Yod felt like an honorable victor, the more honorably he
would act.
"But you did make a lot of unnecessary trouble by not
yielding sooner," Yod continued. "And we can't trust you.
I have promised you life—but I will consider your punish-
ment. Tie him, men."
This time the tribesmen sprang to obey. They tied him:
arms behind his back, tight, and a hobble-rope on his
ankles. They propped him up against a post with his arms
hooked behind it while they attended to other things.
Neq's wound smarted increasingly. The puncture was
small, but through the large muscle. The fragment had to
be lodged inside somewhere. There was not much bleeding;
a sword would have been far worse. Except that the blade
would have exited cleanly, permitting better healing.
There was a clamor as the pursuit party returned. "We
got her!" A man exclaimed.
Neq saw to his grief that it was true. Neqa was being
hauled along between two men, her wraparound torn,
portions of her torso exposed. She did not seem to be
injured, however.
"She had a knife. Stabbed Baf," another man said. "Real
wild girl. But we didn't hurt her."
"The crazy got away," another said. "But who cares?"
Yod's wound, not serious, had been bound. He was
probably in as much pain as Neq, but did not show it. He
had to maintain his facade before his tribe. "So she freed
the crazy and stabbed one of our men," he mused. "And
her man messed us all up, pretending to be a crazy, and
.killed Tif." He looked calculatingly at Neq. "OK—we'll
teach them both a real lesson."
Yod walked up to Neqa. While the men held her arms,
he ripped away the remainder of her clothing, flinging
pieces of cloth aside to the delight of the others. "Man,
she's a beauty!"
Neq struggled with his bonds, but they were firm. Some
of the outlaws, watching him, chuckled; they wanted him
to struggle. As they would have wanted Yod to struggle,
had things worked out otherwise.
"Han!" Yod cried.
A youthful dagger approached nervously. Neq judged
him to be a novice, perhaps fourteen.
"You never had it with a woman, did you?" Yod de-
manded.
"No—no." Han said, not looking at Neqa's nakedness.
"Now's your time. Go to."
Han backed away. "I don't understand."
"This crazy doll with the smooth skin and the sweet
breast—you got her first. Right now."
Han glanced at Neqa, then guiltily away again. "But
she's—she has his bracelet!"
"Yeah. That's funny. Leave it on."
"But—"
"He's going to watch this. On his own band. That's his
punishment. And some of hers."
Han's body was shaking. "That's not right. I can't do
that."
Neq strained furiously, but only skinned his wrists on
the rope. "I'll kill any man who touches her!" he screamed.
Neqa stood with her eyes closed, still held by two men.
She seemed to have withdrawn from the proceedings. Her
body was fan- and slender and wholly out of place amid
this rough crowd. Neq saw the outlaws looking at her,
licking their lips.
Yod laughed. "You'll kill us all then, crazy-lover. 'Cause
every man here's going to touch her—right now, where
you can see."
"No!" Han cried. He ran at Yod.
Yod smashed him down backhanded. "You missed your
chance, you sniveling kid. Now it's my turn."
Han stumbled back, bleeding from the lip, and fell near
Neq. One of his daggers skidded on the ground.
Yod opened his pantaloons. The outlaws laughed. Neqa
opened her eyes, struggled silently, and kicked her feet
"Hold her legs too," Yod said. Two more men jumped
forward to grasp her thighs.
Neq jabbed Han with his bound legs. When the youth
turned dazedly toward him, Neq nodded toward the knife
just out of his reach. ,
Han looked at the struggle going on as four men held
Neqa by the hands and feet, spread-eagling her on the
ground. Then he swept the blade toward Neq. It was still
out of reach, for Neq could not pick it up.
Now Neqa screamed. Neq did not look. He had to get
that knife immediately. He arched his body against the
post, sliding his shoulder up, until his arms unhooked
over the top of it. He fell over to the side, rolled, grabbed.
The blade of the dagger sliced his hand, but he had it.
No one noticed. They were all intent on the show Yod
was putting on.
Neqa screamed again, piercingly, as Yod's body covered
her. She writhed on the ground and one of her hands
slipped loose, but Yod stayed with her, grunting. The
men grinned as they held her legs apart.
