RAIDERS OF GORVolume six of the

Chronicles of Counter-Earth

by John NormanPublished Dec, 1971, by

DelRey/BallantineCover art by Boris Vallejo

This ePub edition v1.0 byDead^Man Dec, 2010

Tarl Cabot was a warrior of Gor-the

world that earth could never see.Normally, he was a proud and mightywarrior. But now he was bound for PortKar. The only city with no home stone togive it a heart. It was a city of reavers,and looters... Of out casts with outallegiance. Merchants and Pirates stalkedit's quays beside the beautiful sea ofThassa.

Tarl Cabot was head for the sink hole ofthe planet, a teaming den of Iniquity. Andthat was no place for a honest warriorfrom far Ko-Ro-Ba.

But he was no longer Tarl Cabot, thewarrior. Now he was only bosk....Amiserable slave.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 The Blood MarkChapter 2 The Cries of Marsh

GantsChapter 3 Ho-HakChapter 4 The HutChapter 5 FestivalChapter 6 SlaversChapter 7 I Will HuntChapter 8 What Occurred in the

MarshesChapter 9 Port KarChapter 10 The Council of

CaptainsChapter 11 The Crest of Sleen

HairChapter 12 I Fish in the CanalChapter 13 How Bosk Came to

be PirateChapter 14 How Bosk Conducted

Business Upon ThassaChapter 15 How Bosk Returned

in Triumph to Port KarChapter 16 What Occurred One

Night in Port KarChapter 17 How Bosk Conducted

the Affairs of Port Kar Upon ThassaChapter 18 How Bosk Returned

to His Home

Chapter 1The Blood MarkI could smell the sea, gleaming

Thassa, in the myths said to be

without a farther shore.I reached down from the rush

craft and took a palm of water intomy hand and touched my tongue toit. Thassa could not be far beyond.

I took the triangular-bladed tem-wood paddle and moved the smallcraft, light and narrow, largeenough scarcely for one man, ahead.I was formed of pliant, tubular,lengthy Vosk rushes, bound withmarch vine.

To my right, some two or threefeet under the water, I saw thesudden, rolling yellowish flash ofthe slatted belly of a watertharlarion, turning as it made its

swift strike, probably a Vosk carpor marsh turtle. Immediatelyfollowing I saw the water seem toglitter for a moment, a rain ofyellowish streaks beneath thesurface, in the wake of watertharlarion, doubtless its swarm ofscavengers, tiny water tharlarion,about six inches long, little morethan teeth and tail.

A brightly plumaged bird sprangfrom the rushes to my left,screaming and beating its suddenway into the blue sky. In a momentit had darted again downward to belost in the rushes, the waving sporestalks, the seed pods of various

growths of the Gorean tidalmarshes. Only one creature in themarshes dares to outline itselfagainst the sky, the predatory UI, thewinged tharlarion.

It was difficult to see more than afew feet ahead: sometimes I couldsee no further than the lifted prowof my small craft, as it nosed itsway among the ruses and thefrequent rence plants.

It was the fourth day of the sixthpassage hand, shortly before theAutumnal Equinox, which in thecommon Gorean calendar beginsthe moth of Se’Kara. In the calendarof Ko-ro-ba, which, like most

Gorean cities, marks years by itsAdministration of my father,Matthew Cabot. In the calendar ofAr, for those it might interest, it wasthe first year of the restoration ofMarlenus, Ubar of Ubars, but, moreusefully for the purposes ofconsolidating the normal chaos ofGorean chronology, it was the year10,119 Contasta Ar, that is, fromthe founding of Ar.

My weapons shared the boat,with a gourd of water and a tin ofbread and dried bosk meat. I hadthe Gorean short sword in itsscabbard, my shield and helmet,and, wrapped in leather, a Gorean

long bow of supple Ka-la-na wood,from the yellow wine trees of Gor,tipped with notched bosk horn ateach end, loose strung with helpand whipped with silk, and a roll ofsheaf and flight arrows. The bow isnot commonly favored by Goreanwarriors, but all must respect it. Itis the height of a tall; its back, awayfrom the bowman, is flat; its belly,facing the bowman, is half-rounded;it is something lika an inch and ahalf wide and an inch and a quarterthick in the center; it hasconsiderable force and requiresconsiderable strength to draw; manymen, incidentally, even some

warriors, cannot draw the bowy;nine of the arrrows can be firedaloft before the first falls again tothe earth; at point-blank range it canbe fired completely through a four-inch beam; at two hundered yards itcan pin a man to a wall; at fourhundred yards it can kill the huge,shambling bosk; its rate of fire isnineteen arrows in a Gorean Ehn,about eighty Earth seconds; and askilled bowman, but not anextradordinary one, is expected tobe able to place these nineteenarrows in on Ehn into a target, thesize of a man, each a hit, at a rangeof some two hundred and fifty

yards. Yet, as a weapon, it hasserious disadvantages, and on Gorthe crossbow, inferior in accuracy,range and rate of fire, with its heavycable and its leaves of steel, tendsto be generally favored. The longbow cannot well be used except ina standing, or at least kne1eling,position, thus making more of atarget of the archer; the long bow isdifficult to use from a saddle; it isimpractical in close quarters, as indefensive warfare of in fightingfrom room to room; and it cannot bekept set, loaded like a firearm, ascan the crossbow; the crossbow isthe assassin’s weapon, par

excellence; further, it might bementioned that, although it takeslonger to set the crossbow, aweaker man, with, say, his beltclaw or his winding gear, cancertainly manage to do so;accordingly, for every man capableof drawing a warrior’s long bowthere will be an indefinite numberwho can use the crossbow; lastly, atshorter distances, the crossbowrequires much less skill foraccuracy than the long bow.

I smiled to myself.It is not difficult to see why,

popularly, the crossbow should beregarded as a generally more

efficient weapon that the long bow,in spite of being inferior to it, in thehands of an expert, in range,accuracy and rate of fire. Wellused, the long bow is a far moredevastating weapon than its rival,the crossbow; but few men had thestrenght and eye to use it well; Iprided myself on my skill with theweapon.

I paddled along, gently, kneelingon the rushes of my small, narrowcraft.

It is the weapon of a peasant, Iheard echoing in my mind, andagain smiled. The Older Tarl, myformer master-at-arms, had so

spoken to me years before in Ko-ro-ba, my city, the Towers of theMorning. I looked down at the long,heavy, leather-wrapped bow ofsupple Ka-la-na wood in the bottomof the rush craft.

I laughed.It was true that the long bow is a

weapon of peasants, who make anduse them, sometimes with greatefficiency. That face, in inself, thatthe long is a peasant weapon,would make many Goreans,particularly those ont familiar withthe bow, look down upon it. Goreanwarriors, generally drawn from thecities, are warriors by blood, by

caste; moreover, they are HighCaste; the peasants, isolate in theirnarrow fields and villages, are LowCaste; indeed, the Peasant isregarded, by those of the cities, asbeing little more than an ignoblebrute, ingnorant and superstitious,venal and vicious, a grubber in thedirt, a plodding animal, an ill-tempered beast, something at bestcunning and treacherous; and yet Iknew that in each dirt-floored coneof straw that served as the dwellingplace of a peasant and his family,there was, by the fire hole, a HomeStone; the peasants themselves,though regarded as the lowest caste

on all Gor by most Goreans, callthemselves proudly the ox on whichthe Home Stone rests, and I thinktheir saying is true.

Peasants, incidentally, areseldom, except in emergencies,utilized in the armed forces of acity; this is a futher reason whytheir weapon, the long bow, is lessknown in the cities, and amongwarriors, than it deserves to be.

The Gorean, to my mind, is often,though not always, bound byhistorical accidents and cultrualtraditions, which are then oftenrationalized into a semblance ofplausibility. For example, I had

even heard arguments ot the effectthat pleasants used the long bowonly because they lacked themanufacturing capablity to producecrossbows, as though they could nothave traded their goods or soldanimals ot obtain crossbows, if theywished. Further, the heavy, bronze-headed spear and the short, double-edged steel sword are traditionallyregarded as the worthy, and prime,weapons of the Gorean fightingman, he at least who is a truefighting man; and similarlytraditionally, archers, who slayfrom a distance, not coming to gripswith their enemy, with their almost

invisible, swiftly moving shafts ofwook, those mere splinters, areregarded as being rathercontemptible,1 almost on theperiphery of warriorhood; villainsin Gorean epics, incidentally, whennot of small and despised castes,are likely to be archers; I had heardwarriors say that they would ratherbe poisoned by a woman than slainby an arrow.

I myself, perhaps because I hadbeen raised not on Gor, but onEarth, did not, fortunately in myopinion, suffer from these inhibitingprepossessions; I could use the longbow with, so to speak, no tincture

of shame, no confusion ofconscience, without the least injuryto my self-esteem; I knew the longbow to be a magnificent weapon;accordingly, I made it my own.

I heard a bird some forth or fiftyyards to my right; it sounded like amarsh gant, a small, horned, web-footed aquatic fowl, brad-billedand broad-winged. Marsh girls, thedaughters of rence growers,sometimes hunt them with throwingsticks.

In some cities, Port Kar, forexample, the long bow is almostunknown. Similarly it is not widelyknown even in Glorious Ar, the

largest city of known Gor. It isreasonably well know in Thentis, inthe Mountains of Thentis, famed forher tarn flocks, and in Ko-ro-ba, mycity, the Towers of Morning. Citiesvary. But generally the bow is littleknown. Small straight bows, ofcourse, not the powerful long bow,are, on the other hand, reasonablycommon on Gor, and these are oftenused for hunting light game, such asthe brush-maned, three-toed Qualae,the yellow-pelted, sing-hornedTabuk, and runaway slaves.

I heard another bird, anothermarsh gant it seemed, some fiftyyards away, but this time to my left.

I was late in the afternoon, thefourteenth Gorean Ahn I wouldhave guessed. Some swarms ofinsects hung in the sedge here andthere but I had not been muchbothered: it was late in the year,and most of the Gorean insectslikely to make life miserable formen bred in, and frequented, areasin which bodies of unmoving, freshwather were plentiful. I did see alarge, harmless zarlit fly, purple,about two feet long with fourtranslucent wings, spanning about ayard, humming over the surface ofthe water then alighting and, on it’spadlike feet, daintily picking its

way across the surface. I flicked asalt leach from the side of my lightcraft with the corner of the tem-wood paddle.

On river barges, for hundreds ofpasangs, I had made my way downthe Vosk, but where the mightyVosk began to break apart andspread into its hundreds of shallow,constantly shifting channels,becoming lost in the vast tidalmarshes of its delta, moving towardgleaming Thassa, the Sea, I hadabandoned the barges, purchasingfrom rence growers on the easternperiphery of the delta supplies andthe small rush craft which I now

propelled through the rushes andsedge, the wild rence plants.

I noticed that one of these renceplants had, tied about it, below thetuft of stamens and narrow petals, awhite cloth, re-cloth.

I paddled over to look at thecloth. I looed about myself, and wasfor some time quiet, not moving.Then I moved past the plant, partingthe rence and passing throug.

I heard again the cry of the marshgant, from somewhere behind me.

No one had been found whowould guide me into the delta of theVosk. The bargemen of the Voskwill not take their wide, broad-

bottomed craft into the delta. Thechannels of the Vosk, to be sure,shift from season to season, and thedelta is often little more than atrackless marsh, literally hundredsof square pasangs of estuarialwilderness. In many places it is tooshallow to float even the great flat-bottomed barges and, moreinmportantly, a path for them wouldhave to be cut and chopped, foot byfoot, t1hrough the thickets of rushand sedge, and the tangles of marshvine. The most important reason fornot finding a guide, of course, evenamong the eastern rence growers, isthat the delta is claimed by Port

Kar, which lies within it, somehundred pasangs from itsnorthwestern edge, bordering on theshallow Tamber Gulf, beyond wichis gleaming Thassa, the Sea.

Port Kar, crowded, squalid,malignant, is sometimes referred toas the Tarn of the Sea. Her name isa synonym in Gorean for cruelty andpiracy. The fleets of tarn ships ofPort Kar are the scourge of Thassa,beautiful, lateen-rigged galleys thatply the trade of plunder andenslavement from the Ta-ThassaMountains of the southernhemisphere of Gor to the ice lakesof the North; and westward even

beyond the terraced island of Cosand the rocky Tyros, with itslabyrinths of vart caves.

I knew one in Port Kar, by nameSamos, a slaver, said to be an agentof Priest-Kings.

I was in the delta of the Vosk,and making my way to the city ofPort Kar, which alone of Goreancities commonly welcomesstrangers, though few but exiles,murderers, outlaws, thieves andcutthroats would care ot find theirway to her canaled darknesses.

I recalled Samos, slumped in hismarble chair at the Curulean in Ar,seemingly indolent, but indolent as

might be the satisfied beast of prey.About his left shoulder, in themanner of his city, he had worn theknotted ropes of Port Kar; hisgarment had been simple, dark andclosely woven; the hood had beenthrown back, revealing his broad,wide head, the close-cropped whitehair; the face had been red fromwindburn and salt; it had beenwrinkled and lined, cracked likeleather; in his ears there wha beentwo small golden rings; in him I hadsensed power, experience,intelligence, cruelty; I had felt inhim the presence of the carnivore,at that moment not inclined to hunt

or kill. I did not look forward tomeeting him. Yet it was said, bythose I trusted, that he has servedthe Priest-Kings well.

I was not particularly surprisedat finding a bit of rep-cloth tied onthe rence plant, for the delta isinhabited. Man has not surrenderedit entirely to the tharlarion, the UIand the salt leach. There arescattered, almost invisible, furtivecommunites of rence growers whoeke out their livelihood in the delta,nominally under the surzerainty ofPort Kar. The cloth I found hadprobably been a trail mark for somerence growers.

A kind of paper is made fromrence. The plant itself has a long,thick root, about four inches thick,which lies horizontally under thesurface of the water; small rootssink downward into the mud fromthis main root, and several “stems,”as many as a dozen, rise from it,often of the length of fifteen tosixteen feet from the root; it has anexcrescent, usually single floralspike.

The plant has many uses besidesserving as a raw product in themanufacture of rence paper. Theroot, which is woody and heavy, isused for certain wooden tools and

utensils, which can be carved fromit; also, when dried, it makes agood fuel; from the stem the rencegrowers can make reed boats, sails,mats, cords and the kind of fibrouscloth; further, its pith is edible, andfor the rence growers is, with fish,a staple in their diet; the pith isedible both raw and cooked; somemen, lost in the delta, not knowingthe pith edible, have died ofstarvation the the midst of whatwas, had they known it, an almostendless abundance of food. The pithis also used, upon occasion, as acaulking for boat seams, but towand pitch, covered with tar or

grease, are generally used.Rence paper is made by slicing

the stem into thin, narrow strips;those near the center of the plant areparticula1ryly favored; one layer ofstrips is placed longitudinally, andthen a shorter layer is placedlatitudinally across the first layer;these two surfaces are then soakedunder water, which releases agluelike substance from the fibers,melding the two surfaces into asingle, rectangular sheet; theseformed sheets are then hammeredand dried in the sun; roughness inremoved by polishing, usually witha smooth shell or a bit of kailiauk

horn; the side of a tharlarion toothmay also be used in this work/Thepaper is then attacked, sheet tosheet, to form rolls, usually abouttwenty sheets to a roll. The bestpaper is on the outside of the roll,always, not to practice deceit in thequality of the roll but rather to havethe most durable paper on theoutside, which will take the mostweathering, handling and genteralwear/Rence paper comes in variousgrades, about eight in all. The rencegrowers market their product eitherat the eastern or western end of thedelta. Sometimes rence merchants,on narrow marsh craft rowed by

slaves, enter some pasangs into thedelta to negotiate the transactions,usually from the western edge, thatbordering the Tamber Gulf. Rencepaper is, incidentally, not the onlytype of writing material used onGor. A milled linen paper is muchused, large quantities of which areproduced in Ar, and vellum andparchment, prepared in many cities,are also popular.

I now noted another bit of whitere-cloth tied on the rence stem,larger than the first. I assumed itwas another trail mark. I continuedon. The calls of marsh gants, a kindof piping whistle, seemed more

frequent now, and somewhat closer.I looked behind me, and to thesides. Yet, not surprisingly, becauseof the rence, the rushes and sedge, Icould not see the birds.

I had been in the delta now forsome sixteen days, drifting andpaddling toward the Thassa. I againtasted the water, and the salt of itwas even stronger than it had been.And the great, vast clean smell ofThassa was clear.

I rejoiced, moving ahead. Therewas not much water left in thegourd now, and it was the last ofseveral I had brought with me. Thedried bosk meat in the tin, and the

bread with it, yellow Sa-Tarnabread, now stale, was almost gone.

Then I stopped short, for tied to arence plant before me now was asheaf of red cloth.

I then knew that the two pieces ofcloth I had encountered earlier hadnot been simple trail marks butboundary signs, warnings. I hadcome into an area of the deltawehre I was not welcome, into aterritory that must be claimed bysome small community, doubless ofrence growers.

The rence growers, in spite of thevalue of their product, and the valueof the articles taken in exchange for

it, and teh protection of the marshes,and the rence and fish which givethem ample substenance, do nothave an easy life. Not only mustthey fear the march sharks and thecarnivorous eels which frequent thelower delta, not to mention thevarious species of aggressive watertharlarion and the winged,monstrous, hissing, predatory UI,but they must fear, perhaps most ofall, men, and of these, most of all,the men of Port Kar.

As I have mentioned, Port Karclaims the suzerainty of the delta.Accordingly, frequently, bands ofarmed men, maintaining allegiance

to on or the other of the warring,rival Ubars of Port Kar, enter thedelta to, as they say, collect tazes.The tributes exacted, when thesmall communities can be found,are customarily harsh, oftenwhatever of value can be found;typically what is demanded is greatstocks of rence paper for trade,sons for oarsmen in cargo galleys,daughters for Pleasure Slaves in thetaverns of the city.

I looked on the red cloth tied tothe rence plant. The cloth was thecolor of blood; I was in little doubtas to its meaning. I was not toproceed farther.

I moved the small, light craftthrough the rushes, past the sign. Imust make my way to Port Kar.

The cries of marsh gantsfollowed me.

Chapter 2The Cries of Marsh GantsI saw the girl ahead, through a

break in the rushes, some fifty yardsbeyond.

Almost at the same time shelooked up, startled.

She was standing on a small skiffof rence, not larger than my own

rush craft, about seven feet long andtwo feet wide, fastened together, asmine was, with marsh vine; it, likemine, had a slightly curved sternand prow.

In her hand was a curvedthrowing stick, used for huntingbirds. It is not a boomerang, whichwould be largely useless among thesedges and rushes, but it would, ofcourse, float, and might berecovered and used indefinitely.Some girls are quite skilled withthis light weapon. It stuns the bird,which is then gathered from thewater and tied, alive, in the craft.The birds are later, on the rence

islands, killed and cooked.I moved the rush craft toward

her, but not swiftly. Then, letting itdrift, I put the tem-wood paddleacross the craft, resting my hands onit, and watched her.

The cries of the marsh gants wereabout is now. I saw that her huntinghad been successful. There werefour of the birds tied in the stern ofher craft.

She looked upon me, but did notseem particularly frightened.

Her gaze was clear; she had adark blondish hair and blue eyes;her legs were a bit short, and herankles somewhat thick; her

shoulders were a bit wide perhaps,but lovely. She wore a brief,sleeveless garment of yellowish-brown rence cloth; it was wornwell away from both shoulders topermit her freedom of movement;the brief skirt had been hitched upabout her thighs that it might in noway bind her in her hunting. Herhair was tied behind her head witha strip of purple cloth, dyed re-cloth. I knew then she came of acommunity that had contact to somedegree, direct of indirect, withcivilized Goreans. Rep is a whitishfibrous matter found in the seedpods of a small, reddish, woody

bush, commercially grown inseveral areas, but particularlybelow Ar and above the equator;the cheap re-cloth is woven inmills, commonly, in various cities;it takes dyes well and, being cheapand strong, is popular, particularlyamong the lower castes. The girlwas doubtless the daughter of arence grower, hunting for gants. Isupposed the rence island, on whichsuch communites lived, might benearby. I also supposed it might beher community wich had placed thewarning markers.

She stood well in the light,slightly shifting skiff of rence,

moving almost imperceptibly,unconsciously, to maintain an easybalance. I myself found it difficultto stand in a rush craft.

She did not lift the throwing stickagainst me, nor did she attempt toflee, but simply stood looking atme, watching me. She had nopaddle, but, thrust it in the mud nearher, was a long pole which shewould use to propel her light craft.

“Do not be frightened,” I said toher.

She did not respond to me.“I will not hurt you,” I said.“Did you not see the warning

marks,” asked she, “the white

marks, and the blood mark?”“I mean you,” I said, “and your

people, no harm.” I smiled. “I wantonly as much of your marsh as thewidth of my craft,” I said, “and thatonly for as long as it takes to pass.”This was a paraphrase of a sayingcommon on Gor, given by passingstrangers to those through whoseterritories they would travel: Onlythe span of the wings of my tarn,only the girth of my tharlarion, onlythe width of my body, and no more,and that but for the time it takes topass.

In Gorean, incidentally, the wordfor stranger and enemy are the

same.“Are you of Port Kar?” she

asked.“No,” I said.“What is your city?” she

inquired.I wore no insignia on my

garments, nor on my helment orshield. The red of the warriorwhich I wore was now faded fromthe sun and stained with the saltmarsh.

“You are an outlaw,” shepronounced.

I did not reply.“Where are you bound?” she

asked

“Port Kar,” I said.“Take him!” she cried.Instantly there was a great cry

from all sides, and, breakingthrough the rushes and sedge,dozens of rence craft, bound withmarsh vine, thrust into view, eachpoled by one man, with another inthe prow, a two-or three-prongedmarsh peach uplifted.

It was pointless to unsheath mysword, or to take up a weapon.From the safety of the yards ofmarsh water separating me from myenemies I could have beenimmediately slain, lost in a thicketof the two-or three-pronged marsh

spears.The girl put her hands on her

hips, threw back her had andlaughed with pleasure.

My weapons were taken. Myclothing was removed. I wasthrown forward on my face in therush craft. I felt my wrists pulledbehind my back, and crossed; theywere instantly lashed together withmarsh vine; then my ankles werecrossed, and the, too, were lashedsecurely together with vine.

The girl stepped lightly onto mycraft and stood with one foot oneither side of my body. She washanded the pole with which she had

propelled her own craft, whichcraft was tied to another of therence craft of the men who hadcome from the rushes and sedge.With the pole she began to propelmy rush craft through the sedge, theseveral other craft accompanyingus, on one or the other side, orfollowing.

At one point the girl stopped thecraft, and the others did too. She,and one or two of the others, thenput back their heads and uttered akind of piping whistle, the call ofthe marsh gant. This answered fromvarious points about us, most ofwhich were several yards away.

Soon other rence craft, with theircurved prows and sterns, hadjoined us.

The rence growers, I hadlearned, communicate by means ofsuch signals, disguised as the criesof marsh gants.

Chapter 3Ho-HakThe rence islands, on which the

communites of rence growersdwell, are rather small, seldommore than two hundred and fiftyfeet. They are formed entirely from

the interwoven stems of the renceplants and1 float in the marsh. Theyare generally about eight to ninefeet thick and have an exposedsurface above the water of aboutthree feet; as the rence stems breakand rot away beneath the island,more layers are woven and placedon the surface. Thus, over a periodof months, a given layer of rence,after being the top layer, willgradually be submerged and forceddower and lower until it, at last, isthe deepest layer and, with itsadjacent layers, begins todeteriorate.

To prevent an unwanted

movement of the island, there aregenerally several tethers, of marshvine, to strong rence roots in thevicinity. It is dangerous ot neter thewater to make a tether fast becasueof the predators that frequent theswamp, but several men do so at atime, once man making fast thetether and the others, with himbeneath the surface, protecting himwith marsh spears, or pounding onmetal pieces or wooden rods todrive away, or at least to disconcertand confuse, too inquisitive,undesired visitors, such as thewater tharlarion or the long-bodied,nine-gilled marsh shark.

When one wishes to move theisland the tethers are simplychopped away, and the communitydivides itself into those who willhandle the long poles and those whowill move haead in rence craft,cutting and clearing the way. Mostof those who handle the polesgather on the edges of the island,but within the island there are fourdeep rectangular wells throughwhich the long poles may gainadditional leverage. These deepcenter wells, actually holes cut inthe island, permit its movement,though slowly when used alone,without exposing any of its

inhabitants at its edges, where theymight fall easier prey to the missileweapons of foes. In times ofemergency the inhabitants of theisland gather behind wickerlikebreastworks, woven of rence, in thearea of the center wells; in such anemergency the low-ceilinged rencehuts on the island will have beenknocked down to prevent an enemyfrom using them for cover, and allfood and water supplies, usuallybrought from the eastern deltawhere the water is fresh, will bestored within; the circularwickerlike breastworks then form,in the center of the island, a more or

less defensible stronghold,particularly against the marshspears of other growers, and such.Ironically, it is not of much useagainst an organized attack of wellarmed warriors, such as those ofPort Kar, and those against whom itmight be fairly adequate, otherrence growers, sledom attackcommunites like their own. I hadheard there had not been generalhostilities among rence growers formore than fifty years; theircommunities are normally isolatedfrom one another, and they haveenough to worry about contendingwith “tax collectors” from Port Kar,

without bothering to give muchattention to making life miserableform one another. Incidentally,when the island is to be movedunder siege conditions, divers leavethe island by means of the well and,in groups of two and three, attempto cut a path in the direction ofescape; such divers, of course,often fall prey to underwaterpredators and to the spears ofenemies, who thrust down at themfrom the surface. Sometimes anentire island is abandoned, thecommunity setting it afire and takingto the marsh in their marsh skiffs. Ata given point, when it is felt safe,

several of these skiffs will be tiedtogether, forming a platform onwhich rence may be woven, and anew island will be begun.

“So,” said Ho-Hak, regardingme, “you are on your way to PortKar?”

He sat upon a giant shell of theVosk sorp, as on a sort of throne,which, for these people, I gather itwas.

I knelt before him, naked andbound. Two ropes of marsh vine,besides my other bonds, had beenknottend about my neck, each in thehands of a man on either side of me.My ankles had been unbound only

long eno1ugh to push me stumblingfrom the rush craft, among theshouting women and men andchildren, to the throne of Ho-Hak.Then I had been forced to my knees,and my ankles had again beenlashed together.

âœes,âI said. âœt was myintention to go to Port Kar.â/p>

âœe are not fond of men of PortKar,âHo-Hak said.

There was a rusted, heavy ironcollar riveted about the neck of Ho-Hak, with a bit of chain danglingfrom it. I gathered that the rencegrowers did not have the tools toremove it. Ho-Hak might have worn

it for years. He was doubtless aslave, probably escaped from thegalleys of Port Kar, who had fled tothe marshes and been befriended byrence growers. Now, years later, hehad come to a position of authorityamong them.

✠am not of Port Kar,âI said.âœhat is your city?âasked he.I did not speak.âœhy do you go to Port

Kar?âasked Ho-Hak.Again I did not speak. My

identity, that I was Tarl Cabot, andmy mission, that I served the Priest-Kings of Gor, was not for others toknow. Coming from the Sardar, I

knew only that I was to travel toPort Kar and there make contactwith Samos, first slaver of PortKar, scourge of Thassa, said to betrusted of Priest-Kings.

âœou are an outlaw,âsaid Ho-Hak, as had the girl before him.

I shrugged.It was true that my shield, and my

clothes, now taken from me, boreno insignia.

Ho-Hak loked at the garb of thewarrior, the helmet and shield, thesword with its scabbard, and theleather-wrapped bow of supple Ka-la-na wood, with its roll of sheafand flight of arrows. These things

lay between us.Ho-Hakâ™ right ear twitched.

His ears were ususual, very large,and with extremely long lowerlobes, drawn lower still by small,heavy pendants set in them. He hadbeen a slave, doubtless, anddoubtless, judging by the collar, andthe large hands and broad back, hadserved on the galleys, but he hadbeen an unusual slave, a bredexotic, doubtless originallyintended by the slave maters for adestiny higher than that of the galleybench.

There are various types ofâœxoticsâbred by Gorean slavers,

all of whom are to be distinguishedfrom more normal varieties of bredslaves, such as a Passion Slavesand Draft Slaves. Exotics may bebred for almost any purpose, andsome of these purposes,unfortunately, seem to be little morethan to produce quaint or unusualspecimens. Ho-Hak may well havebeen one so bred.

âœou are an exotic,âI said tohim.

Ho-Hakâ™ ears leaned forwardtoward me, but he did not seemangry. He had brown hair, andbrown eyes; the hair, long, was tiedbehind his head with a string of

rence cloth. He wore a sleevelesstunic of rence cloth, like most of therence growers.

âœes,âsaid Ho-Hak. ✠wasbred for a collector.â/p>

✠see,âI said.✠broke his neck and

escaped,âsaid Ho-Hak. âœater Iwas recaptured and sent to thegalleys.â/p>

âœnd you again escpaped,âI said.âœn doing so,âsaid Ho-Hak,

looking at his large hands, heavyand powerful, ✠killed sixmen.â/p>

âœnd then you came to themarshes,âsaid I.

âœes,âhe said, ✠then came tothe marshes.â/p>

He regarded me, the ears leaningslightly toward me, âœnd I broughtto the marshes with me,âsaid he,âœhe memory of a dozen years onthe galleys, and a hatred for allthings of Port Kar.â/p>

There were various rencegrowers gathered about, the menwith their marsh spears. Almost atmy side stood the blondish girl Ihad first seen, she who had beenprimarily effectual in my capture,herself acting as the bait, the lure towhich I had been drawn. She stoodproudly beside me, straight, her

shoulders back, her chin high, asdoes a free woman beside amiserable slave, naked andkneeling. I was conscious of herthigh at my cheek. Over hershoulder were slung the four birdsshe had caught in the marches; theirnecks were now broken and theywere tied together, two in front andtwo over her back. There wereother women about as well, andhere and there, peering between theadults, I could see children.

âœe is either of Port Kar,âshesaid, shifting the gants on hershoulder, âœr he was intending tobe of Port Kar, for what other

reason would one go to PortKar.â/p>

For a long time Ho-Hak saidnothing. He had a broad head, witha heave, calm face.

I heard the squealing of adomestic tarsk running nearby, itsfeet scuttling in the woven rence ofthe island, as on a mat. A child wascrying out, chasing it.

I heard some domestic marshgants making their piping call. Thewandered freely on the island,leaving it to feed, then returninglater. Wild marsh gants, captured,even as young as gantlings, cannotbe domesticated; on the other had,

eggs, at the hatching point, gatheredfrom floating gant nests, aresometimes brought to the island; thehatchlings, interestingly, if notpermitted to see an adult gant forthe first week of their life, thenadopt the rence island as theirhome, and show no fear of humanbeings; they will come and go in thewild as they please, feeding andflying, but will always, andfrequently, return to the renceisland, their hatching place; if therence island, however, should bedestroyed, they revert entirely to thewild; in the domesticated state, itwill invariably permit themselves

to be picked up and handled.There were several reasonably

important looking individualsgathered about, and, as it turned out,these were headmen from variousother rence islands in the vicinity.A given rence island usually holdsabout fifty or sixty persons. Themen from several of these islandshad cooperated in my pursuit andcapture. Normally, as I may havementioned, these communities areisolated from one another, but itwas now near the AutumnalEquinox, and the month of Seâ™arawas shortly to begin. For rencegrowers, the first of Seâ™ara, the

date of the Autumnal Equinox, is atime of festival. By that time mostof the yearâ™ rence will have beencut, and great stocks of rence paper,gathered in rolls like cord woodand covered with woven rencemats, will have been prepared.

Between Seâ™ara and the wintersolstice, which occurs on the firstof Seâ™ar, the rence will be soldor bartered, sometimes by taking itto the edge of the delta, sometimesby being contacted by rencemerchants, who enter the delta innarrow barges, rowed by slaves, inorder to have first pick of theproduct.

The first of Seâ™ar is also adate of festival, it might bementioned, but this time the festivalis limited to individual, isolatedrence islands. With the yearâ™rence sold, the communities do notcare to lie too closely to oneanother; the primary reason is that,in doing so, they would present tooinviting a target for the “taxcollectors” of Port Kar. Indeed, Isurmised, there was risk enough,and great risk, coming together evenin Se’Kara. The unsold stores ofrence paper on the islands at thistime would, in themselves, be atreasure, though, to be sure, a bulky

one.But I felt there was something

strange going on, for there musthave been five or six headmen onthe island with Ho-Hak at this time.It is seldom, even in Se’Kara, thatso many rence islands would gatherfor festival. Usually it would betwo or three. At such times there isdrinking of rence beer, steeped,boiled and fremented from crushedseeds and the whitish pith of theplant; singing; games; contests andcourtship, for the young people ofthe rence islands too seldom meetthose of the other communities. Whyshould there be so many rence

islands in the same vicinity, eventhough it was near the first ofSe’Kara? Surely the capture of onetraveler in the delta did not warrantthis attention, and, of course, theislands must have been gatheredtogether even before I had enteredthe area.

“He is a spy,” said one of theother men present, who stoodbeside Ho-Hak. This man was tall,and strong looking. He carried amarsh spear. On his forehead therewas tied a headband formed of thepearls of the Vosk sorp.

I wondered what in particularthere might be to spy about on a

rence island.Ho-Hak still did not speak, but

sat on the shell of the Vosk sorp,looking down at the weapons, mine,before him.

I squirmed a bit in the marsh vinethat contained me.

“Do not move, Slave,” snappedthe girl, who stooo beside me.

Immediately the two loops ofmarsh vine knotted about my necktightened, each taunt, pulling againstthe other.

The girl’s hands were in my hairand she yanked my head back.

“He is of Port Kar,” she said, herhands in my hair, “or intended to be

of Port Kar!” She glared at Ho-Hak,as though demanding that he speak.

But Ho-Hak did not speak, nordid he seem particularly to noticethe girl.

Angrily she removed her handsfrom my hair, thrusting my head toone side.

Ho-Hak seemed intent onregarding the leather-wrapped bowof supple Ka-la-na wood.

The women of rence growers,when in their own marshes, do noveil themselves, as is commonamong Gorean women, particularlyof the cities. Moreover, they arequite capable of cutting rence,

preparing it, hunting for their ownfood and, on the whole, of existing,if they wish it, by themselves. Thereare few tasks of the rencecommunities which they cannotperform as well as men. Theirintelligence, and the work of theirhands, is needed by the smallcommunities. Accordingly theysuffer little inhibitiion in the mattersof speaking out and expressingthemselves.

Ho-Hak reached down andunwrapped the leather from theyellow bow of supple Ka-la-na.The roll of sheaf and flight arrowsspilled out to the woven mat that

was the surface of the rence island.There were gasps from two or

three of the men present. I gatheredthey had seen small straight bows,but that this was the first long bowthey had seen.

Ho-Hak stood up. The bow wastaller than several of the menpresent.

He handed the bow to theblondish girl, she with blue eyes,who had been instrumental in mycapture.

âœtring it,âsaid he to her.Angrily she threw the marsh

gants from her shoulder and took thebow.

She seized the bow in her lefthad and braced the bottom of itagainst the instep of her left foot,taking the hemp cord whipped insilk, the string, in her right hand. shestruggled.

At last, angrily, she thrust thebow back into the hands of Ho-Hak.

Ho-Hak looked dow at me, thelarge ears inclining toward melightly. âœhis is the peasant bow, isit not?âhe asked. âœalled the greatbow, the long bow?â/p>

âœt is,âI said.âœong ago,âsaid he, âœn a

village once, on the lower slopes ofthe Thentis range, about a campfire,

I heard sing of this bow.â/p>I said nothing.He handed the bow to the fellow

with the headband of pearls of theVosk sorp bound about hisforehead. âœtring it,âsaid Ho-hak.

The fellow handed his marshspear to a companion and turned tothe bow. He took it confidently.Then the look of confindencevanished. Then his face reddened,and then the veins stood out on hisforehead, and then he cried out indisgust, and then he threw the bowback at Ho-Hak.

Ho-Hak looked at it and then setit against the instep of his left foot,

taking the bow in his left hand andthe string in his right.

There was a cry of awe fromabout the circle as he strung thebow.

I admired him. He had strength,and much strength, for he had strungthe bow smoothly, strength it mightbe from the galleys, but strength,and superb strength.

âœell done,âsaid I to him.Then Ho-Hak took, from among

the arrows on the mat, the leatherbracer and fastened it about his leftforearm, that the arm not belacerated by the string, and took thesmall tab as well, putting the first

and second fingers on his right handthrough, that in drawing the stringthe flesh might not be cut to thebone. The he took, from theunwrapped roll of arrows, nowspilled on the elather, a flightarrow, and this, to my admiration,he fitted to the bow and drew it tothe very pile itself.

He held the arrow up, pointing itinto the sky, at an angle of somefifty degrees.

Then there came the clean, swift,singing flash of the bowstring andthe flight arrow was aloft.

There were cries from all, ofwonder and astonishment, for they

would not have believed such athing possible.

The arrow seemed lost, as thoughamong the clouds, and so far was itthat it seemed vanished in itsfalling.

The group was silent.Ho-Hak unstrung the bow. âœt is

with this,âhe said, âœhat peasantsdefend their holdings.â/p>

He looked from face to face. Thehe replaced the bow, putting it withits arrows, on the leather spreadupon the mat of woven rence thatwas the surface of the island.

Ho-Hak regarded me. âœre youskilled with this bow?âhe asked.

âœes,âI said.âœee that he does not

escape,âsaid Ho-Hak.I felt the prongs of two marsh

spears in my back. âœe will notescape,†said the girl, putting herfingers in the ropes that held mythroat. I could feel her knuckles inthe side of my neck. She shoot theropes. She irritated me. She actedas though it were she herself whohad taken me.

âœre you of the peasants?âaskedHo-Hak of me.

âœo,âI said. ✠am of theWarriors.â/p>

âœhis bow, though,âsaid one of

the men holding my neck ropes, âœsof the peasants.â/p>

✠am not of the Peasants,âIsaid.

Ho-Hak looked at the man whowore teh headband of pearls of theVosk sorp.

âœith such a bow,âhe said to thatman, âœe might live free in themarsh, free of Port Kar.â/p>

âœt is a weapon ofpeasants,âsaid the man with theheadband, he who had been unableto bend the bow.

âœo?âasked Ho-Hak.âœ,âsaid the man, âœm of the

Growers of Rence. I, for one, am

not a Peasant.â/p>âœor am I!âcried the girl.The others, too, cried their

assent.âœesides,âsaid another man, âœe

do not have metal for the heads ofarrows, nor arrowwood, and Ka-la-na does not grow in the marsh. Andwe do not have cords of strengthenough to draw such bows.â/p>

âœnd we do not haveleather,âadded another.

âœe could kill tharlarion,âsaidHo-Hak, âœnd obtain leather. Andperhaps the teeth of the marsh sharkmight be fashioned in such a way asto tip arrows.â/p>

âœhere is no Ka-la-na, no cord,no arrowwood,âsaid another.

âœe might trade for suchthings,âsaid Ho-Hak. âœhere arepeasants who live along the edgesof the delta, particularly to theeast.â/p>

The man with the headband, hewho had not been able to bend thebow, laughed. âœou, Ho-Hak,âsaidhe, âœere not born to rence.â/p>

âœo,âsaid Ho-Hak. âœhat istrue.â/p>

âœut we were,âsaid the man.âœe are Growers of the Rence.â/p>

There was a murmur of assent,grunts and shiftings in the group.

