It was dark, dank and stank, but the dogs had no problem in picking up the lizard-ape's scent. The major difficulty had been in holding the first group in check while the rest of the dogs were lowered into the sewer from the street above. It quickly became apparent to Lycon that the sheer number of men and hounds were going to pose a problem at the onset of the chase. He reluctantly gave the order for one group to remain at the entrance to the catch basin. They would only get in the way, and Lycon had a better use for their pack.
"Release these." The beastcatcher pointed to one mass of straining hounds.
"We'll never be able to keep up," N'Sumu protested, not unreasonably. The Egyptian was studying the brick arches of the sewer, seemingly oblivious of the stench of the filthy water that coursed sluggishly along its channel. He seemed also oblivious of the fact that he was out of reach of decent lantern light. Lycon thought about N'Sumu's strange eyes, then pushed that thought aside.
"We can track the unleashed dogs with the rest of the pack," the hunter explained. "Just now we're too many, too noisy, too slow. The lizard-ape could keep its distance and lead us on a chase for a hundred miles of sewer, and we'd never catch a glimpse of it."
"But the dogs might kill the sauropithecus if no one is there to pull them off!"
"Come on, N'Sumu! You're our lizard-ape expert! You know damn well we'll be lucky to catch up with the dogs before your little pet turns and kills the lot of them!"
"My pet? What do you mean, human!"
"The Emperor's pet, then," Lycon retorted, too focussed to note N'Sumu's sudden anger. "And let's be after it."
N'Sumu checked his panic. Just a chance expression, not a guess. Absurd to think that the Cora might have planted another agent here on this world. Or was it absurd? In any event this Lycon would be dead very shortly, one way or another.
The phile resubmerged. It had heard enough sounds of pursuit to be certain that its precautions—instinctive though they were—had not been needless. The bipeds had returned with their incredibly noisy quadruped stalkers. It seemed absurd that these creatures would place such reliance upon inferior material for this game, until the demonically gene-designed phile reconsidered the obvious shortcomings of the soft-fleshed bipeds on this world. Their pathetic slowness was plainly evident; their perceptual acuity was apparently no better, since they clearly relied upon other life-forms to extend the range of their senses. The phile, which understood non-phile life only as potential prey, felt contempt for such weakness as this reliance expressed. No wonder the gamemaster had brought in a more worthy opponent for the phile to destroy. The others were intended to serve as no more than a distraction; it was time they were removed.
The phile knew the sewers well. It had come here first when it had entered this city many days ago. For a time the phile considered these underground tunnels as a possible lair, but their sudden flooding with heavy, unpredictable rains drove it to seek a more secure refuge in the tenement that the Opponent had made a holocaust for its young.
The phile waited in the darkness as the pursuit loudly vanished into the tunnels, following a trail it had left hours before. It had discovered long before that the four-legged stalkers could not follow a trail through deep water. It was quite safe here in the main channel, rising from its depths only to take in a breath of air.
Very soon it would be night outside.
A runner had managed to find Lycon at last, so the beastcatcher had in some measure been warned—although still he was not prepared for the sight that greeted him.
The street seemed to be filled with dead men.
"It came up out the catch basin at nightfall," Rebilus was able to tell him in small gasps and whispers. Lycon had left him in charge of the group of men stationed behind at the entrance to the sewers. Now Rebilus was the sole survivor, and from the bubbling gashes in his belly, he wasn't likely to see another dawn.
"We'd all been sitting around," Rebilus whispered, too much in shock to realize the extent of his wounds. "You know, waiting to hear how things were going down below. Every now and then someone would climb back up and fill us in. Nothing much happening. Even the crowd that had been here at first had pretty well given it up."
He shuddered and stared at his hands. So much blood staining the pavement . . . how could it all be his. It couldn't be, could it?
"I'd gone over to the fountain for a drink of water," Rebilus said dully. "That's all I did." He seemed to be using his last strength to establish that the guilt for this massacre was not to be laid on his shoulders.