Neq twisted the knife, but he could not get it angled
properly at the cord. His hands became slippery with his
own blood. Then the strands began parting, reluctantly,
as the flat of the blade wedged against them.
It seemed to take forever for the rope to give.
The outlaw chief stood up, short of breath. Neqa was
sobbing brokenly.
"Hey—she was a virgin!" Yod exclaimed. "Look at
that!"
The men crowded close to look. Neq, numbed to physical
pain, sawed at the infernal rope.
"Why'd she have his bracelet, then?" someone demanded.
"I heard he wasn't much of a man outside the circle!"
Still the bands held. Han the dagger got up and fled,
looking sick.
"All right—line up and take your turn," Yod said. "Every
man of you. She's a good one."
The men lined up. Neqa had stopped crying. Three men
still held her supine and spread on the ground.
Three more completed their business before Neq's hands
finally were free. He severed the hobble-cord and lurched
to his feet. He plunged the blade into the back of the fourth
man as he lay astride Neqa. One down—four to go.
"Hey! He's loose!"
They piled on him. Neq fought savagely, but the dagger
was not his weapon and he was grossly outnumbered. In
moments they had him prisoner again.
Helpless, he had to watch while forty-four more men
ravished his wife.
But it was not over.
"That's another he killed—and several more wounded,"
Yod said angrily.
"Kill him!" several cried.
"No. I granted him life. I want this bastard to suffer."
Yod considered. "Cut off his hands." He lifted his sword.
Neqa, momentarily forgotten, climbed slowly to her
feet. Her eyes were staring. The dagger Neq had used lay
near her on the ground. She stooped to pick it up.
Then, silently, she launched herself at Yod. Her blade
sliced down the side of his face, catching part of one eye
and eyeball.
Yod whirled, swinging his sword in an automatic reac-
tion. It caught her across the neck, sinking in.
"Damn!" Yod cried, not seeming to realize the extent of
his own wound. "I
didn't mean to kill her! We need
women!"
Neqa dropped to the ground, her blood spouting. Neq
heaved his captors forward and they all fell.
It was too late for Neqa. Her teeth were bared in the
rictus of the terminal agony; her red blood pooled in the
dry dirt.
"Damn!" Yod repeated. "It's his fault. Hold him!"
They held Neq. Under Yod's grim direction they tied
his hands again by the wrists, -this time stretched forward.
Four men hauled against his body while two pulled each
rope, putting a terrible strain on his arms.
Yod positioned himself and swung his sword as though
he were splitting wood.
Neq felt horrendous pain, and blanked out.
He came to immediately, or so it seemed. The pain had
intensified unbearably, and sweet smoke stung his nostrils.
They were holding torches to his wrists, burning them so
the flesh bubbled and popped.
Then nothing more.
CHAPTER EIGHT
He woke at dusk. His arms terminated in great crude
bandages, -hurting ferociously. Neqa lay beside him, pale
and cold. His bracelet was still on her wrist.
He woke again, shivering, in the dark. Nothing had
changed but the hour.
Toward morning he became delirious.
Light again, and someone was tending him. It was the
cage-man, the surgeon. "You'll live. I'll bury her. You two
saved me; I owe you that much."
"/'// bury her!" Neq cried weakly. But he had no hands.
He cursed meaninglessly as he watched Dick do it, as
the dirt fell over her dead lovely face, over his bracelet,
over his dreams. He had loved a crazy.
Miss Smith was gone forever. Neqa was dead.
Time passed. Dick the surgeon turned out to be no
phony; he knew his medicine. The fevers and the chills
subsided, strength of a sort came back; the thigh wound,
excavated and cleaned, healed. But the hands were gone,
and so was love.
Dick did everything, though he was no nomad. "I owe
it to you," he said. "Her life, your hands—all because of
me."
"They would have done it anyway," Neq said, not caring
how the blame was parceled out. "They ambushed us
before we ever saw you. We were already prisoners."
"She took several minutes to get me out of that cage,
and she waited while I got some circulation back into my
legs so I could walk. She would have gotten away, other-
wise."
"You can't bring her back. If you owe me a favor, kill
me too. Then I won't hurt any more—any way."
"I deal in life, not death. After Helicon, this is just an
incident. I do owe you, but not that." He looked about.
"We should get away from here. They dumped you both
and left—but they could come back at any time. I was
lucky they didn't see me following them."