âœe are not Peasants,âsaid theman with the headband. âœe areGrowers of the Rence!â/p>

There was an angry cry ofconfirmation from the group,mutterings, shots of agreement.

Ho-Hak once again sat down onthe curved shell of the great Vosksorp, that shell that served him as athrone in this domain, an island ofrence in the delta of the Vosk.

âœhat is to be done with me?âIasked.

âœorture him forfestival,âsuggested the fellow withthe headband of pearls of the Vosksorp.

Ho-Hak ears lay flat against theside of his head. He looked evenlyat the fellow. âœe are not of PortKar,âsaid he.

The man with the headbandshrugged, looking about. He sawthat his suggestion had not met withmuch enthusiasm. This, naturally,did not displease me. He shruggedagain, and looked down at thewoven surface of the island.

âœo,âI asked, âœhat is to be myfate?â/p>

âœe did not ask you here,âsaidHo-Hak. âœe did not invite you tocross the line of the bloodmark.â/p>

âœeturn to me my belongings,âIsaid, âœnd I shall be on my wayand trouble you no longer.â/p>

Ho-hak smiled.The girl beside me laughed, and

so, too, did the man with theheadband, he who had not been ableto bend the bow. Several of theothers laughed as well.

âœf custom,âsaid Ho-Hak, âœegive those we capture who are ofPort Kar a choice.â/p>

âœhat is the choice?âI asked.âœou will be thrown bound to

the marsh tharlarion, ofcourse,âsaid Ho-Hak.

I paled.

âœhe choice,âsaid Hoâ™ak, âœssimple.âHe regarded me. âœitheryou will be thrown alive to themarch tharlarion or, if you wish, wewill kill you first.â/p>

I struggled wildly against themarsh vine, futilely. The rencegrowers, without emotion, watchedme. I fought the vine for perhaps afull Ehn. Then I stopped. The vinewas tight. I knew I had beenperfectly secured. I was theirs. Thegirl beside me laughed, as did theman with the headband, and certainof the others.

âœhere is never any trace of thebody,âsaid Ho-Hak.

I looked at him.âœever,âhe said.Again I struggled against the

vine, but again futilely.âœt seems to easy that he should

die so swiftly,âsaid the girl. âœe isof Port Kar, or would be of thatcity.â/p>

âœrue,âsaid the fellow with theheadband, he who had been unableto bend the bow. âœet us toture himfor festival.â/p>

âœo,âsaid the girl. She looked atme with fury. âœet us rather keephim as a miserable slave.â/p>

Ho-Hak looked up at her.âœs that not a sweeter

vengeance?âhissed she. âœhatrightless he should serve theGrowers of Rence as a beast ofburden?â/p>

âœet us rather throw him to thetharlarion,âsaid the man with theheadband of the pearls of the Vosksorp. âœhat way we shall be rid ofhim.â/p>

✠say,âsaid the blondis girl,âœet us rather shame him and PortKar as well. Let him be worked andbeaten by day and tethered by night.Each hour with labors, and whipsand thongs, let us show him ourhatred for Port Kar and those of thatcity!â/p>

âœow is it,âI asked the girl,âœhat you so hate those of PortKar?â/p>

âœilence, Slave!âshe cried andthrust her fingers into the ropesabout my neck, twisting her hand. Icould not swallow, nor breathe.The faces about me began toblacken. I fought to retainconsciousness.

Then she withdrew her hand.I gasped for breath, choking. I

threw up on the mat. There werecries of disgust, and derision. I feltthe prongs of marsh spears in myback.

✠say,âsaid he with the

headband, âœet it be the marshtharlarion.â/p>

âœo,âI said numbly. âœo.â/p>Ho-hak looked at me. He seemed

surprised.I, too, found myself stunned. It

had seemed the words had scarcelybeen mine.

“No, No,” i said again, the wordsagain seeming almost those ofanother.

I began to sweat, and I wasafraid.

Ho-Hak looked at me, curiously.His large ears leaned toward me,almost inquisitively.

I did not want to die.

I shook my head, clearing myeyes, fighting for breath, and lookedinto his eyes.

“You are of the warriors,” saidHo-Hak.

“Yes,” I said. “I know, yes.”I found I desperately wanted the

respect of this calm, strong man, hemost of all, be once a slave, whosat before me on the throne, that sellof the giant Vosk sorp.

“The teeth of the tharlarion,” saidhe, “are swift, Warrior.”

“I know,” I said.“If you wish,” said he, “we will

slay you first.”“I,” I said, “I do not want to die.”

I lowered my head, burning withshame. Im my eyes in that moment itseemed I had lost myself, that mycodes had been betrayed, Ko-ra-bamy city dishonored, even the lbade Ihad carried soiled. I could not lookHo-hak again in the eyes. In theireyes, and in mine, I could now benothing, only a slave.

“I had thought the better of you,”said Ho-Hak. “I had thought youwere of the warriors.”

I could not speak to him.“I see now,” said Ho-Hak, “you

are indeed of Port Kar.”I could not raises my head, so

shamed I was. It seemed I could

never lift my head again.“Do you beg to be a slave?”

asked Ho-hak. The question cruel,but fair.

I looked at Ho-Hak, tears in myeyes. I saw only contempt on thatbroad, calm face.

I lowered my head. “Yes,” I said.“I beg to be a slave.”

There was a great laugh fromthose gathered about, and, too, inthose peals of merriment I heard thelaugh of he who wore the headbandof the pearls of the Vosk sorp, andmost bitter to me of all, the laugh ofcontempt of the girl who stoodbeside me, her thigh at my cheek.

“Slave,” said Ho-Hak.“Yes,” said I, “— Master.” The

word came bitterly to me. But aGorean slave addresses all freemen as Master, all free women asMistress, though, of course,normally but one would own him.

There was further laughter.“Perhaps now,” said Ho-Hak,

“we shall throw you to thetharlarion.”

I put down my head.There was more laughter.To me, at that moment, it seemed

I cared not whether they chose tothrow me to the tharlarion or not. Itseemed to me that I had lost what

might be more precious than my lifeitself. How could I face myself, oranyone? I had chosen ignominiousbondage to the freedom ofhonorable death.

I was sick. I was shamed. It wastrue that they might now throw meto tharlarion. According to Goreancustom a slave is an animal, andmay be disposed of as an animal, inwhatever way th1e master mightwish, whenever he might please.But I was sick, and I was shamed,and I could not now, somehow,care. I had chosen ignominiousbondage to the freedom ofhonorable death.

“Is there anyone who wants thisslave?” I heard Ho-Hak asking.

“Give him to me, Ho-Hak,” Iheard. It was the clear, ringingvoice of the girl who stood beside

me.There was a great laughter, and

rich in that humiliating thunder wasthe snort of the fellow who worethe headband, that formed of thepearls of the Vosk sorp.

Strangely I felt small and nothingbeside the girl, only chattel. Howstraight she stood, each inch of herbody alive and splendid in hervigor and freedom. And howworthless and miserable was the

beast, the slave, that knelt, nakedand bound, at her feet.

“He is yours,” I heard Ho-Haksay.

I burned with shame.“Bring the past of rence!” cried

the girl. “Unbind his ankles. Takethese ropes from his neck.”

A woman left the group to bringsome rence paste, and two menremoved the marsh vine from myneck and ankles. My wrists werestill bound behind my back.

In a moment the woman hadreturned with a double handful ofwet rence paste. When fried, on flatstones it makes a kind of cake,

sprinkled with rence seeds.“Open you mouth, Slave,” said

the girl.I did so and, to the amusement of

those watching, she forced the wetpast into my mouth.

“Eat it,” she said. “Swallow it.”Painfully, almost retching, I did

so.“You have been fed my your

Mistress,” she said.“I have been fed by my

Mistress,” I said.“What is your name, Slave?”

asked she.“Tarl,” said I.She struck me savagely across

the mouth, flinging my head to oneside.

“A slave has no name,” she said.“I have no name,” I said.She walked about me. “Your

back is broad,” she said. “You arestrong, but stupid.” She laughed. “Ishall call you Bosk,” she said.

The Bosk is a large, horned,shambling ruminant of the Goreanplains. It is herded below theGorean equator by the WagonPeoples, but there are Bosk herdson ranches in the north as well, andpeasants often keep some of theanimals.

“I am Bosk,” I said.

There was laughter.“My Bosk!” she laughed.“I should have thought,” said he

with the headband, formed of thepearls of the Vosk sorp, “that youmight have preferred a man for aslave, one who is proud and doesnot fear death.”

The girl thrust her hands into myhair and threw back my head. Thenshe spat in my face. “Coward andslave!” she hissed.

I dropped my head. It was truewhat she had said. I had feareddeath. I had chosen slavery. I couldnot be a true man. I had lost myself.

“You are worthy only 1to be the

slave of a woman,” said Ho-Hak.“Do you know what I am going to

do with you?” asked the girl.“No,” I said.She laughed. “In two days,” she

said, “at festival, I will put you atstake as a prize for girls.”

There was laughter at this, andshouts of pleasure.

My shoulders and head fellforward and, bound, I shook withshame.

The girl turned. “Follow me,Slave,” said she, imperiously.

I struggled to my feet and, to thejeers of the rence growers, andblows, stumbled after the girl, she

who owned me, my mistress.

Chapter 4The HutIn the stem of the girl’s rence

craft, she poling the craft from thestern, I knelt, cutting rence. It waslate in the year to cut rence butsome quantities of the rence are cutduring the fall and winter andstored on covered rence rafts untilspring. These stores of rence arenot used for adding in the making ofrence paper, but in the weaving ofmats, for adding to the surface of

the island, and for the pith, used asa food.

“Cut there,” said the girl, movingthe rush craft into a thicket of rence.

One holds the stem of the plant inthe left hand and, with the right,with a small, curved, two-inch knifemakes a diagonal upward stroke.

We were towing a small renceraft and there was already muchrence upon it.

We had been cutting since beforedawn. It was now late in theafternoon.

I cut again, dropping the tufted,flowered head of the rence stem inthe water, and then I tossed the stem

onto the raft of rence, with the pilesof others.

I could sense the rence craftmove as teh girl shifted her weightin it, balancing it and maintaining itin position.

I cut more.She had not seen fit to give her

slave clothing.About my neck she had coiled

and tied a length of marsh vine.I knew her to be barefoot behind

me, in the brief-skirted tunic ofyellowish-brown rence cloth, cutaway at the shoulders to give herfreedom of movement. She wore agolden armlet. Her hair was bound

back with the bit of purple rep-cloth. She had, as the girls do inrence craft, tied her skirt high abouther thighs, for ease in moving andpoling. I was terribly conscious ofher. Her rather thick ankles seemedto me to be strong and lovely, andher legs sturdy and fine. Her hipswere sweet, her belly a rhythmmade for the touch of a man, and herbreasts, full and beautiful,magnificent, tormenting me, strainedagainst the brittle rence cloth of hertunic with an insolence of softness,as though, insistent, they wouldmake clear their contempt for anysubterfuge of concealment.

“Slave,” had cried the girl once,“do you dare to look upon yourmistress!”

I had turned away.I was hungry. In the morning,

before dawn, she had placed in mymouth a handful of rence paste. Atnoon, in the marshes, with the sunburning at meridian, she had takenanother handful of rence paste froma wallet worn at her waist andthrust it in my 1mouth, again notpermitting me the dignity of feedingmyself. Though it was now late inthe afternood and I was hungry Iwould not ask to be fed again fromthe wallet at her side.

I cut another rence stem, cutaway the tufted, flowered head, andthrew the stem onto the raft.

“Over there,” she said, movingthe rence craft to a new location.

She had made little attempt toconceal her beauty from me. Indeed,she used it to torment and shameme, using it, like blows and abuse,to increase my miseries.

This morning, before dawn, shehad affixed my collar.

I had spent the night in the open,a foot or two from her tiny hut onthe rence island, my wrists tied tomy ankles, my neck tethered to anoar pole thrust deep through the

rence of the island.Before dawn her foot awakened

me.“Awake, Slave,” she had said.Then, as casually as one might

untether an animal, fearing nothing,she unbound me.

“Follow me, Slave,” she hadsaid.

At the edge of the rence island,where her rence craft was drawn upon the shore, as well as severalothers, together with some rafts fortransporting cut rence, she stopped,and turned, and faced me. Shelooked up into my eyes.

“Kneel,” she had said.

I had done so, and she had drawnout a handful of rence paste fromthe wallet at her side, and she fedme.

“Stand,” she had said.I did so.“In the cities,” she asked, “they

have slave collars, do they not?”“Yes,” I said.Then she had taken a length of

marsh vine from a packet on herrence craft.

The, looking up into my eyes,smiling, close to me, her arms aboutmy neck, she insolently wound thevine five times about my neck, andknotted it in front.

“Now,” she said, “you have acollar.”

“Yes,” I said, “I have a collar.”“Say,” said she, her arms still

about my neck, “I am your collaredslave.”

My fists clenched. She stoodwithin my grasp, her arms on myneck, taunting me with her eyes.

“I am your collared slave,” Isaid.

“Mistress,” she taunted.“Mistress,” I said.She smiled. “I see,” said she,

tauntingly, “that you find mebeautiful.” It was true.

The she struck me suddenly, with

savagery. I cried out with pain.“Dare you aspire to me!” she

cried. “I am a free woman!” Thenshe hissed out, “Kiss my feet,Slave!”

In pain, on my knees, I did so, toher laughter.

“Put now the rence craft in thewater,” she said, “and attach to it araft for cut rence, Slave. We mustcut rence today, and be quick, bequick, My Slave!”

I cut another rence stem, loppingaway the tufted head, and throwingit onto the rence craft. And thenanother, and anoth1er.

The sun, though it was late

afternoon, was still hot, and it washumid in the delta of Vosk, and myhands ached, and were blistered.

“If you do not obey me in allthings, and swiftly,” had said thegirl, “I will have the men bind youand throw you to the tharlarion. Andthere is no escape in the marches.You will be hunted down by menwith marsh spears. You are myslave!”

“Over there,” said the girl. “Cutthere.”

She moved the craft to a newthicket of rence, and I obeyed.

It was true what she had said.Naked, without weapons, alone in

the delta, without aid, without food,I could not escape. It would not behard for the men of the renceislands, in their hundreds, to cut offescape, to find me, if the tharlariondid not manage to do so first.

But most I was miserable in myheart. H had had an image ofmyself, a proud image, and the lossof this image had crushed me. I hadlived a lie with myself and then, inmy own eyes, and in those of others,I had been found out. I had chosenignominious bondage to the freedomof honorable death. I now knew thesort of thing I was, and in myworthless heart it so sickened me

tha tI did not much care nowwhetehr I lived or died. I did noteven much care that I might spendthe rest of my life as an abjectslave, abused on a rence island, thesport of a girl or children, the buttof cruelty and jests of men. Such,doubtless, was deserved. Howcould I face free men again, when inmy own heart I could not even facemyself?

It was hot, and the coils of marshvine around my throat were hot.Beneath the coils my neck was red,and slippery with sweat and dirt. Iput my finger in the collar, to pull ita bit from my throat.

“Do not touch your collar,” shesaid.

I removed my hand from thecollar.

“There, cut there,” said she, andagain I cut rence for my mistress.

“It is hot,” she said.I turned.She had loosened the cord that

laced the tunic, refastening it moreloosely. In the narrow innuendo ofthe slightly parted tunic I sensed herperfection.

She laughed. “Cut rence, Slave.”Again I turned to my work.“You are pretty in your collar,”

she said.

I did not turn to face her. It wasthe sort of remark one wouldaddress to a slave girl, a simple,comely wench in bondage. Therence knife flashed through a stemand then I cut the tufted, floweredhead, it falling in the water, andthrew the stem on the rence craft,with the numerous others.

“If you remove your collar,” shesaid, “you will be destroyed.”

I said nothing.“Do you understand?” she asked.“Yes,” I said.“Mistress,” said she.“Yes,” I said, “I understand,

Mistress.”

“Good,” said she, “Pretty Slave.”The rence knife flashed through

another stem, and I cut away theflowered, tufted head, and threw thestem in the piles on the raft.

“Pretty Slave,” she repeated.I shook with fury. “Please,” said

I, “do not speak to me.”“I shall speak to you as I wish,”

said she, “Pretty Slave.”I trembled with fury, the rence

knife in my hand. I shook withhumiliation, with the degradation ofher scorn. I considered turning uponher and seizing her.

“Cut rence,” said she, “PrettySlave.”

I turned again to the rence,trembling with fury, with shame,and again, stem by stem, began tocut.

I heard her laughter behind me.Stem by steim, and pile by pile,

the time was marked in strokes ofrence.

The sun was low now and insectsmoved in the sedge. The waterglistened in the dusk, moving insmall bright circles about the stemsof rushes.

Neither of us had spoken for along time.

“May I speak?” I asked.“Yes,” she said.

“How is it,” I asked, “that somany of the rence islands are nowgathered together?” I had wonderedabut this.

“It is near the festival ofSe’Kara,” said she.

Indeed, I knew that tomorrowwas festival for the rence islands.

“But so many?” I asked. “Surelythat is unusual?”

“You are curious for a slave,”she said. “Curiosity is not alwaysbecoming in a slave.”

I said nothing.“Ho-Hak,” said she, “has called

the nearby islands to a council.”“How many are there?” I asked.

“Five,” said she, “in the generalarea. There are others, of course,elsewhere in the delta.”

“What is the purpose of thecouncil?” I asked.

She would feel free to speak tome. I was confined by the marsh,and only slave.

“He thinks to unite the rencegrowers,” said she, a certainamused skepticism in her voice.

“For purposes of trade?” I asked.“In a way,” she said. “It would

be useful to have similar standardsfor rence paper, to sometimesharvest in common, to sometimes,in times of need, share crops, and,

of course, to obtain a better pricefor our paper than we might if wemight if we bargained as isolatedislands with the rence merchants.”

“Those of Port Kar,” I said,“would doubtless not be pleased bysuch news.”

She laughed. “Doubtless not,”said she.

“Perhaps also,” I suggested, “inuniting the islands there might besome measure of protection gainedfrom the officials of Port Kar.”

“Officials?” she asked. “Ah yes,the collectors of the taxes, in thenames of various Ubars, who mayor may not have a current

ascendency in the city.”“And would there not be some

measure of protection against,” Iasked, “the simple slavers of PortKar?”

“Perhaps,” she said. She spokebitterly. “The difference betweenthe collector of the taxes and theslaver is 1sometimes less thanclear.”

“It would doubless be desirable,from the point of view of the renceislands,” I suggested, “if theyshould, in certain matters, act inunanimity.”

“We Rencers,” she said, “areindependent people. We each of us,

have our own island.”“You do not think,” I asked, “that

the plan of Ho-Hak will besuccessful?”

“No,” she said, “I do not think itwill be successful.”

She had now turned the stem ofthe craft toward the rence island,which lay some pasang or twothrough the swamp, and, as I cutrence here and there, began to polehomeward.

“May I speak?” I asked.“Yes,” she said.“You wear on your left arm,” I

said, “a golden armlet. How is itthat a girl of rence islands has such

an armlet?”“You may not speak,” she said,

irritably.I was silent.

“In there,” she said, indicatingthe small, round hole that gaveaccess to her tiny rence hut.

I was surprised. I had expectedher to bind me, as she had the nightbefore, then tethering me to the oarpole thrust through the rence behindthe hut.

We had returned her rence craftto the shore of the rence island,fastening it there, along with therence raft. I had carried the rence,

in many trips, to a covered area,where it was stored.

“In there,” she repeated.I fell to my hands and knees and,

lowering my head, crawled throughthe small hole, the edges of thewoven rence scratching at myshoulders.

She followed me into the hut. Itwas eight feet long and five feetwide. Its ceiling was continuouswith its wall, and in its curve, stoodnot more than four feet from therence surface of the island. Therence hut is commonly used forlittle else than sleeping. She strucktogether, over a copper bow, a bit

of steel and flint, the sparks fallinginto some dried petals of the rence.a small flame was kindled intowhich she thrust a bit of rence stem,like a match. The bit of stem tookthe fire and with it she lit a tinylamp, also sitting in a shallowcopper bowl, which burnedtharlarion oil. She set the lamp toone side.

Her few belongings were in thetiny hut. There was a bundle ofclothing and a small box for oddsand ends. There were two throwingsticks near the wall, where hersleeping mat, of woven rence, wasrolled. There was another bowl and

a cup or two, and two or threegourds. Some utensils were in thebowl, a wooden stirring stick and awooden ladle, both carved fromrence root. The rence knife, withwhich I had cut rence, she had leftin the packet in her rence craft.There were also, in one corner,some coils of marsh vine.

“Tomorrow is Festival,” shesaid.

She looked at me. I could see theside of her face and her hair, andthe outline of the left side of herbody in the light of the tiny lamp.

She put her hands behind theback of her head to untie the purple

fillet of re-cloth.We knelt facing one another, but

inches apart.“Touch me and you will die,” she

said. She laughed.She disengaged the fillet and

shook her 1hair free. It fell abouther shoulders.

“I am going to put you up at stakeat festival,” she said. “You will bea prize for girls--Pretty Slave.”

My fists clenched.“Turn,” she said, sharply.I did so, and she laughed.“Cross your wrists,” she

ordered.I did so, and with one of the coils

of marsh vine, she lashed my wriststogether, tightly, with the stronghands of a rence girl.

“There, Pretty Slave,” she said.And there she said, “Turn,” and Idid so, and faced her.

“My,” she said, “you are a pretty,pretty slave. It will be a lucky girlwho wins you at festival.”

I said nothing.“Is Pretty Slave hungry?” she

asked, solicitously.I would not respond.She laughed and reached into the

wallet at her side and drew forthtwo handsful of rence paste andthrust them in my mouth. She herself

nibbled on a rence cake, watchingme, and tehn on some dried fishwich she drew also from the wallet.Then she took a long draught ofwater from a yellow, curved gourd,and then, thrusting the neck of thegourd into my mouth, gave me aswallow, then drawing it awayagain and laughing, but then givingit to me again, that I might drink.When I had drunk, she put the plug,carved from gourd stem, back in thegourd, and replaced it in the corner.

“It is time for sleep,” she said.“Pretty Slave must sleep, fortomorrow he will have many thingsto do. He will be very busy.”

She indicated that I should lie onmy left side, facing her.

Then, with another coil of marshvine, she tied my ankles together.

She unrolled her sleeping mat.She looked at me, and laughed.Then, as I lay there, bound, she

unlaced her tunic, opening it. Herbeauty, and it was considerable,was now but ill concealed.

Again she looked on me, and, tomay amazement, insolently, with aliquid motion, slipped the tunic off,over head.

She sat of the mat and regardedme.

She had undressed herself before

me as casually as though I had beenan animal.

“I see,” said she, “that you mustagain be punished.”

Involuntarily, instinctively, Itried to withdraw but, bound, Icould not.

She struck me with savagery,four times.

Inwardly I screamed with agony.Then, sitting on the mat,

forgetting me, she turned to therepair of a small sack, woven ofrence, which had hung in the cornerof the hut. She used thin strips ofrence, breaking them and bitingthem, weaving them in and out. She

worked carefully, attentively.I had been a warrior of Ko-ro-

ba.Then on an island of rence in the

delta of the Vosk I had learnedmyself, that I was, in the core ofmyself, ignoble and craven,worthless and fearing, only coward.

I had been a warrior of Ko-ro-ba.

Now I was only1 a girl’s slave.“May I speak?” I asked.“Yes,” she said, not looking up.“Mistress has not honored me,”

said I, “even by telling me hername. May I not know the name ofmy mistress?”

“Telima,” she said, finishing thework in which she had beenengaged. SHen hung the sack againin the corner, putting the scraps andstrips of rence left over from herwork at the foot of her sleeping mat.Then, kneeling on the mat, she bentto the small lamp in its copper bowlon the flooring of the hut. Beforeshe blew it out she said, “My nameis Telima. The name of yourmistress is Telima.” Then she blewit out.

We lay in the darkness for a longtime.

Then I heard her roll over to me.I could sense her lying near me, on

her elbows, looking down a me.Her hair brushed me.Then I cried out, involuntarily.“I wil not hurt Pretty Slave,” she

said.“Please,” said I, “do not speak so

to me.”“Be silent,” said she, “Pretty

Slave.”Then she touched me again.“Ah,” said she, “it seems a slave

finds his mistress beautiful.”“Yes,” I said.“Ah,” chided she, “it seems a

slave has not yet learned hislesson.”

“Please,” I said, “do not strike

me again.”“Perhaps,” said she, “a slave

should again be punished.”“Please,” I said, “do not strike

me again.”“Do you find me truely

beautiful?” she asked. She had onefinger inside my collar of marshvine, idly playing with the side ofmy neck.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes.”“Know you not,” asked she, with

sudden insolence and coldness,“that I am a free woman?”

I said nothing.“Dare you aspire to a free

woman?” she demanded.

“No,” I said.“Dare you aspire to your

mistress, Slave!” she demanded.“No,” I said, “No!”“Why not?” she demanded.“I am a slave,” I said. “Only a

slave.”“That is true,” she said. “You are

only a slave.”Then, suddenly, holding my head

in her hands, she pressed her lipssavagely down on mine.

I tried to twist my head away, butcould not.

Then she drew back her head,and, in the darkness I could senseher, and her lips, but an inch from

my own.Beams and timbers of misery and

wanting clashed within me. It wasshe who had fastened coils ofmarch vine about my neck, andknotted them, putting me in the thecollar of a slave. It was she whohad placed her arms about my neckat dawn, on the shore of the renceisland. It was she who had beatenme. It was she whom I must obey,she for whom I had cut rence, shewho had fed me as o1ne feeds ananimal. It was she who had lastnight, and this night, bound me as aslave. It was she who had torturedme with her beauty, tormenting and

tantalizing me, with a cruelty all thekeener for its being so offhand andcasual. I found myself fearing her,and desperately wanting her, thoughknowing her immerasurably aboveme. I feared that she might hurt me,in was true, but the hurts I fearedmost were those of her insolenceand contempt, those that moredegraded me than bonds and blows.And I wanted her, for she wasbeautiful, and vital, maddening,ravishing. But she was free, and Iwas only slave. She could move asshe wished. I lay bound.

I wore besides my bonds only acollar of marsh vine. She wore her

swiftness, and her freedom, and anarmlet of gold.

But most perhaps, incredible as itmight seem, I feared that if I askedfor a kindness, even a word or agesture, it would be refused. Aloneand slave, beaten and degraded, Ifound myself desperately in need ofsomething, be in almost nothing, toindicate that I was a man, a humanbeing, something that might, to someextent or degree, be worthy ofrespect or understanding. I thik thatif she, this proud woman, beforewhom I felt myself nothing, she mymistress, if she had but cared tospeak a word of simple kindness to

me I might have cried out withgladness, willingly serving her inall things she asked. But if I shouldbut beg a kindness, humbly, I fearedit might be refused, that she mightreject me in this as she had in otherthings, my manhood and myhumanity. And fused with this,excruciating in the pain of it, wasmy desire for her, the crying out ofmy blood that she so, anddeliberately, aroused.

In the darkness I sensed her, andher lips, but an inch from my own.

She had not deigned to move.To my horror, timidly, fearing

and hesitant, I felt my lips lift then

to those of my beautiful mistress,and, i the darkness, touch them.

“Slave,” said she, with contempt.I put my head back to the woven

rence that formed the floor of thehut.

“Yes,” I said, “I am a slave.”“Whose?” she queried.“Telima’s,” I said.“I am your slave,” I said.She laughed. “Tomorrow,” she

said, “I will put you up at stake, tobe a prize for girls.”

I said nothing.“Say I am pleased,” she said.“Please!” I said.“Say it,” she said.

“I am pleased,” I said.“Say now,” said she, “I am a

pretty slave.”My wrists and ankles fought the

marsh vine.She laughed. “Do not stuggle,”

she said. “Also,” she added, “thereis not point. Telima ties well.”

It was true.“Say it,” said she.“I cannot,” I begged.“Say it,” said she.“I--I am a pretty slave,” I said.I threw back my head and cried

out with misery.I heard her soft laugh. In the

darkness I could see the outline1 of

her head, could feel her hair on myshoulder. Her lips, still, were butan inch from mine.

“I will now teach you the fate ofa pretty slave,” she said.

Suddenly, her hands in my hair,she thrust her lips savagely downon mine and, to my horror, my lipsmet hers, but could not withstandthem and I felt her head forcingmine down and I felt her feeth cutinto my lips and I tastes blood, myown, in my mouth, and then,insolently, her tongue thrust into mymouth, possessively, forcing mine,as it would, from its path, and then,after some Ehn, withdrawing her

tongue, she bit me, as I cried out inpain, diagonally across the mouthand lips, that, on the morrow, whenI stood at stake in festival, themarks of my mistress’s teeth,evidence of her conquest of me,would be visible in my body.

I was shattered.I had been given the kiss of the

Mistress to the male slave.“You will move as I direct,” she

said.In the darkness, shattered, bound,

mouth swollen, I heard her inhorror.

Then she mounted me, and usedme for her pleasure.

Chapter 5Festival“I think I shall win you,” said a

lithe, dark-haired girl, holding mychin and pushing up my head, thatshe might better see my face. Shewas dark-eyed, and slender, andvital. Her legs were marvelous,accentuated by the incredibly brieftunic of the rence girl.

“I shall win him,” said anothergirl, a tall, blond girl, gray-eyed,who carried a coil of marsh vine inher right hand.

Another girl, dark-haired,carrying a folded net over her leftshoulder, said, “No, he will bemine.”

“No, mine!” said yet another.“Mine!” cried yet another, and

another.They gathered about me,

examining me, walking about me,regarding me as one might ananimal, or slave.

“Teeth,” said the first girl, thelithe, dark-haired girl.

I opened my mouth that she mightexamine my teeth. Others looked aswell.

Then she felt of my muscles, and

thighs, and slapped my side two orthree times.

“Sturdy,” said one of the girls.“But much used,” said another.She laughed, with others. They

referred to my mouth. On the rightside it was black, and cut, andswollen. Diagonally it wore themarks of the teeth of Telima.

“Yes,” said the first girl,laughing, “much used.”

“But good for all that!” laughedanother.

“Yes,” said the first girl, “goodfor all that.” She stepped back andregarded me. “Yes,” she said to theothers, “all things considered, this

is a good slave, a quite goodslave.”

They laughed.Then the lithe girl stepped close

to me.I stood with an oar pole at my

back, bound to it for theirinspection. The pole, thrust deep inthe rence of the island, stood in aclearing near the shore of the1island. My wrists were boundbehind the pole with marsh vine.My ankles were also fastened to thepole. Two other coils of marsh vinebound my stomach and neck to thepole. On my head my Mistress,Telima, had placed a woven

garland of rence flowers.The lithe, dark-haired girl,

standing close to me, traced apattern on my left shoulder, idly. Itwas the first letter of the Goreanexpression for slave.

She looked up at me. “Would youlike to be my slave?” she asked.“Would you like to serve me?”

I said nothing.“I might even be kind to you,”

said the girl.I looked away.She laughed.Then the other girls, too, came

close to me, each to taunt me, withwhether or not I would not rather

serve them.“Clear away there,” called a

man’s voice. It was Ho-Hak.“It is time for contests,” called

another voice, which I recognizedas that of Telima, my mistress. Shewore the golden armlet, and thepurple fillet tying back her hair. Shewore the brief tunic of the rencegirl. She was exceedingly wellpleased with herself today, and wasstunning in her beauty. She walked,head back, as though she might ownthe earth. In her had she carried athrowing stick.

“Come, come away,” said Ho-Hak, gesturing for the girls to go

down to the shore of the renceisland.

I wanted Ho-Hak to look at me,to meet my eyes. I respected him, Iwanted him to look upon me, toseign to recognize that I might exist.

But he did not look upon me, nornotice me in any way, and,followed by Telima, and the othergirls, made his way to the shore ofthe rence island.

I was left alone, tied at the pole.

I had been aroused at dawn byTelima, and unbound, that I mighthelp in the preparations for festival.

In the early morning the other

rence islands, four of them, whichhad been tethered close by, werepoled to the one on which I waskept, and now, joined by flat rencerafts, acting as bridges, they hadbeen tied to one another, nowforming, for most practicalpurposes, a large single island.

I had been used in the fasteningof the bridges, and in the drawingup and tying of rence craft on theshore, as other rencers, from distantislands, arrived for festival. I hadalso been used to carry heavykettled of rence beer from thevarious islands to the place offeasting, as well as strings of water

gourds, poles of fish, plucked gants,slaughtered tarks, and baskets of thepith of rence.

Then, about the eighth Goreanhour, Telima had ordered me to thepole, where she bound me andplaced on my head the garland ofrence flowers.

I had stood at the pole the longmorning, subject to the examination,the stares, and the blows and abuseof those who passed by.

Around the tenth Gorean hour, theGorean noon, the rencers ate smallrence cakes, dotted with seeds,drank water, and nibbled on scrapsof fish. The great feast would be in

the evening.Around this time a small boy had

come to stare at me, a half-eatenrence cake in his hand.

“Are you hungry?” he had asked.“Yes,” I had told him.He had held the rence cake up to

me and I bit at it, eating it.“Thank you,” I had said to him.But he had just stood there,

staring up at me. Then his motherran to him and struck him across theside of the head, scolding him,dragging him away.

The morning was spent variouslyby the rencers. The men had sat incouncil with Ho-Hak, and tehre had

been much discussion, muchargument, even shouting. Thewomen who had men were busiedwith the preparation of the feast.The younger men and womanformed opposite lines, shouting andjeering at one another delightedly.And sometimes one or the otherboy, or girl, would rush to theopposite line to strike at someone,laughing, and run back to the otherline. Objects were thrown at theopposite line, as well as jocoseabuse. The smaller children playedtogether, the boys playing gameswith small nets and reed marshspears, the girls with rence dolls, or

some of the older ones sportingwith throwing sticks, competingagainst one another.

After the council had broken upone of the men who had been seatedthere came to regard me. It was hewho wore the headband of thepearls of Vosk sorp about hisforehead, who had been unable otbend the bow.

Strangely, to my mind, he carriedover his left shoulder a large,white, silken scarf.

He did not speak to me, but helaughed, and passed on. I lookedaway, burning with shame.

It was now about the twelfth

Gorean hour, well past noon.I had been examined earlier by

the girls who would compete forme.

Ho-Hak, with Telima, hadsummoned them away for thecontests.

Most of these took place in themarsh. From where I was bound,over the low rence huts andbetween them, I could seesomething of what went on. Therewas much laughter and shouting,and cheering and crying out. Therewere races, poling rence craft, andskill contests maneuvering the smalllight craft, and contests with net and

throwing stick. It was indeedfestival.

At last, after an Ahn or so, thegroup, the girls, the men watching,the judges, turned their severalrence craft toward the island,beaching them and fastening themon the woven-mat shore.

Then, the entire group came tomy pole, with the exception of Ho-Hak, who went rather to speak withsome men carving rence root andtalking, on the other side of theisland.

The girls, perhaps more thanforty or fifty of them, stood aboutme, laughing, looking from one to

the other, giggling.I looked at them, with agony.“You have been won,” said

Telima.The girls looked at one another,

saying nothing, but laughing andpoking one another.

I pulled at the marsh vine,helpless.

“Who has won you?” askedTelima.

The girls giggled.Then the lithe, dark-haired girl,

slender-legged and provocative,stepped quite close to me.

“Perhaps,” she whispered, “youare my slave.”

“Am I your slave?”“Perhaps you are mine,”

whispered the tall, blond girl, gray-eyed, in my ear. She pressed a coilof marsh vine against my left arm.

“Whose slave am I?” I cried.The girls gathered about, each

one to touch me, to caress me asmight a mistress, to whisper in myear that it might be she to whom Ibelonged, she whom I must nowserve as slave.

“Whose slave am I?” I cried, inagony.

“You will find out,” said Telima,“at the feast, then, at the height offestival.”

The girls laughed, and the menbehind them.

I stood numb at the pole, whileTelima unbound me. “Do notremove the garland of renceflowers,” said she.

Then I stood free at the pole,save that I wore teh collar of marshvine she had fastened on my neck,and a garland of rence floweres.

“What am I to do?” I asked.“Go help the women prepare the

feast,” said she.All laughed as I turned away.“Wait!” called she.I stopped.“At feast,” she said, “you will, of

course, serve us.” she laughed.“And since you do not know whichof us is your mistress, you willserve each, every one of us, asslave. And you will serve well. Ifshe who is your mistress is not wellsatisfied, doubtless you will beseverely punished.”

There was much laughter.“Now go,” said she, “and help

the women with the food.”I turned to face the girl. “Who,” I

begged, “is my mistress?”“You will find out at feast,” she

said angrily, “at the height offestival! Now go and help thewomen to prepare the feast--

Slave!”I turned away, and, as they

laughed, went to help the women intheir work, preparing food forfestival.

It was now late on the night offestival, and most of the feast hadbeen consumed.

Torches, oiled coils of marshvine wound about the prongs ofmarsh spears, thrust butt down inthe rence of the island, burned in themarsh night.

The men sat cross-legged in theouter circles, and, in the innercircles, in the fashion of Goreanwomen, the women knelt. There

were children about the peripheryof the circles but many of themwere already asleep on the rence.There had beeen much talking andsinging. I gathered it was seldomthe rencers, save for those on agiven island, met one another.Festival was important to them.

Before the feast I had helped thewomen, cleaning the fish anddressing marsh gants, and then,later, turning spits for the roastedtarsks, roasted over rence-root fireskept on metal pans, elevated aboutthe rence of the island by metalracks, themselves resting on largerpans.

During most of the feast I havebeen used in the serving,particularly the serving of the girlswho had competed for me, one ofwhom had won me, which one I didnot know.

I had carried about bowls of cut,fried fish, and wooden trays ofroasted tarsk meat, and roastedgants, threaded on sticks, and rencecakes and porridges, and gourdflagons, many times replenished, ofrence beer.

Then, the rencers clapping theirhands and singing, Telimaapproached me.

“To the pole,” she said.

I had seen the pole. It was notunlike the one to which I had beenbound earlier in the day. There wasa circular clearing amidst thefeasters, of some forty feet indiameter, about which their circlesformed. The pole, barkless, narrow,upright, thrust deep in the rence ofthe island, stood at the very centerof the clearing, surrounded by thecircles of feasting rencers.

I went to the pole, and stood byit.

She took my hands and, withmarsh vine, lashed them behind it.Then, as she had in the morning, shefastened my ankles to the pole, and

then, again as she had in themorning, she bound me to it as wellby the stomach and neck. Then,throwing away the garland of renceflowers I had worn, she replaced itwith fresh garland.

While she was doing this therencers were clapping their handsin time and singing.

She stood back, laughing.I saw, in the crowd, Ho-Hak,

clapping his hands and singing, andthe others, and he who had worn theheadband formed of the pearls ofthe Vosk sorp, who had been unableto bend the bow.

Then, suddenly, the crowd

stopped clapping and singing.There was silence.Then there came a drumming

sound, growing louder and louder, aman pounding on a hollowed drumof rence root with two sticks, andthen, as suddenly as the singing andclapping, the drum, too, stopped.

