But no matter, say your farewells or whatever, and then back to work, eh?" He turned away.
"We'll have to get a crew over here," Roan said. "He's too heavy to lift—"
"Leave him where he is," Gom Bulj said. "Disposal is the locals' problem. And now I really must—"
"Aren't you even going to try to help?" Roan demanded, standing in front of the bulky businessman.
Gom Bulj waved his cigar, blinking at Roan. "Ah, you Terries," he chuckled.
"So impractical . . . " He rippled quickly to one side and past Roan and the crowd of hurrying circus hands swallowed him up. The audience was melting away and almost before they were clear the seats were going down, and the crews had started on striking the top. Stellaraire was bending over Iron Robert.
"Good-by," she said sadly. "You fought awfully well, Iron Robert; he was just too big for you."
The stone giant opened his eyes. "Chinazell . . . tough fighter," he said in a gritty, labored voice. "Dirty . . . trick . . . gouge . . . eyes." His craggy face was contorted and his huge chest labored with the effort of his breathing.
"Do you think you could stand?" Roan asked. He gripped a massive arm and pulled, but it was like pulling on the trunk of a fallen tree. "We've got to get help," he said, looking over toward the ship that was visible now where the tent had been peeled back. A crew was folding up the arena partitions, and a group of busy locals were setting to work to skin out the chinazell. There was no one else near.
"No one will help," Stellaraire said. "They just . . . don't help. And anyway .
. . " she paused, looking at Iron Robert as he lay sprawled out on his back.
"Anyway . . . no use," the giant growled. "Iron Robert bad hurt. Bone in back broken. Legs . . . not move. You go now, Gom Bulj not like you be late."
A bald, thick-necked humanoid came up, cradling Gom Bulj's power gun in his arm.
"Get moving, you two," he ordered. "There's work to be done. Gom Bulj said—"
"Don't you give me orders, Bulugg," Stellaraire snapped at him. "Anyway, we were just going—"
"I'm not leaving him here like this," Roan said. He looked helplessly around. The skinners were lifting a sail-like flap of horny skin from the chinazell, exposing the bone-white flesh of the dino's flank. No one was paying any attention to Iron Robert's plight, Roan saw. No one cared. Beyond the busy throng folding canvas, the animals were moving up the aft gangplank into the ship. There was a holdup as a humped animal decided to sit crossways and someone yelled for the electric goad. Then Roan saw Jumbo heaving over the 'zoo grounds like a ship in a slow sea.
"Get Jumbo," he said to Stellaraire. "I'll find some rope . . . !"
"But, Roan—"
"Do as I tell you!" he snapped. He started away and the guard said, "Hey!" and brought the gun around.
"Shut up, Bulugg!" Stellaraire said. "And don't get any ideas with that gun. You're just supposed to hold it and scare people."
Roan looped the thick, oily plastic cable under Iron Robert's arms, tied it in a vast knot. Stellaraire was perched on Jumbo's head with her legs hanging down over his gray, furrowed forehead. The pachyderm moved his trunk restlessly as Roan tied the cable to his leather-and-chain harness. Looking toward the ship, Roan saw that the animals were almost all aboard now; the last of the yard wagons were puffing away toward the greenish blaze of the setting sun with their loads. A shrill whistle sounded from the ship.
"Hey, shake it up!" Bulugg called. "That's minus a quarter. Whatta, ya wanna get left?"
"Pull, Jumbo!" Stellaraire cried. "Hurry! Pull!" The elephant took a step and jolted to a stop. He looked back over his shoulder, puzzled, and flapped his ears.
"Pull, Jumbo," Stellaraire called; and Jumbo leaned into his harness and pulled, sensing the necessity of something more than ordinary effort. Iron Robert budged, dragging a furrow in the ground and Jumbo strained, putting his back into it, placing his great feet and thrusting, hauling the dead weight of many tons across the dusty clay of the empty arena. At the gangplank, Bulugg jumped at the sound of the shrill last-warning whistle. He waved the gun nervously. There were faces at the port above, looking down curiously.