Neq was not in a position to argue further. He talked
with only a part of his consciousness, the least important
part. The rest was obsesssed with what had happened, and
his impotence in the face of such calamity.
Only one thing kept him going. At first it was intangible,
nebulous, a background emotion that gave him strength
without comprehension. But gradually, as the days passed,
it became solid, better defined, until it occupied the clear
forefront of his mind, and he knew the need for what it was.
Vengeance.
"You are a surgeon," Neq said. "From what was mooted,
the best in the world."
"Not necessarily. I was 'trained by a master, and he
trained others. I've heard of remarkable surgery in the
Aleutians—"
"You do talk like a crazy. Can you operate on me?"
"Without my equipment, my laboratory, drugs, compe-
tent assistants—"
"Was that what you told Yod?"
"Essentially. Surgery without sterilization procedures,
anesthetics—"
"They sterilized my wrists, all right. With living torches!"
"I know. Yod is an outlaw, but he keeps his word. He
wanted you to live."
"I keep my word too," Neq said. "But if there are ways
to sterilize, why couldn't you—"
"Try a flaming torch on abdominal surgery!"
Neq nodded. "So Yod figured you were lying."
"I wasn't going to help him anyway. Any life I might
save for him would mean death, for others. His tribe
deserves extermination."
fying the matter. "We'll get equipment, somewhere."
"Yes, with the necessary facilities I could operate. But
in what manner? I can't give you back your hands. No
one can do that."
"Tyi said—he said that the Nameless One, our Master
of Empire, the Weaponless—by whatever name you know
him—he said that man had been made strong by an
underworld surgeon. You?"
"I had considerable assistance. And there was a strong
possibility of failure. As it was, I understand I rendered
him sterile."
. "If you could do that for him, you can do this for me."
"What do you want?"
Neq held up his truncated right arm. "My sword."
"Without a hand?"
"My sword will be my hand."
Dick studied him appraisingly. "Yes, I could do that.
Insert a metal brace, attach the blade—it wouldn't be flex-
ible, but there'd be plenty of power."
"Neq nodded.
"It would be awkward," Dick continued, considering it
further. "For sleeping, for eating. You would not be able
to use that hand for any constructive purpose, except
chopping firewood. But once you learned to control it you
might re-enter the circle. Much of your fighting skill is in
your brain, I'm sure; you could overcome a substantial
flexibility handicap. You would not be the warrior you
were, but you could still be more than most."
Neq nodded again.
"I could give you a hook on the other arm, maybe even
pincers. So you could dress, feed yourself."
"Start now."
"But I told you: I'll need anesthetics, instruments,
sterilization—"
"Knock me out. Pass yoBr knife through the fire."
Dick laughed -without humor. "Impossible!" Then:
"You're serious."
"Every day she lies cold while her murderers live is a
torture to me. I must have my sword."
"But only Yod killed her, actually."
"They're all guilty. Every man who touched her—every
one shall die."
Dick shook his head. "I'm afraid of you. I thought I had
learned complete hatred during my time in the cage,
choking on the miasma of my own refuse, but I fear what
you will do."
"You won't have to watch."
"I'll be responsible, though."
"If you will not do it, tell me you will. Then kill me in
my sleep."
Dick shuddered. "No, I'll fix you up. In my own way.
We'll have to go back to what remains of Helicon for my
supplies. They aren't all gone. I went back once to make
sur
e. Gruesome experience."
"I know. But such a trip would take time!"
Dick looked at him. "You may dismiss pain when you're
fighting in the circle or elsewhere. But this, when you're
calm—let me make a small demonstration. Hold out your
arm."
Neq held out one bandaged stump.
Dick took hold of it and applied pressure.
The pain started slowly, but built up appallingly. Neq
took it, not flinching, knowing he was being tested but
not knowing how long he could withstand it.
"That's just hand pressure," Dick said. "How will you
like it when I start cutting? Scraping off the new scar
tissue, cauterizing living flesh, laying open the muscle
and tendons and tying wires to them? Hamering a metal
spike into the radius—the long bone of the forearm? And
another into the ulna, so that you will be able to twist your
weapon as you once twisted your wrist, and perhaps to flex
it a little. You're fortunate that your hands were severed
below the wrists, leaving the main bones connected; that