And then to my astonishment therence girls, squealing and laughing,some protesting and being pushedand shoved, rose to their feet andentered the clearing in the circle.

The young men shouted withpleasure.

One or two of the girls, giggling,tried to slip away, fleeing, but

young men, laughing, caught them,and hurled them into the clearing ofthe circle.

The the rence girls, vital, eyesshining, breathing deeply, barefoot,bare-armed, many with beads wornfor festival, and hammered copperbracelets and armlets, stood allwithin a circle.

The young men shouted andclapped their hands.

I saw that more than one fellow,handsome, strongfaced, could nottake his eyes from Telima.

She was, I noted, the only girl inthe circle who wore an armlet ofgold.

She paid the young men, if shenoticed them, no attention.

The rence communities tend to beisolated. Young people seldom seeone another, saving those from thesame tiny community. I rememberthe two lines, one of young men, theother of girls, jeering and laughing,and crying out at one another in themorning.

Then the man with the drum ofhollow rence root began to drum,and one fellow had bits of metal,strung in a circular wire, andanother a notched stick, played byscraping it with a flat spoon ofrence root.

It was Telima who began first topound the woven rence mat that wasthe surface of the island with herright heel, lifting her hands, armsbent, over her head, her eyesclosed.

Then the other girls, too, began tojoin her, and at last even the shiestamong them moved pounding, andstamping and turning about thecircle. The dances of rence girlsare, as far as I know, unique onGor. There is some savagery inthem, but, too, they have sometimes,perhaps paradoxically, statelyaspects, stylized aspects,movements reminiscent of casting

nets or poling, of weaving rence orhunting gants. But, as I watched, andthe young men shouted, the dancersbecame less stylized, and becamemore universal ot woman, whethershe be a drunken housewife in asuburb of a city of Earth or ajeweled slave in Port Kar, dancesthat spoke of them as women whowant me, and will have them. Tomy astonishment, as the dancescontinued, even the shiest of therence girls, those who had to havebeen forced to the circle, even thosewho had tried to flee, began towrithe in ecstasy, their hands liftedto the three moons of Gor.

It is often lonely on the renceislands, and festival comes but oncea year.

The bantering of the youngpeople in the morning, and thedisplay of the girls in the evening,for in effect in the movments of thedance every woman is nude, haveboth, I expect, institutional roles toplay in the life of the rencegrowers, significant rolesanalogous to the roles of dating,display and courtship in the morecivilized environments of my nativeworld, Earth.

It marks the end of a childhoodwhen a girl is first sent to the circle.

Suddenly, before me, hands overher head, swaying to the music, Isaw the dark-haired, lithe girl, shewas such marvelous, slender legs inthe brief rence skirt; her ankleswere so close together that theymight have been chained; and thenshe put her wrists together back toback over her head, palms out, andthough she wore slave bracelets.

Then she said, “Slave,” and spitin my face, whirling away.

I wondered if it might be she whowas my mistress.

Then another girl, the tall, blondgirl, she who had held the coil ofmarsh vine, stood before me,

moving with excruciating slowness,as though the music could bereflected only from moment tomoment, in her breathing, in thebeating of the heart.

“Perhaps it is I,” she said, “whoam your mistress.”

She, like the other, spit then inmy face and turned away, nowmoving fully, enveloped in themusic’s flame.

One after another of the girls sodanced before me, and about me,taunting me, laughing at theirpower, then spitting upon me andturning away.

The rencers laughed and shouted,

clapping, chering the girls on in thedance.

But most of the time I wasignored, as much as the pole towhich I was bound.

Mostly these girls, saving for amoment or two to humiliate me,danced their beauty for the youngmen of the cicles, that they might bedesired, that they might be muchsought.

After a time I saw one girl leavethe circles, her head back, hairflowing down her back, breathingdeeply, and scarcely was shethrough the circles of rencers, but ayoung man followed her, joining her

some yards beyond the circle. Theystood facing one another in thedarkness for an Ehn or two, andthen I saw him, gently, she notprotesting, drop his net over her,and then, by this net, she notprotesting, he led heraway/Together they disappeared inthe darkness, going over one of theraft bridges to another island, onefar from the firelight, the crowd, thenoise, the dance.

Then, after some Ehn I sawanother girl leave the circile of thedance, and she, too, was joinedbeyond the firelight by a young manand she, too, felt a net dropped over

her, and she, too, was led away, hiswilling prize, to secrecy of his hut.

The dance grew more frenzied.The girls whirled and writhed,

and the crowd clapped and shouted,and the music grew ever more wild,barbaric and fantastic.

And suddenly Telima dancedbefore me.

I cried out, so startled was I byher beauty.

It seemed to me that she was themost beautiful woman I had everseen, and before me, only slave, shedanced her insolence and scorn.Her hands were over her hand and,as she danced, she smiled,

regarding me. She cut me with herbeauty more painfully, morecruelly, than might have the knivesof a torturer. It was her scorn, hercontempt for me she danced. In meshe aroused aginies of desire but inher eyes I read that I was but theobject of her amusement andcontempt.

And then she unbound me.“Go to the hut,” she said.I stood there at the pole.Torrents of barbaric music swept

about us, and there was the clappingand the shouting, and the turning,and the twisting and swirling of therence girls, the passion of the dance

burning in their bodies.“Yes,” she said. “I own you.”She spat up in my face.“Go to the hut,” she said.I stumbled from the pole, making

my way through the buffeting circleof dancers, through the laughingcircles of rencers, shouting andclapping their hands, and made myway to Telima’s hut.

I stood outside in the darkness.I wiped her spittle from my face.Then, falling to my hands and

knees, lowering my head, I crawedinto the hut.

I sat there in the darkness, myhead in my hands.

Outside I could hear the music,the cries and clapping, the shouts ofthe rence girls dancing under themoons of Gor.

I sat for a long time in thedarkness.

Then Telima entered, as one whoowns the hut, as though I was notthere.

“Light the lamp,” she said to me.I did so, fumbling in the

darkness, striking together the flintand steel, sparks falling into thesmall bowl of dried petals of therences. In this tiny flame I thrust abit of rence stem, from a bundle ofsuch, and, with it, lit the tiny

tharlarion-oil lamp set in its copperbowl. I put the bit of rence stemback, as I had seen Telima do, inthe small bowl of petals, where,with the flaming petals, it was soonextinguished. The tharlarion-oillamp, now lit, flickering,illuminated the interiour of the hutwith a yellowish light.

She was eating a rence cake. Hermouth was half full. She looked atme. “I shall not bind you tonight,”she said.

Holding half the rence cake inher mouth she unrolled her sleepingmat and then, as she had the nightbefore, she unlaced her tunic and

slipped it off over her head. Shethrew it to a corner of the hut, onher left, near her feet. She sat on thesleeping mat and finished the rencecake. Then she wiped her mouthwith her arm, and slapped her handstogether, freeing them of crumbs.

Then she unbound her hair,shaking it free.

Then she reclined on the mat,facing me, resting on her rightelbow. Her left knee was raised.She looked at me.

“Serve my pleasure,” she said.“No,” I said.Startled, she looked at me.Just then, from outside, there was

the wild, high, terrifed scream of agirl, and suddenly the musicstopped. Then I heard shouts, criesof fear, confusion, the clash ofarms.

“Slavers!” I heard cry.“Slavers!”

Chapter 6SlaversI was out of the hut.My response had been

instantaneous, that of the trainedwarrior, startling me.

The girl was but a moment

behind me.I saw torches in the night, moving

at the periphery of the island.A child ran past me. The circle

of the dance was empty. Thebarkless pole stood alone. Awoman was screaming among therefus of the feast. The marsh torchesburned as quietly as they had. Therewere shouts. I heard the clank ofarms, overlapping shields. Twomen, rencers, ran past us. I heardwhat might have been a marsh spearsplinger against metal. One man, arencer, staggered backwarddrunkenly toward us. Then hewheeled and I saw, protruding from

his chest, the fins of a crossbowbolt. He fell almost at our feet, hisfingers clutching the fins, his kneesdrawn to his chin. Somewhere aninfant was crying

In the light of the moving torches,beyond them, toward the marsh, Isaw, dark, the high, curved prowsof narrow marsh barges, of the sortrowed by slaves.

Telima threw her hands beforeher face, her eyes wild, and uttereda terrifying scream of fear.

My had caught her right wrist andlocked on it, like the manacle of aslave. I dragged her stumbling,screaming, toward the opposite side

of the island, the darkness.But we found rencers running

toward us, men, and women, andchildren, their hands outstretched,stumbling, falling. We heard theshouts of men behind them, saw themovement of spears.

We ran with them toward yetanother part of the island.

Then, from the darkness beforeus, we heard a trumpet, and westopped, confused. Suddenly therefell among us a rain of crossbowbolts. There were screams. A manto the left of us cried out and fell.

We turned and ran again,stumbling in the torchlit darkness,

across the woven mat of rence thatwas the surface of the island.

Behind us we heard trumpets,and the beating of spears on shields,the shouts of men.

The before us a womanscreamed, stopping, pointing.

“They have nets!” she cried.We were being driven toward the

nets.I stopped, holding Telima to me.

We were buffeted by the bodies ofrunning rencers, plunging towardthe nets.

“Stop!” I cried. “Stop! There arenets! Nets!” But most of those withus, heedless, fleeing the trumpets

and beating of spears on shields,ran wildly toward the nets, whichsuddenly emerged before them, heldby slaves. These were not the smallcapture nets but wall nets, to blocka path of escape. Between theirinterstices, here and there, spearsthrust, forcing back those whowould tear at them1. Then the long,wide net, held by slaves, began toadvance.

I heard then from another side ofthe island as well the terrifying cry,“Nets, nets!”

Then, as we milled and ran, hereand there among us were men ofPort Kar, warriors, some with

helmet and shield, sword and spear,others with club and knife, otherswith whips, some with captureloops, some with capture nets, allwith binding fiber. Among them ranslaves, carrying torches, that theymight see to their work.

I saw the rencer who had wornthe headband of the pearls of theVosk sorp, who had been uable tobend the bow. He now had thelarge, white, silken scarft tied overhis left shoulder and across hisbody, fastened at his right hip. Withhim there stood a tall, beardedhelmeted warrior of Port Kar, thegolden slash of the officer across

the temples of his helmet. Therencer was pointing here and there,and shouting to the men of Port Kar,crying out orders to them. The tall,bearded officer, sword drawn,stood silently near him.

“It is Henrak!” cried Telima. “Itis Henrak.”

It was the first I had heard thename of the man of the headband.

In Henrak’s hand there wasclutched a wallet, perhaps of gold.

A man fell near us, his neck cuthalf through by the thrust of a spear.

My arm about Telima’s shoulderI moved her away, losing ourslevesamong the shouting rencers, the

running men and women.Some of the men of the rencers,

with their small shields or rencewicker, fought, but their marshspears were not match for the stellswords and war spears of Gor.When they offered resistance theywere cut down. Most, panic-stricken, knowing themselves nomathc for trained warriors, fled likeanimals, crying out in fear beforethe hunters of Port Kar.

I saw a girl stumbling, beingdragged by the hair toward one ofthe narrow barges. Her wristshwere bound behind her back. Shehad been the girl who, this morning,

had carried a net over her leftshoulder, one of those who hadtaunted me at the pole, one of thosewho had, at festival, danced hercontempt of me. She had alreadybeen stripped.

I moved back further in therunning, buffeting bodies, nowagain dragging Telima by the wrist.She was screaming, running andstumbling beside me.

I saw the nets on the two sides ofthe island had now advanced, thespears between their meshesherding terrified rencers beforethem.

Again we ran back toward the

center of the island.I heard a girl screaming. It was

the tall, gray-eyed blond girl, whomI remembered from the morning,who had carried a coil of marshvine, holding it against my arm, shewho had danced, with excruciatingslowness, before me at festival,who had, like the others, shown hercontempt of me with her spittle.

She struggled, snared in twoleather capture loops, held bywarriors, tight about her waist.Another warrior approached herfrom behind, with a whip, and withfour fierce strokes had cut the rencetunic from her body and she knelt on

the rence matting that was thesurface of the island, crying out inpain, begging to be bound. I saw herthrown forward on her stomach, onewarrior binding her wrists behindher back, another crossing andbinding her ankles.

A girl bumped into us,screaming. It was the lithe, dark-haired girl, the slender girl, whohad been so marvelously legged inthe brief rence tunic. Irememb1ered her well from thepole, and the dance. It was she whohad danced before me with herankles so close together that theymight have been chained, who had

put her wrists together back to backover her head, palms out, as thoughshe might have worn slavebracelets, and who had then said,“Slave,” and spat in my face, thenwhirling away. After Telima I hadfound her the most insolent, anddesirable, of my tormentors. Sheturned about wildly, screaming, andfled into the darkness. The rencetunic had been half torn from herright shoulder.

My arm about Telima I cast aboutfor some means of escape.

Everywhere about us there wereshouting men, screaming women,running, crying children, and

everywhere, it seemed, the men ofPort Kar, and their slaves, holdingtorches aloft, burning like the eyesof predators in the marsh night. Aboy ran past. It was he who hadgiven me a piece of rence cake inthe morning, when I had been boundat the pole, who had been punishedby his mohter for so doing.

I heard cries and shouts and,dragging Telima by the hand, rantoward them.

There, under the light of themarsh torches, I saw Ho-Hak,crying with rage, shouting, with asoar pole laying about himselfwildly. More than one warrior of

Port Kar lay sprawled on thematting about him, his head brokenor his chest crushed. Now, justoutside the circle of his swingingpole, tehre must have been ten orfifteen warriors of Port Kar, thereswords drawn, the light of themarsh torches reflecting from them,surrounding him, fencing him inwith their weapons. He could nothave been more inclosed had hefound himself in the jaws of thelong-bodied, nine-gilled marshshark.

“A fighter!” cried one of the menof Port Kar.

Ho-Hak, sweating, breathing

deeply, wildly, his great ears flatagainst the sides of his head, theiron, riveted collar of the galleyslave, with its broken, danglingchain, about his neck, clutching hisoar pole, stood with his legsplanted widely apart on the rence,at bay.

“Tharlarion!” he shouted at themen of Port Kar.

They laughed at him.Then two capture nets, circular,

strongly woven, weighted, droppedover him.

I saw warriors of Port Karrushing forward, clubbing himsenseless with the pommels of their

swords, the butts of their spears.Telima screamed and I pulled her

away.We ran again through the torches

and the men.We came to an edge of the island.

In the marsh, some yards away,rence craft were burning on thewater. There were none on theshore of the island. We saw onerencer screaming in the water,caught in the jaws of a marshtharlarion.

“There are two!” I heard cry.We turned and saw some four

warriors, armed with nets andspears, running toward us.

We fled back toward the light,the torches, the center of the island,the scraming women and men.

Near the oar pole to which I hadbeen bound, some yards from whathad been the circle of the dance, anumber of rencers, stripped, menand women, lay bound hand andfoot. They would later be carried,or forced to walk, to the barges.From time to time a warrior wouldadd further booty to this catch,dragging or throwing his capturerudely among the others. Theserencers were guarded by twowarriors with drawn swords. Ascribe stood by with a tally sheet,

marking the number of 1captures byeach warrior. Among these I sawthe tall, gray-eyed girl, weeping andpulling at her bonds. She looked atme. “Help,” she cried. “Help me!”

I turned away with Telima.“I don’t want to be a slave. I

don’t want to be a slave!” shecried.

I moved my head aside as atorch, in the hands of a slave of thewarriors of Port Kar, flashed by.

We were jostled by a bleedingrencer stumbling past.

We heard a girl scream.Then I saw, under the light of the

torches, fleet as the Tabuk, running,

the dark-haired, lithe girl, she whowas so marvelously legged in thebrief rence tunic. A warrior of PortKar leapt after her. I saw the swirlof the circular, closely woven,weighted capture net and saw herfall, snared. She screamed, rollingand fighting the mesh. Then thewarrior threw her to her stomach,swiftly binding her wrists togetherbehind her back, then binding herankles. With a slave knife he cut therence tunic from her and threw her,still partly tangled in the net, overhis shoulder, and carried hertoward one of the dark, high-prowed barges in hte shadows at

the edge of the island. He wouldtake no chances of the loss of such aprize.

I expected that the girl might soonagain dance, and perhaps again withankles in delicious proximity andwrists lifted again together back toback above her head, palms out. Butthis time I expected that her ankleswould not be as though chained, herwrists as though braceleted; ratherwould they be truely chained andbraceleted; she would wear thelinked ankle rings, the three-linkedslave bracelets of a Gorean master;and I did not think she would thenconclude her dance by spitting upon

him and whirling away. Rathermight she almost die with terrorhoping that he would find herpleasing.

“There!” cried Henrak, with thewhite scarf tied about his body,pointing toward us. “Get the girl! Iwant her!”

Telima looked at him withhorror, shaking her head.

A warrior leapt toward us.We were buffeted apart by some

five or six rencers. Telima,buffeted, turned and began to runtoward the darkness. I stumbled andfell, and regained my feet. I lookedwildly about. I had lost her. Then

something, probably a club or thebutt of a spear, struck the side of myhead and I fell to the matting ofrence that was the island surface. Irose to my hands and knees, andshook my head. There was blood onits side. A warrior of Port Kar, inthe light of a torch held by a slave,was binding a girl near me. It wasnot Telima. More men rean past.Then a child. Then another warriorof Port Kar, followed by his slavewith the torch. A man to my rightwas suddenly caught in a capturenet, crying out, and two warriorswere on him, pounding him,beginning to bind him.

I ran in the direction Telima hadtaken.

I heard a scream.Suddenly in the darkness before

me there reared up a warrior ofPort Kar. He struck down at mewith the double-edged sword. Hadhe known I was a warrior he mightnot have used his blade improperly.I caught his wrist, breaking it. Hehowled in pain. I seized up hissword. Another man thrust at mewith a spear. I took it in my lefthand and jerked him forward, at thesame time moving my blade in aswift, easy arc, transversely andslightly upward, towards him. It

passed through his throat, returningme to the on-guard position. He fellto the matting, his helmet rolling,lost in his own blood. It is anelementary stroke, one1 if the firsttaught a warrior.

The slave who held his torchlooked at me, and stepped backaway.

Suddenly I was aware of a net inthe air. I crouched slashing upwardin a wide circle and caught it beforeit could fall about me. I heard a mancurse. Then he was running on me,knife high. My blade had partiallycut the net but was tangled in it. Icaught his wrist with my left hand

and, with the right, thrust my blade,tangled in the net, through his body.A spear flashed towards me buttangled in the net in which mysword had been enmeshed. Iimmediately abandoned theweapon. Before the man who hadthrust with the spear had his swordhalf from its sheath I was on him. Ibroke his neck.

I turned and again ran toward thedarkness, toward which I had seenTelima run, from whence I hadheard a girl’s scream.

“Free me!” I heard.In the darkness I found a girl,

stripped, bound hand and foot.

“Free me!” she cried. “Free me!”I lifted her to a sitting position. It

was not Telima. I threw herweeping back to the rence.

Then, some twenty yards to myleft, and ahead of me, I saw a singletorch.

I ran toward it.It was Telima!She had been thrown to her

stomach. Already, with a bindingfiber, her wrists had been tiedtightly behind her. A warrior nowcrouched at her ankles. With a fewswift motions he fastened themtogether.

I seized him and spun him about,

breaking in his face with a blow.Spitting teeth, his face a mask ofblood, he tried to draw his sword. Ilifted him over my head and threwhim screaming into the jaws of thetharlarion churning the marsh at theedge of the island. They had feastedmuch that night, and would more.

The slave who had carried historch ran back toward the light,crying out.

Telima had turned on her sideand was watching me. “I don’t wantto be a slave,” she wept.

In a moment warriors would beupon us.

I picked her up in my arms.

“I don’t want to be a slave,” shesaid. “I don’t want to be a slave!”

“Be silent,” I told her.I looked about. For the instant we

were alone. Then the night began toburn to my left. One of the renceislands, tied in the group, had begunto burn.

I cast madly about, looking forsome possibility of escape.

On one side there was the marsh,with its marsh sharks and itstharlarion.

Here and there, on the water,apart from the flaming rence island,I could see the flat, black keels ofrence craft, which had earlier been

cast off and burned to the water, toprevent them from being used forescape.

On the other side there were thelights and torches, the cries of men,the slavers of Port Kar.

In the distance I could see, acrossone of the bridges formed of raftsfor transporting rence, one of thoseI had helped to place earlier thatvery morning, stripped rencers, menand women, being herded by spearstoward our island. Their wrists hadbeen bound behind their backs andropes had been tied about theirnecks.

Then I saw another island take

fire, one far to the right.I heard shouts from the area of

torches and confusion. Warriorswere coming.

The rafts, the bridges, I thought,the rafts!

Carrying Telima in my arms Isped about the periphery of therence island, meeting no one. Thearea had been cleared earlier by thesweep of the great nets, carried byslaves. There were no rencers thereand, doubtless because of that, noneof Port Kar, though I did see manytorches going to the place on theisland where we had shortly stood;then the torches there divided, half

going left, half coming to the right,our direction.

Somewhere I heard the voice ofHenrak crying out. “Get the girl! Iwant the girl!”

I came to one of the raft bridges Ihad helped to fasten in place thatmorning, shortly after dawn. Iplaced Telima in the center of theraft. Then I began to tear loose therence-rope fastenings, fixed tostakes thrust through the rence.

The torches were movingtowards us, coming from the right,around the periphery of the island.

There were eight fastenings, fouron a side. I had torn loose six when

I heard the shout, “Stop!”The nearby island was now

burning ever more rapidly andwildly in the night and soon theentire area would be illuminated.

It was only one man who hadcalled out, a guard perhaps, onepatrolling this supposedly clearedarea.

His spear fell near me, droppingthrough the rence of the raft. The hewas running forward, sword at theready. It was his own spear that methim. It passed well through hisbody.

I turned madly about. No oneelse, it seemed, had yet seen us.

My leg slipped from the islandinto the water and suddenly a tinytharlarion struck it, seizing his bit offlesh and backing, tail whipping,away. My leg was out of the water,but now the water seemed yelowwith hte flashing bodies of tinytharlarion, and beyond them, I heardthe hoarse grunting of the greatmarsh tharlarion, some of whichgrow to be more than thirty fieet inlength, weighin gmore than half ahundred men. Beyond them wouldbe the almost eel-like, long-bodied,nine-gilled Gorean marsh sharks.

I jerked loose the last twofastenings, and tore rence from the

edge of the island, heaping it on theraft, covering Telima.

The torches were nearer now.I heaped more rence on the craft

and then, with one foot, thrust offfrom the islands between which theraft had been fastened. I slippedbeneath the rence on the raft, next tothe girl. I put my hand over hermouth, tightly, that she might beunable to cry out. She struggledslightly, pulling against the bondsthat constrained her. I saw her eyeslooking at me, frightened, over myhand.

The torches passed.Unnoticed, the raft, with it’s

heaped rence, drifted away frombetween the islands.

Chapter 7I Will HuntLost among the rushes and sedge,

out in the darkness of the marsh,some hundred yards from the renceislands, two of which were burning,Telima, bound, and I, a garland ofrence flowers bloodied in my hair,watched the movement of torch1es,listened to the shouts of men, thescreams of women, the cries ofchildren.

The men of Port Kar had set fireto the two islands, beginning at thefarther edges, to drive any whomight be concealed on them,perhaps having cut burrowns ino therence or hiding in the cneter oarwells, across the bridges towardthe central island, on which hadbeen the pole of the dance,Telima’s hut. Those who had soconcealed themselves must thenchoose between the fire, the marsh,and the nets of slavers. We sawseveral running across the bridges,crying out, being whipped towardthe torches by those of Port Kar.Then the tetherings on the two

burning islands were cut away withswords and they floated away, free,afire into the marsh.

Later, about an Ahn before dawn,the two other rence islands, tetheredto the central island, were similarlyset afire, their fugitives, too, beingdriven to the nets and binding fiberof the men of Port Kar. Then thesetwo islands, too were cut free andfloated burning into the marsh.

By the time that dawn’s grayknife had touched the waters of themarsh the work of the men of PortKar was mostly done.

Their slaves, their torchesextinguished, were loading the

narrow, high-prowed barges,treading long, narrow planksextending from the barges to thematting of the island. Some of themcarried rolls of rence paper, tiedtogether by marsh vine, others thehuman booty of the raid. I gatheredthat much rence paper had beentaken from the four islands, beforethey had been set afire. Surely therewas more being loaded than couldhave been on the central islandalone. The rence paper was loadedforward, carefully, in stacks, likecorded wood, that it not bedamaged. The slaves, like fish,were thrown between the rowers

benches, and aft, forward of thetiller deck, three or four deep.There were six ships. One beautifulgirl was tied to the prow of eachship that, in returning to Port Kar,others might see that the raid hadbeen successful. I was not surprisedto see that it was the dark-haired,lithe girl, who had been somarvelously legged in the briefrence tunic, that was bound to theprow of the flagship of that smallbarge fleet. I supposed that hadTelima been taken, that place mighthave been hers. At the prows of thesecond and third ships I saw twoothers of my tormentors, the blond,

gray-eyed girl, who had carriedmarsh vine, and the shorter, dark-haired girl, who had carried a netover her left shoulder.

As the barges, loading, sanddeeper in the water, I looked onTelima. She sat beside me, bound,my arm about her shoulders. Shestared at the distant barges. Hereyes seemed vacant, empty. Shewas mine now.

On the island now, in its center,near the pole, there stood, packedtogether, a miserable crowd ofprisoners. The two wall nets, tiedtogether and passed twice aroundthe group, pressed in on them,

holding them together, standing.Many of them had their fingers inthe meshes, staring outward.Guards, with spears, stood aboutthe net, occasionally jabbing hereand there, keeping the prisonersquiet. Within the net there weremen, and women and children.Some guards, with crossbows,stood off a bit. Near the net I sawHenrak, still with the white scarftied across his body, still clutchingthe heavy wallet, filled perhapswith gold. He was conversing withthe bearded officer, tall and withthe golden slashes on the temples ofhis helmet. Within the net the

rencers were clothed. They werethe last of the catch. There wasperhaps a hundred of them. One byone they were being taken from thenet, the net being tightened again bythe slaves, and stripped and bound,hand and foot. The slaves who wereloading the barges would thengather up each new slave, carryinghim to the barges, adding him to theothers.

Two wild gants alighted on theisland, away from the men and theirprisoners, and began pecking aboutthe ruins of one of the rence huts,probably after seeds or bits ofrence cake.

A small domesticated tarsk,grunting and snuffling, patteredacross rence matting that was thesurface of the island. One of theslavers, a man with a conicalhelmet, called the animal to him. Hescratched it behind the ears and thenthrew it squealing out into themarsh. There was a rapidmovement in the water and it wasgone.

I sawa an UI, the wingedtharlarion, high overhead, beatingits lonely way eastward over themarsh.

Then, after a time, the last of the

slaves had been secured and placedon the barges. The slaves of the menof Port Kar then separated the nets,rolling them, then folding them, thenplacing them on the barges. Theythen drew up the planks and tooktheir seats at the rowers’ benches,to which, uprotesting, one by one,they were shackled. The last twoaboard had been Henrak, with hiswhite scarf, and the tall, beardedofficer, he with the golden slasheson the temples of his helmet.Henrak, I gathered, would be a richman in Port Kar. The slavers ofPort Kar, being in their way wisemen, seldom betray and enslave

those such as Henrak, who haveserved them so well. Did they so,they would find fewer Henraks inthe marshes.

The high-prowed marsh barge isanchored at both stem and sternn.Soon, each drawn by two warriors,the anchor-hooks, curved and three-pronged, not unlike large grapplingirons, emerged dripping from themud on the marsh. These anchor-hooks, incidentally, are a great deallighter that the anchors used in thelong galleys, and the round ships.

The officer, standing on the tillerdeck of the flagship, lifted his arm.In marsh barges there is no time-

beater, or keleustes, but the count tothe oarsmen is given by mouth, byone spoken o fas the oar-master. Hesits somewhat above the level ofthe rowers, but below the leve ofthe tiller deck. He, facing therowers, faces toward the ship’sbow, they of corse, in their rowingfacing the stern.

The officer on the tiller deck,Henrak at his side, let fall his hand.

I heard the oar-master cry out andI saw the oars, with a sliding ofwood, emerge from the thole ports.They stood poised, parallel, overthe water, the early-morning sunilluminating their upper surfaces. I

noted that they were no more than afoot above the water, so heavilyladen was the barge. Then, as theoar-master again cried out, theyentered as one into the water; andthe, as he cried out again, ear oardrew slowly in the water, and thenturned and lifted, the water fallingin the light from the blades likesilver chains.

The barge, deep in the water,began to back away from the island.Then, some fifty yards away, itturned slowly, prow now facingaway from the island, toward PortKar. I heard the oar-master call histime again and again, not hurrying

his men, each time more faintly thanthe last. Then the second bargebacked away from the island, turnedand followed the first, and then so,too, did the others.

I stood up on the raft of rencereed, and looked after the barges.At my feet, half covered with therence reeds with which we hadconcealed ourselves, lay Telima. Ireached to my head and drew awaythe garland of rence flowers whichI had worn at festival. There wassome blood on it, from the blow Ihad received during the raid. Ilooked down at Telima, who turnedher head away, and then I threw the

bloodied garland of rence flowersinto the marsh.

I stood on the surface of therenc1e island. I looked aboutmyself. I had taken some of thereeds which had been heaped on theraft and, bundling them, had usedthem, paddling, to move the raftback to the island. I had not wishedto place a limb in the marsh,particularly in this area, though, tobe sure, it seemed clearer now. Ihad tethered the raft at the island’sshore. Telima still lay upon the raft.

I climbed the curve of the mattedshore until I came to the higher

surface of the island.It was quiet.A flock of marsh gants, wild,

took flight, circled, and then, seeingI meant them no harm, returned tothe island, though to its farthershore.

I saw the pole to which I hadbeen tied, the circle of the feast, theruins of huts, the litter and thebroken things, and the scatteredthings, and the bodies.

I returned to the raft and pickedup Telima in my arms, carrying herto the high surface of the islandwhere, near the pole, I placed heron the matting.

I bent to her, and she drew away,but I turned her and unbound her.

“Free me,” I told her.Unsteadily she stood up and, with

fumbling fingers, untied the knot thatbound the five coils of the collar ofmarsh vine about my neck.

“You are free,” she whispered.I turned away from her. There

would be something edible on theisland, if only the pith of rence. Ihoped there would be water.

I saw the remains of a tunicwhich had been cut from a rencer,doubtless before his binding. I tookwhat was left of it and, with itslacing, bound it about my wrist.

I kept the sun behind me that Imight follow, in the shadows on therence matting before me, themovements of the girl. I saw, thus,her bending down and taking up ofthe broken shaft of a marsh spear,about a yard long, its three prongsintact.

I turned to face her, and looked ather.

She was startled. Then, holdingthe pronged spear before her,crouching down, she threatened me.She moved about me. I stood easily,turning when necessary to face her.I knew the distance involved andwhat she might do. Then as, with a

cry of rage, she thrust at me I tookthe spear from her grasp, disarmingher, tossing it to one side.

She backed away, her handbefore her mouth.

“Do not attempt again to kill me,”I said.

She shook her head.I looked at her. “It seemed to

me,” I said, “last night that youmuch feared slavery.”

I indicated that she shouldapproach me.

Only when I had unbound her hadI noticed, on her left thigh, the tinymark, which had been burned intoher flesh long ago, the small letter

in cursive script which was theinitial letter of Kajira, which isGorean for a femal slave. Alwaysbefore, in the lighted hut, she hadkept that side from me; in the day ithad been covered by her tunic; inthe night, in the darkness and tumult,I had not noticed it; on the raft it hadbeen concealed in the reeds of therence plant, with which I hadcovered her.

She had now come closer to me,as I had indicated she should, andstood now where, if I wished, Imight take her in my grasp.

“You were once slave,” I toldher.

She fell to her knees, coveringher eyes with her hands, weeping.

“But I gather,” said I, “yousomehow made your escape.”

She nodded, weeping. “Onbeams bound together,” she said,“poling into the marsh from thecanals.”

It was said that never had a slavegirl escaped from Port Kar, but this,doubtless like many such sayings,was not true. Still, the escape of aslave gir, or of a male slave, mustindeed be rare from canaled PortKar, protected as it is on on side bythe Tambar Gulf and gleamingThassa, and on the other by the

interminable marshes, with theirsharks and tharlarion. Had Telimanot been a rence girl she would, Isupposed, most likely, have died inthe marshes. I knew that Ho-Hak,too, had escaped from Port Kar.There were doubtless others.

“You must be very brave,” I said.She lifted her eyes, red with

weeping, to me.“And your master,” I said, “you

must have hated him very much.”Her eyes blazed.“What was your slave name?” I

asked. “By what name did hechoose to call you?”

She looked down, shaking her

head. She refused to speak.“It was Pretty Slave,” I told her.She looked up at me, red-eyed,

and cried out with grief. Then sheput her head down to the rence,shoulders shaking, and wept.“Yes,” she said. “Yes, yes.”

I left her and went to look furtherabout. I went to the remains of herhut. There, though the hut itself wasdestroyed, I found much of what hadbeen in it. Most pleased I was tofind the water gourd, which wasstill half filled. I also took thewallet of food, that which she hadonce tied about her waist. Before Ileft I noted, among the broken rence

and other paraphernalia, somethrowing sticks and such, the tunicof rence cloth which she hadslipped off before me the nightpreviously, before commanding meto serve her pleasure, before wehad heard the cry “Slavers!” Ipicked it up and carried it, with theother things, to where she still knelt,near the pole, head down, weeping.

I tossed the tunic of rence clothbefore her.

She looked at it, unbelievingly.The she looked up at me, stunned.

“Clothe yourself,” I said.“Am I not your slave?” she

asked.

“No,” I said.She drew on the garment,

fumbling with the laces. I handedthe water gourd to her, and shedrank. Then I shook out what foodlay in the wallet, some dried rencepaste from the day before yesterday,some dried flakes of fish, a piece ofrence cake.

We shared this food.She said nothing, but knelt across

from me, across from where I satcross-legged.

“Will you stay with me?” sheasked.

“No,” I said.“You are going to Port Kar?” she

asked.“Yes,” I said.“But why?” she asked. “I do not

think you are of Port Kar,” she said.“I have business there,” I said.“May I as1k your name?”“My name is Bosk,” I told her.Tears formed in her eyes.I saw no reason to tell her my

name was Tarl Cabot. It was aname not unknown in certain citiesof Gor. The fewer who knew thatTarl Cabot sought entry to Port Karthe better.

I would take rence from theisland, and marsh vine, and makemyself a rence craft. There were

oar poles left on the island. I wouldthen make my way to Port Kar. Thegirl would be alright. She wasintelligent, and brave, a strong girl,as well as beautiful, a rence girl.She, too, would make a craft, take apole, and find her way deeper intothe delta, doubtless to be acceptedby another of the small rencecommunities.

Before I had finished the bit offood we shared Telima had risen toher feet and was looking about theisland. I was chewing on the last bitof fish.

I saw her take one of the bodiesby an arm and drag it toward the

shore.I rose, wiping my hands on the

bit of rence tunic I wore, and wentto her.

“What are you doing?” I asked.“We are of the marsh,” she said,

woodenly. “The rence growers,”she said, “rose from the marsh, andthey must return to the marsh.”

I nodded.She tumbled the body from the

island into the water. Under thewater I saw a tharlarion movetoward it.

I helped her in her task. Manytimes we went to the shore of theisland.

Then, turning over the slashedside of some broken matting, thathad been part of the side of a rencehut, I found another body, that of achild.

I knelt beside it, and wept.Telima was standing behind me.

“He is the last one,” she said.I said nothing.“His name,” she said, “was

Eechius.”She reached to take him. I thrust

her hand away.“He is of the rence growers,” she

said. “He arose from the marsh, andhe must return to the marsh.”

I took the child in my arms and

walked down to the shore of therence island.

I looked westward, the directionthat had been taken by the heavilyladen barges of slavers of Port Kar.

I kissed the child.“Did you know him?” asked

Telima.I threw the body into the marsh.“Yes,” I said. “He was once kind

to me.”It was the boy who had brought

me the bit of rence cake when I hadbeen bound at the pole, he who hadbeen punished for doing this by hismother.

I looked at Telima. “Bring me my

weapons,” I said to her.She looked at me.“It will take long, will it not,” I

asked, “for the barges so heavilyladen to reach Port Kar?”

“Yes,” she said, startled, “it willtake long.”

“Bring me my weapons,” I said.“There are more than a hundred

warriors,” sh1e said, her voicesuddenly leaping.

“And among my weapons,” Isaid, “bring me the great bow, withits arrows.”

She cried out with joy and spedfrom my side.

I looked again westward, after

the long barges, and looked againinto the marsh, where it was nowquiet.

Then I began to gather rence,drawing it from the surface of theisland itself, long strips, with whicka boat might be made.

Chapter 8What Occurred in the

MarshesI had gathered the rence and

Telima, with marsh vines, and herstrong hands and skill, had made thecraft.

While she worked I examined myweapons.

She had concealed them in therence, far from her hut, weaving thereeds again over them. They hadbeen protected.

I had again my sword, that wine-tempered blade of fine, double-edged Gorean steel, carried even atthe siege of Ar, so long ago, with itsscabbard; and the rounded shield oflayered boskhide, with its doublesling, riveted with pets of iron andbound with hoops of brass; and thesimple helmet, innocent of insignia,with empty crest plate, of curvediron with its “Y”-like opening, and

cushioned with rolls of leather. Ihad even, folded and stained fromthe salt of the marsh, the warrior’stunic, which had been taken fromme even in the marsh, before I hadbeen brought bound before Ho-Hakon the island.

And there was, too, the greatbow, of yellow, supple Ka-la-na,tipped with notched bosk horn, withits cord of hemp, whipped withsilk, and the roll of sheaf and flightarrows.

I counted the arrows. There wereseventy arrowns, fifty of whichwere sheaf arrows, twenty flightarrows. The Gorean sheaf arrow is

slightly over a yard long, the flightarrow is about forty inches inlength. Both are metal piled andfletched with three half-feathers,from the wings of the Vosk gulls.Mixed in with the arrows were theleather tab, with its two openingsfor the right forefinger and themiddle finger, and the leatherbracer, to shield the left forearmfrom the flashing string.

I had told Telima to make therence craft sturdy, wider than usual,stabler. I was not a rencer and,when possible, when using the bow,I intended to stand; indeed, it isdifficult to draw a bow cleanly in

any but a standing position; it is notthe small, straight bow used inhunting light game, Tabuk, slavesand such.

I was pleased with the craft, and,not more than an Ahn after wereturned to the island from ourconcealment in the marsh, Telimapoled us away from its shore,setting out course in the wake of thenarrow, high-prowed marsh bargesof the slavers of Port Kar.

The arrows lay before me, loosein the leather wrapper openedbefore me on the reeds of the rencecraft.

In my hand was the great bow. I

had not yet strung it.The oar-master of the sixth barge

was doubtless angry. He had had tostop calling his time.

The barges in line before him,too, had slowed, then stopped, theiroars half inboard, waiting.

It is sometimes difficult for evena small rence craft to make its waythrough the tangles of rushes andsedge in the delta.

A punt, 1from the flagship,moved ahead. Two slaves stook aftin the small, square-ended, flat-bottomed boat, poling. Two otherslaves stood forward with glaves,lighter poles, bladed, with which

they cut a path for the followingbarges. That path must needs bewide enough for the beam of thebarges, and the width of the strokeof the oars.

