“Do those who direct the play ever actually take part in it?” asked Tara.

“Oh, yes,” said Lan-O.  “Often when two warriors, even of the highest class, hold a grievance against one another O-Tar compels them to settle it upon the arena.  Then it is that they take active part and with drawn swords direct their own players from the position of Chief.  They pick their own players, usually the best of their own warriors and slaves, if they be powerful men who possess such, or their friends may volunteer, or they may obtain prisoners from the pits.  These are games indeed—­the very best that are seen.  Often the great chiefs themselves are slain.”

“It is within this amphitheater that the justice of Manator is meted, then?” asked Tara.

“Very largely,” replied Lan-O.

“How, then, through such justice, could a prisoner win his liberty?” continued the girl from Helium.

“If a man, and he survived ten games his liberty would be his,” replied Lan-O.

“But none ever survives?” queried Tara.  “And if a woman?”

“No stranger within the gates of Manator ever has survived ten games,” replied the slave girl.  “They are permitted to offer themselves into perpetual slavery if they prefer that to fighting at jetan.  Of course they may be called upon, as any warrior, to take part in a game, but their chances then of surviving are increased, since they may never again have the chance of winning to liberty.”

“But a woman,” insisted Tara; “how may a woman win her freedom?”

Lan-O laughed.  “Very simply,” she cried, derisively.  “She has but to find a warrior who will fight through ten consecutive games for her and survive.”

“‘Just are the laws of Manator,’” quoted Tara, scornfully.

Then it was that they heard footsteps outside their cell and a moment later a key turned in the lock and the door opened.  A warrior faced them.

“Hast seen E-Med the dwar?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Tara, “he was here some time ago.”

The man glanced quickly about the bare chamber and then searchingly first at Tara of Helium and then at the slave girl, Lan-O.  The puzzled expression upon his face increased.  He scratched his head.  “It is strange,” he said.  “A score of men saw him ascend into this tower; and though there is but a single exit, and that well guarded, no man has seen him pass out.”

Tara of Helium hid a yawn with the back of a shapely hand.  “The Princess of Helium is hungry, fellow,” she drawled; “tell your master that she would eat.”

It was an hour later that food was brought, an officer and several warriors accompanying the bearer.  The former examined the room carefully, but there was no sign that aught amiss had occurred there.  The wound that had sent E-Med the dwar to his ancestors had not bled, fortunately for Tara of Helium.

“Woman,” cried the officer, turning upon Tara, “you were the last to see E-Med the dwar.  Answer me now and answer me truthfully.  Did you see him leave this room?”