"Yes."
"Good! Report to me when you have finished."
CHAPTER XVIII
Death in a Bowl
Dyta, the sun, climbed his blue ladder and looked down at the city of Sephar in its mountain fastness. Behind those gray stone walls hummed an activity found there only five days in every twelve moons.
For today was the first of the Game days. Since early morning the streets leading to the great amphitheater were packed with an eager citizenry, pushing and jostling its way toward the arena's several entrances. Those first to arrive had their choice of seats; consequently many had huddled beneath heavy cloaks outside the barred gates during the dark hours, awaiting the moment when they might enter.
It was a colorful throng, every member light-hearted, gay and friendly. Men and women pushed and tugged at their neighbors—friend and stranger alike—to keep the milling mass moving. Most of them carried parcels of food, for the Games lasted each day until the hour of sunset. Whole family groups were numerous: father, mother, and the brood of children. Many of the latter were mere infants, watching the swarm of shifting humanity with wide wondering eyes.
Patrolling the avenues and directing the crowds at the gates were many priests in white tunics. This was to be their day, as well; for shortly before the Games got under way, elaborate rites, honoring the God, were to be held, in which every priest was to take part.
Truly, this was the day of days.