The sixth barge began to drift toleeward, a slow half circle,aimless, like a finger drawing in thewater.

The oar-master cried out angrilyand turned to the helmsman, he whoheld the tiller beam.

The helmsman stood at the tiller,not moving. He had removed hishelmet in the noon heat of the delta.Insects, undistracted, hovered abouthis head, moving in his hair.

The oar-master, crying out,leaped up the stairs to the tillerdeck, and angrily seized thehelmsman bu the shoulders, shakinghim, then saw his eyes.

He released the man, who fellfrom the tiller.

The oar-master cried out in fear,summoning warriors who gatheredon the tiller deck.

The arrow from the great yellowbow, that of supple Ka-la-na, hadpassed through the head of the man,losing itself a hundred yards distant,dropping unseen into the marsh.

I do not think the men of PortKar, at this time, realized the nature

of the weapon that had slain theirhelmsman.

The knew only that he had beenalive, and then dead, and that hishead now bore two unaccountablewounds, deep, opposed, centerlesscircles, each mounted at the scarletapex of a stained triangle.

Uncertain, fearing, they lookedabout.

The marsh was quiet, They heardonly, from somewhere, far off, thepiping cry of a marsh gant.

Silently, swiftly, with the staminaand skill of the rence girl, Telima,unerringly taking advantage of

every break in the marsh growth,never making a false thrust ormotion, brought our small craft sooninto the vicinity of the heavy,slowed barges, hampered not onlyby their weight but by the naturalimpediments of the marsh. Imarveled at her, as she moved thecraft, keeping us constantly moving,yet concealed behind high thicketsof rush and sedge. At times wewere but yards from the barges. Icould hear the creak of the oars inthe thole ports, hear the calling ofthe oar-master, the conversation ofwarriors at their leisure, the moansof bound slaves, soon silenced with

the lash and blows.Telima poled us skillfuly about a

large, floating tangle of marsh vine,it shifting with the movements of themarsh water.

We passed the fifth barge, andthe fourth and third. I heard theshouts being passed from barge tobarge, the confusion.

Soon, shielded by rushes andsedge, we had the first of thenarrow, high-prowed bargesabeam. This was their flagship. Thewarriors in the craft, climbing onthe rowing benches, were crowedamidships and aft, even on the tillerdeck, looking back at the barge line

behind them, trying to make out theshouting, the confusion. Some of theslaves, chained at their benches,were trying to stand and see whatmight be the matter. On the smallforedeck of the barge, beneath thehigh, curved prow, stood the officerand Henrak, both looking aft. Theofficer, angrily, was shouting thelength of the barge to its oar-master,who now stood on the tiller deck,looking back toward the otherbarges, his hands on the sternrail.On the high, curved prow, to whichwas bound, naked, the lithe,darkhaired girl, there stood alookout, he, too, looking backward,

shielding his eyes. Below the prow,in the marsh water, the slaves in thepunt stopped cutting at the sedgeand marsh vine that blocked theirway.

I stood in the small craft,shielded by rushes and sedge. Myfeet were spread; my heels werealigned with the target; my headwas sharply turned to my left; Idrew the sheaf arrow to its pile,until the three half-feathers of theVosk gull lay at my jawbone; I tookbreath and then held it, sightingover the pile; there must be nomovement; then I released thestring.

The shaft, at the distance, passedcompletely through his body,flashing beyond him and vanishingamong the rushes and sedges in thedistance.

The man himself did not cry outbut the girl, bound near him,screamed.

There was a splash in the water.The slaves standing in the punt,

the two with their poles, the othertwo with their glaves, cried out infear. I heard a thrashing in the wateron the other side of the barge, thehoarse grunting of a suddenlyemerged marsh tharlarion. The manhad not cried out. Doubtless he

have been dead before he struck thewater. The girl bound to the prow,however, startled, hysterical, seeingthe tumult of the tharlarion belowher, each tearing for a part of theunexpected prize, began to screamuncontrollably. The slaves in thepunt, too, striking down with theirglaves, shoving away tharlarion,began to cry out. There was muchshouting. The officer, bearded andtall, with the two golden slashes onthe temples of his helmet, followedby Henrak, still with the scarfbound about his body, ran to therail. Telima, silently, poled us backfurther among the rushes, skillfully

turning the small craft and movingagain toward the last barge. As wesilently moved among the growthsof the marsh we heard the wildcries of men, and the screaming ofthe girl bound to the prow, until, bya whi [slave, she was lashed tosilence.

“Cut! Cut! Cut!” I heard theofficer cry out to the slaves in thepunt and, immediately, almostfrenzied, they began to hack away atthe tangles of marsh vine with theirbladed poles.

Throughout the afternoon andevening, unhurried, Telima and I,like a prowling sleen, circled the

barges, and, when it pleased us,loosed another of the long shafts ofthe great bow.

I struck first their helmsman, andsoon none would ascend to the tillerdeck.

Then warriors climbed down topunt, to help the slaves cut marshvine and sedge, to clear the way,but these warriors, exposed, felleasy prey to the birds of the bow.Then more slaves were put in thepunt, and ordered to cut, and cutmore.

And when some growth had beencleared and an oar-master woulddare to take his seat to call the time

for the rowers he, too, like thehelmsmen, would taste in his heartthe touch of the metal-piled shaft.

And then none would dare takethe place of the oar-master.

As darkness fell in the marsh themen of Port Kar lit torches on thesides of the barges.

But by the light of these torchesthe great bow found the enjoymentof various victories.

Then the torches wereextinguisehd and, in the darkness,fearing, the men of Port kar waited.

We had struck from varioussides, at various times. And Telimahad often raised the piping cry of

the marsh gant. The men of Port Karknew, as I had not, that rencerscommunicate in the marshes by themeans of such signals. The face,delightful to me, taht 1Telima’sskill was such that actuall marshgants frequently responded to hercries was, I expect, less delightfulto those of Port Kar. In thedarkness, peering out, not seeing,they had no way of knowing whichwas a marsh gant and which anenemy. For all they knew, they wereencirclesd by rencers, somehowmasters of the great bow, That thegreat bow was used theyunderstood from the time I struck

the second helmsman, pinning himto the tiller beam.

Occassionally they would fireback, and the bolts of crossbowswould drop into the marshes aboutus, but harmlessly. Usually they fellfar wide of our true positon, for,following each of my fired shafts,Telima would pole us to a newpoint of vantage, whence I mightagain, when ready, pick a target andloose yet another of the wingedshafts. Sometimes merely themovement of a tharlarion or theflutter of a marsh gant, somethingcompletely unrelated to us, wouldsummon a great falling and hissing

of bolts into the marsh.

In the darkness, Telima and Ifinished some rence cake we hadbrought from the island, and dranksome water.

“How may arrows have youleft?” she asked.

“Ten,” I said.“It is not enough,” she said.“That is true,” I said, “but now

we have the cover of darkness.”I had cut some marsh vine and

had, from this formed a loop.“What can you do?” she asked.“Pole me to the fourth barge,” I

said.

We had estimated that there hadbeen more than a hundred warriorson the six barges, but not, perhaps,many more. Counting the kills, andother men we had seen, the barges’hulls, there might be some fifty menleft, spread over the six barges.

Silently Telima poled our smallcraft to the fourth barge.

The most of the warriors, we hadnoted, were concentrated in the firstand last barges.

The barges, during the afternoon,had been eased into a closer line,the stem on one lying abeam of thestern of the next, being made fasttehre by lines. This was to prevent

given barges from being boardedseparately, where the warriors onone could not come to the aid of theother. They had no way of knowinghow many rencers might be in themarshes. With this arrangement theyhad greater mobility of their forces,for men might leap, say, from oneforedeck of one barge to the tillerdeck of the other. If boarding wereattepmpted toward the center of theline, the boarding party could thusbe crushed on both flanks bywarriors pouring in from adjacentbarges. This arrangement, in effect,transformed the formerly purposes,a long, single, narrow, wooden-

walled fort.These defensive conditons

dictated that the offense, putativelythe male population of one orperhaps two rence communities,say, some seventy or eighty men,would most likely attack at either ofthe first or the last of the barges,where they would have but onefront on which to attack and little,or nothing, to fear from the rear.That the punt might be used to bringmen behind attacking rencers wasquite improbable; further, had itbeen used, pressumably it wouldhave encountered rencers in theirseveral rence craft and been threby

neutralized or destroyed.In this situation, then, it was

natural, expecting an attack oneither the first or the last barge, thatthe officer, he of the golden slasheson the temples of his helmet, wouldconcentrate his men in the first andlast barge.

We had come now to the hull ofthe fourth barge, and we had cometo her as silently as a rence flowermight have drifted to her side.

Having no large number of menat my disposal, it seemed best to meto let the men of Port Karthemselves do most of my fighting.

Standing below the hull, quite

close, in the shifting rence craft, Imade a small clicking noise, asound that meant nothing but, in thedarkness, meaning nothing, wouldbe startling, terrifying in itsuncomprehended import.

I heard the sudden intake ofbreath which marked the position ofa man.

With the noose of marsh vine Idragged him over the sie of the hull,lowering him into the marsh,holding him until I felt the tharlariontake him from me, drawing himaway.

Slaves chained at the benchesbegan to cry out with fear.

I heard men running, from bothsides toward the place from whichcame the cries of the slaves.

In the darkness they met oneanother, shouting, brandishing theirweapons.

There was much shouting.Someone was calling for a torch.Telima poled us backward, away

from the hull of the fourth barge.I picked up the bow and set it its

string one of the ten remainingarrows.

When the torch first flickered Iput the arrow into the heart of theman who held it, and he and thetorch, as though struck by a fist,

spun and reeled off the far side ofthe barge. I then heard another mancry out, thrust in the confustion overthe side, and his screaming. Therewas more shouting.

There were more cries fortorches, but I did not see any lit.

And then I heard the clash ofsword steel, wildly, blindly.

And then I heard one cry out“They are aboard! We are boarded!Fight!”

Telima had poled us some thirtyyards out into the marsh, and I stoodthere, arrow to string, in case anyshould bring another torch.

None did.

I heard men running on thegangway between the rowers’benches.

I heard more cries of pain, thescreams of terrified slaves trying tocrawl beneath their benches.

There was another splash.I heard someone crying out,

perhaps the officer, ordering moremen aft to repell the boarders.

From the other direction I heardanother voice ordering me forward,commanding his warriors to takethe boarders in the flank.

I whispered to Telima to bringthe rence craft in again, and putdown my bow, taking out the steel

sword. Again at the side of thefourth barge I thrust over the side,driving my blade into one of themilling bodies, then withdrawing.

There were more cries andclashings of steel.

Again and again, on the fourthand the third barges, on one sideand then the other, we did this, eachtime returning to the marsh andwaiting with bow.

When it seemed to me there wasenough screaming and cursing onthe barges, enough clashing ofweapons and cries, I said toTelima, “It is now time to sleep.”

She seemed startled but, as I told

her, poled the rence craft awayfrom the barges.

I unstrung the bow.When the rence craft was lost,

some hundred yards from thebarges, among the reeds and sedge,I had her secure the craft. She thrustthe oar-pole deep into the mud ofthe marsh, and fastened the rencecraft to this mooring by a length ofmarsh vine.

In the darkness I felt her kneel onthe reeds of the rence craft.

“How can you sleep now?” shesaid.

We listened to the shouts andcries, the clash of weapons, the

screams, carrying to us over thecalm waters of the marsh.

“It is time to sleep,” I told her.Then I said to her, “Approach me.”

She hesitated, but then she did. Itook a length of marsh vine andbound her wrists behind her back,and then, with another bit of marshvine, crossed and bound her ankles.Then I placed her lengthwise in thecraft, her head at the up-cruvedstern end of the vessel. With a lastlength of marsh vine, doubled andlooped about her throat, its freeends tied about the up-curved stern,I secured her in place.

She, an intelligent, and proud

girl, understanding the intention ofthese precautions, neitherquestioned me nor protested them.She was bound and secured incomplete silence.

I myself was bitter.I, Tarl Cabot, hating myself, no

longer respected or trusted humanbeings. I had done what I had donethat day for the sake of a child, onewho had once been kind to me, butwho no longer existed. I knewmyself for one who had chosenignominious slavery over thefreedom of honorable death. I knewmyself as coward. I had betrayedmy codes. I had tasted humiliation

and degradation, and most at myown hands, for I had been most bymyself betrayed. I could no longersee myself as I had been. I had beena boy and now I had come to theseeings of manhood, and foundwithin myself, disgusting me,something capable of cowardice,self-indulgence, selfishness, andcruelty. I was no longer worthy ofthe red of the warrior, no longerworthy of serving the Home Stoneof my city, Ko-ro-ba, the Towers ofthe Morning; it seemed to me thenthat there were only winds andstrengths, and the motions ofbodies, the falling of rain, the

movements of bacilli, the beating ofhearts and the stopping of suchbeatings. I found myself alone.

And then, hearing still the cries,the alarms in the night, I fell asleep.My last thought before the sweetdarkness of sleep was theremembrance that I was on who hadchosen ignominious slavery to thefreedom of honorable death, andthat I was alone.

I awakened stiff in the cold of themarsh dawn, hearing the movementof the wind through the dim sedges,the cries of an occasional marshgant darting among the rushes.

Somewhere in the distance I heardthe grunting of tharlarion. Highoverhead, passing, I heard thesqueals of four UIs, beating theirway eastward on webbed, scaledwings. I lay there for a time, feelingthe rence beneath my back, staringup a the gray, empty sky.

Then I crawled to my knees.Telima was awake, by lay, of

cours, where I had left her, bound.I untied the girl and she, not

speaking, painfully stretched, andrubbed her wrists and ankles. I gaveher half of the food and water thatwe had left and, in silence, we ate.

She wiped the last of the crumbs

of rence cake from her mouth withthe back of her1 left hand. “Youhave only nine arrows left,” shesaid.

“I do not think it matters,” I said.She looked at me, puzzled.“Pole us to the barges,” I said.She unfastened the rence craft

from the oar-pole which had servedas a mooring and, slowly, drew upthe pole from the mud of the marsh.

Then she poled us to the vicinityof the barges. They seemed lonelyand gray in the morning light.Always keeping us shielded bythickets of rush and sedge, shecircled the six barges, fastened

together.We waited for an Ahn or so and

then I told her to move ot the sixthbarge.

I restrung the great bow, and putthe nine arrows in my belt. In myscabbard was the short sword,carried even at the siege of Ar.

Very slowly we approached,almost drifting, the high, carvedsternpost of the sixth barge.

We remained beneath it forseveral Ehn. Then, silently, Imotioned Telima to scraped theoar-pole on the side of the barge,just touching the planks.

She did so.

There was no response.I then took the helmet from my

things on the rence craft, thatwithout insignia, with empty crestplate, and lifted it until it clearedthe side of the barge.

Nothing happened. I heardnothing.

I had Telima pole us back awayfrom the barge and I stoodregarding it, for some Ehn, the greatbow quarter-drawn, arrow in string.

Then I motioned for her, silently,to move abeam of the prow of thesixth barge. There was a girl,naked, miserable, bound to theprow, but, tied as she was, she

could not turn to see us. I do noteven think she was aware of ourpresence.

I put the bow back on the reedsof the rence craft, and removed thearrows from my belt.

I did not take up the shield for inclimbing in would haveencumbered me.

I did place over my features thecurved helmet, with its “Y”-likeopening, of the Gorean warrior.

Then, slowly, making no sound, Ilifted no more than my eyes over theside of the barge, and scanned theinterior. Shielding myself from thefifth barge by the back of the prow

of the sixth I climbed aboard. Ilooked about. I was its master.

“Make no sound,” I said to thegirl at the prow.

She almost cried out, terrified,and struggled to turn and see whostood behind her, but could not,bound, do so.

She was silent.Slaves, chained at the benches,

haggard, wild-eyed, looked up atme.

“Be silent,” said I to them.There was only a rustle of chain.The slaves from the rence

islands, lying between the rowers’benches, like fish, bound hand and

foot, had their heads to the stern ofthe vessel.

“Who is there?” asked one.“Be silent,” I said.I looked over the side to Telima,

and indicated that she should hadme my shield, and, with difficulty,she did so.

I looked about more. Then Iplaced the shield by the rail, andextended my hand for the great bow,with its nine arrows.

Telima gave them to me.Then I motioned that she should

come aboard and, tying the rencecraft fast to the small mooring cleatjust abaft of the prow, she did so.

She now stood beside me on theforedeck of the sixth barge.

“The punt is gone,” she said.I did not respond to her. I had

seen that the punt had been gone.Why else would I have come asearly as I had to the barges?

I unstrung the great bow andhanded it, with its arrows, toTelima.

I took up my shield. “Followme,” I told her.

I knew she could not string thebow. I knew, further, that she couldnot, even were the weapon strung,draw it to the half, but further Iknew that, at the range she might

fire, the arrow, drawn even to thequarter, might penetrate my back.Accordingly she would follow mebearing the weapon unstrung.

I looked upon her, evenly and fora long time, but she did not drop herhead, but met my gaze fully, andfearlessly.

I turned.There were no men of Port Kar

on the sixh barge, but, as I steppedfrom the foredeck of the sixth bargeto the tiller deck of the fifth, I sawsome of their bodies. In some werethe arrows of the great bow. Butmany had apparently died ofwounds inflicted with spear and

sword. A number of others haddoubtless been, in the darkness andconfusion thrust overboard.

I indicated those who had met thearrows of the great bow.

“Get the arrows,” I told Telima.I had used simple-pile arrows,

which may be withdrawn from thewound. The simple pile givesgreater penetration. Had I used abroad-headed arrow, or the Tuchukbarbed arrow, one would, inremoving it, commonly thrust thearrow completely through thewound, drawing it out feathers last.One is, accordingly, in such cases,less likely to lose the point in the

body.Telima, one by one, as we

passed those that had fallen to thegreat bow, drew from their bodiesthe arrows, adding them to thoseshe carried.

And so I, with my shield andsword, helmeted, followed byTelima, a rence girl, carrying thegreat bow, with its arrows, may ofthem now bloodied, taken from thebodies on those of Port Kar, movedfrom barge to barge.

On none of them did we find aliving man of Port Kar.

Those that had lived haddoubtless fled in the punt. In the

darkness, presumably, they hadseixed upon it and, either amidst theshouting and the blind fighting, orperhaps afterwards, in a terrifyingquiet, the prelude perhaps to yetanother putative attack, had climbedover the side and, poling awaydesperately, had made their escape,It was also possible that they hadeventually realized that boarderswere not among them or, if they hadbeen, were no longer, but they didnot wish to remain trapped in themarsh, to fall victim to thirts, or thestring-flung arrows of the yellowbow. I supposed the punt could notcarry many men, perhaps eight or

ten, if dangerously crowded. I wasnot much concerned with how thoseof Port kar had determined whowould passenger on the fugitivevessel. I expected that some ofthose dead on the barges had been,by their own kind, denied such aplace.

We no1w stood on the foredeckof the first barge.

“They are all dead,” said Telima,her voice almost breaking. “Theyare all dead!”

“Go to the tiller deck,” I told her.She went, carrying the great bow,

with its arrows.I stood on the foredeck, looking

out over the marsh.Above me, her back to the front

of the curved prow of the barge,was bound the lithe, dark-hairedgirl, who I well remembered, shewho had been so marvelouslylegged in the brief rence tunic. Shewas curved over the prow nude, herwrists cruelly bound behind it, andwas further held tightly in place bybinding fiber at her ankles, herstomach and throat. I recalled I hadbeen bound rather similarly at thepole, when she had danced hercontempt of me.

“Please,” she begged, trying toturn her head, “who is it?”

I did not answer her, but turned,and left the foredeck, walking backalong the gangway between therowers’ benches. She heard myfootsteps retreating. The slaves atthe benches did not stir as I passedbetween them.

I acended the steps of the tillerdeck.

There I looked down intoTelima’s eyes.

She looked up at me, joy on herface. “Thank you, Warrior,” shewhispered.

“Bring me binding fiber,” I said.She looked at me.I indicated a coil of binding fiber

that lay near the foot of the rail,below the tiller deck, on my left.

She put down the great bow, withits arrows, on the tiller deck. Shebrought me the coil of binding fiber.

I cut three lengths.“Turn and cross your wrists,” I

told her.With the first length of binding

fiber I tied her wrists behind her; Ithen carried her and placed her, onher knees, on the second of thebroad steps leading up to the tillerdeck, two steps below that in whichI fixed the chair of the oar-master;she now knelt below that chair, andit its left; there, with the second

length of fiber, I tied together herankles; with the third length I ran aleash from her throat to the mooringcleat on the aft larboard side of thebarge, that some five yards forwardof the sternpost.

I then sat down cross-legged onthe tiller deck. I counted the arrows.I now had twenty-five. Several ofthe warriors struck by the arrowshad plunged into the water; othershad been thrown overboard by theirfellows. Of the twenty-five,eighteen were sheaf arrows and theremaining seven were flight arrows.I put the bow beside me, and laidthe arrows out on hte planking of

the tiller deck.I then rose to my feet and began

to make my way, barge by barge, tothe sixth barge.

Again the slaves, chained at theirbenches, facing the stern of eachbarge, did not so much as move as Ipassed among them.

“Give me water,” whispered abound rencer.

I continued on my way.As, I walked from barge to barge

I passed, at each prow, tied abovemy head, a bound, nude girl. On thesecond prow of the six barges, onlya few feet from the tiller dec of thefirst barge, it had been the tall,

gray-eyed girl, who had held marshvine against my arm, she who haddanced with such 1secruciatingslowness before me at the pole. Onthe third prow it had been theshorter, dark-haired girl, she whohad carried the net over her leftshoulder. I remembered that she,too, had dnaced before me, and, ashad the others, spit upon me.

Bound as they were to the curvedprows of the barges these captivescould see only the sky over themarsh. They could hear only myfootsteps passing beneath them, andperhaps the small movement of theGorean blad in its sheath.

As I walked back, from barge tobarge, I walked as well amongbound rencers, heaped and tied likefish among the benches of slaves.

I wore the heavy Gorean helmet,concealing my features. Nonerecognized the warrior who walkedamong them. The helmet bore noinsignia. Its crest plate was empty.

No one spoke. I heard not eventhe ratle of a chain. I heard only myfootsteps, and the occasionalsounds of the morning in the marsh,and the movement of the Goreanblade in my sheath.

When I reached the tiller deck ofthe sixth barge I looked back,

surveying the barges.They were mine now.Somewhere I heard a child

crying.I went forward to the foredeck of

the sixth barge and there freed therence craft of its tether to themooring cleat and climbed over theside, dropping into the small craft. Ipulled the oar-pole from the mud atits side, and then, standing on thewide, sturdy little craft whichTelima had fashioned from therence I had gathered, I poled myway back to the first barge.

The slaves, those at the benches,and those who lay bound between

them, as I passed the barges, weresilent.

I refastened the rence craft at thefirst barge, to the starboard mooringcleat just abaft of the prow.

I then climbed aboard andwalked back to the tiller deck,where I took my seat on the chair ofthe oar-master.

Telima, haltered, bound hand andfoot, kneeling on the second broadstep on the stairs leading up to thetiller deck, looked up at me.

“I hate rencers,” I told her.“Is that why you have saved

them,” she asked, “from the men ofPort Kar?”

I looked at her in fury.“There was a child,” I said, “one

who was once kind to me.”“You have done all this,” she

asked, “because a child was oncekind to you?”

“Yes,” I said.“And yet now,” she said, “you

are being cruel to a child, one whois bound and hungry, or thirsty.”

It was true. I could hear a childcrying. I now could place that thesound came from the second barge.

I rose from the chair of the oar-master, angrily. “I have you all,” Itold her, “and the slaves at thebenches as well! If I wish, I will

take you all to Port Kar, as you are,and sell you. I am on man armedand strong among many chained andbound. I am master here!”

“The child,” she said, “is bound.It is in pain. It is doubtless thirstyand hungry.”

I turned and made my way to thesecond barge. I found the child, aboy, perhaps of five years of age,blond like many of the rencers, andblue-eyed. I cut him free, and tookhim in my arms.1

I found his mother and cut herfree, telling her to feed the childand give water to it.

She did, and then I ordered themboth back to the tiller deck of thefirst barge, making them stand onhte rowing deck, below the steps ofthe tiller deck, to my left near therail, where I might see them, wherethey might not, unnoticed, attempt tofree others.

I sat again on the chair of the oar-master.

“Thank you,” said Telima.I did not deign ot respond to her.In my heart there was hatred for

the rencers, for they had made meslave. More than this they had beenmy teachers, who had brougth me tocruelly learn myself as I had no

wish to know myself. They had costme the concept that I had taken formy reality; they had torn from me abright image, an illusion, preciousand treasured, and unwarrantedreflection of suppositions andwishes, not examined, which I hadtaken to be the truth of my identity.They had torn me from myself. I hadbegged to be a slave. I had chosenignominious slavery over thefreedom of honorable death. In themarshes of the delta of the Vosk Ihad lost Tarl Cabot. I had learnedthat I was, in my heart, of Port Kar.

I drew forth the Gorean bladefrom its scabbaord and, sitting on

the chair of the oar-master, laid itacross my knees.

“I am Ubar here,” I said.“Yes,” said Telima, “here you

are Ubar.”I looked down to the slave at the

starboard side, he at the first thwart,who would be first oar.

As I, in the chair of oar-master,faced the bow of the vessel, he, asslave at the benches, faced its stern,and the chair of the oar-master, thatwhich now served me as Ubar’sthrone, in this small woodencountry lost in the marshes of theVosk’s delta.

We looked upon one another.

Both of his ankles were shackledto the beam running lengthwise ofthe ship and bolted to the deck; thechain on the shackles ran throughthe beam itself, through a circularhole cut in the beam and lined withan iron tube; the slaves behind him,as the beam, or beams, passedbeneath their thwarts, weresimilarly secured. Thearrangements for the slaves on thelarboard side of the barge were, ofcourse, identical.

The man was barefoot, and woreonly a rag. His hair was tangled andmatted; it had been shearted at thebase of his neck. About his heck

was hammered an iron collar.“Master?” he asked.I looked upon him for some time.

And then I said, “How long haveyou been a slave?”

He looked at me, puzzled. “Sixyears,” he said.

“What were you before?” Iasked.

“An eel fisher,” he said.“What city?”“The Isle of Cos,” he said.I looked to another man.“What is your caste?” I asked.“I am of the peasants,” he said

proudly. It was a large, broad man,with yellow, shaggy hair. His hair,

too, was sheared at the base of hisneck; he, too, wore a collar ofhammered iron.

“Do you have a city?” I asked.“I had a free holding,” he said

proudly.“A Home Stone?” I asked.“Mine own,” he said, “I my hut.”“Near what city,” I asked, “did

your holding lie?”“Near Ar,” said he.I looked out, over the marsh.

Then I again regarded the eel fisher,who was first oar.

“Were you a good fisherman?” Iasked.

“Yes,” he said. “I was.”

Again I regarded the yellow-haired giant, of the peasants.

“Where is the key to yourshackles kept?” I asked.

“It hangs,” said he, “in the arm ofthe chair of the oar-master.”

I examined the broad arm of thechair, and, in the the right arm, Ifound a sliding piece of wood,which I slid forward, it extendingbeyond the chair arm. Inside was acavity, containing some rags, andbinding fiber, and, on a hook, aheavy metal key.

I took the key and unlocked tehshackles of the eel fisher and thepeasant.

“You are free men,” I told them.They did not get up for a long

timem but sat there, looking at me.“You are free men,” I said, “no

longer slaves.”Suddenly, with a great laugh, the

yellow-haired giant, the peasant,leaped to his feet. He struck himselfon the chest. “I am Thurnock!” hecried. “Of the Peasants!”

“You are, I expect,” I said, “amaster of the great bow.”

“Turnock,” he said, “draws agreat bow well.”

“I knew it would be so,” said I.The other man had now stood

easily, stepping from the bench.

“My name is Clitus,” he said. “Iam a fisherman. I can guide ships bythe stars. I know the net andtrident.”

“You are free,” I said.“I am your man,” cried the giant.“I, too,” said the fisherman. “I,

too, am your man.”“Find among the bound slaves,

the rencers,” I said, “the one who iscalled Ho-Hak.”

“We shall,” said they.“And bring him before me,” I

said.“We shall,” said they.I would hold court.Telima, kneeling bound below

me, on the left, the binding fiber onher throat, tethered to the mooringcleat, looked up at me. “What willbe the pleasure of my Ubar with hiscaptives?” she asked.

“I will sell you all in Port Kar,” Isaid.

She smiled. “Of course,” shesaid, “you may do what you pleasewith us.”

I looked upon her in fury. I heldthe blade of the short sword at herthroat. Her head was up. She didnot flinch.

“Do I so displease my Ubar?”she asked.

I slammed the blade back in the

sheath.I seized her by the arms and

lifted her, bound, to face me. Ilooked down into her eyes. “I couldkill you,” I said. “I hate you.” Howcould I tell her that it had been byher instrumentality that I had beendestroyed in the marshes. I feltmyself suddenly transformed withutter fury. It was she who had donethis to me, who had cost me myself,teaching me my ignobility and mycowardice, who had broken theimage, casting it into the mud of themarsh, that I had for so many years,so foolishly, taken as the substanceand truth of my own person. I had

been emptied; I was now a void,into which I could feel the pourings,the dark flowings, of resentment anddegradation, of bitterness and self-recrimination, of self-hatred. “Youhave destroyed me!” I hissed to her,and flung her from me down thesteps of the tiller deck. The womanwith the child screamed, and theboy cried out. Telima rolled andthen, jerked up short, half choked,by the tether, sha lay at the foot ofthe stairs. She struggled again to herknees. There were now tears in hereyes.

She looked up at me. She shookher head. “You have not been

destroyed,” said she, “my Ubar.”Angrily I took again my seat on

the chair of the oar-master.“If any has been destroyed,” said

she, “it was surely I.”“Do not speak foolishly,” I

commanded her, angrily. “Besilent!”

She dropped her head. “I am atthe pleasure of my Ubar,” she said.

I was ashamed that I had beenbrutal with her, but I would notshow it. I knew, in my heart, that ithad been I, I myself, who hadbetrayed me, I who had fallen shortof the warrior codes, I who haddishonored my own Home Stone,

and the blade I bore. It was I whowas guilty. Not she. But everythingin me cried out to blame some otherfor the treacheries and thedefections that were my own. Andsurely she had most degraded me ofall. Surely, of all, she had been themost cruel, the one before whom Ihad groveled most slave. It was inmy mouth, black and swollen, thatshe had put the kiss of the Mistress.

I dismissed her from my mind.Thurnock, the peasant, and

Clitus, the fisherman, approached,holding between them Ho-Hak,bound hand and foot, the heavycollar of the galley slave, with its

dangling chain, still riveted abouthis neck.

They placed him on his knees, onthe rowing deck, before me.

I removed my helmet.“I knew it would be you,” he

said.I did not speak.“There were more than a hundred

men,” said Ho-hak.“You fought well, Ho-hak,” said

I, “on the rence island, with only anoar-pole.”

“Not well enough,” said he. Helooked up at me, from his bonds.His great ears leaned a bit forward.“Were you alone?” he asked.

“No,” I said. I nodded to Telima,who, head down, knelt at the foot ofthe stairs.

“You did well, Woman,” saidHo-Hak.

She lifted her head, tears in hereyes. She smiled at him.

“Why is it,” asked Ho-Hak, “thatshe who aided you kneels bound atyour feet?”

“I do not trust her,” I said, “norany of you.”

“What are you going to do withus?” asked Ho-Hak.

“Do you not fear that I will throwyou bound to the tharlarion?” Iasked.

“No,” said Ho-Hak.“You are a brave man,” I said. I

admired him, so calm and strong,though before me naked and bound,at my mercy.

Ho-Hak looked up at me. “It isnot,” he said, “that I am aparticularly brave man. It is ratherthat I know you will not throw meto tharlarion.”

“How can you know that?” Iasked.

“No man who fights a hundred,”said he, “with only a girl at hisside, could act so.”

“I shall sell you all in Port Kar!”I cried.

“Perhaps,” said Ho-Hak, “but Ido not think so.”

“But I have won you and yourpeople, and all these slaves,” I toldhim, “that I might have myvengeance on you, for making meslave, and come rich with cargo toPort Kar!”

“I expect that is not true,” saidHo-Hak.

“He did it for Eechius,” saidTelima.

“Eechius was killed on theisland,” said Ho-Hak.

“Eechius had given him rencecake when he was bound at thepole,” said Telima. “Ti was for him

that he did this.”Ho-Hak looked at me. There

were tears in his eyes. “I amgrateful, Warrior,” said he.

I did not understand his emotion.“Take him away!” I ordered

Thurnock and Clitus, and theydragged Ho-Hak from my presence,taking him back somewhere on thesecond barge, among other boundslaves.

I was angry.Ho-Hak had not begged for

mercy. He had not demeanedhimself. He had shown himself adozen times more man than me.

I hated rencers, and all men,

saving perhaps the two who servedme.

Ho-Hak had been bred a slave, adegraded and distorted exotic, andhad served even in the darkness ofthe stinking rowing holds of cargovessels of Port Kar, and yet, beforeme, he had shown himself a dozentimes more man than me.

I hated him, and rencers.I looked at the slaves chained at

the benches. Any of them, in ragssheared and shackled, beaten andhalf-starved, was greater than I.

I was no longer worthy of thelove of two women I had know,Talena, who had once foolishly

consented to be the FreeCompanion of one now proved tobe ignoble and coward, and Vella,Elizabeth Cardwell, once of Earth,who had mistakenly granted herlove to one worthy raother only ofher contempt and scorn. And, too, Iwas no longer worthy of the respectof my father, Matthew Cabor,Administrator of Ko-ro-ba, and ofmy teacher at arms, the Older Tarl,nor of he who had been my smallfriend, Torm, the Scribe. I couldnever again face those I had known,Kron of Tharna, Andreas of Tor,Kamchak of the Tuchuks, Reliusand Ho-Sorl of Ar, none of them.

All would despise me now.I looked down on Telima.“What will you do with us, my

Ubar?” she asked.Did she mock me?“You have taught me,” I said,

“that I am of Port Kar.”“You have perhaps, my1 Ubar,”

said she, “misunderstood thelesson.”

“Be silent!” I cried.She put down her head. “If any

here,” she said, “is of Port Kar, it issurely Telima.”

Furious at her mockerly I leapedfrom the chair of the oar-master andstruck her with the back of my hand,

snapping her head to one side.I felt shamed, agonized, but I

would show nothing.I returned to my seat.There was a streak of blood

across her face where her lip hadbeen cut by her teeth.

She put down her head again. “Ifany,” she whispered, “surelyTelima.”

“Be silent!” I cried.She looked up. “Telima,” she

whispered, “is at her Ubar’spleasure.”

I looked at Thurnock and Clitus.“I am going to Port Kar,” I said.Thurnock crossed his great arms

on his chest, and nodded his head.Clitus, too, gave assent to this.

“You are free men,” I said. “Youneed not accompany me.”

“I,” said Thurnock, in a boomingvoice, “would follow you even tothe Cities of Dust.”

“And I,” said Clitus, “I, too.”Thurnock was blue-eyed, Clitus

gray-eyed. Thurnock was a hugeman, with arms like the oars of thegreat galleys; Clitus was slighter,but he had been first oar; he wouldhave great strength, beyond what itmight seem.

“Build a raft,” I said, “largeenough for food and water, and

more than two men, and what wemight find here that we might wishto take with us.”

They set about their work.I sat, alone, on the great chair of

the oar-master. I put my head in myhands.

I was Ubar here, but I found thethrone a bitter one. I would haveexchanged it all for Tarl Cabot, themyth, and the dream, that had beentaken from me.

When I raised my head from myhands I felt hard and cruel.

I was alone, but I had my arm,and its strength, and the Goreanblade.

Here, on this wooden land lost inthe delta marshes, I was Ubar.

I knew now, as I had not before,what men were. I had in miserylearned this in myself. And I nowsaw myself a fool for havingespoused codes, for having setabove myself ideals.

What could there be that couldstand above the steel blade?

Was not honor a sham, loyaltyand courage a deceit, an illusion ofthe ignorant, a dream of fools?

Was not the only wise man hewho observed carefully and whenhe might took what he could?

The determinants of the wise man

could not be such phantoms.There was only gold, and power,

and the bodies of women, and steel.I was a strong man.I was such that might make a

place for himself in a city such asPort Kar.

“The raft is ready,” saidThurnock, his body gleaming sweat,wiping a great forearm1 across hisface.

“We found food and water,” saidClitus, “and some weapons, andgold.”

“Good,” I said.“There is much rence paper,”

said Thurnock. “Did you want us to

put some on board?”“No,” I said. “I do not want

rence paper.”“What of slaves?” asked

Thurnock.I looked to the prow of the first

barge, where was bound the lithe,dark-haired beauty, she who hadbeen so marvelously legged in thebrief rence tunic. Then I looked tothe second prow, and the third,where were tied the large girl,blond and gray-eyed, who had heldmarsh vine against my arm, and theshorter girl, dark-haired, who hadcarried a net over her left shoulder.These had danced their insolence,

their contempt of me. They had spatupon me, when I had been boundhelpless, and then whirled awaylaughing into the circle of the dance.

I laughed.They had earned for themselves

the chains and brands of slave girls.Thurnock and Clitus regarded

me.“Bring the girls at second and

third prow,” I told them.A grin broke across the face of

Thurnock. “They are beauties,” hesaid, shaking that great shaggy headof yellow hair, sheared at the baseof his neck. “Beauties!”

He and Clitus went to fetch the

slaves.I myself turned and walked

slowly down the gangway betweenthe rowers’ benches, and thenclimbed the stairs to the foredec ofthe barge.

The girl, her back bound over thecurved prow, facing forward, heardme, but could not see me. My head,as I stood on the foredeck, wasabout a foot below her fastenedankles. Her wrists, facing me, hadbeen bound cruelly behind theprow.

“Who is it?” she asked.I said nothing.“Please,” she begged. “Who is

it?”“Be silent,” said I, “Slave.”A small cry of anguish escaped

her.With a movement of the Gorean

blade I cut the fiber at her ankles.Then, standing on the rail of the

foredeck, my left had on the prow, Icut first the fiber binding her at thethroat, and then that binding her atthe waist. Then, resheathing mysword, I eased her, wrists bound,down the prow, until her feet at laststood on the rail, on which, besideher, I stood.

I turned her about.She saw me, the black, swollen

mouth, the eyes, and screamedhelplessly.

“Yes,” I said, “it is I.”Then, cruelly, I took her head in

my hands and pressed my lips uponhers.

Never had I seen a woman soovercome with utter terror.

I laughed at her misery.Then, contempuously, I removed

my blade from the sheath. I put thepoint under her chin, lifting herhead. Once, when I had been boundat the pole, she had pushed up myhead, that she might better assessthe features of a slave. “You are abeauty, aren’t you?” I commented.

Her eyes looked at me withterror1.

I dropped the point to her throat,and she turned away her head,shutting her eyes. For a moment I lether feel the point in hte delicacy ofher throat, then I dropped the bladeand slashed the binding fiber thatfastened her wrists together aboutthe prow.

She fell to the foredeck, on herhands and knees.

