Suddenly she stood at full height and stretched her arms upward, like someone just arising from a comfortable sleep. As she expected, the orc darted in and aimed a vicious slash at her exposed torso. She sidestepped left, taking the force of the blow without pausing, and rammed her suddenly lowered right arm into the orc's neck. She had shifted the knife blade in that instant to a side-hold, and it slashed his throat from side to side, catching edge-on in the neckbone. The orc fell, blood pouring over her arm as she tried to free the blade. Above her the silvery voices clamored for an instant and were still. Paks rolled the dead orc on his back, and levered the knife free. It had a notch, where the bone had chipped it. She crouched, looking up at the circle effaces, as she tried to catch her breath.

"Well enough," called the caped iynisi from above the spider's lair. "It might have been done with more artistry, but the final stroke was admirable. Continue to amuse us so, and you may yet survive. For your next trial, you may keep the knife you have earned. For now, stand against the wall—" he gestured to the wall behind her.

Already the entrance to the arena was filled with heavily armed iynisin. They fanned out around her and forced her back with their pikes. She could not have touched them with the knife, and did not resist. She watched as two of them dragged the orc's body across the the spider's web, and bowed as they placed it just beneath the lowest strands. With horrible quickness the vast bloated body came down and grasped the corpse, the huge abdomen bending around it so that Paks could see cords of silk from the spinnerets twisting around and around. Soon the orc was a neatly cased packet hanging in the web. Paks swallowed against a surge of nausea. So that's what would happen if she failed—she thrust that thought aside hurriedly. Holy Gird, she thought, just help me fight.

As the battle anger left her, she began to tremble. She was terribly thirsty; the orc-bite on her leg throbbed; the whip welts spread a cloak of pain about her. She wondered again how long she had been underground. Surely they knew she was gone—surely Amberion would come looking for her. Her vision blurred, and she leaned on the wall behind her. She had not noticed that the pike-bearing iynisin were gone until the caped one spoke again.

"I hope that is not weakness we see," came the silvery voice. "Surely such a champion does not think the trial is over after a trifling skirmish like that? No, no . . . we must see more of your far-famed skills. Even now your opponents approach; do not disappoint us."