"I bent down, and everything was fine. I looked back up, and that blue thing was already out of the hole. Piso and Liganus were closest, and they were already dead. It just shot up out of there, and its hands were moving too fast to see. It took their heads off on its way by, like it was nothing.
"Then it was on us. I tried to get to my net, but it just came straight at me. I heard the others screaming as I went down. I guess I must have passed out for a while."
He grunted as one of Vonones' men tightened the sodden bandages that attempted to hold the man's middle together. "It just was too fast," Rebilus muttered peevishly, and he seemed to fall asleep.
Lycon sighed and straightened—none too steady himself after hours of slogging through a confusion of tunnels. This was worse than the scene on the grain barge. The lizard-ape had worked in haste, but in a span of only a few minutes it had killed or maimed more than twenty people here—many of them onlookers drawn by fatal curiosity to see what so many armed men were doing down in the sewers. No one here knew where the lizard-ape had gone after the slaughter.
Night had fallen.
"I told you the sauropithecus was clever," N'Sumu said. There almost seemed to be a note of gloating to his attitude.
"Damn thing doubled back, let us chase after these worthless dogs across half of Rome." Vonones sounded too worried to snap back at N'Sumu, and Lycon was too exhausted.
"We'll pick up its trail again from here," the hunter said wearily.
"And chase it down into the sewers again," gibed N'Sumu. He seemed to be deliberately baiting Lycon.
"You're in charge!" Lycon snarled, turning on the Egyptian. "You tell me what to do!" Perhaps he had held his bared blade a little too close to the strange priests throat, he thought afterward.
"I did warn you," N'Sumu smiled. "Lacerta! Your men! Here!"
The tribune had already stood scowling at the three men, trying to decide on a course of action that would not make him lose face again. The Imperial guard had seemed to materialize upon the scene of carnage an instant after the sauropithecus had disappeared.
N'Sumu pointed a long finger at the hunter's chest. "Arrest this man. I will not tolerate insubordination!"
Lycon lunged for the Egyptian, but the hulking German guards were already reaching for him. Something—a rock or a mailed fist—crashed against the back of Lycon's skull, and he pitched headlong onto the bloodied pavement. An instant later he was jerked back onto his feet, to dangle like an unstrung puppet between a pair of the giant Northmen.
"I've waited for this, Greek!" sneered Lacerta. The tribune stepped close to drive a fist into the beastcatcher's belly. "Tie him behind your horse!" the tribune shouted to the pair of men holding Lycon.
The Germans looked at one another, uncertain as to the precise intention of the order, but unwilling to become overly concerned about what some little Italian said—even an Italian with putative control over their lives. One guard shrugged; then both began to stride away toward the horse-holders beyond the circle of bodies.
"Wait a minute!" said Vonones, stepping toward the tribune swiftly enough that another of the guards pinioned him from behind. Caught like a cricket in a spiderweb, the Armenian continued to shout: "That's not going to help anything! Without Lycon, we'll never catch the lizard-ape! Master N'Sumu, please tell them we need Lycon!"
"Shall we take the merchant as well?" Lacerta asked pleasantly.
"Not just yet," said N'Sumu in fluting, silvery Greek. "This one may yet prove useful to me—now that he knows the penalty for insubordination. Do with the beastcatcher as you please."
Lacerta nodded, and the guards who had paused with Lycon between them now proceeded toward the horses again. "We'll take him to the Amphitheater," the tribune decided aloud. "The Greek won't be lonely there, because we'll soon find a nice cell for his family as well. They can all discuss what our lord and god is going to choose to do with them when he hears about this latest slaughter."
The breath caught in Vonones' throat. The German holding him spun the animal dealer around and pushed him, hard, in the opposite direction from the retreating guard troop. The crowd had thinned enough that Vonones had no one to grip to prevent him from falling over one of the corpses lying ten feet away.
Vonones staggered back to his feet, forcing down panic. He had to remain calm if he were to save himself, much less Lycon.
N'Sumu smiled at him like a hungry shark.