She struggled to her feet, halfcrouching, half mad with fear, andthe pain of being bound at the prow.

With the point of my blade Ipointed to the deck.

She shook her head, and turned,and ran to the rail, and held it,looking over.

A huge tharlarion, seeing theimage on the water, half rose fromthe marsh, jaws clashingin, and thendropped back into the water. Twoor three more tharlarion thenchurned there beneath her.

She threw back her head andscreamed.

She turned to face me, shakingher head.

The tip of my blade still pointedinexorably to a place on the deck.

“Please!” she wept.The blade did not move.

She came and stood before me,and then dropped ot her knees,resting back on her heels. Shelowered her head and extended herarms, wrists crossed, thesubmission of the Gorean female. Idid not immediately bind her, butwalked about her, examining her asprize. I had not hitherto understoodher as so beautiful, and desirable.At last, after I had well stisfiedmyself as to her quality, I took a bitof binding fiber that had fastenedher ankles at the prow, and lashedher wrists together.

She raised her head and lookedup at me, her eyes searching mine,

pleading.I spat down in her face, and she

lowered her head, shouldersshaking, sobbing.

I turned away and descended theforedeck, and returned between theslaves to the steps below the tillerdeck.

The girl followed me, unbidded.Once I turned, and saw that she

wiped, with the back of her rightwrist, my spittal from her face. Shelowered her bound hands and stoodon the planking, head down.

I took again my chair, that of theoar-master, in this domain.

The large, blond, gray-eyed girl

and the shorter girl, dark-haired,who had carried the net, kneltbefore the chair on the rowing deck.

My girl then knelt to one side,head down.

I surveyed the two girls, theblond one and the shorter one, andlooked to Thurnock and Clitus.

“Do you like them?” I asked.“Beauties!” said Thurnock.

“Beauties!”The girls trembled.“Yes,” said Clitus, “though they

are rence girls, they would bring ahigh price.”

“Please!” said the blond girl.I looked at Thurnock and Clitus.

“They are yours.” I said.“Ha!” cried Turnock. And then

he seized up a length of bindingfiber. “Submit!” she boomed at thelarge, blond girl and, terrified,almost leaping, she lowered herhead, thrusting forward her hands,wrists crossed. In an instant, withpeasant knots, Thurnock1 hadlashed them together. Clitus benteasily to pick up a length of bindingfiber. He looked at the shorter girl,who looked up at him with hate.“Submit,” he said to her, quietly.Sullenly, she did so. Then, startled,she looked up at him, her wristsbound, having felt the strength of his

hands. I smiled to myself. I had seenthat look in the eyes of girls before.Clitus, I expected, would have littledifficulty with his short rence girl.

“What will masters do with us?”asked the lithe girl, lifting her head.

“You will be taken as slave girlsto Port Kar,” I said.

“No, no!” cried the lithe girl.The blond girl screamed, and the

shorter girl, dark-haired, began tosob, putting her head to the deck.

“Is the raft fully ready?” I asked.“It is,” boomed Thurnock. “It is.”“We have tied it with the rence

craft,” said Clitus, “abeam of thestarboard bow of this barge.”

I picked up the long coil ofbinding fiber from which I had,earlier, cut three lengths, to bindTelima. I tied one eand about thethroat of the lithe girl.

“What is your name?” I asked.“Midice,” said she, “if it pleases

master.”“It does not displease me,” I

said. “I am content to call you bythat name.”

I found it a rather beautiful name.It was pronounced in threesyllables, the first accented.

Thurnock then took the same longlength of binding fiber, one end ofwhich I had fastened about

Midice’s neck, and, without cuttingit, looped and knotted it about theneck of the large, blond, gray-eyedgirl, handling the coil then to Clitus,who indicated that the short rencegirl should take her place in thecoffle.

“What is your name?” boomedThurnock to the large girl, whoflinched.

“Thura,” she said, “--if it pleasesMaster.”

“Thura!” he cried, slapping histhigh. “I am Thurnock!”

The girl did not seem muchpleased by this coincidence.

“I am of the peasants,” Thurnock

told her.She looked at him, rather in

horror. “Only of the peasants?” shewhispered.

“The Peasants,” cried outThurnock, his voice thundering overthe marsh, “are the ox on which theHome Stone rests!”

“But I am of the Rencers!” shewailed.

The Rencers are often thought tobe a haigher caste that the Peasants.

“No,” boomed Thurnock. “Youare only Slave!”

The large girl wailed withmisery, pulling at her bound wrists.

Clitus had already fastened the

short rence girl in the coffle, thebinding fiber looped and knottedabout her neck, the remainder of thecoil fallen to the deck behind her.

“What is your name?” he askedthe girl.

She looked up at him, shyly.“Ula,” she said, “--if it pleasesmaster.”

She lowered her head.I turned to the woman and1 the

child I had freed earlier, and hadmade to stand to one side.

Telima, haltered, bound hand andfoot at the bottom of the stairs to thetiller deck, addresed herself to me.“As I recall,” she said, “you are

going to take us all to Port Kar, tobe sold as slaves.”

“Be silent,” I told her.“If not,” she said, “I expect you

will have the barges sunk in themarsh, that we may all be fed totharlarion.”

I looked upon her in irritation.She smiled at me.“That,” she said, “is what one

would do who is of Port Kar.”“Be silent!” I said“Very well,” said she, “my

Ubar.”I turned again to the woman, and

the child. “When we have gone,” Isaid, “free your people. Tell Ho-

hak that I have taken some of hiswomen. It is little enough for whatwas done to me.”

“A Ubar,” pointed out Telima,“need give no accounting, noexplanation.”

I seized her by the arms, liftingher up and holding her before me.

She did not seem frightened.“This time,” she asked, “will you

perhaps throw me up the stairs?”“The mouth of rence girls,”

commented Clitus, “are said to beas large as the delta itself.”

“It is true,” said Telima.I lowered her to her knees again.I turned to the woman and the

child. “I am also going to free theslaves at the benches,” I said.

“Such slaves are dangerousmen,” said the woman, looking atthem with fear.

“All men are dangerous,” I said.I took the key to the shackles of

the barge slaves. I tossed it to oneof the men. “When we have left, andnot before,” I told him, “freeyourself, and your fellows, on allthe barges.”

Numbly he held the key, notbelieving that it was in his hand,staring down at it. “Yes,” he said.

The slaves, as one man, stared atme.

“The Rencers,” I said, “willdoubtless help you live in themarsh, should you wish it. If not,they will guide you to freedom,away from Port Kar.”

None of the slaves spoke.I turned to leave.“My Ubar,” I heard.I turned to look at Telima.“Am I your slave?” she asked.“I told you on the island,” I said,

“that you are not.”“Why then will you not unbind

me?” she asked.Angrily I went to her and slipped

the Gorean blade between herthroat and the halter, cutting it,

freeing her from its tether. I thenslashed away the fiber that hadconfined her wrists and ankles. Shestood up in the brief rence tunic,and stretched.

She maddened me in the doing ofit.

Then she yawned and shook herhead, and rubbed her wrists.

“I am not a man,” she said, “but Iexpect that a man would findMidice a not unpleasing wench.”

Midice, bound, leading thecoffle, lifted her head.

“But,” said Telima, “is notTelima much better than Midice?”

Midice, to my surprise, shook

with anger and, bound, tethered,turned to face Telima. I gatheredthat she had regarded herself as thebeauty of the rence islands.

“I was first prow,” said Midiceto Telima.

“Had I been taken,” said Telima,“doubtless I would have been firstprow.”

“No!” shouted Midice.“But I did not permit myself to be

netted like a little fool,” saidTelima.

Midice was speachless with fury.“When I found you,” I reminded

Telima, “you were lying on yourstomach, bound hand and foot.”

Midice threw back her head andlaughed.

“Nonetheless,” said Telima, “Iam surely, in all respects, superiorto Midice.”

Midice lifted her bound wrists toTelima. “Look!” she cried. “It isMidice whom he had made hisslave! Not you! That shows youwho is most beautiful!”

Telima looked at Midice inirritation.

“You are too fat,” I said toTelima.

Midice laughed.“When I was your Mistress,” she

reminded me, “you did not find me

too fat.”“I do now,” I said.“I learned long ago,” said

Telima, loftily, “never to believeanything a man says.”

Telima was now walking aboutthe three girls. “Yes,” she wassaying, “not a bad catch.” Shestopped in front of Midice, who ledthe coffle. Midice stood verystraight, disdainfully, under herinspection. The Telima, to Midice’shorror, felt her arm, and slappedher side and leg. “This one is alittle skinny,” said Telima.

“Master!” cried Midice, to me.“Open your mouth, Slave,”

ordered Telima.In tears, Midice did so, and

Telima examined her, casually,turning her head this way and that.

“Master!” protested Midice, tome.

“A slave,” I informed her, “willtake whatever abuse a free personchooses to inflict upon them.”

Telima stepped back, regardingMidice.

“Yes, Midice,” she said, “allthings considered, I think you willmake an excellent slave.”

Midice wept, pulling at thebinding fiber on her wrists.

“Let us be off,” I said.

I turned to go. Already, Thurnockand Clitus, in loading the raft, hadplaced on it my helmet, and shield,and the great bow, with its arrows.

“Wait,” said Telima.To my amazement she slipped out

of her rence cloth tunic and took aplace behind the third girl in thecoffle, the shorter rence girl, Ula.

She shook her hair back ove1rher shoulders.

“I am fourth girl,” she said.“No,” I said, “you are not.”She looked at me with irritation.

“You are going to Port Kar, are younot?” she asked.

“Yes,’’ I said.

“That is interesting,” she said, “I,too, am going to Port Kar.”

“No, you are not,” I said.“Add me to the coffle,” she said,

“I am fourth girl.”“No,” I said, “you are not.”Again she regarded me with

irritation. “Very well,” she said.And then, angrily, loftily, shewalked to the deck before me andthen, movment by movement, to myfury, knelt before me, back on herheels, head down, arms extended,wrists crossed, as though forbinding.

“You are a fool!” I told her.She lifted her head, and smiled.

“You may simply leave me here ifyou wish,” she said.

“It is not in the codes,” I said.“I thought,” said she, “you no

longer kept the codes.”“Perhaps I should slay you!” I

hissed.“One of Port Kar might do such.”

she said.“Or,” I said, “take you and show

you well the meaning of a collar!”“Yes,” she smiled, “or that.”“I do not want you!” I said.“Then slay me,” she said.I seized her by the arms, lifting

her up. “I should take you,’’ I said,“and break your spirit!”

“Yes,” she said, “I expect youcould do that, if you wished.”

I threw her down, away from me.She looked up at me, angrily,

tears in her eyes. “I am fourth girl,”she hissed.

“Go to the coffle,” said I,“Slave.”

“Yes,” said she, “--Master.”She stood there proudly,

straightly, behind the short rencegirl, Ula, and, wrists bound, andtethered by the neck, was added tothe salve coffle, as fourth girl.

I looked upon my formerMistress, nude, bound in my coffle.

I found myself not displeased to

own her. There were sweetvengeances which were mine toexact, and hers to pay. I had notasked for her as slave. But she had,for some unaccountable reason,submitted herself. All my formerhatreds of her began to rear withinme, the wrongs which she had doneme, and the degradation andhumiliation to which she hadsubmitted me. I would see that sheabided well by her decison ofsubmission. I was angry only that Imyself had not stripped her andbeaten her, and made her amiserable slave as soon as we hadcome to the barges.

She did seem particularlydisturbed at the plight in which shefound herself.

“Why do you not leave herhere?” demanded Midice.

“Be silent, Slave,” said Telima,to her.

“You, too, are a Slave!” criedMidice. Then, Midice looked at me.She drew a de1ep breath, therewere tears in her eyes. “Leave herhere,” she begged. “I--I will serveyou better.”

Thurnock gave a great laugh. Thelarge, blond girl, Thura, gray-eyed,and the shorter rence girl, Ula,gasped.

“We shall see,” remarkedTelima.

“What do you want her for?”asked Midice, of me.

“You are stupid, aren’t you?”asked Telima, of the girl.

Midice cried out with rage. “I,”she cried, “--I will serve himbetter!”

Telima shrugged. “We shall see,”she said.

“We will need one,” said Clitus,“to cook, and clean, and runerrands.”

Telima cast him a dark look.“Yes,” I said, “that is true.”“Telima,” said Telima, “is not a

serving slave.”“Kettle Girl,” I said.She sniffed.“I would say,” laughed Thurnock,

grinning, “kettle and mat!” He hadone tooth missing on the upper right.

I held Telima by the chin,regarding her. “Yes,” I said,“doubtless both kettle and mat.”

“As Master wishes,” said thegirl, smiling.

“I think I will call you--” I said,“--Pretty Slave.”

She did not seem, to myamazement, much distressed nordispleased.

“Beautiful Slave would be mor

appropriate,” she said.“You are a strange woman,” said

I, “Telima.”She shrugged.“Do you think your life with me

will be easy?” I asked.She looked at me, frankly. “No,”

she said, “I do not.”“I thought you would never wish

to go again to Port Kar,” I said.“I would follow you,” she said,

“--even to Port Kar.”I did not understand this.“Fear me,” I saidShe looked up at me but did not

seem afraid.“I am of Port Kar,” I told her.

She looked at me. “Are we notboth,” she asked, “of Port Kar?”

I remembered her cruelties, hertreatment of me. “yes,” I said, “Isuppose we are.”

“Then, Master,” said she, “let usgo to our city.”

Chapter 9Port KarI watched the dancing girl of Port

Kar writhing on the square of sandbetween the tables, under the whipsof masters, in a Paga tavern of PortKar.

“Your paga,” said the nude slavegirl, who served me, her wristschained. “It is warmed as youwished.”

I took it from her, not evenglancing upon her, and drained thegoblet.

She knelt beside the low table1,at which I sat cross-legged.

“More,” I said, handing her backthe goblet, again not deigning toeven glance upon her.

“Yes, Master,” she said, rising,taking the goblet.

I liked paga warm. One felt it somuch the sooner.

It is called the Whip Dance, the

dance the girl upon the sand danced.She wore a delicate vest and belt

of chains and jewels, withshimmering metal droplets attached.And she wore ankle rings, andlinked slave bracelets, again withshimmering droplets pendant uponthem; and a locked collar, matching.

She danced under ships’ lanterns,hanging from the ceiling of the pagatavern, it located near the wharvesbounding the great arsenal.

I heard the snapping of the whip,her cries.

The dancing girls of Port Kar aresaid to be the best of all Gor. Theyare sought eagerly in the many cities

of the planet. They are slave to thecore, vicious, treacherous, cunning,seductive, sensuous, dangerous,desirable, excruciatinglydesireable.

“Your paga,” said the girl, whoserved me.

I took it from her, again notseeing her. “Go, Slave,” said I.

“Yes, Master,” she said and,with a rustle of the chain, left myside.

I drank more paga.So I had come to Port Kar.Four days ago, in the afternoon,

after two days in the marshes, myparty had reached the canals of the

city.We had come to one of the canals

bordering on the delta.We had seen that the canal was

guarded by heavy metal gates, ofstrong bars, half submerged in thewater.

Telima had looked at the gates,frightened. “When I escapted fromPort Kar,” she said, “there were nosuch gates.”

“Could you have escaped then,”asked I, “as you did, had there beensuch gates?”

“No,” she whispered, frightened,“I could not have.”

The gates had closed behind us.

Our girls, our slaves, wept at thepoles, guiding the raft into thecanal.

As we passed beneath windowslining the canals men had, uponoccasion, leaned out, calling usprices for them.

I did not blame them. They werebeautiful. And each poled well, ascould only one from the marshesthemselves. We might well havecongratulated ourselves on ourcatch of rence girls.

Midice, Thura, Ula, Telima.We no longer kept them in a

throat coffle. But we had, about thethroat of each, wrapped, five times,

a length of binding fiber, andknotted it, that this, serving ascollar, might mark them as slave.Aside from this they were not, at thetime we had entered the city,secured, save that a long length ofbinding fiber, knotted about theright ankle of each, tied themtogether. Telima had been brandedlong ago, but the thighs of Midice,Thura and Ula had never yet felt theiron.

I watched the girl from Port Kardance.

We could, tomorrow, brand thethree girls, and purchase collars.

There was someth1ing of an

uproar as a large, fierce-lookingfellow, narrow-eyed, ugly, missingan ear, followd by some twenty ofthirty sailors, burst into the tavern.

“Paga! Paga!” they cried,throwing over some tables theywished, driving men from them,who had sat there, then righting thetables and sitting about them,pounding on them and shouting.

Girls ran to serve them paga.“It is Surbus,” said a man near

me, to another.The fierce fellow, bearded,

narrow-eyed, missing an ear, whoseemed to be the leader of thesemen, seized one of the paga girls,

twisting her arm, dragging hertoward one of the alcoves. I thoughtit was the girl who had served me,but I was not certain.

Another girl ran to him, bearing acup of paga. He took the cup in onehand, threw it down his throat, andcarried the girl he had seized,screaming, into one of the alcoves.The girl had stopped dancing theWhip Dance, and cowered on thesand. Other men, of those withSurbus, seized what paga girls theycould, and what vessels of thebeverage, and draged their prizestoward teh alcoves, sometimesdriving out those who occupied

them. Most, however, remained atthe tables, pounding on them,demanding drink.

I had heard the name of Surbus. Itwas well known among the piratecaptains of Port Kar, scourge ofgleaming Thassa.

I threw down another burningswallow of the paga.

He was pirate indeed, andslaver, and murderer and thief, acruel and worthless man,abominable, truly of Port Kar. I feltlittle but disgust.

And then I reminded myself ofmy own ignobility, my owncruelties and my own cowardice.

I, too, was of Port Kar.I had learned that beneath the

hide of men burned the hearts ofsleen and tharlarion, and that theirmoralities and ideals were so manycloaks to conceal the claw andtooth. Greed and selfishness I now,for the first time, understood. Thereis more honesty in Port Kar, Ithought, than in all the cites of Gor.Here men scorn to sheath the clawsof their heart in the pretenses oftheir mouth. Here, it this city, aloneof all the cities of Gor, men did notstoop to cant and prattle. Here theyknew, and would acknowledge, thedark truths of human life, that, in the

end, there was only gold, andpower, and the bodies of women,and the steel of weapons. Here theyconcerned themselves only withthemselves. Here they behaved aswhat they were, cruelly and withruthlessness, as men, despising, andtaking what they might, should itplease them to do so. And it was inthis city, now mine, that I belonged,I who had lost myself, who hadchosen ignominious slavery to thefreedom of honorable death.

I took yet another swallow ofpaga.

There was a girl’s scream and,from the alcove into which Surbus

had dragged her, the girl, bleeding,fled among the tables, he plungingdrunken after her.

“Protect me!” she cried, toanyone who would listen. But therewas only laughter, and menreaching out to seize her.

She ran to my table and fell toher knees before me. I saw not shewas the one who had served meearlier.

“Please,” she wept, her mouthbloody, “protect me.” She extendedher chained wrists to me.

“No,” I said.Then Surbus was on her, his hand

in her hair, and he bent her

backwards.He scowled at me.I took another sip of paga. It was

no business of mine.I saw the tears in the eyes of the

girl, her outstretched hands, andthen, with a cry of pain, she wasdraged back to the alcove by thehair.

Several men laughed.I turned again to my paga.“You did well,” said a man next

to me, half-shaven. “That wasSurbus.”

“One of the finest swords of PortKar,” said another.

“Oh,” I said.

Port Kar, squalid, malignant PortKar, scourge of gleaming Thassa,Tarn of the Sea, is a vast, disjointedmass of holdings, each almost afortress, piled almost upon oneanother, divided and crossed byhundreds of canals. It is, in effect,walled, though it has few walls asone normally thinks of them. Thosebuildings which face outwards, say,either at the delta or along theshallow Tamber Gulf, have nowindows on the ourward side, andthe outward walls of them areseveral feet thick, and they aresurmounted, on the roofs, withcrenelated parapets. The canals

which open into the delta of theTamber were, in the last few years,fitted with heavy, half-submergedgates of bars. We had entered thecity through one such pair of gates.In Port Kar, incidentally, tehre arenone of the towers oftenencountered in the norther cities ofGor. The men of Port Kar had notchosen to build towers. It is theonly city on Gor I know of whihcwas built not by free men, but byslaves, under the lash of masters.Commonly, on Gor, slaves are notpermitted to build, that beingregarded as a privilege to bereserved for free men.

Politically, Port Kar is a chaos,ruled by several conflicting Ubars,each with his own following, eachattempting to terrorize, to governand tax to the extent of his power.Nominally beneath these Ubars, butin fact much independent of them, isan oligarchy of merchant princes,Captains, as they call themselves,who, in council, maintain andmanage the great arsenal, buildingand renting shitps and fittings,themselves controlling the grainfleet, the oil fleet, the slave fleet,and others.

Samos, First Slaver of Port Kar,said to be an agent of Priest-Kings,

was, I knew, a member of thiscouncil. I had been suppose tocontact him. Now, of course, Iwould not do so.

There is even, in Port Kar, arecognized caste of Thieves, theonly such I know of on Gor, which,in the lower canals and perimetersof the city, has much power, that ofthe threat and the knife. They arerecognized by the Thiefs Scar,which they wear as a caste mark, atiny, three-pronged brand burnedinto the face in back of and belowthe eye, over the right cheekbone.

One might think that Port Kar,divided as she is, a city in which

are raised the thrones of anarchy,would fall easy prey to either theimperialisms or the calculatedretaliations of the other cities, but itis not true. When threatened fromthe outside the men of Port Karhave, desperately and with theviciousness of cornered urts, welldefended themselves. Further, ofcourse, it is next to impossible tobring large bodies of armed menthrough the delta of the Vosk, or,under the conditions of the marsh, tosupply them or maintain them in aprotracted siege.

The delta itself is Port Kar’sstrongest wall.

The nearest solid land, other thanoccasional bars in the marshes, toPort Kar lies to her north, some onehundred passangs distant. This area,I supposed, might theoretically beused as a staging area, 1for thestoring of supplies and theembarkation of an attacking forceon barges, but the militaryprospects of such a venture weredecidedly not promising. It layhundreds of pasangs from thenearest Gorean city other, ofcourse, than Port Kar. It was openterritory. It was subject to attack byforces beached to the west from thetarn fleets of Port Kar, through the

marsh itself by the barges of PortKar, or from the east or north,depending on hte marches followingthe disembarkation of Port Karforces. Further, it was open toattach from the air by means of thecavalries of merceneary tarnsmenof Port Kar, of which she hasseveral. I knew one of thesemercenary captains, Ha-Kee,murderer, once of Ar, whom I hadmet in Turia, in the house ofSaphrar, a merchant. Ha-Keel alonecommanded a thousand men,tarnsmen all. And even if anattacking force could be broughtinto the marsh, it was not clear that

it would, days later, make its wayto the walls of Port Kar. It might bedestroyed in the marshes. And if itshould come to the walls, there waslittle likelihood of its beingeffective. The supply lines of such aforce, given the barges of Port Karand her tarn cavalries, might beeasily cut.

I took another drink of paga.The men who had come to the

tavern were roistering but order, tosome extent, had been restored.Two of the ship’s lanterns had beenbroken. There was glass, andspilled paga about, and two brokentables. But teh musicians were

again playing and again, in thesquare of sand, the girl performed,through not now the Whip Dance.Nude slave girls, wrists chained,hurried about. The Proprietor,sweating, aproned, was tipping yetanother great bottle of paga in itssling, filling cups, that they might beborne to the drinkers. There was anoccasional scream from thealcoves, bringing laughter from thetables. I heard the flash of a whipsomewhere, and the cries of a girl.

I wondered if, now that thecanals were barred, slaves escapedfrom Port Kar.

The nearest solid land was about

one hundred pasangs to the north,but it was open land, and, there, onthe edges of the delta, there werelog outposts of Port Kar, whereslave hunters and trained sleen,together, patrolled the marshes’edges.

The vicious, siz-legged sleen,large-eyed, sinuous, mammalian butresermbling a furred, serpentinelizard, was a reliable, indefatigablehunter. He could follow a scentdays old with ease, and then,perhaps hundreds of pasangs, anddays, later, be unleashed for thesport of the hunters, to tear hisvictim to pieces.

I expected there was not likely tobe escape for slaves to the north.

That left the delta, with itsinterminable marshes, and the thirst,and the tharlarion.

Hunting sleen are trained to scentout and destroy escaped slaves.

Their senses are unusually keen.Tuchuks, in the sounth, as I

recalled, had also used sleen to huntslaves, and, of course, to protecttheir herds.

I was becoming drunk, mythoughts less connected.

The sea, I thought, the sea.Could not Port Kar be attacked

from the sea?

The music of the musicians beganto beat in my blood, reeling there.

I looked at the girls serving paga.“More paga!” I cried, and anoher

wench ran lightly to serve me.But only Cos and Tyros had

fleets to match those of Port Kar.There were the northern islands,

of course, and they were numerous,but small, extending in anarchipelago like a scimitarnortheastward from Cos, which laysome four hundred pasangs west ofPort Kar. But these islands were notunited, and, indeed, the governmentof them was usualy no more than avillage council. They usually

possessed no vessels morenoteworthy than clinker-built skiffsand coasters.

The girl in teh sand, the dancinggirl, was now performing the BeltDance. I had seen it done oncebefore, in Ar, in the house ofCernus, a slaver.

Only Cos and Tyros had fleets tomatch those of Port Kar. And they,almost of tradition, did not care toengage their fleets with hers.Doubtless all sides, including PortKar, regarded the risks as too great;doubtless all sides, including PortKar, were content with the stable,often profitable, situation of

constant but small-scale warfare,interspersed with some trading andsmuggling, which had for so longcharacterized their relations. Raidsof one upon the other, involving afew dozen ships, were notinfrequent, whether on the shippingof Port Kar, or beaching on Cos orTyros, but major actions, thosewhich might involve the hundredsof galleys possessed by theseredoubtable maritime powers, thetwo island Ubarates and Port Kar,had taken place in the more than acentrury.

No, I said to myself, Port Kar issafe from the sea.

And then I laughed, for I wasconsidering how Port Kar mightfall, and yet she was my own, myown city.

“More paga!” I cried.Tarnsmen, aflight, might annoy

her with arrows or fire, but it didnot seem they could seriously harmher, not unless they come inthousands upon thousands, and noteven Ar, Glorious Ar, possessedtarn cavalries so great. And how,even then, could Port Kar fall, forshe was a mass of holdings, eachindividually defensible, room toroom, each separated from theothers by the canals which, in their

hundreds, crossed and divided thecity?

No, I said to myself, Port Karcould be held a hundred years.

And even should she, somehow,fall, her men need only take ship,and then, when it pleased them,return, ordering slaves again tobuild in the delta a city called PortKar.

On Gor, I told myself, andperhaps on all worlds, there willalways be a Port Kar.

I found the girl on the sandseductive, and beautiful. The girlsof Port Kar, I told myself are thebest on Gor.

Tarnsmen, I thought, tarnsmen.Off to my right a table was

overturned and two men of the crewof Surbus were rolling about,brawling. Ohers were calling forWhip Knives to be brought.

I remembered, with fondness, myown tarn, the sable monster, Ubarof the Skies.

I extended my hand and thegoblet was again refilled.

And I remembered, too, withbitterness, the girl, ElizabethCardwell, Vella of Gor, who had sohelped me in my work in Ar onbehalf of the Priest-kings. Whilereturning her to the Sardar I had

thought long on the matter of hersafety. I surely could not permit her,though I then loved her, as I couldnot now, being unworthy to love, toremain longer in the dangers of Gor.Already she who doubtless beknown to the Others, not Priest-Kings, who would challenge Priest-Kings for this world, and Earth. Herlife would surely be in jeopardy.She had undertaken great risks withme, which I, foolishly, hadpermitted. When at last I hadb1rought her safely back to theSardar I had thus told her I wouldarrange with Misk, the Priest-King,that she be returned to Earth.

“No!” she had cried.“I have made my decision,” I told

her. “You will be, for your owngood, for your own safety and well-being, returned to the planet Earth,where you will no longer have tofear the perils of this world.”

“But this is my world!” she hadcried. “It is mine as much as yours!I love it and you cannot send mefrom it!”

“You will be returned to theplanet Earth,” I had informed her.

“But I love you,” she said.“I am sorry,” I said, “It is not

easy for me to do what I must do.”There had been tears in my eyes.

“You must forget me,” I said. “Andyou must forget this world.”

“You do not want me!” she cried.“That is not true,” I said, “I love

you.”“You have no right,” said she,

“to take me from this world. It ismine, as much as yours!”

It would be hard, certainly, forher to leave this world, beautiful,bright and green, but perilous, forthe cities of Earth, to breathe againits air, to live in its cubicles, tomove jostled among her uncaringcrowds, ot lose herself again in itsmercantile grayness, itsinsensibilities and tediums, but it

was better for her to do so. Thereshe could be anonymous, and safe,perhaps contract a desirablemarriage, and live well in a largehouse, perhaps with servants, andconveniences, and devices.

“You will take this world fromme!” she cried.

“I have made my decision,” I toldher.

“You have no right,” said she,“to make such a decision for me.”

She looked up at me.“It is done,” I said. “Tomorrow

you will be returned to Earth. Yourwork here is done.”

I attempted to kiss her, but she

had turned and, not crying, left me.My thoughts turned again to the

great saddlebird, the War Tarn,Ubar of the Skies.

He had slain men who hadattempted to climb to his saddle.

Yet, that night, he had permittedElizabeth Cardwell, only a girl tosaddle him, to fly away fromSardar.

He, alone, had returned four dayslater.

In fury I had driven the birdaway.

I who had sought to protect her,had lost her.

And Talena, too, who has once

been my Free Companion, yearsago, I had lost.

I had loved two women, and Ihad lost them both.

I wept at the table, foolishly.I drank more paga, and my senses

reeled.Port Kar seemed sovereign on

Thassa.Her seamen were surely the

match for any who might sailagainst them.

They were perhaps the finest onall Gor.

It angered me, suddenly,drunkenly, that those of Port Kar,wicked as they were, should

possess so superbly the skills ofseamanship.

But then I laughed, for I shouldbe proud. For was I not myself ofPort Kar?

Could we not do what wewished, taking what we wanted, aswe had rence girls that pleased us,simply binding them and makingthem our slaves?

I laughed, for I had beenconsidering, aforetime, how PortKar might fall, and yet she was myown, my own city!

The two drunken seamen werenow cutting away, wildly, at oneanother, with whip knives. They

fought in the square of sand amongthe tables. The girl, who haddanced there, she who had worn thedelicate vest and belt of chains andjewels, with shimering metaldroplets attached, with themusicians, had withdrawn to oneside. Men were calling oods inbetting.

The whip knife is a delicateweapon, and can be used withelegance, with finesse; it is, as faras I know, unique to Port Kar.

In the shouts, under the ship’slanterns, I saw the flesh leap fromthe cheek of one of the seamen. Thegirl, the dancer, eyes blazing with

delight, fists clenched, wasscreaming encouragement to one ofthe contestants.

But these men were drunk andstumbling, and their brutal strikingabout, it seemed, was offensive tomany at the tables, who disdainedso crude an employment of aweapon of such subtlety.

Then one of the men was down,vomiting in his blood, on his handsand knees.

“Kill him!” screamed the girl.“Kill him!”

But teh other fellow, drunk andbleeding, to great laughter amongthe tables, stumbled backwards,

turned, and fell unconscious.“Kill him!” screamed the girl, in

her vest and belt of chains andjewels, to the unconscious man.“Kill him!”

But the other man, bleeding,shaking his head, had now crawledfrom the patch of sand and now,some yards off, had collaspsedamong the tables, quite asunconscious as the first.

“Kill him!” shrieked the girl tothe first man. “Kill him!”

Then she screamed with pain,throwing back her head, as the lashof the five-strap Gorean slave whipcut into her back.

“Dance, Slave!” commanded theproprietor, her Master.

She, terrified, fled to the sand,with a jangling of her chains, andjewels and metal droplets, andstood tehre, tears in her eyes, kneesflexed, arms lifted over her head.

“Play!” cried the proprietor tothe musicians. He cracked the whiponce again.

They began to play, and the girl,once more, danced.

I looked upon her, and looked, aswell, from face to face in thatcrowded, noisy, poorly lit room,filled with men laughing anddrinking. There was not a face there

that I saw taht did not seem to methe face of an animal.

And I, whoever or whatever Imight be, sat with them, at the sametables.

I joined in their laughter. “Morepaga!” I cried.

And then I wept, for I had lovedtwo women, and had lost them both.

And, as I watched, on that squareof sand between the tables in a pagatavern in Port Kar, under the ship’slanterns, the movements of the bodyof a slave girl, the lights reflectedin her chains, the rubies, theshimmering golden droplets, I grewslowly furious.

I vowed that I would never againlose a woman.

Woman, I told myself, as manysaid, was natural slave.

Then she was before my verytable. “Master,” she whispered.

Our eyes met.She wore a collar. I was free.

HEr gramet was an ornament. At myside I wore a sword of steel.

In the instant that our glances hadmet I had seen that she, whom I tookas woman, would, if she had hadthe power, make men slaves, but inthat same instant she had seen, inmy seyes, that it was men who werethe stronger, who held the power,

and that it would be she, if any, whowould be the slave.

“Begone,” I said, releasing herfrom my will.

She whirled away, angrily,frightened, moving to another table.

I watched her. “That,” I said tomyself, “is woman.”

I watched her moving, noted theglistening of the ornament she wore,remarked its sound.

I observed her, vicious,seductive, sinuous, desirable,excruciatingly desirable, owned.

She was tormenting, the collaredshe of her and beautiful, but Ilaughed, for these things were not

truly hers, but his, her master’s,who had but shortly before put thewhip to her back, for she was but awench in bondage, one owned by aman, in all things his.

I laughed.The men of Port Kar, I said,

know well how to treat women.The men of Port Kar, I said to

myself, know well how to keepwomen.

As slaves, and slaves alone!Worthless are they for aught else!I had loved two women, and I

had lost them both.I vowed I would never lose

another.

I rose drunkenly to my feet andkicked the table away.

I do not recall as clearly as Imight what occured during the night,but certain things have remainedwith me.

I do recall that I was incrediblydrunk, and furiour, and miserable,and filled with hate.

“I am of Port Kar!” I cried.I threw a sliver tarsk, taken from

what we had obtained from theslavers in the marsh, to theproprietor of the paga tavern, andtook in return one of the hugebottles of paga, and took in returnone of the huge bottles out of the

tavern, making my way along thenarrow walkway lining the canal,toward the quarters taken by mymen, Thurnock and Clitus, with ourslaves.

I had pounded on the beameddoor of our quarters. “Paga!” I hadcried. “I bring paga!”

Thurnock took down the beamsfrom the door, and swung it open.

“Paga!” he shouted, pleased,seeing the great bottle.

Midice, startled, looked up fromwhere she knelt, polishing thehoops of brass upon my shield.About her throat were the five coilsof binding fiber, knotted there in

token of her slaver. I had given hera brief tunic of silk, briefer eventhan had been the rence tunic shehad worn when she had taunted meat the pole, and when she haddanced before me, which had beentaken from her by the slaver aftershe had been netted on the isla1nd.

“Good, my Captain,” said Clitus,from one side, where he satworking on a net, reinforcing itsknots one by one. He grinned at thesight of the bottle. “I could usesome paga,” said he. He hadpurchased the net in the morning,with a trident, the traditionalweapons of the fisherman of the

western shore and the westernislands. Kneeling quite near him,holding cord for him, fiber on herthroat serving as collar, knelt short,dark-haired Ula. She, too, wore aslight bit of silk.

Thura, the large, blond girl, grayeyed, knelt near a pile of woodshavings. Thurnock, though in PortKar, had found a piece of Ka-la-nastock, and had been carving a greatbow, the long bow. I knew he hadalso found some bits of bosk horn,and some leather, and some hempand silk. In two or three days, Iexpected, he, too, would have abow. Piles he had already

commissioned from a smith; andThura, on his command, thisafternoon, with a bit of stick, hadstruck down a Vosk gull, that theshafts he fashioned, whether fromKa-la-na or tem-wood, would bewell fletched. She had beenwatching him make the bow,apparently, for most of theafternoon and evening. When Ientered she dropped her head,saying “Greetings, my Master’sCaptain.” She, too, wore bindingfiber on her throat, and a bit of silk.I saw that Thurnock had had her puta flower in her hair, a talender.Kneeling, she looked up at him, and

he gave her head a rough shake,getting shavings in her hair. She puther head down, smiling.

“Where is the Kettle Slave!” Icried.

“Here, Master,” said Telima, notpleasantly, entering the room anddropping to her knees before me.

On her throat as well werewound the five coils of bindingfiber, declaring her slave.

Of the four girls only she did notwear silk, for she was only a KettleSlave. She wore a brief tunic onlyof rep-cloth, already stained withgrease and the spatterings of thekitchen. Her hair was not combed,

and there was dirt on her knees andface. Her face was tired, andstrained, and red, flushed from theheat of the cooking fires. Her handshad been blistered from scrubbingand burned from the cooking,roughened and reddened from thecleaning and the washing of thebowls and goblets. I found greatpleasure in seeing the proudTelima, who had been my Mistress,as mere Kettle Slave.

“Master?” she asked.“Make a feast,” I said, “Kettle

Slave.”“Yes, Master,” she said.“Thurnock,” cried I, “secure the

slaves.”“Yes, my Captain,” he boomed.Midice stood up, timidly. Her

had was before her mouth. “Whatare you going to do, Master?” sheasked.

“We are taking you out,” I cried,“to be marked and collared!”

The three girls looked at oneanother in fear.

Already Turnock was puttingthem in a coffle, blinding the rightwrist of each.

Before we set out we broke openthe great bottle of paga, andThurnock, Clitus and I clashedgoblets and emptied them of their

swirling fires. Then we forced eachof the girls, choking and sputtering,to themselves upturn a goblet,swilling down as best they couldthe firey draught. I recall Midicestanding there in her silk, teh leatheron her wrists, shaking, coughing,paga on her mouth, looking at mewith fear.

“And then,” I cried, “we willreturn and make a 1feast!”

Thurnock, Clitus and I once moreclashed and emptied goblets, andthen, leading Midice, first in thecoffle, by the lead end of thebinding fiber, I stumbled through thedoor, finding my way down the

stairs, with the others, hunting for asmithy.

My memories are confused of thenight, but we did find a smithy, andwe had the girls marked, andpurchased collars for the, lockcollars, which we had suitablyengraved. Ula’s collar read I AMTHE PROPERTY OF CLITUS;Thurnock has his slave’s engravedTHURA, SLAVE OF THURNOCK;I had two collars engraved, one forMidice and one for Telima; bothread simply I BELONG TO BOSK.

I remember Midice, who hadalready been branded, standing withher badk to me and my standing

behind her, quite close, with thecollar, and placing it about herthroat, then, decisively, closing it.

Holding her thus I kissed her onthe throat.

She turned to face me, tears inher eyes, fingering the gleamingband of steel.

She had been branded, anddoubtless her thigh still stund fromthe fire of the iron. She knewherself then animal and slave, andso marked.

Now, about her throat, she woreas well the graceful badge ofservitude.

There were tears in her eyes as

she extended her arms to me, and Itook her into my arms and lifted herfrom her feet, turning and carryingher back to our quarters. As wewalked, Thurnock following,carrying Thura, and Clitus then, Ulaweeping in his arms, Midice put herhead against my left shoulder, and Ifelt her tears through my tunic.

“It seems,” said I, “Midice, Ihave won you.”

“Yes,” she said, “you have wonme. I am your slave.”

I threw back my head andlaughed.

She had taunted me at the pole,Now she was my slave.

The girl wept.That night, the girls in our arms,

we feasted, lifting many cups ofpaga.

Clitus, after returning to ourquarters, had left and returned withfour musicians, bleary-eyed, routedfrom their mats well past theTwentieth Hour, but, lured by thejingling of a pair of silver tarsks,ready to play for us, past the dawnif need be. We soon had them drunkas well and though it did notimprove their playing, I waspleased to see them join with us inour festivities, helping us to makeour feast. Clitus, too, had brought

two bottles of Ka-la-na wine, astring of eels, cheese of the Verr,and a sack of red olives from thegroves of Tyros.

We greeted him with cheers.Telima had prepared a roast

tarsk, stuffed with suls and peppersfrom Tor.

There were great quantities of theyellow Sa-Tarna bread, in itsrounded, six-part loaves.

We were served by the KettleSlave, Telima. She poured paga forthe men, and Ka-la-na for thewomen. She tore the bread for us,broke the cheese, ribboned the eelsand cut the tarsk. She hurried from

one to the other, and the musiciansas well, scarcely serving onebefore being summoned to another.The girls commanded her as well asthe men. She was only Kettle Salveand thus, they were of a higher sortthan she. Further, I gathered, on theislands, Telima, with her beauty,her skills and arrogance, had notbee popular, and it pleased them nolittle that she should be, in effect,slave for them as well as theirmasters.

I sat cross-legged at the lowtable, quaffing paga, my left armabout the shoulders of Midice, who,kneeling, snuggled against me.

Once, as Telima served me, Icaught her wrist. She looked at me.

“How is it,” I asked, “that aKettled Slave has an armlet ofgold?”

Midice lifted her head and kissedme on the neck, “Give Midice thearmlet,” she wheedled.

Tears appeared in the eyes ofTelima.

“Perhaps later,” I told Midice,“if you well please me.”

She kissed me. “I will wellplease you, Master,” she said. Thenshe threw a look of contempt atTelima. “Give me wine,” said she,“Slave.”

As Midice kissed me again,lingeringly, holding my head in herhands, Telima, tears in her eyes,filled her cup.

Across the table I saw Ula, eyestimid, lift her lips to Clitus. He didnot refuse her, and they began tokiss, and touch. Thurnock thenseized Thura, pressing his lips uponhers. Helpless in his great arms shestruggled, but then, as I laughed, shecried out as though in misery andbegan to yield to him, and then,moments later, her lips eagerlywere seeking his.

“Master,” said Midice, lookingat me, eyes bright.

“Do you recall,” I askedpleasantly, looking down into hereyes, “how some days ago youtaunted me when I was bound at thepole?”

“Master?” she asked, her eyestimid.

“Have you forgotten,” I asked,“how you danced before me?”

She drew back. “Please,Master,” she whispered, her eyesterrified.

I turned to the musicians. “Doyou know,” I asked, “the LoveDance of the Newly Collared SlaveGirl?”

“Port Kar’s?” asked the leader of

the musicians.“Yes,” I said.“Of course,” said he.I had purchased more than

marking and collars at the smithy.“On your feet,” boomed Turnock

to Thura, and she leaped frightenedto her feet, standing ankle deep inthe thick pile rug.

At the gesture from Clitus, Ula,too, leaped to her feet.

I put ankle rings on Midice, andthen slave bracelets. And tore fromher the bit of silk she wore. Shelooked at me with terror.

I lifted her to her feet, and stoodbefore her.

“Play,” I told the musicians.The Love Dance of the Newly

Collared Slave Girl has manyvariations, in the different cities ofGor, but the common theme is thatthe girl dances her joy that she willsoon lie in the arms of a strongmaster.

The musicians began to play, andto the clapping and cries of Turnockand Clitus, Thura and Ula dancedbefore them.

“Dance,” said I to Midice.In terror the dark-haired girl,

lithe, tears in her eyes, she somarvelously legged, lifted herwrists.

Now again Midice danced, herankles in delicious proximity andwrists lifted again together back toback above her head, palms out. Butthis ti1me her ankles were not asthough chained, nore her wrists asthough braceleted; rather they weretruly chained and braceleted; shewore the linked ankle rings, thethree-linked slave bracelets of aGorean master; and I did not thingshe would now conclude her danceby spitting upon me and whirlingaway.

She trembled. “Find mepleasing,” she begged.

“Don not afflict her so,” said

Telima to me.“Go to the kitchen,” said I,

“Kettle Slave.”Telima turned and, in the stained

tunic of re-cloth, left the room, asshe had been commanded.

The music grew more wild.“Where now,” I demanded of

Midice, “is your insolence, yourcontempt!”

“Be kind!” she cried. “Be kind toMidice!”

The music grwe even more wild.And then Ula, bolding before

Clitus, tore from her own body tehsilk she wore and danced, her armsextended to him.

He leaped to his feet and carriedher from the room.

I laughed.Then Thura, to my amazement,

though a rence girl, dancing,revealed herself similarly to thegreat Thurnock, he only of thepeasants, and he, with a great laugh,swept her from her feet and carriedher from the room.

“Do I dance for life?” beggedMidice.

I drew the Gorean blade. “Yes,”I said, “you do.”

And she danced superbly for me,every fiber of her beautiful bodystraining to please me, her eyes,

each instant, pleading, trying to readin mine her fate. At last, when shecould dance no more, she fell at myfeet, and put her head to my sandals.

“Find me pleasing,” she begged.“Find me pleasing, my Master!”

I had had my sport.I sheathed the blade.“Light the lamp of love,” I said.She looked up at me, gratefully,

but saw then my eyes. Her test wasnot yet done.

Trembling she fumbled with theflint and steel, to strike sparks intothe moss bowl, whence by means ofa Ka-la-na shaving the lamp mightbe lit.

I myself thre down, in onecornver, near a slave ring, the Fursof Love.

The musicians, one by one, eachwith a silver tarsk, stole from theroom.

An Ahn later, perhaps a bit morethan an Ahn before dawn, the oil inthe lamp of love had burned low.

Midice lay against me, in myarms. She looked up at me, andwhispered, “Did Midice do well?Is Master pleased with Midice?”

“Yes,” I said, wearily, looking atthe ceiling. “I am pleased withMidice.”

I felt empty.

For a long time then we did notspeak.

Then she said, “You are wellpleased with Midice, are you not?”

“Yes,” I said, “I am wellpleased.”

“Midice is first girl, is she not?”“Yes,” I said, “Midice is first

girl.”Micide looked at me, and

whispered. “Telima is only KettleSlave. Why should she have anarmlet of gold?”

I looked at her. Then, wearily, Irose to my feet. I drew on my tunic,and looked down at Midice, wholay there with her legs drawn up,

looking at me. I could see the glowof the dim lamp on her collar.

I buckled about me the Goreanblade, with its belt and scabbard.

I went into the kitchen.There I found Telima sitting

against the wall, her knees drawnup, her head down. She raised herhead and looked at me. I could seeher barely in the light of the coals ofthe cooking fore, now a flat,reticulated pattern of red and black.

I slipped the golden armlet fromher arm.

There were tears in her eyes, butshe did not protest.

I unknotted the binding fiber

about her throat, and took from mypouch her collar.

I showed it to her.In the dim light she read the

engraving. “I belong to Bosk,” shesaid.

“I did not know you could read,”I said. Midice, Thura, Ula were all,as is common with rence girls,illiterate.

Telima looked down.I snapped the collar about her

throat.She looked up at me. “It is a long

time since I have worn a steelcollar,” she said.

I wondered how she had,

whether in her escapte orafterwards in the islands, removedher first collar. Ho-Hak, I recalled,still wore the heavy collar of thegalley slave. The rencers had nohad the tools to remove it. Telima, aclever girl, had probablydiscovered and stolen the key to hercollar. Ho-Hak’s collar had beenriveted about his throat.

“Telima,” said I, thinking of Ho-Hak, “why was Ho-Hak so moved,when together we spoke of the boyEechius?”

She said nothing.“He would know him, of

course,” said I, “from the island.”

“He was his father,” said Telima.“Oh,” I said.I looked down at the golden

armlet I held in my hand. I put it onthe floor and then, with the pair ofslave bracelets I had removed fromMidice, following her dance, Isecured Telima to the kitchen’sslave ring, fastened in its floor. Ibraceleted the left wrist first,passed the chain throught the ring,and then braceleted the right wrist. Ithen picked up the golden armlet,and again regarded it.

“It is strange,” I said, “that arence girl should have a goldenarmlet.”

Telima said nothing.“Rest,” said I, “Kettle Slave, for

tomorrow you will doubtless havemuch to do.”

At the door of the kitchen I turnedagain to face her. For a long time,not speaking, we looked at oneanother. Then she asked, “--IsMaster pleased?”

I did not respond.In the other room I tossed the

golden armlet to Midice, whocaught it and slipped it on her armwith a squeal of delight, holding upher arm, showing the armlet.

“Do not chain me,” shewheedled.

But, with the ankle rings, takenfrom her following the dance, Isecured her. I put one ring about theslave ring near which she hadserved me, and the other ring abouther left ankle.

“Sleep, Midice,” I said, coveringher with the love furs.

“Master?” she asked.“Rest,” I said, “Sleep.”“I have pleased you?” she asked.“Yes,” I told her, “you have

pleased me.” Then I touched herhead, moving back some of the darkhair. “Now sleep,” said I, “nowsleep, lovely Midice.”

She snuggled down in the love

furs.I left the room, going down the

stairs.I found myself alone in the

darkness. It was about an Ahn, Iconjectured, before daylight. I trodthe narrow walkway lining thecanal. Then, suddenly, falling to myhands and knees, I threw up into thedark waters. I heard one of the giantcanal urts twist in the watersomewhere beneath me. I threw upagain, and then stood up, shakingmy head. I had had too much paga, Itold myself.

I could smell the sea, but I hadnot yet seen her.

The buildings lining the canals oneach side were dark, but, here andthere, in the side of one, near awindow, was a torch. I looked atthe brick, the stone, watched tehpatterns and shadows playing on thewalls of the buildings of Port Kar.

Somewhere I heard the squealingand thrashing of two of the gianturts fighting in the water, among thefloating garbarge.

My steps took me again to thepaga tavern where I had begun thisnight.

I was alone, and miserable. I wascold. There was nothing of worth in

Port Kar, nor in all the worlds ofall the suns.

I pushed open the doors of thepaga tavern.

The musicians, and the dancer,had gone, long ago I suppose.

There were not so many men inthe paga tavern now, and thosethere were seemed mostly lost instupor. Here and there lay amongthe tables, their tunics soiled withpaga. Others lay, wrapped in ship’scloaks, against the wall. Some twoor three still sat groggily at thetables, staring at goblets half-filledwith paga. The girls, saving thosewho served still in the curtained

alcoves, must have beensomewhere chained for the night,probably in a slave room off thekitchen. The proprietor, when Ientered, lifted his head from thecounter, behind which hung a greatbottle of paga in its pouring sling.

I threw down a copper tarn diskand he tilted the great bottle.

I took my goblet of paga to atable and sat down, cross-legged,behind it.

I did not want to drink. I wantedonly to be alone. I did not evenwant to think. i wanted only to bealone.

I heard weeping from one of the

alcoves.It irritated me. I did not wish to

be disturbed. I put my head in myhands and leaned forward, elbowson the table.

I hated Port Kar, and all that wasof it. And I hated myself, for I, too,was of Port Kar. That I had learnedthis night. I would never forget thisnight. All that was in Port Kar wasrotten and worthless. There was nogood in her.

The curtain from one of thealcoves was flung apart. Therestood th1ere, framed in its conicalthreshold, Surbus, he who wascaptain of Port Kar. I looked upon

him with loathing, despising him.How ugly he was, with his fiercebeard, the narrow eyes, the ear gonefrom the right side of his face. I hadheard of him, and well. I knew himto be pirate; and I kenw him to beslaver, and murderer, and thief; Iknew him to be a cruel andworthless man, abominable, truly ofPort Kar and, as I looked upon him,the filth and rottenness, I feltnothing but disgust.

In his arms he held, stripped, thebound body of a slave girl. It wasshe who had served me the nightbefore, before Surbus, and hiscutthroats and pirates, had entered

the tavern. I had not much noticedher. She was thin, and not verypretty. She had blond hair, and, as Irecalled, blue eyes. She was notmuch of a slave. I had not paid hermuch attention. I remembered thatshe had begged me to protect herand that I, of course, had refused.

Surbus threw the girl over hisshoulder and went to the counter.

“I am not pleased with her,” hesaid to the proprietor.

“I am sorry, Noble Surbus,” saidthe man, “I shall have her beaten.”

“I am not pleased with her!”cried Surbus.

“You wish her destroyed?” asked

the man.“Yes,” said Surbus, “destroyed.”“Her price,” said the proprietor,

“is five silver tarsks.”From his pouch Surbus placed

five silver tarsks, one after theother, on the counter.

“I will give you six,” I said to theproprietor.

Surbus scowled at me.“I have sold her for five,” said

the proprietor, “to this noblegentleman. Do not interfere,Stranger, this man is Surbus.”

Surbus threw back his head andlaughed. “Yes,” he said, “I amSurbus.”

“I am Bosk,” I said, “from theMarshes.”

Surbus looked at me, and thenlaughed. He turned away from thecounter now, taking the girl from hisshoulder and holding her, bound, inhis arms. I saw that she wasconscious, and her eyes red fromweeping. But she seemed numb,beyond feeling.

“What are you going to do withher?” I asked.

“I am going to throw her to theurts,” said Surbus.

“Please,” she whispered,“please, Surbus.”

“To the urts!” laughed Surbus,

looking down at her.She closed her eyes.The giant urts, silken and

blazing-eyed, living mostly on thegarbage in the canals, are notstranger to bodies, both living anddead, found cast into their waters.

“To the urts!” laughed Surbus.I looked upon him, Surbus,

slaver, pirate, thief, murderer. Thisman was totally evil. I felt nothingbut hatred, and an ugly,irrepressible disgust of him.

“No,” I said.He looked at me, startled.“No,” I said, and moved the

blade from the sheath.

“She is mind,” he said.“Surbus often,” said the

proprietor, “thus destr1oys a girlwho has not pleased him.”

I regarded them both.“I own her,” said Surbus.“That is true,” said the proprietor

hastily. “You saw yourself her sale.She is truly his slave, his to do withas he wishes, duly purchased.”

“She is mine,” said Surbus.“What right have you to interfere?”

“The right of Port Kar,” I said,“to do what pleases him.”

Surbus threw the girl from himand, with a swift, clean motion,unsheathed his blade.

“You are a fool, Stranger,” saidthe proprietor. “That is Surbus, oneof the finest swords in Port Kar.”

Our discourse was brief.Then, with a cry of hatred and

elation, my blade, parallel to theground, that it not wedge itselfbetween the ribs of its target,passed through his body. I kickedhim from the blade and withdrewthe bloodied steel.

The proprietor was looking atme, wide-eyed.

“Who are you?” he asked.“Bosk,” I told him, “Bosk from

the Marshes.”Several of the men around the

tables, roused by the flash of steel,had awakened.

They sat there, startled.I moved the blade in a

semicircle, facing them. None ofthem moved against me.

I tore off some of his tunic andcleaned the blade on it.

He lay there on his back, bloodmoving from his mouth, the chest ofhis tunic scarlet, fighting for breath.

I looked down on him. I had beenof the warriors. I knew he wouldnot live long.

I felt no compunction. He wastotally evil.

I went to the slave girl and cut

the binding fiber that fastened herankles and wrists. The chains whichshe had worn while serving paga,and when she had asked for myprotection, had been removed,doubtless while she had been in thealcove, sometime after I had left thetavern, that she might have betterrendered Surbus, Captain of PortKar, the dues of the slave girl. Theyhad been serving bracelets, withtwo lengths of chain, each about afoot long, which linked them.

I looked about the room. Theproprietor stood back, behind hiscounter. None of the men had arisenfrom the tables, though many were

of the crew of Surbus himself.I looked at him.His eyes were on me, and his

hand, weakly, lifted. His eyes wereagonized. He coughed blood. Heseemed to want to speak, but couldnot do so.

I looked away from him.I resheathed the blade.It was good that Surbus lay

dying. He was evil.I looked upon the slave girl. She

was a poor sort. She was scrawny,and thin faced, with narrowshoulders. Her blue eyes were pale.The hair was thin, stringy. She wasmy poor slave.

To my surprise she went andknelt next to Surbus, and held hishead. He was looking at me. Againhe tried to speak.

“Please,” said the girl to me,looking up at me, holding he head ofthe dying man.

I looked upon them both, puzzled.He was evil. She, perhaps, wasmad. Did she not understand that hewould have hurled her bound to theurts in the canals?

His hand lifted again, even moreweakly, extended to me. There wasagony in his eyes. His lips moved,but there was no sound.

The girl looked up at me and

said, “Please, I am too weak.”“What does he want?” I asked,

impatient. He was pirate, slaver,thief, murderer. He was evil, totallyevil, and I felt for him only disgust.

“He wants to see the sea,” shesaid.

I said nothing.“Please,” she said, “I am too

weak.”I bent and put the arm of the

dying man about my shoulders and,lifting him, with the girl’s help,went back through the kitchen of thetavern and, one by one, climbed thehigh, narrow stairs to the top of thebuilding.

We came to the roof, and there,near its edge, holding Surbusbetween us, we waited. Themorning was cold, and damp. It wasabout daybreak.

And then the dawn came and,over the buildings of Port Kar,beyond them, and beyond theshallow, muddy Tamber, where theVosk empties, we saw, I for thefirst time, gleaming Thassa, the Sea.

The right hand of Surbus reachedacross his body and touched me. Henodded his head. HIs eyes did notseem pained to me, nor unhappy.His lips moved, but then hecoughed, and there was more blood,

and he stiffened, and then, his headfalling to one side, he was onlyweight in our arms.

We lowered him to the roof.“What did he say?” I asked.The girl smiled at me. “Thank

you,” she said. “He said Thankyou.”

I stood up wearily, and lookedout over the sea, gleaming Thassa.

“She is very beautiful,” I said.“Yes,” said the girl, “yes.”“Do the men of Port Kar love the

sea?” I asked.“Yes,” said said, “they do.”I looked on her.“What will you do now?” I

asked. “Where will you go?”“I do not know,” she said. She

dropped her head. “I will goaway.”

I put out my hand and touched hercheek. “Do not do that,” I said.“Follow me.”

There were tears in her eyes.“Thank you,” she said.

“what is your name?” I asked.“Luma,” she said.I, followed by the slave Luma,

left the roof, descended the long,narrow stairs.

In the kitched we met theproprietor. “Surbus is dead,” I toldhim. He nodded. The body, I knew,

would be disposed of in the canals.I pointed to Luma’s collar.

“Key,” I said.The proprietor brought a key and

removed his steel from her throat.She fingered her throat, now

bare, perhaps for the first time inyears, of the encircling collar.

I would buy her another, when it1was convenient, suitably engraved,proclaiming her mine.

We left the kitchen.In the large central room of the

tavern, we stopped.I thrust the girl behind me.There, waiting for us, standing,

armed, were seventy or eighty men.

They were seamen of Port Kar. Irecognized many of them. They hadcome with Surbus to the tavern thenight before. They were portions ofhis crews.

I unsheathed my blade.One of the men stood forward, a

tall man, lean, young, but with aface that showed the marks ofThassa. He had gray eyes, large,rope-rough hands.

“I am Tab,” he said. “I wassecond to Surbus.”

I said nothing, but watched them.“You let him see the sea?” said

Tab.“Yes,” I said.

“Then,” said Tab, “we are yourmen.”

Chapter 10The Council of CaptainsI took my sea in the Council of

the Captains of Port Kar.It was now near the end of the

first passage hand, that thefollowing En’Kara, in which occursthe Spring Equinox. The SpringEquinox, in Port Kar as well as inmost other Gorean cities, marks theNew Year. In the chronology of Arit was now the year 10,120. I had

been in Port Kar for some sevenGorean months.

None had disputed my right to theseat of Surbus. His men haddeclared themselves mine.

Accordingly I, who had beenTarl Cabot, once a warrior of Ko-ro-ba, the Towers of the Morning,sat now in the council of thesecaptains, merchant and pirateprinces, the high oligarchs ofsqualid, malignant Port kar,Scourge of Gleaming Thassa.

In the council, in effect, wasvested the stability andadministration of Port Kar.

Above it, nominally, stood five

Ubars, each refusing to recognizethe authority of the others, Chung,Eteocles, Nigel, Sullius Maximusand Henrius Sevarius, claiming tobe the fifth of his line.

The Ubars were represented onthe council, to which they belongedas being themselves Captains, byfive empty thrones, sitting beforethe semicircles of curule chairs onwhich reposed the captains. Besideeach empty throne there was a stoolfrom which a Scribe, speaking inthe name of the Ubar, participatedin the proceedings of the council.The Ubars themselves remainedaloof, seldom showing themselves

for fear of assassination.A scribe, at a large table before

the five thrones, was droning therecord of the last meeting of thecouncil.

There are commonly about onehundred and twenty captains whoform the council, sometimes a fewmore, sometimes a few less.

Admittance to the council isbased on being master of at leastfive ships. Surbus had not been aparticularly important captain, buthe had been the master of a fleet ofseven, now mine. These five ships,pertinent to council membership,may be either the round ships, with

deep holds of rmerchandise, or thelong ships, ram-ships, ships of war.Both are predominantly oaredvessels, but the round ship carries aheavier, permanent rigging, andsupports more sail, beinggeneral1ly two-masted. The roundship, of course, is not round, but itdoes have a much wider beam to itslength of keel, say, about one to six,whereas the ratios of the wargalleys are about one to eight.

The five ships, it might be added,must be of at least medium class. Ina round ship this means she wouldbe able, in Earth figures, to freightbetween approximately one hundred

and one hundred and fifty tonsbelow decks. I have calculated thisfigure from the Weight, a Goreanunit of measurement based on theStone, which is about four earthpounds. A Weight in ten Stone. Amedium-class round ship should beable to carry from 5,000 to 7,500Gorean Weight. The Weight and theStone, incidentally, arestandardized throughout the Goreancities by Merchant Law, the onlycommon body of law existingamong the cities. The official“Stone,” actually a solid metalcylinder, is kept, by the way, nearthe Sardar. Four timea a year, on a

given day in each of the four greatfairs held annually near the Sadar, itis brought forth with sclaes, thatmerchants from whatever city mytest their own standard “Stone”against it. The “Stone” of Port Kar,tested against the official “Stone” atthe Sardar, reposed in a specialfortified building in the greatarsenal, which complex wasadmininstered by agents of theCouncil of Captains.

Medium class for a long ship, orram-ship, in determined not byfreight capacity but by keel lengthand width of beam; a medium-classlong ship, or ram-ship, will have a

keel length of from eighty to onehundred and twenty feet Gorean;and a width of beam of from ten tofifteeen feet Gorean. The Goreanfoot, interestingly, is almostidentical to the Earth foot. Bothmeasures doubtless bear somedistand relation to the length of thefoot of an adult human male. TheGorean foot is, in my estimation,just slightly longer than the Earthfoot; based on the supposition thateach of its ten Horts is roughly oneand one-quarter inches long, Iwould give the Gorean foot lengthof roughly twelve and one-halfinches, Earth measure. Normally,

incidentally, in giving measures, theEarth foot, unless otherwisespecified, should be understood. Itseems pertinent, however, in thisinstance, to state the ratios inGorean feet, rather than translateinto English measure, where theharmony of the proportions wouldbe obscurred. As in the case of theofficial “Stone,” so, too, at theSardar in a metal rod, whichdetermines tht Merchant Foot, orGorean foot, as I have called it.Port Kar’s Merchant Foot, like her“Stone,” is kept in the arsenal, inthe same building as her “Stone.”

Not only the ships of Surbus had

become mine, his men havingdeclared for me, but his holding aswell, and his assets, his treasuresand equipments, and his slaves. Hisholding was a fortified palace. Itlay on the eastern edge of Port kar,backing on the marshes; it opened,by the means of a huge barred gate,to the canals of the city; in itscourtyard were wharved his seveships; when journeying to Thassathe great gate was opened and theywere rowed through the city to thesea.

It was a strong holding, protectedon the one side by its walls and themarshes, and on its others by walls,

the gate, and the canals.When Clitus, Thurnock and I, and

our slaves, had first come to PortKar, we had taken quarters not farfrom that holding. Indeed its nearestpaga tavern was that at whichSurbus and I had met, and hadcrossed steel.

The voice of the scribe dronedon, reading the records of thecouncil’s last meeting.

I looked about myself, at thesemicircles of curule chairs, at thefive thrones. Although there weresome one hundred and twentycaptains in the council, seldommore than seventy or eighty, either

in pe1rson or by proxy, made anappearance at its meetings. Manywere at sea, and may saw fit toemploy their time otherwise.

One one chair, some fifteen yardsaway, somewhat lower and closerthe thrones of the Ubars, sat anofficer, whom I recognized. He wasthe one who had come to the renceislands, who had had upon hishelmet the two golden slashes. I hadnot seen Henrak, who had betrayedthe rencers, in Port Kar. I did notknow if he had perished in themarshes or not.

I smiled to myself, looking uponthe bearded, dour countenance of

the officer, his long hair tied behindhis head with scarlet string.

His name was Lysias.He had ben a captain for only

four months, having acquired thefifth ship, medium-class, required.

He was rather well known nowin Port Kar, having lost six barges,with their slaves and cargo, andmost of his crews, in the marshes.The story was that they had beenattacked by more than a thousandrencers, abetted by a conjecturedfive hundred mercenaries, trainedwarriors, and had barely escapedwith their lives. I was ready togrant him part of this story. But still,

even in the face of such reputedodds as he had faced, there werethose in Port Kar who smiledbehind his back, thinking tothemselves how he had gone forthwith so fine a showing and hadreturned with little more than hislife, a handful of terrified men, anda narrow wooden punt.

Though his helmet still bore thetwo golden slashes, in now bore aswell a crest of sleen hair, permittedonly to captains.

He had received his fifth ship asa gift from the Ubar HenriusSevarius, claiming to be the fifth ofhis line. Henrius Sevarius was said

to be a mere boy, and his Ubarateone which was administered by hisregent, Claudius, once of Tyros.Lysias had been client to the houseof Sevarius, it was said, for fiveyears, a period coterminous withthe regency of Claudius, who hadassumed the power of the housefollowing the assassination ofHenrius Sevarius the Fourth.

Many of the captains,incidentally, were client to oneUbar or another.

I myself did not choose to applyfor clienthood with a Ubar of PortKar. I did not expect to need theirmight, nor did I wish to extend them

my service.I noted that Lysias was looking at

me.Something in his face seemed

puzzled.He may have seen me that night,

among the rencers on the island, buthe did not place me, one who nowsat on the Council of the Captains ofPort Kar.

He looked away.I had seen Samos, First Slaver of

Port Kar, only once at the meetingof the council. He was said to be anagent of Priest-Kings. Originally Ihad intended to come to Port Kar tocontact him, but I had, of course,

now chosen not to do so.He had not seen me before,

though I had seen him, at tehCurulean Auction House of Ar,something less than a year ago.

I had done well in Port Kar,since I had come to the city someseven months ago.

I was now through with theserves of Priests-Kings. They mightfind others to fight their battles andrisk their lives for them. My battlesnow would be my own; my riskswould be undertaken only for myown gain.

For the first time in my life I wasrich.

I depised, I discovered, neitherpower nor wealth.

What else might motivate anintelligent man, other perhaps thanthe bodies of his women, or thosehe would decide to make hiswomen, which might serve him forrecreation?

In these days, in myself, I foundlittle that I could respect, but I didfind that I had come, in my way, tolove the sea, as is not uncommonwith those of Port Kar.

I had seen her first at dawn, fromthe high roof of a paga tavern,holding in my arms the body of aman dying of a wound, one which I

had inflicted.I had found her beautiful then,

and I had never ceased to do so.When Tab, young, lean, gray-

eyed, who had been second toSurbus, asked me what I wouldhave him do, I had looked upon himand said, “Teach me the Sea.”

I had raised my own flag in PortKar, for tehre is no single flag forthe city. There are the five flags ofthe Ubars, and many flags for manycaptains. My own flag bore thedesign of the head of a black boskagainst a background of verticalgreen bars on a white field. I tookthe green bars to symbolize the

rence marshes, and the flag, thus,because that of Bosk, a Captain,who had come from the marshes.

I had discovered, to my pleasure,that the girl Luma, whom I hadsaved from Surbus, wahs of theScribes. Her city had been Tor.

Being of the Scribes she could,of course, read and write.

“Can you keep accounts?” I hadasked her.

“Yes, Master,” she hadresponded.

I had made her the chief scribeand accountant of my house.

Each night, in my hall, before mymaster’s chair, she would kneel

with her tablets and give me anaccounting of the day’s business,with reports on the progress ofvarious investments and ventures,often making suggestions andrecommendations for furtheractions.

This plain, thin girl, I found, hadan excellent mind fro thecomplicated business transactionsof a large house.

She was a most valuable slave.She much increased my fortunes.I permitted her, of cours, but a

single garment, but I allowed it tobe opaque, and of the blue of theScribes. It was sleeveless and fell

to just above her knees. Her collar,however, that she might not growpretentious, was of simple steel. Itread, as I wished, I BELONG TOBOSK.

Some of the free men in thehouse, particularly of the scribes,resented that the girl should have aposition of such authority.Accordingly, when receiving theirreports and transmitting herinstructions to them, I had informedher that she would do so humbly, asa slave gir, and kneeling at theirfeet. This mollified the men a gooddeal, though some remaineddisgruntled. All, I think, feared taht

her quick stylus and keen mindwould discover the slightestdescrepancies in their columns andtally sheets, and, indeed, theyseemed to do so. I think they fearedher, because of the excellence ofher work and because, behind her,stood the power of the house, itsCaptain, Bosk of the Marshes.

Midice now possessed a hundredpleasure silks, and rings and beads,which she might twine in her now-jeweled collar.

The dark-haired, lithe girl, somarvelously legged, I discovered,made an excellent slave.

Once I had discovered her gazing

upon Ta, and I had beaten her. I didnot kill him. He was a1 valuableman to me.

Thurnock and Clitus seemedpleased with Thura and Ula, whonow wore expensive silks andjeweled collars. They were wise tohave made themselves my men.They had much advancedthemselves in doing so

Telima I kept mostly in thekitchens, with the other KettleSlaves, with instructions to theKitchen Master that the simplestand least pleasant tasks be hers, andthat she be worked the hardest ofall. I did, however, specify that it

would be she who must personallywait my table and serve my foodeach night, that I might each nightrenew my pleasure at finding myformer Mistress, weary from herday’s labors, soiled and uncombed,in her briefm miserable, stained re-cloth garment, serving me as KettleSlave. Following the meal shewould retire to my quarters which,on hands and knees, with brush andbucket, she wouls scrub to thesatisfaction of a Whip Slave, withstrap, standing over her. Then shewould retired again to the kitchesfor the work there that would havebeen left for her, after which, when

finished, she would be chained forthe night.

Generally in the evening I atewith Turnock and Clitus, with theirslaves, and Midice. Sometime wewere joined by Tab.

Captain, commonly, do not eatwith their men.

My attention was returned now tothe meeting of the Council of theCaptains of Port Kar.

A seaman, reportedly escapedfrom Cos, was telling of thepreparation of a great fleetintending to sail against Port Kar, afleet that would be enlarged by theforces of Tyros as well.

There was little interest in thisreport. Cos and Tyros, when not atone another’s throats, are alwaysthreatening to join their forces foran onslaught on Port Kar. Therumor was a persistent one, acommon one. But not in over ahundred years had the untied fleetsof Cos and Tyros challenged Portkar, and at that time, because ofstorms, they had been scattered andbeaten off. As I have mentioned, thewarfare between Cos and Tyrosand Port Kar had been, for years,small-scale, seldom involving morethan a few dozen galleys on a side.All parties had apparently slipped

into an arrangement which was nowalmost sanctioned by tradition, anarrangement characterized byalmost constant conflict but few, orno, extensive commitments. Therisks of engaging fleets wasdoubtless, by all, thought to begreat. Further, raids, interpersedwith smuggling and trading, hadbecome a fairly profitable way oflife, apparently for all. Doubtless,in Cos and Tyros as well therewere rumors of fleets beingprepared to be sent against them.The seaman, to his chargrin, wasdismissed by a vote of the council.

We then turned our attention to

matters of greater importance, theneed for more covered docks in thearsenal, beneaht which additionalgalleys could be caulked for thegrain fleet, else how could ahundred vessels be red for thevoyage norht to the grain fieldsbefore the sixth passage hand?

It is perhaps worth remarking,briefly, on the power of Port Kar,with it being understood that theforces of both Cos and Tyros, theother two significant maritimeUbarates in know Thassa, are quitecomparable.

The following figured pertain tomedium class or larger vessels:

The five Ubars of Port Kar,Chung, Eteocles, Nigel, SulliusMaximus and Henrius Sevarius,control among themselves somefour hundred ships. Theapproximately one hundred andtwenty captains of the council ofCaptains of Port Kar havempledged to their personal service,some thousand ships. They furthercontrol another thousand ships, asexecutor, through the council, whichship1s comprise the memebers ofthe grain fleet, the oil fleet, theslave fleet, and others, as well asnumerous patrol and escort ships.Beyound these ships there re some

twenty-five hundred ships whichare owned by some fifteen orsixteen hundred minor captains ofthe city, not wealthy enough to siton the Council of Captains. Thefigures I have listed would give ussome forty-nine hundred ships. Toget a better figure, particularlysince the above figures arethemselves approximations, let ussay that Port kar houses in theneighborhood of five thousandships. As mentioned above, thenaval strengths of Cos and Tyrosare, individually, comparable. It is,of course, true that not all of thesesome five thousand ships are war

ships. My estimation would be thatapproximately fifteen hundred onlyare the long ships, the ram-ships,those of war. On the other hand,whereas the round ships do notcarry rams and are much slowerand less maneuverable than the longships, they are not inconsequentialin a naval battle, for their deckareas and deck castles canaccommodate springals, smallcatapults, and chain-slings onagers,not to mention numerous bowmen,all of which can provide a mostdiscouraging and vicious barrage,consisting normally of javelins,burning pitch, fiery rocks and

crossbow quarrels. A war shipgoing into battle, incidentally,always takes its mast down andstores its sail below decks. Thebulwarks and deck of the ship areoften covered with wet hides.

It was voted that another dozencovered docks be raised within theconfines of the arsenal, that thecaulking schedule of the gran fleetmight be met. The vote wasunanimous.

The next matter for considerationwas the negotiation of a disputebetween the sail-makers and therope-makers in the arsenal withrespect to priority in the annual

Procession to the Sea, which takesplace on the first of En’Kara, theGorean New Year. There had beena riot this year. It was resolved thathenceforth both groups would walkabreast. I smiled to myself. Iexpected there would be a riot netyear as well.

The rumor of the seaman, thatCos and Tyros were preparingfleets against Port Kar, againentered my mind, but again Idismissed it.

The next item on the agenda dealtwith the demand of the pulley-makers to receive the same wageper Ahn as the oar-makers. I voted

for this measure, but it did not pass.A Captain next to me snorted,

“Give the pulley-makers the wageof oar-makers, and sawyers willwant the wages of carpenters, andcarpenters of shipwrights!”

All who do skilled work in thearsenal, incidentally, are free men.The men of Port Kar may permitslaves to build their house and theirwalls, but they do not permit themto build their ships. The wages of asail-maker, incidentally, are fourcopper tarn disks per day, those ofa fine shipwright, hired by theCouncil of Captains, as much as agolden tarn disk her day. The

average working day is ten Ahn, orabout twelve Earth hours. Theamount of time spent in actual work,however, is far less. The work dayof a free man in the arsenal is likelyto be, on the whole, a ratherleisurely one. Free Goreans do notlike to be pressed in their tasks.Two Ahn for lunch and stopping anAhn early for paga and a talk in thelate afternoon are not uncommon.Layoffs occur, but, because of theamount of work, not frequently. Theorganizations, such as the sail-makers, almost guildlike, not castes,have due, and these dues tend to beapplied to a number of purposes,

such as support of those injured ortheir families, loans, paymentswhen men are out of work, andpensions. The organizations havealso, upon occasion, functioned ascollective bargaining agencies. Isuspected that the sail-makerswould, threatening desertion of thearsenal, this year or the next obtain1their desired increase in wages.Brutal repressions of organizationhave never characterized thearsenal. The Council of Captainsrespects those who build and outfitships. On the other hand, the wagestend to be so slight that anorganization seldom has the means

to mount a long strike; the arsenalcan normally be patient, and canusually choose to build a ship amonth from now rather than now,but one cannot well arrange to eat amonth from now, and not today, ortomorrow, or until a month fromnow. But most importantly the menof the arsenal regard themselves asjust that, the men of the arsenal, andwould be unhappy apart from theirwork. For all their threats ofdesertion of the arsenal there arefew of them who would want toleave it. Building fine and beautifulships gves them great pleasure.

Beyond this, lastly, it might be

mentioned that Gorean society, onthe whole, tends to be traditionbound, and that there is littlequestioning of the wisdom of one’sfathers; in such a societyindividuals usually have an identitysatisfactory to themselves, and aplace in which they feelcomfortable; accordingly they areless susceptible ot the socialconfusions attendant upon a societyin which greater mobility isencouraged and traditonal prestigeconsiderations replaed withmaterialistic ones. A society inwhich each is expected to succeed,and it placed under conditions

where most must fail, would beincomprehensible, irrational, tomost Goreans. This will soundstrange, I suppose, but the workersof the arsenal, as long as they makeenough to live reasonably well, aremore concerned with their work, ascraftsmen, than they are withconsiderabley and indefinitelyimproving their economic status.This is not to say taht they wouldhave any objection to being rich; itis only to remark, in effect, that ithas never occurred to them, nomore than to most Goreans, to takevery seriously the pursuit of wealthas their universal and compelling

motivation; being ignorant, it seems,they, like most other Goreans, aremore concerned with other things,such as, as I have earlier noted, thebuilding of fine and beautiful ships.I make no pronouncements on thesematters, but report them as I findthem. I would note, of course, thatthese weaknesses, or virtues, of themen of the arsenal are, of tradition,welcomed by the Council ofCaptains; without them the arsenalcould not be as efficiently andceonomically managed as it is.Again I make no pronouncements onthese matters, but report them as Ifind them. My thinking on these

matters is mixed.Why, I asked myself, should Cos

and Tyros consider bringing theirfleets against Port Kar? What hadchanged? But then I recalled thatnothing had changed. It was only arumor, one which, it seemed,recurred at least every year in PortKar. Doubtless there weresimilares rumors raising their smallstirs, in the councils of Cos andTyros. I recalled that the words ofthe seaman had been dismissed.

Now, crying to come before thecouncil, was the mad, half-blindshipwright Tersites, a scroll ofdrawings in his hand, and

calculations.At a word from the scribe at the

long table before the thrones of theUbars, two men put Tersites fromthe chamber, dragging him away.

Once before he had beenpermitted to present plans to thecouncil, but they had been toofantastic to be taken seriously. Hehad dared to suggest a redesign ofthe standard tarn ship. He hadwanted to deepen teh keel, to add aforemast, to change the rowing togreat oars, each handled by severalmen, rather than one man to an oar;he had wanted ven to raises the ramabove the waterline.

I would have been curious tohear the arguments of Tersitespertinent to these recommendations,but before, when it had becomeclear how radical and, I gather,absurd wer1e his proposals, he hadbeen hooted from the chamber.

I recall men shouting, “Many mencould not all sit through the strokeof an oar! Would you have themstand?” “So great an oar could noteven be held by the hands of aman!” “Two masts with their sailscould not be quickly removedbefore battle!” “You will slow theship if you deepen the keel!” “Ifmany men sit a single oar, some

will slack their work!” “What goodis a ram that does not make itsstroke below waterline?”

Tersites had been permitted thatonce to address the council becausehe, though thought mad, had oncebeen a skilled shipwright. Indeed,the galleys of Port Kar, medium andheavy class, carried shearingblades, which had been aninvention of Tersites. These arehuge quarter-moons of steel, fixedforward of the oars, anchored intothe frame of the ship itself. One ofthe most common of navalstrategies, other than ramming, isoar shearing, in which one vessel,

her oars suddenly shortenedinboard, slides along the hull ofanother, whose oars are stilloutboard, splintering and breakingthem off. The injured gally then islike a broken-winged bird, and atthe mercy of the other ship’s ram asshe comes about, flutes playing anddrums beating, and makes her strikeamidships. Recent galleys of Cosand Tyros, and other maritimepowers, it had been noted, werenow also, most ofte, equipped withshearing blades.

Tersites had also, it might bementioned, though he had notpresented these ideas in his

appearance before the council,argued for a rudder hung on thesternpost of the tarn ship, rather thatthe two side-hung rudders, and hadchampioned a square rigging, asopposed to the beautiful lateenrigging common on the ships ofThassa. Perhaps this last proposalof Tersites’ had been the mostoffensive of all to the men of Portkar. The triangular lateen sail on itssingle sloping yar is incrediblybeautiful.

Tersites had, some five yearsbefore, been removed from thearsenal. He had taken his ideas toCos and Tyros, but there, too, he

had met with only scorn. He hadthen returned to Port Kar, hisfortunes exhausted, no place left tohim in the arsenal. He now lived, itwas said, on the garbage in thecanals. A small pittance grantedhim by the shipwrights, of whm hehad been one, was spent in the pagataverns of the city. I dismissedTersites from my mind.

I had made, since coming to PortKar, five voyages. Four of thesehad been commerical in nature. Ihad no quarrel with the shipping ofothers. Like the Bosk itself I wouldnot seek for trouble, but, too, likethe Bosk, I would not refuse to meet

it. My four commercial voyages hadbeen among the exchange islands,or free islands, in Thassa,administered as free prots bymembers of teh Merchants. Therewere several such islands. Three,which I encountereed frequently inmy voyages, were Teletus, and,south of it, Tabor, named for thedrum, which it resembles, and to thenorth, among the northern islands,Scagnar. Others were Farnacium,Hulneth and Asperiche. I did not goas far south as Anago or Ianda, oras far north as Hunjer or Skjern,west of Torvaldsland. Thereislands, with occasional free ports

on the coast, north and south of theGorean equator, such as Lydius andHelmutsport, and Schendi and Bazi,make possible the commercebetween Cos and Tyros, and themainland, and its cities, such as Ko-ro-ba, Thentis, Tor, Ar, Turia, andmany others.

On these voyages my cargoswere varied. I did not, however, inthis early period, because of thecost, purchase cargos of greatvalue. Accordingly I did not carry,in these first voyages, anyabundance of precious metals orjewels; not did I carry rugs ortapestries, or medicines, or silks or

ointments, or perfumes or prizeslaves, or spices or cannisters ofcolor1ed table salts. In these firstvoyages I was content, quite, tocarry tools and stone, dried fruit,dried fish, bolts of rep-cloth, tem-wood, Tur-wood and Ka-la-nastock, and horn and hides. I didonce carry, however, a hold ofchained slaves, and, another time, ahold filled with the furs of thenorthern sea sleen. The latter cargowas the most valuable carrried inthese first four voyages. Each ofthese cargos I managed to sell atconsiderable profit. Twice we hadbeen scouted by pirates from Tyros,

in their green ships, painted toresemble the sea, but neither ofthem had chosen ot engage us. Wegathered that, seeing how low wesat in the water, they assumed ourcargo to be one of bulk goods anddeparted, doubtless having higherhopes for gain upon the sea. It isscarely worth the risk of crew andship, unless desperate, to win ahold filled with lumber or stone.

My men were mostly pirates andcutthroats. Doubtless many of themdid not much care to ply an honesttrade. Better, they would think, tolie in wait on the open sea for theslave galleys of Tyros or the

treasure ships of Cos. But two whochallenged me for the captaincy Islew within a dozen strokes, and theothers, thus given pause, chose toconfine their disgruntlement, if any,to their cups and conclaves. Anywho did not wish to continue in myservice were free to go. I instructedLuma to discharge any such with agift of gold, of half a stone’sweight. Surprisingly, few left myships. I do not think they cared toforesake their piracies, but, too, Ithink they felt pride in serving onewho was said, now, after theincident of the paga tavern, topossess one of the finest blades in

Port Kar.“When do we sail against the

ships of Cos and Tyros?” askedTab of me.

“Cos and Tyros,” I said, “havenot injured me.”

“They will,” said he.“Then,” said I, “we will sail

against them.”Ashore my crews were

roisterous and brawling but on theships, strange as it is to relate, theywere serious and disciplined men.

I attempted to treat them fairly.On land I did not see much of

them, preferring it this way,remaining aloof.

But I did, of course, pay themwell and, in my holding, knowingmen, saw that they could have theirpick of some of Port Kar’s mostbeautiful slave girls.

I had purchased the girl whom Ihad seen dance in the Paga Tavern,for forty pieces of gold. I had calledher Sandra, after a girl once knownon Earth. I had put my collar on herand, after using her, had consignedher to my men, that she might pleasetheir senses.

My fifth voyage was one otsatisfy my interest, and made in alight swift galley.

I had wanted to see both Tyros

and Cos.Both lie some four hundred

pasangs west of Port Kar, Tyros tothe south of Cos, separated by somehundred pasangs from her. Tyros isa rugged island, with mountains.She is famed for her vart caves, andindeed, on the island, trained varts,batlike creatures, some the size ofsmall dogs, are used as weapons.Cos is also a lofty island, evenloftier than Tyros, but she has levelfields to her west. Cos had manyterraces, on which the Ta grapesare grown. Near her, on night, lyingoff her shore, silently, I heard themating whistles of the tiny, lovely

Cosian wingfish. This is a small,delicate fish; it has three or fourslender spines in its dorsal fin,which are poisonous. It is called thewingfish because it can, on its stiffpectoral fins, for short distances,glide through the air, usually1 in anattempt to flee small sea tharlarion,who are immune to the poison of thespines. It is also called a songfish,because, in their courtship rituals,males and females thrust their headsfrom the water, uttering a kind ofwhistle. Their livers are regardedas a delicacy. I recalled I had oncetried one, but had not cared for it, ata banquet in Turia, in the house of a

man named Saphrar, who had beena merchant.. Saphrar, I recalled,had once been a perfumer fromTyros but, being exiled as a thief,had made his way to Port Kar, andthence had gone to Turia.

I had learned on the rail of thelight galley, and, in the moonlight,had listened to the mating whistlesof the small fish.

The seemed so small, andinnocent.

“The moons are now full,” hadsaid Tab to me.

“Yes,” I said, “weigh theanchors.”

Silently, oars scarcely touching

the water, we had moved from Cos,leaving her behind in the moonlight.

While I made my five voyagesmy other six ships were engaged incommercila ventures similar tothose which had occupied my firstfour voyages. I seldom returned toPort Kar without learning fromLuma that my fortunes had beenaugmented even further in myabsence. I had made, to date, onlythe five voyages mentioned. In thelast two months, in my holding, Ihad been largely occupied withmatters of business andmanagement, mostly organizing andplanning the voyages of others. I

expected I would again, however,return to Thassa. She, as it is said,cannot be forgotten.

I had made one innovation inpractices common to Port Kar. Iused free men on the rowingbenches on my round ships, ofwhich I had four, not slaves, as istraditional. The fighting ship,incidentall, the long ship, the ram-ship, has never been, to myknowledge, in Port Kar, or Cos, orTyros, or elsewhere on Gor, rowedby slaves; the Gorean fighting shipalways has free men at the oars.The galley slaves I thought worthfreeing, I freed, and found that many

would stay with me, taking me fortheir captain. Those I did no wish,for one reason or another, to free, Isold to other captains, or exchangedthem for slaves whom I might free,several of whom, when freed, alsoagreed to serve with me. Gaps onmy benches were easily filled. Iwould purchase a strong man fromthe market chain on the slave wharf,and then, saying nothing, set himfree. I think not once did such a mannot follow me to my holding, askingto be my man. Not only did fre menrender more efficient service at theoars, but, when they were given theopportunity, I found them eager to

train with arms, and so hiredmasters to teach them weapons. Itwas thus that the round ships ofBosk, the captain from the marshes,with their free crews, became intheir own right dangerous,formidable ships. Merchants of PortKar began to apply to me that theymight transport their goods in myships. I preferred, however, to buyand sell my own cargos. Certainother captain, I noted, were nowalso experimenting, on certain oftheir shiips, with free crews.

My attention was then returned tothe meeting of the council ofcaptains.

A motion was on the floor that anew preserve in the northern forestsbe obtained, that more timber forthe arsenal be available. In thenorthern forests Port Kar alreadyhad several such perserves. Thereis a ceremony in the establishmentof such a perserve, involvingproclamations and the surrounds oftrumpets. Such preserves areposted, surrounded by ditches tokeep out cattle and unlicensedwagoners. There are wardens whowatch the trees, guarding againstillegal cutting and pasturage, andinspectors who, each year, tally andexamine them. The wardens are

also 1responsible, incidentally, formanaging and improving the woods.They do such work as thinning andplanting, and trimming, and keepingthe protective ditch in repair. Theyare also responsibel for bendingand fastening certain numbers ofyoung trees so that tey will growinto desired shapes, usually to beused for frames, and stem andsternposts. Individual trees, not inthe perserves, which are claimed byPort Kar, are marked with the sealof the arsenal. The location of allsuch trees is kept in a bookavailable to the Council ofCaptains. These preserves are

usually located near rivers, in orderto facilitate bringing cut trees to thesea. Trees may also be purchasedfrom the Forest People, who willcut them in the winter, when theycan be dragged on sleds to the sea.If there is a light snowfall in a givenyear, the price of timber is oftenhigher. Port Kar is, incidentally,completely dependent on thenorthern timber. Tur wood is usedfor galley frames, and beams andclamps and posts, and for hullplanking; Ka-la-na serves forcapstans and mastheads; Tem-woodfor rudders and oars; and the needletrees, teh evergreens, for masts and

spars, and cabin and deck planking.The motion to obtain a new

preserve carried. I abstained fromvoting, not having been convincedthat a new preserve was needed. Isupposed it might be, but I did notknow; i had not been convinced; soI had abstained.

But why should Cos and Tyroscome against Port Kar at this time?But it was a rumor, I remindedmyself again, forcibly, a rumor, abaseless rumor. I was angry. I againforced the thought from my mind.

I now had the means whereby Imight purchase yet two more shipsfor my fleet. They would be deep-

keeled round ships, with mightyholds, and high, broad sails. I hadalread, to a great extent, selectedcrews. I had projected voyages forthem to Ianda and to Torvaldsland.Each would be escorted by amedium galley. They would bringme, I conjecture, much riches.

I took the note from the boy, whoappeared suddenly beside my chair.He had long hair, and wore a tunicof red and yellow silk. I recognizedhim, he being a page of the council.

The note, folded, was sealedwith a disk of melted wax. The waxdid not bear the imprint of a signetring.

I opened it.The message was simple. It read,

printed it block letters: I WOULDSPEAK WITH YOU. It was signed,also in block printing, SAMOS.

I crumpled the paper in my fist.“Who gave you this message?” I

asked the boy.“A man,” he said. “I do not know

him.”I saw Lysias, with his helmet,

with the two golden slashes, withits captain’s crest of sleen hair, onthe arm of his curule chair. He waslooking at me, curiously.

I did not know if the messagetruly came from Samos, or not.

If it did, doubtless he had cometo learn that Tarl Cabot was now inPort Kar. But how would he havecome to know this? And how couldhe have come to understand thatBosk, fighting man and merchant,was the same as he who once hadbeen a warrior of the towered cityof Ko-ro-ba, the Towers of theMorning?

Doubtless he wished to summonme to his presence, that he mightrecall me to the service of Priest-Kings.

But I no longer served Priest-Kings. I served now only myself.

I was angry.

I would ignore the message.At that moment a man burst into

the hall in which was sitting theCouncil of Captains.

His eyes were wild.It was Henrak, who had worn the

white scarf, who had betrayed therencers.

“The arsenal!” he cried. “Thearsenal is afire!”

Chapter 11The Crest of Sleen HairThe Captains leaped from their

chairs, crying out. Great chairs fell

bounding down the tiers of thecouncil chamber. The Scribe at thetable before the thrones was on hisfeet shouting. Papers werescattering to the floor. Feet werepounding toward the great doubledoor, leading to the hallwaybeyond, leading out to the tiledpiazza fronting on the hall of thecouncil. I saw pages scurryingabout, in their red and yellow silk.Ink had spilled on the great table.

Then I saw that Lysias, with thecaptain’s crest of sleen hair on hishelmet, had not stirred from hischair.

And I saw, too, that the Scribe

who normally sat his attendance atthe right arm of the empty throne ofHenrius Sevarius, the Fifth, in thecouncil chamber was gone.

Outside, in the distance, throughthe great door, flung open, I heardcries of alarm, and the clash ofweapons.

Then I saw Lysias, his hair tiedbehind his neck with the scarletstring, rise.

He placed on his head his helmet.He unsheathed his weapon.So, too, did my steel leave its

sheath.But Lysias then, weapon at the

ready, backed away, and then

turned and fled through a side door,leading from the council hall.

I looked about.A small fire was burning to one

side, where a lamp with candle hadbeen knocked to the floor, in therush toward the door.

Chairs lay knocked over,furniture was broken. The floor wascovered with papers.

The scribe at the central table,that before the empty thrones, stoodnumb behind the table.

Other scribes came and stoodwith him, looking from one to theother. To one side, cowering, stoodseveral of the page boys.

Then, staggering, bloody, thequarrel of a crossbow protrudingfrom the emblem on his velvettunic, a captain reeled into the roomand fell, clutching at the arm of oneof the curule chairs. Then, behindhim, in the groups of four and five,crying out, many bleeding fromwounds, weapons brandished, andsometimes bloodied, there camethose captains who could.

I went to the place before thethrones.

I indicated the small fire burningto one side, that which had beencaused by the fallen lamp withcandle. “Put it out,” I told two of

the frightened pages.I resheathed my sword.The two pages leapt to do my

bidding.“Gather up and guard the book of

the Council,” I told the Scribe whohad been at the great table.

“Yes, Captain,” said he, leapingto seize it up.

I then, throwing papers to thefloor, s1cattering ink, lifted thegreat table over my head.

There were cries ofastonishment.

I turned and, step by step,carrying the great table, advancedtoward the large door leading to the

hallway.More captains, their back to the

room, fighting, falling, wereretreating through the door.

They were the last of thecaptains.

Over their heads in the doorway Iflung the great table.

Its great weight, to screams ofhorror, fell crushing upon men who,with shields and swords, wereclosely pressing the captains.

I saw, wide with horr in theapertures of their helmets, the eyesof men pinned beneath its beams.

“Bring curule chairs!” I orderedthe captains.

Though many were wounded,though all could scarcely stand, theyleaped to gather up chairs and hurlthem into the doorway.

Crossbow bolts flashed throughthe chairs, splintering their backsand sides.

“More tables!” I cried.Men, and scribes, and pages, too,

came forward, four and six men to atable, adding the tables ot ourbarricade.

From the outside some men triedto climb the barricade, and break itdown.

On its height they met Bosk, inhis hands the wine-tempered steel

of a Ko-ro-ban blade.Four men fell reeling backward,

tumbling down the chairs andtables.

Crossbow bolts flashed about myhead.

I laughed, and leaped down. Nomore men were trying to climb thewood of the barricade.

“Can you hold this door?” Iasked the captains, and the scribesand pages there.

“We will,” they said.I gestured to the side door,

through which Lysias and, Iassumed, he who had been scribefor Henrius Sevarius, had escaped.

Several of the pages, incidentally,and some of the scribes had alsofled through that door. “Secure thatdoor,” I told four of the captains.

Immediately they went to thedoor, calling scribes and pages tohelp.

I myself, taking with me twocaptains, went to a rear corner ofthe great chamber, whence, via aspiraling stairwell, the roof of thehall of council might be attained.

We soon found ourselves on thesloping roof of the hall of thecouncil, shielded and turrets anddecorative embrasures at its edge.

From there, in the late afternoon

sun, we could see smoke from thewharves and arsenal to the west.

“There are no ships from Cos orTyros in the harbor,” said one of thecaptains standing near me.

I had seen this.I indicated wharves. “Those

wharves,” I said, “are those ofChung and Eteocles?”

“Yes,” said one of the captains.“And those,” I asked, indicating

other wharves, farther to the south,“are those of Nigel and SulliusMaximus.”

“Yes,” said the other captain.“Doubtless there is fightin1g

there,” said the first captain.

“And along the wharvesgenerally,” said the second.

“It seems,” I said, “that theholdings of Henrius Sevarius,patron of the captain Lysias, areuntouched.”

“It does indeed,” said the firstcaptain, through gritted teeth.

Below in the streets we heardtrumpets. Men were shouting.

We saw some waving banners,bearing the design of the house ofSevarius.

They were trying to urge men intothe streets to support them.

“Henrius Sevarius,” they werecrying, “Ubar of Port Kar.”

“Sevarius is proclaiming himselfUbar,” said the first captain.

“Or Cladius, his regent,” said theother.

We were joined by anothercaptain. “It is quiet now below,” hesaid.

“Look there,” I said. I pointeddown to some of the canals, cuttingbetween the buildings. Slowly,moving smoothly, there oarsdipping in rhythm, from varioussides, we saw tarn ships movingtoward the hall of the council.

“And there!” cried anothercaptain, pointing to the streets.

There we saw crossbowmen

fleeing, in lines along the edges ofthe buildings. Some men-at-armswere joining them.

“It appears,” said one of thecaptains at my side, “that HenriusSevarius in not yet Ubar of PortKar.”

At the far edge of the piazza, inone of the bordering canals, nosingforward to take a berth betweentwo tiled piers, we saw a ram-ship,medium class. Her mast, with itslong yard, was lashed to the deck.Doubtless her sail was storedbelow. These are the arrangementswhen a galley moves through thecity, or when she enters battle. On a

line running from the forwardstarboard mooring cleat to the stemcastle, furnishing cover for archersand spearmen, there flew a flag,snapping in the wind. It was whitewith vertical green stripes on itsfield and, over these, in black, thehead of a Bosk.

I could see, even at the distance,leaping from the prow of the ship tothe tiles of the piazza, runningacross the large, oblique-looking,colored squares toward the Hall ofthe Council of Captains, the greatThurnock, with his yellow bow,followed by Clitus, with his net andtrident, and by Tab, with my men.

“Estimate for me,” I said, “thedamage to the arsenal,”

“It appears,” said one, “to be thelumber sheds and the dry docks.”

“The warehouses of pitch andthat of oars, too,” said the other.

“Yes,” said the first. “I think so.”“There is little wind,” said

another.I was not dissatisfied. I was

confident that the men of thearsenal, in their hundreds, almost tothe count of two thousand, would,given the opportunity, control thefire. Fire has always been regardedas the great hazard to the arsenal.Accordingly many of her

warehouses, shops and foundriesare built of stone, with slated ortinned roofs. Wooden structures,such as her numerous sheds androofed storage areas tend to beseparated from one another. Withinthe arsenal itself there are numerousbasins, providing a plenitude ofwater. Many of these basins, nearwhich, in red-painted woodenboxes, are stored la1rge numbers offolded leather buckets, areexpressly for the purpose ofproviding a means for fighting fires.Some of the other basins are largeenough to float galleys; these largebasins connect with the arsenal’s

canal system, by means of whichheavy materials may be conveyedabout the arsenal; the arsenal’scanal system also gives access, attwo points, to the canal system ofthe city and, at tow other points, tothe Tamber Gulf, beyond which liesgleaming Thassa. Each of these fourpoints are guarded by great barredgates. The large basins, justmentioned, are of two types: thefirst, unroofed, is used for theunderwater storage and seasoningof Tur wood; the second, roofed,serves for heavier fittings and uppercarpentry of ships, and for repairsthat do not necessitate recourse to

the roofed dry docks.Already it seemed to me there

was less smoke, less fire, from theareas of the arsenal.

The wharves of Chung, Eteocles,Nigel and Sullius Maximus, Iconjectured, from the blazings alongthe waterfront on the west andsouth, would not fare well.

The fires at the arsenal, Isupposed, may have been even,primarily, a diversion. They hadsurely served to draw the captainsof Port Kar into the ambushprepared for them outside the hallof council. I supposed HenriusSevarius might not have wished to

seriously harm the arsenal. Couldhe come to be the Ubar of Port Kar,it would constitute a considerableelement of his wealth, indeed, themajor one.

I, and the three other captains,stood on the sloping roof of the hallof the council and watched the shipsburning the wharves.

“I am going to the arsenal,” Isaid. I turned to one of the captains.“Have scribes investigate andprepare reports on the extent of thedamage, wherever it exists. Alsohave captains ascertain the militarysituation in the city. And havepatrols doubled, and extend their

perimeters by fifty pasangs.”“But surely Cos and Tyros--”

said one of the Captains.“Have the patrols doubled, and

extend their perimeters by fiftypasangs,” I repeated.

“It will be done,” he said.I turned to another man.“Tonight,” I said, “the council

must meet again.”“It cannot--” he protested.“At the twentieth hour,” I told

him.“I will send pages through the

city with torches,” he said.I looked out over the city, at the

arsenal, at the burning wharves on

the west and south.“And summon the four captains,”

I said, “who are Chung, Eteocles,Nigel and Sullius Maximus.”

“The Ubars!” cried a captain.“The captains,” I said. “Send for

them only a single page with guard,with his torch. Summon them ascaptains.”

“But they are Ubars,” the manwhispered.

I pointed to the burning wharves.“If they do not come,” I told him,

“tell them they will no longer becaptains in the eyes of the council.”

The captains looked at me.“It is the council,” I said, “that is

now the first power in Port Kar.”The captains looked at one

another, and nodded.“It is true,” said one of them.

The power of the captains hadbeen little diminished. The coupintended to destroy them,, swift asthe falling of the assassin’s blade,had failed. Escaping into andbarricading themselves within thehall of the Council, most had savedthemselves. Others, fortunately as ithad turned out for them, had noteven been in attendance at themeeting. The ships of the captainswere usually moored, beyond this,within the city, in the mooring lakes

fronting on their holdings andwalled. And those who had used theopen wharves did not seem to havesuffered damage.

The only wharves fired wereapparently those of the four Ubars.

I looked out over the harbor, andover the muddy Tamber to thegleaming vastness beyond, myThassa.

At any given time most of theships of Port Kar are at sea. Five ofmine were, at present, at sea. Twowere in the city, to be supplied. Theships of the captains, returning,would further guarantee their powerin the city, their crews being

applicable where the captains mightchoose. To be sure, many of theships of the Ubars were similarly atsea, but men pretending to theUbarate of Port Kar commonly keepa far larger percentage of theirpower in port than would a commoncaptain. I expected the power of thefour Ubars, Chung, Eteocles, Nigeland Sullius Maximus, might havebeen, at a stroke, diminished byhalf. If so, they might control,among themselves, a force of aboutone hundred and fifty ships, most ofwhich were still at sea. I did notexpect the Ubars would cooperatewith one another. Further, if

necessary, the council of captains,with its power, might intercept andimpound their ships, as theyreturned, one by one. I had long feltthat five Ubars in Port Kar, and theattendant anarchy resulting from thisdivision of power, was politicallyinsufferable, with its competition ofextortions, taxes and decrees, butmore importantly, I felt that itjeopardized my own interests. Iintended, in Port Kar, to accumulatefortunes and power. As my projectsdeveloped I had no wish to sufferfor not having applied for client-hood to one Ubar or another. I didnot wish to have to be sue for the

protection of a strong man. Ipreferred to be my own.Accordingly I wished for thecouncil to consolidate its power inthe city. It seemed that now, withthe failure of the coup of HenriusSevarius, and the diminishment ofthe power of the other Ubars, shemight well do so. The council, Iexpected, itself composed ofcaptains, men much like myself,would provide a political structurewithin which my ambitions andprojects might well prosper.Nominally beneath its aegis, Imight, for all practical purposes, befree to augment my house as I saw

fit, the House of Bosk, of Port Kar.I, for one, would champion the

council.I expected that there would be

support for this position, both frommen like myself, self-seeking men,wise in political realities, and fromthe inevitable and useful fools,abundant even in Port Kar, hopingsimply for a saner and moreefficient governance of their city. Itseemed the interests of wise menand fools lay for once conjoined.

I turned and faced the captains.“Until the twentieth hour,

Captains,” said I.Dismissed, they left the roof.

I stood alone on the roof, andwatched the fires. A man such as I, Ithought, might rise high in a citysuch as this, squalid, malignant PortKar.

I then left the roof to go to thearsenal, to see for myself whatmight be the case there.

It was now the nineteenth hour.Above us, in the chamber of the

council of captains, I could hearfeet moving about on wooden floor,chairs scraping.

Each captain in Port Kar hadcome to the meething, saving someof those most closely associatedwith the house of Sevarius.

It was said, even, that the fourUbars, Chung, Eteocles, Nigel andSullius Maximus, sat now, or wouldsoom sit, upon their thrones.

The man on the rack near mescreamed in agony.

He was one of those who hadbeen captured.

“We have the reports on thedamage to the wharves of Chung,”said a scribe, pressing into myhands the documents. I knew that thefiers on the wharves of Chung stillblazed, and that they had spreadnorthward to the free wharves southof the arsenal. The reports,accordingly, would be incomplete.

I looked at the scribe.“We will bring you further

reports as soon as they arrive,” hesaid.

I nodded, and he sped away.The fires were now substantially

out in the properties of Eteocles,Nigel and Sullius Maximus, thougha warehouse of the latter, in whichwas stored tharlarion oil, stillblazed. The city was heavy with thesmell and smoke of it. As nearly asI could gather, Chung had been themost afflicted by the fire, losingperhaps thirty ships. The Ubars, itseemed, had not had their powerhalved, but it had been considerably

reduced. The damage to the arsenal,which I had seen with my own eyes,and had taken statistical reports onfrom the scribes, had not beenparticularly serious. It amounted tothe destruction of one roofed areawhere Ka-la-na wood was stored,and the partial destruction ofanother; one small warehouse forthe storage pitch, one of several,had been destroyed; two dry dockshad been lost, and the shop of theoarmakers, near the warehouse foroars, had been damaged; thewarehouse itself, as it turned out,had escaped the fire.

Some of those who had started

these fires, who had beenapprehended, now, under thetorches, screamed on the racksbeneath the chamber of the councilof Captains. Most, however, theirretreat covered by crossbowmen,had excaped and fled to the holdingof Henrius Sevarius.

The two slaves near me bent tothe rack windlass. There was acreak of wood, the sound of thepawl, locking, dropping into a newnotch on the ratchet, a hideousscream.

“Have the patrols beendoubled?” I asked a captain nearby.

“Yes,” he said, “and their

perimeters extended by fiftypasangs.”

The man on the rack screamedagain.

“What,” I asked a captain, “is themilitary situation?”

“The men of Henrius Sevarius,”said he, “have withdrawn into hisholdings. His ships and wharvesare well defended. Men of thecaptains maintain their watch.Others are in reserve. Should theforces of Sevarius emerge from hisholdings we shall meet them withsteel.”

“What of the city?” I asked.“It has not rallied to Sevarius,”

said the captain. “In the streets mencry ‘Power to the Council!’”

“Excellent,” I commented.A scribe came to my side. “An

envoy from the House of Sevariusdemands to speak before theco1uncil,” he said.

“Is he a captain?” I asked.“Yes,” said the scribe. “Lysias.”I smiled. “Very well,” I said,

“send a page, and a man with atorch, to conduct him hither, andgive him guard, that he may not betorn to death on the streets.”

The scribe grinned. “YesCaptain,” said he.

A captain near me shook his

head. “But Sevarius is a Ubar,” hesaid.

“The council,” I said, “willadjudicate his claims.”

The captain looked at me, andsmiled. “Good,” he said, “Good.”

I gestured for the two slaves atthe rack windlass to again rotate theheavy wooden wheels, moving theheavy wooden pawl another notchin the beam ratchet. Again therewas a creak of wood and the soundof the pawl, locking, dropping intoits new notch. The thing fastened onthe rack threw back its head on thecords, screaming only with hiseyes. Another notch and the bones

of its arms and legs would be tornfrom their sockets.

“What have you learned?” Iasked the scibe, who stood with histablet and stylus beside the rack.

“It is the same as the others,” hesaid. “They were hired by the menof Henrius Sevarius, some to slaycaptains, smoe to fire the wharvesand arsenal.” The scribe looked upat me. “Tonight,” he said, “Sevariuswas to be Ubar of Port Kar, andeach was to have a stone of gold.”

“What of Cos and Tyros?” Iasked.

The scribe looked at me, puzzled.“None have spoken of Cos and

Tyros,” he said.This angered me, for I felt that

there must be more in the coup thanthe work of one Port Kar’s fiveUbars. I had expected, that veryday, or this night, to receive wordthat the fleets of Cos and Tyroswere approaching. Could it be, Iasked myself, that Cos and Tyroswere not implicated in theattempted coup?

“What of Cos and Tyros!” Idemanded of the wretch fastened onthe rack. He had been one who had,with his crossbow, fired on thecaptains as they had run from thecouncil. His eyes had moved from

his head; a large vein was livid onhis forehead’ his feet and handswere white; his wrists and ankleswere bleeding; his body was littlemore than drawn suet; he wasstained with his own excrement.

“Sevarius!” he whispered.“Sevarius!”

“Are not Cos and Tyros toattack?” I demanded.

“Yes! Yes!” he cried. “Yes!”“And,” I said, “what of Ar, and

Ko-ra-ba, and Treve, and Thentis,and Turia, and Tharna and Tor!”

“Yes, yes, yes!” he whimpered.“And,” I said, “Teletus, Tabor,

Scagnar!”

“Yes, yes!” he cried.“And,” I said, “Farnacium, and

Hulneth and Aperiche! And Anangoand Ianda, and Hunjer and Skjernand Torvaldsland! And Lydius andHelmutsport, and Schendi andBazi!”

“Yes,” he cried. “All are goingto attack.”

“And Port Kar!” I cried.“Yes,” he raved, “Port Kar, too!

Port Kar, too!”With disgust I guestured for the1

slaves to pull the pins releasing thewindlasses.

With a ratle of cork and chain thewheels spun back and the thing on

the rack began to jabber andwhimper and laugh.

By the time the slaves hadunfastened him he had lostconsciousness.

“There was little more to belearned from that one,” said a voicenear me. It might have been a larlthat had spoken.

I turned.There, facing me, his face

expressionless, was one who waswell known in Port Kar.

“You were not at the meeting ofthe council this afternoon,” I said tohim.

“No,” he said.

The somnolent beat of a manregarded me.

He was a large man. About hisleft shoulder there were the tworopes of Port Kar. These arecommonly worn only outside thecity. His garment was closelywoven, and had a hood, nowthrown back. His face was wide,and heavy, and much lined; it, likemany of those of Port kar, showedthe marks of Thassa, burned into itby wind and salt; he had gray eyes;his hair was white, andshortcropped; in his ears there weretwo small golden rings.

If a larl might have been

transformed into a man, and yetretain its instincts, its heart and itscunning, I think it might look muchlike Samos, First Slaver of PortKar.

“Greetings, noble Samos,” I said.“Greetings,” said he.It then occured to me that this

man could not serve Priest-Kings. Itoccured to me then, with a shudderwhich I did not betray, that such aman could serve only the Others,not Priest-Kings, those Others, inthe distant steel worlds, whosurreptitiusly and cruelly fought togain this world and Earth for theirown ends.

Samos looked about, gazing onthe various racks, to many of whichthere were still fastened prisoners.

The torches lit the room withunusal shadows.

“Have Cos and Tyros beeninplicated?” he asked.

“These men will confesswhatever we wish,” I said dryly.

“But there seems nothinggenuine?” he asked.

“No,” I said.“I suspect Cos and Tyros,” he

said, gazing at me, evenly.“I, too,” I said.“But these minions,” he said,

“they will know nothing.”

“It appears so,” I said.“Would you,” asked Samos,

“reveal your plans to such asthese?”

“No,” I said.He nodded, and then turned, but

stopped, and spoke over hisshoulder. “You are the one whocalls himself Bosk, are you not?”

“I am he,” I told him.“You are to be congratulated on

taking the leadership thisafternoon,” he said. “You did thecouncil good service.”

I said nothing.Then he turned. “Do you know

who is senior captain of the

council?” he asked.“No,” I said.“I am,” 1said Samos, of Port

Kar.I did not respond.Them Samor addressed himself

to the Scribe near the rack. Hegestured toward the other racks.“Take down these men,” he said,“and keep them chained. We maywish to question them furthertomorrow.”

“What do you expect to do withthem eventually?” I asked.

“Our round ships,” said Samos,“require oarsmen.”

I nodded.

So they would be slaves.“Noble Samos,” I said.“Yes,” said he.I recalled the note I had received

before Herak had burst in upon thecouncil, crying that there was fire inthe arsenal. I had thrust the note inthe wallet I wore at my belt.

“Earlier today,” I asked, “didNoble Samos send word to me thathe wished to speak to me?”

Samos looked at me. “No,” hesaid.

I bowed my head.Then Samos, who was senior

captain of the Council of Captainsof Port Kar, turned and left.

“Samos,” said one of the scriblesnearby, “only made landfall in PortKar this night, at the eighteenthhour, from Scagnar.”

“I see,” I said.So who then, I asked myself,

would write such a note?Apparently there were others thenin Port Kar who would havebusiness with me.

I was near the Twentieth Hour.Lysias, captain, client of Henrius

Sevarius, spoke before the council.He stood before the thrones of theUbars, before even the large table,which now, on its upper face, wasmarked by sword cuts and the

apertures splintered open by thepassage of crossbow quarrelsearlier this afternoon.

The Hall of the Council, thisnight, was surrounded by the men ofthe captains, who, too, patrolled therooftops and the walks beside thecanals for a full pasang on all sides.

The hall was lit by torches, andby many lamps with candles, set ontables between curule chairs.

As Lysias spoke he walked backand forth before the table, his cloakswirling behind him, his helmet,with its captain’s crest of sleenhair, in the cook of his arm.

“And so,” concluded Lysias, “I

bring you all amnesty in the name ofthe Ubar of Port Kar, HenriusSevarius!”

“Henrius Sevarius the Captain,”said Samos, speaking from hiscurule chair, in the name of thecouncil, “is most kind.”

Lysias dropped his head.“Henrius Sevarius, the Captain,”

said Samos, in measured words,“may, however, find that the councilis less inclined to lenience that he.”

Lysias lifted his head in alarm.“His power is greater than any of

yours!” he cried. And then he spunabout to face the Ubars, each, withmen about him, on his throne.

“Greater even than any of yours!”cried Lysias.

I gazed upon the Ubars, squat,brilliant Chung; narrowfaced,cunning Eteocles; tall, long-haired,Nigel, like a warlord fromTorvaldsland; and SulliusMaximus, who was said to writepoetry and be a student of t1heproperties of various poisons.

“How many ships has he?” askedSamos.

“One hundred and two!” saidLysias proudly.

“The captains of the council,”said Samos, dryly, “have some onethousand ships pledged to their

personal service. And further, thecouncil is executor with respect tothe disposition and application ofthe ships of the city, in the numberof approzimately another thousand.”

Lysias stood scowling beforeSamos, his helmet in the crook ofhis arm, his long cloak fallingbehind him.

“The council commands,”summarized Samos, “some twothousand ships.”

“There are many other ships!”cried Lysias.

“Perhaps,” asked Samos, “yourefer to those of Chung, andEteocles, and Nigel and Sullius

Maximus?”There was upleasant laughter in

the council.“No!” cried Lysias. “I refer to

the ships of the minor captains, inthe number of better than twenty-five hundred!”

“In the streets,” said Samos, “Ihave heard the cry ‘Power to thecouncil!’”

“Proclaim Henrius Sevarius soleUbar,” said Lysias numbly, “andyour lives will be spared, and youwill be granted amnesty.”

“That is your proposal?” askedSamos.

“It is,” said Lysaias.

“Now hear,” said Samos, “theproposal of the council, thatHenrius Sevarius and his regent,Claudius, lay down their arms, anddivest themselves of all ships, andmen and holdings, all propertiesand assets, and present themselves,stripped and in the chains of slaves,before the council, that itsjudgement may be passed on them.”

Lysias, his body rigid with fury,his hand on the hilt of his sword,stood not speaking before Samos,First Slaver of Port Kar.

“Perhaps,” said Samos, “theirlives may be spared, that they maytake their seat on the benches of the

public round ships.”There was an angry cry of

affirmation, and a shaking of fists,from those of the council.

Lysais, looked about himself. “Iclaim the immunity of the herald!”he cried.

“It is yours,” said Samos. Thenhe spoke to a page. “ConductLysias, Captain, to the holdings ofHenrius Sevarius,” said Samos.

“Yes, Noble Samos,” said theboy.

Lysias, looking about himself, hiscloak swirling, followed the boyfrom the room.

Samos rose before his curule

chair. “Is it true,” he asked, “that inthe eyes of the council HenriusSevarius is no longer Ubar orCaptain in Port Kar?”

“It is,” cried the voices. “It is!”And none, I think, cried louder

than the other Ubars upon theirthrones.

When the tumult had subsided,Samos faced the four thrones of theUbars.

Uneasily they regarded him.“Glorious Captains,” said

Samos.“Ubars!” cried Sullius Maximus.“Ubars,” said Samos, bowing his

head wi1th a smile.

The four men, Chung, Eteocles,Nigel and Sullius Maximus, restedback on their thrones.

“Be it known to you, Ubars,”said he, “that Samos, First Slaver ofPort Kar, now proposes to thecouncil that it take into its ownhands the full and sold governanceof the city of Port Kar, with fullpowers, whether of policy anddecree, of enforcement, of taxationand law, or other, pertinent to theadministration thereof.”

“No!” cried the Ubars, leaping totheir feet.

“It will be civil war!” criedEteocles.

“Power to the council,” saidSamos, bowing his head.

“Power to the council!” cried themen in the tiers. Even the page boysand scribes, and minor captains, inthe back of the room and about thesides, cried out these words.“Power to the council!”

I sat still in my curule chair,smiling.

“Further,” said Samos, “Ipropose that the council decree thatall bonds among clients and patronsin Port Kar be now dissolved, to bereestablished only on the basis ofmutual consent and explicit contracton the part of the parties involved,

which documents, in copy, are to beplaced with the council.”

Sullius Maximus shook his fist atSamos. “You will not shear us ofyour power!” he cried.

“Further,” said Samos, “let thecouncil decree that any who fail toabide by the resolutions of thecouncil, or act against it, at thecouncil’s convenience, subject toher pleasure.”

There was much enthusiasticshouting from the tiers.

The Ubar Chung, throwing hiscloak about his shoulders, followedby his men, left the chambers.

Then Nigel, with lofty disdain

and measured tread, carrying hishelmet, departed the chamber.

“I now ask the table scribe,” saidSamos, “to call the roll ofCaptains.”

“Antisthenes,” called the scribe.“Antisthenes accepts the

proposals,” said a man in the thirdrow, some yards from me.

In fury, with a shout of rage,Eteocles, cloak swirling, his handon the hilt of his sword, strode tothe table. He took his sword fromits sheath and plunged it through thescribe’s papers, pinning them to thetable.

“There is the power in Port Kar,”

he cried.Slowly Samos drew his own

weapon and placed it across hisknees. “Here, too,” he said, “ispower.”

And almost every one of thecaptains in that council drew theirweapon, as had Samos, and placedit across their knees.

I, too, unsheathed my weapon,and rose to my feet, regardingEteocles.

He looked at me, and then, with acry of anger, drew his blade fromthe papers and wood, slammed itback into its sheath, and turned andstrode from the room.

I returned to my seat.I saw that now, quietly, and with

little show of emotion, SulliusMaximus had risen to his feet. Aman behind him helped him adjusthis cloak, so that it fell from itsgolden clasp, as he wished. Anotherman behind him held his helmet.

Sullius Maximus stopped beforethe table of the sc1ribem andregarded the council.

“I shall write a poem,” he said,“lamenting the downfall of Ubars.”Then he smiled, and turned and left.

He, I told myself, would be themost dangerouls of the Ubars.

I resheathed my blade.

“Bejar,” called the scribe.“Bejar accepts the proposals of

Samos,” said a captain, a dark-skinned man with long, straight hair,who sat in the second row, sometwo chairs below me and to theright.

“Bosk,” called the scribe.“Bosk,” I said, “abstains.”Samos, and many of the others,

looked at me, quickly.“Abstention,” recorded the

scribe.I saw no reason, at the moment,

to commit myself to the programs ofSamos and the council. It seemedclear to me that his proposals

would be accepted. Moreover, Iregarded them as presumably in mybest interest. But, by abstaining, myintentions and allegiances mightperhaps remain usefully ambiguous.The abstention, it seemed to me,might well give me a widereventual latitude of action. Besides,I told myself, it was still ratherearly to determine on which curulechairs the tarns of power mightalight.

As I thought it would, the groupof proposals set before the councilby Samos passed overwhelmingly.There were some absentions, andsome nays, perhaps from those who

feared the power of one or anotherof the Ubars, but the decision on thewhole was clear, a devastating ofthe claims of the Ubars and the, ineffect, enthronement of the councilof captains as the sovereign of thecity.

The council met late that night,and much business was conducted.Even before dawn walls werebeing reaised about the holdings ofHenrius Sevarius, and his wharveswere being blockaded with ships ofthe arsenal, while large watcheswere being maintained on theholdings of the other four Ubars.Several committees were formed,

usually headed by scribes butreporting to the council, toundertake various studies pertainingto the city, particularly of a militaryand commercial nature. One ofthese studies was to be a census ofships and captains, the results ofwhich were to be private to thecouncil. Other studies, the results ofwhich would be kept similarlyprivate to the council, dealt with thecity defenses, and her stores ofwood, grain, salt, stone andtharlarion oil. Also considered,though nothing was determined thatnight, were matters of taxation, theunification and revision of the

codes of the five Ubars, theestablishment of council courts,replacing those of the Ubars, andthe acquistion of a sizable numberof men-at-arms, who would bedirectly responsible to the councilitself, in effect, a small councilpolice or army. Such a body of men,it might be noted, though restrictedin numbers and limited injurisdiction, already existed in thearsenal. The arsenal guard,presumably, would become abranch of the newly formed councilguard, if such became a reality. It istrue, of course, that the councilalready controlled a large number

of ships and crews, but it must beremembered that these forces werenaval in nature; the council alreadyhad its navy; the events of theafternoon had demonstrated that itwould be well if it had also at itsdisposal a small, permanent,dependable, rapidly deployableinfantry. One might not always beable to count on the rallying of themen of individual captains toprotect the council, as had been thecase this afternoon. Besides, if tehcouncil were to become trulysovereign in Port Kar, as it hadproclaimed itself, it seemedessential that it should soon have1

its own military forces within thecity.

One other incident of that councilmeeting I shall mention.

It was shortly past daybreak, andthe gray light of Port Kar’s dawnwas filtering in through the high,narrow windows of the council ofcaptains. I had taken the note whichI had received the precedingafternoon from my wallet, thatwhich had purported to be fromSamos, which he had deniedsending. Bemused, I had burned itin the tiny flame of the candle on thetable near me, now little more thana twig of wick in a puddle of clear,

melted wax, and then I had, with theplam of my hand, snuffed out thetiny flame. It was day.

“I suspect,” Samos was saying,“that Cos and Tyros are implicatedin the attempted coup of the Houseof Sevarius.”

I myself would not have beensurprised if this had been true.

His words received grunts ofaffirmation from the assembledcaptains. It seemed they, too, hadtheir suspicions. Surely it did notseem likely that Sevarius wouldhave moved if he had not beenassured, at some point, of thesupport of the power of Cos and

Tyros.“Myself,” Samos went on, “I am

weary of war with Cos and Tyros.”the captains looked at one

another.“Now that the council is

sovereign in Port Kar,” Samos said,his fist clenched on the arm of hiscurule chair, “might not peach bepossible?”

This puzzled me.I saw one or two of the captains

reaise their heads from the arms oftheir curule chairs.

One captain, leaning back in hiscurule chair, said, “There hasalways been war between Port Kar,

and Cos and Tyros.”I did not expect these remarks

from Samos. I was curious to knowhis motivation, his plan.

“As you know,” said Samos,speaking evenly, “Port Kar is notthe most loved, nor the most greatlyrespected nor the highest honoredamong the cities of Gor.”

There was rough laughter at this.“Have we not been

misunderstood?” he asked.There was an unpleasant

undercurrent of amusement whichgreeted his question. I myselfsmiled. Port Kar, I told myself, wasonly too well understood bu the

other cities of Gor.“Consider our trade,” said

Samos. “Would it not be trebled ifwe were accounted, among Goreancities, a city of love, of peace?”

There was a guffaw of laughter atthis, and men pounded the arms ofthe curule chairs. There were nonenow in that room who were notawake. I saw even the pages andscribes laughed, poking oneanother.

When there was silence, it wassuddenly, unexpectedly, broken bythe voice of Bejar, the dark-skinnedcaptain with the long, straight hair.He said simply, answering the

question of Samos, “It would.”Then the room was very silent.

And I think there were noe then inthat room who did not hold hisbreath for that moment, to hear thewords of Samos.

“It is my proposal,” said Samos,“that the council approach Cos andTyros, offering terms of peace.”

“No!” came the cry from theassembled captains. “No!”

When the tumult had subsided,Samos spoke, softly. “Of course,1”said Samos, “our terms will berejected.”

The captains looked at oneanother in puzzlement, and then they

began to smile, and then severallaughed.

I smiled to myself. Samos wasindeed a shrewd man. The facade ofmagnanimity would indeed be avaluable posseession for a maritimeUbarate. Further, men might bewilling to believe Port Kar nowother than she had been, that thecoming to power of the councilwould have reformed her. And whatbetter gesture than this mission ofpeace to the hereditary enemies Cosand Tyros? If the burden ofmaintaining the conflict wereclearly on them, it was possible thatallies of theirs might be influenced

to diminish or, perhaps, withdrawtheir support, or, perhaps pledge iteven to Port Kar. And there wereundeclared ports and cities toconsider. Surely these might then bedissuaded from becoming allies ofCos and Tyros, and perhaps mightbe inclined to offer their services toPort Kar? At the very least, theships of Port Kar might, in such asituation, become suddenlywelcome in ports that had hithertobeen closed to them. And who knewwhat trading ships might make theirway to Port Kar, if they thought hera fair and honest city? The estimateof Samos, taht such a gesture on

Port Kar’s part might eventuallyresult in a trebling of her trade,seemed to me possiblyconservative.

“What if the offer of peace isaccepted?” I asked Samos.

The captains looked at me,dumbfounded. Some laughed. Butmost looked then to Samos.

“I do not think it likely,” saidSamos, smiling.

Several of the captains thenlaughed.

“But,” I asked, “if it is?”Samos scowled, and then his

clear gray eyes met mine, butwithout emotion. I could not read

his heart. Then he smiled, andspread his hands. “Then,” said he,“it is accepted.”

“And,” I asked, “Do we abide bytheir acceptance? Would there thenbe truly peace between Port Kar,and Cos and Tyros?”

“That,” smiled Samos, “mayalways be taken underconsideration at a future meeting ofthe council.”

There was rough laughter at this.“The time is opportune,” said

Samos, “to offer peace to Cos andTyros. For one thing, the Councilhas newly come to power. Foranother, I have learned from spies

that this very week the Ubar ofTyros visits Cos.”

The captains muttered angrily. Itdid not bode well for Port Kar thatthe Ubar of Tyros should voyage toCos. More than the Ubar of Tyrosshould voyage to Cos. More thanever it now seemed possible, orprobable, that the two islandUbarates might well be conspiringagainst Port Kar. Why else shouldthere be a meeting of the twoUbars? Generally, there was almostas little love lost between them asbetween them and the Ubars of PortKar.

“Then,” said one of the captains,

“they must intend to bring theirfleets against us.”

“Perhaps,” said Samos,“members of a mission of peacemight learn such matters.”

There was a grunt of agreementfrom the captains.

“What of your spies,” I asked,“who seem so well informed?Surely, if they can learn theitineraries of the Ubar of Tyros, itmust be difficult to conceal fromthem a gathering of the fleets of twosuch powers as Cos and Tyros?”

The hand of Samos wentinstinctively to the h1ilt of hisweapon, but then he closed his hand

and slowly placed the fist on thearm of his curule chair. “You speakquickly,” he said, “for one who isnew to the Council of Captains.”

“More quickly than you choose toanswer, it seems, Noble Samos,”said I.

I wondered what the interess ofSamos in Cos and Tyros might be.

Samos spoke slowly. I saw thathe did not care to speak. “The fleetsof Cos and Tyros,” he said, “havenot yet gathered.”

If he had known this, I askedmyself, why had he not spokenbefore?

“Perhaps,” I asked, “Samos will

propose that we now withdraw ourpatrols from Thassa?”

Samos looked at me, and the lookwas as cold and hard as Goreansteel.

“No,” he said, “I would notpropose that.”

“Excellent,” I said.The captains looked at one

another.“Let there be peace in the

council,” said the scribe behind thegreat table, taht before the now-empty five thrones of the Ubars ofPort Kar.

“I have less interest in piracy, Igather, than many of my

collaegues,” I said. “Since myinterests are substantially incommerce I, for one, wouldwelcome peace with Cos andTyros. It seems not unlikely to methat these two powers may well beweary of war, as Samos informs ushe is. If that is true, it seems theymay well accept an honorablepeace. Such a peace would, I note,open the ports of Tyros and Cos,and their allies and others, to myships, and of course, to yours.Peace, my captains, might wellprove profitable.” I regardedSamos. “If an offer of peace is to bemade to Cos and Tyros,” I said, “it

is my hope that it would begenuine.”

Samos looked at me strangely. “Itwould be genuine,” he said.

The captains murmured amongthemselves. I myself was takenaback.

“Bosk,” said Samos to the group,“speaks well the advantages ofpeace. Let us consider his wordswith care, and favorably. I thinkthere are few of us here who are notmore fond of gold than blood.”

There was some laughter at this.“If peace was made,” challenged

Samos, “which of you would notkeep it?”

He looked from man to man. Tomy surprise none denied that hewould keep the peace, were itmade.

It then seemed to me, so simply,that there was for the first time thepossibility of peace of Thassa,among her three major Ubarates.

Somehow, suddenly, I believedSamos.

I was astonished but it was mysensing of the group that, if peacewere made, Port Kar would keep it.

There had been war for so long.None laughed.I sat numb in the great curule

chair, that of a captain of Port Kar.

I regarded Samos, wondering ofhim. He was a strange man, that larlof a man. I could not read him.

“Of course,” said Samos, “theoffer of peace will be rejected.”

The captains looked at oneanother, and grinned. I realized Iwas again in Port Kar.

“W1e will need one to carry theoffer of peace to Cos, where he maynow find joint audience with theUbars of both Cos and Tyros,” saidSamos.

I was scarcely listening now.“It should be one,” Samos was

saying, “who has the rank ofcaptain, and who is a member of the

council inself, that the authenticityof the offer shall thus be mademanifest.”

I found myself in agreement withthis.

“Further,” said Samos, “it shouldbe one who has proved that he cantake action, and who has in the pastwell served the council.”

I scratched with my fingernail inthe wax, breaking up the bits ofcharred paper that had bee the noteI had burned in the candle flame.The wax was now yellow and hard.It was something past daybreaknow, and I was tired. They graylight now filled the room.

“And,” Samos was saying, “itmust be one who is not afraid tospeak, one who is worthyrepresentative of the council.”

I wondered if Samos himselfmight be tired. It seemed to me hewas saying very little now.

“And,” Samos went on, “itshould preferably be one who is notwell known to Cos and Tyros, onewho has not angered them, norproven himself to them as bloodenemy upon gleaming Thassa.”

Suddenly I seemed awake, quite,and apprehensive. And then Ismiled. Samos was no fool. He wassenior captain of the Council of

Captains. He had marked me, andwould be done with me.

“Aand such a one,” said Samos,“is Bosk--he who came from themarshes. Let it be he who carriespeace on behalf of the council toCos and Tyros. Let it be Bosk!”

There was silence.I was pleased at the silence. I

had not realized until then that I wasvalued in the council of captains.

Antisthenes spoke, who had beenfirst on the roll of captains. “I donot think it should be a captain,” hesaid. “To send a captain isequivalent to sentencing him to thebench of a slave on the round ships

of Cos or Tyros.”There was some muttered assent

to this.“Further,” said Antisthenes, “I

would recommend that we do noteven send one who wears the twinropes of Port Kar. There aremerchants of other cites, voyagersand captains, known to us, whowill, for their fees, gladly conductthis business.”

“Let it be so,” said variousvoices throughout the chamber ofthe council.

Then all looked at me.I smiled. “I am, of course, highly

honored,” I began, “that Noble

Samos should think me, that heshould nominate me, doubtless thelowliest of the captains hereassembled, for a post of suchdistinction, that of bearing the peaceof Port Kar to her hereditaryenemies Cos and Tyros.”

The captains looked at oneanother, grinning.

“Then you decline?” askedSamos.

“It only seems to me,” said I,“that so signal an honor, and a roleso weighty, ought to be reserved forone more august than I, indeed, forhe who is most prominent among us,one who could truly negotiate on

equal footing with the Ubars ofpowers so mighty as those of Cosand Tyros.”

“Do you have a nomination?”asked the scribe at the center table.

“Samos,” I said.There was laughter among the

chairs.“I am grateful for your

nomination,” said Samos, “but Iscarcely think, in these troubledtimes, it behooves he who is seniorcaptain of the council to leave thecity, voyaging abroad in search ofpeace when war itself looms athome.”

“He is right,” said Bejar.

“Then you decline?” I askedSamos.

“Yes,” said Samos, “I decline.”“Let us not send a captain,” said

Antisthenes. “Let us send one whois from Ar or Thentis, who canspeak for us.”

“Antisthenes is wise,” I said,“and understands the risksinvolved, but many of the wordsSamos has addresssed to us seem tome sound and true, and chief amongthem his aassertion that it should bea captain who conducts thismission, for how else could we soeasily prove the seriousness of ourintentions, if not to Cos and Tyros,

then to their allies and toundeclared port and cites on theislands and coasts of gleamingThassa, and to those communitesinland as well, with whom wemight well improve our trade?”

“But,” said Bejar, “who amongus will go?”

There was laughter in thecouncil.

When it was silent, I said, “I,Bosk, might go.”

The captains regared oneanother.

“Did you not decline?” askedSamos.

“No,” I smiled, “I only suggested

that one more worthy than myselfundertake so weighty a task.”

“Do not go,” said Antisthenes.“What is your price?” asked

Samos.“A galley,” I said, “a ram-ship,

heavy class.”I had no such ship.“It will be yours,” said Samos.“--if you can return to claim it,”

muttered a captain, darkly.“Do not go,” said Antisthenes.“He will have, of course,” said

Samos, “the immunity of theherald.”

The captains said nothing.I smiled.

“Do not go, Bosk, Captain,” saidAntisthenes.

I already had a plan. Had I nothad one, I should not havevolunteered. The possibility ofpeace on Thassa was an attractiveone to me, a merchant. If Cos andTyros could be convinced to makepeace, and it could be held, myfortunes would considerablyincrease. Cos and Tyros themselvesare important markets, not tomention their allies, and the portsand cities either affiliated with Cosand Tyros, or favorable to them.Further, even if my mission failed, Iwould be richer by a galley, and

that a ram-ship of heavy class, themost redoubtalbe naval weapon ongleaming Thassa. There were risks,of course, but I had taken them intoaccount. I would not go as a fool toCos and Tyros.

“And,” I said, “as escort, I willrequire five ram-ships from thearsenal, of medium or heavy class,to be captained and crewed by menselected by myself.”

“Whic ships,” asked Samos, “arereturned to the arsenal upon thecompletion of your mission?”

“Of course,” I said.“You shall have them,” said

Samos.

We looked at one another. Iasked myself if Samos throught hewas so easily rid of me, one whomight challenge him, senior captain,in the council of captains of PortKar. Yes, I said to myself, he thinkshe is so easily rid of me. I smiled tomyself. I myself did not believe hewas.

“Do not go, Bosk, Captain,”pleaded Antisthenes.

I rose to my feet. “Antisthenes,Captain, “I said, “I am grateful foryour concern.” I shook my head,and stretched. And then I turned tothe captains of the tiers. “You maycontinue your business now without

me,” I said. “I am going to return tomy holding. The night has beenlong, and I have lost much sleep.”

I gathered up my cloak, and myhelmet, it was the captain’s crest ofsleen hair, and left the chamber.

Outside I was joined byThurnock and Clitus, and many ofmy men.

Chapter 12I Fish in the CanalIt was late at night, two nights

after the unsuccessful coup ofHenrius Sevarius.

I was waiting for my ships, andthose of the arsenal, to be madeready for my trip, my mission ofpeace, to Cos and Tyros.

In my role as captain I was oftenabout the city, accompanied byThurnock, and Clitus, and a squadof my men.

Until the formation of the councilguard, the captains and their menwould have for their responsiblitythe maintaining of watchesthroughout the city.

Even before the emergencysession of the council, the night ofthe unsuccessful coup, hadconcluded, slaves, instructed by

men of the arsenal, were raisingwalls about the various holdings ofHenrius Sevarius. His wharves,moreover, were, with arsenal ships,almost immediately blockaded bysea.

Now, from the height of one ofthe investing walls, some hundredyards from the high bleak wall ofone of the holdings of Sevarius,said to be his palace, I, withThurock, Clitus, and others, by thelight of Gor’s three moons,observed the opening of a posterngate. At the base of the wall,extending for some twenty yards,tehre was a tiled expanse, which

suddenly dropped off, sheer, into acanal, where it might give access tothe city or sea, by sea gates. Weobserved, in the light of the threeGorean moons, some five menemerging from the tiny iron gate.They were carrying something in alarge, tied sack.

Slowly they made their waytoward the edge of the canal.

“Stop, men of Henrius Sevarius!”I shouted. “Stop, Traitors!”

“Hurry!” cried one of them. Irecognized his voice, and his frame.It was Lysias, friend of the regentClaudius, client of the Ubar HenriusSevarius. I saw another man look

up in alarm. It was Henrak, he whohad betrayed the rencers.

“Hurry!” I said to my men.I, followd by Clitus and

Thurnock, and others, leaped overthe wall and ran toward the edge ofthe canal.

The men were now hasteningforward, to hurl the sack into thedark waters.

Thurnock stopped long enough todraw his great bow. One of themen, hit by 1the arrow, spun away,rolling across the tiles, snapping theshaft.

The others, now at the edge of thecanal, with a heave, flung the sac

far out into the water.A crossbow bolt slipped through

the air, passing between myself andClitus.

The four men now turned andbegan to run back toward thepostern gate.

Before they could reach the gateThurnock’s great bow had strucktwice more.

Lysias and Henrak, and no other,fled back through the gate.

One of the bodies Thurnock hadstruck lay dark, sprawled on thetiles, some fifteen yards from thegate; the other lay, inert and twistedin the shadows, at the very portal

itself.“Knife!” I said.I was handed a knife.“Do not, Captain!” cried

Thurnock.Already I could see the sleek,

wet muzzles of urts, eyes like ovalsof blazing copper, streaking throughthe dark waters toward the bag.

I leaped into the cold waters, theknife between my teeth.

The sack, filling with water,began to sink, and, as I reached it, ithad slipped beneath the water. I cutit open and seized the bound arm ofthe body inside it.

I heard an arrow flash into the

water near me and heard a high-pitched pain squeal from one of theweb-footed canal urts. Then therewas the sound of biting and tearingand thrashing in the water, as otherurts attacked the injured one.

Knife again between my teeth,pulling the bound thing from thesack, I shoved it’s head abovewater. It was gagged as well asbound, and I saw its eyes wild,inches over the murky waters of thecanal. It was a boy, perhaps sixteenor seventeen years old.

I brought it to the edge of thecanal and one of my men, lying onhis stomach, extending his hand

downward, caught him under thearm.

Then I saw Clitus’ net flash overmy head and heard the confusedprotesting squeal of another urt, andthen Clitus, again and again, wasthrusting into the dark waters withhis trident.

I felt my leg then caught in thejaws of an urt, like triple bands ofsteel, set with needles, and wasdragged beneath the surface. I thrustmy thumbs in its ears and tore it’shead back from my leg. The mouthkept reaching for me, head turned tothe side, trying for the throat. I let itfree and as it snapped at me I

knocked it jaws up and slippedbehind it, my left arm locked aboutits broad, furred throat. I got theknife from between my teeth and,with it, sometimes half out of thewater, sometimes beneath it,thrashing and twisting, thrust theblade a dozen times into its hide.

“It’s dead!” cried Clitus.I released it, kicking it back

away from me.It disappeared beneath the water,

dragged under by other urts.I felt the folded sweep of Clitus’

net behind me and I thrust back myhand, and hooked my fingers into itsmesh. Bleeding and choking,

shivering with cold, I was drawnfrom the water. In moments,trembling, half supported by twomen-at-arms, I was conducted backto the investing wall. There, in theheat of a watch fire, I stripped awaymy clothes and took a cloak fromThurnock. Someone gave me aswallow of paga from a leatherbota.

Sudd1enly I laughed.“Why do you laugh!” asked one

of the men-at-arms.“I am pleased to find myself

alive,” I said.The men laughed. Thurnock

clapped me on the shoulders. “So,

too, are we, my captain,” saidThurnock.

“What of your leg?” asked one ofthe men-at-arms.

“It is all right,” I told him.I took another swig of paga.I had found that I could stand on

the leg. It had been lacerated butnone of the long, rough-edgedwounds was deep. I would have itsoon treated by a physician in myown holding.

“Where is our fish from thecanal?” I asked.

“Follow me,” said one of themen-at-arms, grinning.

I, and the others, followed him to

another of the watch fires, one somefifty yards from the one at which Ihad warmed myself.

There, huddled against the insideof the investing wall, naked,wrapped in a warrior’s cloak, nearthe watch fire, sat the boy. He hadbeen ungagged, and unbound. Helooked up at us. He had blond hair,and blue eyes. He was frightened.

“Who are you?” asked Thurnock.The boy looked down,

frightened.“What is your name?” asked

Clitus.The boy did not respond.“He should be beaten with a

bow,” said Thurnock.The boy looked up, proudly,

angrily.“Hah!” said Thurnock.The boy regarded me. “Are these

men yours?” he asked.“Yes,” I said.“Who are you?” he asked.“Bosk,” I told him.“Of the Council of Captains?” he

asked.“Yes,” I answered.I thought I saw fear for a moment

flicker in his blue eyes.“Who are you?” I asked.He looked down. “Only a slave,”

he said.

“Show me your hands,” I said.Reluctantly he did so. They were

smooth.“Is he branded?” I asked one of

the men-at-arms who had been withthe boy.

“No,” said the man-at-arms.“What is your name?” I asked.He looked down again.“Since we bought you from the

canal,” I said, “we will call youFish.” And I added, “And since youare a slave, you will be marked andcollared, and taken to my holding.”

He looked at me angrily.I gestured for one of the men-at-

arms to take him up and carry him

away, which he did.I then dismissed the men who

stood near me, except Thurnock andClitus.

That boy, I thought, may wellprove useful to me If he fell into thehands of the council he woulddoubtless be tortured and impaled1,or, perhaps, condemned to a seat onthe rowing benches of the arsenalround ships. In my holding, hisidentity could be kept secret. Intime, I might find a use for him.There was surely little to be gainedin turning him over to the council.

“Who is he?” asked Thurnock,looking after the boy, wrapped in

the warrior’s cloak, who was beingcarried away into the darkness.

“He is, of course,” said I,“Henrius Sevarius.”

Chapter 13How Bosk Came to be

Pirate“Paint my ships green,” I had

said.It was now within the Fifth

Passage Hand, some four monthsafter the unsuccessful coup ofHenrius Sevarius in the city of PortKar.

By this time, the Fifth PassageHand, the flag of Bosk, pirate, hadcome to be much feared on Thassa.

How this came about I shal nowrelate.

Some four months ago I, in myswiftest ram-ship, accompanied bymy two other ram-ships, andescorted, as well, by five ram-shipsof the arsenal, heavy class, hadcome ot the vast, wall-encircledharbors of Telnus, which is thecapitol city of the Ubarate of Cos.There are four major cities on Cos,of which Telnus is the largest. Theothers are Selnar, Temos and Jad.

I took a longboat ashore, and sent

the boat back to my galley.I would go before the thrones of

the Ubars of Cos and Tyros alone.This was my wish, and part of

my plan.I recalled standing before the

thrones, in the towering throne roomof Cos.

I put to them, the Ubars of Cosand Tyros, as well as I could, theproposals of the Council ofCaptains of Port Kar, that therewould be concord, and doubtless anopening of commerce, between thetwo Ubarates and the maligned cityin the Vosk’s delta, my own PortKar.

As I spoke, the Ubar of Cos,Lurius of Jad, and the Ubar ofTyros, Chenbar of Kasra, the SeaSleen, who was visiting Lurius onmatters of state, sat unspeakingupon their thrones. They asked noquestions. They merely regardedme. Kasra is the capitol of Tyros;its only other major city is Tentium.

To one side, in a silken veil,richly robed and jeweled, satVivina, the ward of Chenbar. It wasnot a coincidence that she was nowin Cos. She had been brought to Costhat Lurius might look upon her and,should he find her pleasing, beproclaimed as his future companion

of state. It was her body taht wouldserve to link the two islandUbarates. Her veil was diaphanous,and I could see that she was verybeautiful, though she was also veryyoung. Ubar of Cos, who, like agreat bag of meat, slouched swollenbetween the arms of his throne.Such, I thought to myself, are theaffairs of state. Chenbar of Kasra,Ubar of Tyros, on the other hand,was a lean, large-eyed man, withnervous hands. I had little doubt thathe would be highly intelligent, andskilled with weapons. Tyros, I toldmyself, has an efficient, anddangerous Ubar.

Lurius and Chenbar listened mostpatiently to my discourse.

When I had finished, Chenbar,with a look to Lurius, rose to hisfeet and said, “Seize his ships.”

“I think you will find,” I said,“that my ships have alreadywithdrawn from the harbor ofTelnus.”

Corpulent Lurius sprang to hisfeet, paunch swinging. He shook hisfist at me.

“Tharlarion!” he cried.“Tharlarion of Port Kar!”

“I gather,” I said, smiling, “thatour terms of peace are rejected.”

Lurius sputtered.

“Your surmise is correct,” saidChenbar, who had now sat againupon his throne.

“I shall then take my leave,” Isaid.

“I think not,” smiled Chenbar.“Put him in chains!” screamed

Lurius.I regarded them. “I claim,” I said,

“the immunity of the herald.”“It is denied!” screamed Lurius,

his wide, bloated face scarlet withrage.

I extended my wrists, to thesides, and felt manacles, withleashes, snapped on them.

“You have been offered peace,” I

told them.“And we have refused it!”

screamed Lurius.I heard the laughter of the girl,

Vivina, who seemed amused.Several of the others in the courtlaughed as well.

Lurius settled himself, breathingheavily, again in his throne.

“Put him in a market chain,” saidLurius, “and sell him at the slaves’wharf.”

The girl laughed.“When,” snarled Lurius, “you

find yourself chained in the rowinghold of a round ship, you may, myfine captain of Port Kar, bethink

yourself less brave and clever thannow you do.”

“We shall see,” said I, “Ubar.”I felt a movement on the chains,

and turned to leave the presence ofthe two Ubars.

“Wait,” I heard. It was Chenbar,who had spoken.

I turned again to face the Ubars.The hall was high about my head.

Broad tiles lay beneath my feet.“May I present,” asked Chenbar,

indicating the veiled, robed girlsitting to one side, “the LadyVivina?”

“I do not wish to be presented toa tarks of Port Kar.” hissed the girl.

“Let us not forget our manners,my dear,” smiled Chenbar.

She rose to her feet, and, smallgloved hand in the hand of Chenbar,descended the steps of the dais onwhich sat the thrones of Lurius andChenbar, and stood before me.

“May I present, Captain,” saidChenbar, “the Lady Vivina?”

She dropped her head, and thenlifted it.

“I am honored,” I said.“Tharlarion,” she said.The girl turned and was escorted,

again by Chenbar, her gloved handin his, to her seat on the dais.

When she had regained her seat, I

said, “You extraordinary beauty,High Lady, which, forgive me, youveil but scarcely conceals, isindeed worthy of a Ubar of Cos--”

Lurius grinned. The girl herselfpermitted herself the smallest ofsmiles.

“Or,” I1 added, “a collar in PortKar.”

Lurius sprang to his feet, his fistsclenched. The girl, eyes flashing,scarlet beneath the white silkenveil, too sprang to her feet. Shepointed her finger at me. “Slayhim!” she cried.

I heard two swords leave theirsheaths behind me.

But Chenbar laughed. Hemotioned the men behind me toresheath their weapons. Lurius,furious, returned to his throne. Thegirl, enraged, took again her seat onthe dais.

“Doubtless, stripped,” I said,“you would be even morebeautiful.”

“Slay him!” she hissed.“No,” said Chenbar, smiling.“I meant only,” I said, “that your

beauty reminded me of that of agirls, serving slaves, nude anddouble chained in the paga tavernsof Port Kar. Many of them are verybeautiful.”

“Slay him! Slay him!” shebegged.

“No, no,” smiled Chenbar.“Do not speak of me as though I

were a slave girl,” said the girl.“Are you not?” I asked.“The impudence!” she screamed.I nodded my head toward Lurius,

swollen in the chair of the Ubar ofCos.

“I own women,” I said, “who aremore free than you.”

“Tharlarion!” she cried. “I willbe Ubara!”

“I wish you happiness, HighLady,” I said, dropping my head.

She could not speak, so furious

was she.“Here,” I said, “you will be

Ubara. In my house you would beKettle Slave.”

“Slay him!” she screamed.“Be silent,” said Chenbar.The girl was silent.“The Lady Vivina, as you

doubtless know, is promised toLurius, Ubar of Cos,: said Chenbar.

“I did not know,” I said, “that thepromise had be given.”

“Yes,” said Chenbar, “thismorning I gave my word.”

Lurius grinned.The girl looked at me with fury.There was some polite striking of

the left shoulder with the right handin the room, which is a commonGorean applause, though not of thewarriors, who clash weapons.

Chenbar smiled and lifted hishand, silencing the applause.

“This companionship,” saidChenbar, “will link our twoUbarates. Following the ceremonyof the companionship there will bea conjoining of our fleets, that wemay soon thereafter pay Port Kar avisit of state.”

“I see,” I said.“Even now our fleets are being

outfitted,” said Chenbar.“When will the gathering take

place?” I asked.“In the neighborhood of the sixth

passage hand,” he said.“You are free with your

information,” I said.“Well,” said Chenbar, “we are

all friends here.”1“Or slaves,” said the girl,

looking pointedly at me.“Or slaves,” I said, looking at

her very directly.Her eyes flashed over her veil.“You have had dealings,” I

asked, “with the Ubar HenriusSevarius in Port Kar?”

Chenbar smiled. “We have dealtwith his regent, Claudius,” said

Chenbar.“What of Henrius Sevarius

himself?” I asked“He is only a boy,” said

Chenbar.“But what of him?” I asked.“He is a boy,” said Chenbar. “He

has no power.”“Whom do his men follow?” I

asked.“Claudius,” said Chenbar.“I see,” I said.“Mark well the name of

Claudius, Captain,” said Chenbar,“for he is to become Ubar of PortKar.”

“As the agent of Cos and Tyros,”

I said.“Assuredly,” laughed Chenbar.“As you may not know,” I said,

“Claudius and the various forces ofHenrius Sevarius are scarcely incommand of Port Kar.”

“Our information is better thanyou seem to understand,” smiledChenbar. “Be assured,” said he,“that we will free Claudius from hiscurrent predicaments.”

“You seem,” I said, “to be wellaware of what transpires in PortKar.”

“Yes,,” said Chenbar. “Perhapsyou would care to meet ourprincipal courier, he who will, in

time, lead our fleets to the harbor ofPort Kar?”

“Yes,” I said, “I would.”A man stepped from among a

group of robed dignitaries, standingto one side of the Ubars’ thrones.He had previously been standing inthe shadows.

He had long black hair, tiedbehind his neck with a scarletstring.

He carried, in the crook of hisleft arm, a helmet, bearing the crestof sleen hair that marks a captain ofPort Kar. The helmet, too, bore twogolden slashes. A long cloakswirled behind him.

I had expected it to be Samos.“I am Lysias,” he said. “Bosk,

you remember me.”I smiled to myself. He, with a

handful of men, had managed toescape from the holding of HenriusSevarius. It had occurred the nightfollowing my rescue of the boyfrom the canal. The guard had sincebeen increased. I did not think morewould escape.

“Yes,” I said, “I remember youperhaps better than you know.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.“Are you not the one who, in the

delta of the Vosk, was overcome byvast numbers of rencers, and forced

to abandon your barges, and atreasure of rence paper andslaves?”

“This man is dangerous,” saidLysias to Chenbar. “I recommendthat he be slain.”

“No, no,” said Chenbar. “Wewill sell him and make a profit onhim.”

The girl, Lady Vivina, threwback her head and laughed merrily.

“He is dangerous,” said Lysias.Chenbar looked at me. “The

money that we obtain from yoursale,” he said, “will be applied tothe outfitting of our fleets. It willnot be a great deal, but that way you

can feel that you have not been leftout, that you have done your smallbit to augment the glories of Cosand Tyros.”

I said nothing.“I trust, too,” said Chenbar, “that

you will not be the last of thecaptains of Port Kar to pull an oaron the round ships of Cos andTyros.”

“Apparently I have business toattend to,” I said. “If I may, Irequest your permission towithdraw.”

“One thing more,” said Chenbar.“What is that?” I asked.“Have you not forgotten,” he

asked, “to bid the Lady Vivinafarewell?”

I looked at Chenbar.“Doubtless,” said he, “you will

not see her again.”I turned to face her.“I do not frequent the rowing

holds of round ships,” she said.There was laughter in the room.“Have you ever been in the hold

of a round ship?” I asked.“Of course not,” she said.High born ladies commonly

sailed in cabins, located in the sterncastle of the galleys.

“Perhaps someday,” I said, “youshall have the opportunity.”

“What do you mean by that?”said she.

“It is a joke,” said Chenbar.“When,” I asked, “High Lady,

will you drink the wine of the FreeCompanionship with Lurius, nobleUbar of Cos?”

“I shall return first to Tyros,” shesaid, “where I shall be made ready.Then, with treasure ships, we shallreturn in festive voyage to theharbor of Telnus, where I shall takethe arm of Lurius and with himdrink the cup of the FreeCompanionship.”

“May I wish you, Lady,” said I,“a safe and pleasant voyage, and

much future happiness.”She nodded her head, and smiled.“You spoke of treasure ships,” I

said.“Of course,” said she.“It seems then,” said I, “that your

body alone is not enough for nobleLurius.”

“Tarsk!” she said.Chenbar laughed.“Take him away,” cried Lurius,

leaning forward in the throne, fistsclenched upon its arms.

I felt the chains at my wrists.“Farewell, Lady,” said I.“Farewell,” said she, “Slave.”I was spun about and dragged

stumbling from the high throne roomof Cos.

When, early the next morning,chained and under guard, I wastaken from the palace of Lurius ofJad, Ubar of Cos, the streets weremostly deserted. It had rained thenight before and, here and there,there were puddles among thestones of the street. The1 shopswere shuttered with wood, and thewood was still stained dark fromthe night’s rain. There were fewlights in the windows. I recallseeing, crouched against the wall ofa building near the postern gate ofthe palace of Lurius, a coarse-robed

figure, foolishly come too early tosell his vegetables, suls and tur-pah, near the palace. He seemedasleep, and doubtless scarcelynoticed us. He was a large man inthe rough rain robes of the peasant.Near him, leaning against the wallbehind him, wrapped in leather toprotect it from the dampness, was ayellow bow, the long bow of thepeasants. He had shaggy yellowhair. I smiled as I passed him.

On the slaves’ wharf I was, withlittle ceremony, added to the marketchain.

By the eighth hour variouscaptains of round ships had arrived

and begun to haggle with the slavemaster over the prices of theoarsmen. The slave master, in myopinion, wanted far too much forhis merchandise, considering wewere merely fodder for the benchesof the round ships. Having noparticular interest in being struck tosilence I refrained from pointingthis out to him. Besides, Hedoubtless had his instructions toreceive as much pay as possible.Apparently Cos was outfitting herfleets and her treasury wascurrently strained. Every coppertarn disk I told myself, in such asituation doubtless assumes greater

importance than it normally would.I was a bit irritated at beingslapped and punched, and told toexhibit my teeth, but, in all honesty,these indignities were no worsethan those heaped upon my chainmates. Besides, I was not,considering that I was about to besold to the galleys, in a particularlybad mood.

To one side, leaning against aheavy, roped post, supporting partof the structure of the slaves’ wharf,crosslegged, there sat a fisherman.He was working carefully on a netspread across his knees, repairingit. Near him there lay a triden. He

had long black hair, and gray eyes.“Let me test your grip,” said one

of the captains. “I use only strongmen on my ships.”

He extended his hand.In an instant he was screaming

for mercy.“Stop, Slave!” cried the slave

master, striking me with the butt ofhis whip.

I released the man’s hand, nothaving chosen to break it.

He stood unsteadily, halfcrouching over, looking at me withdisbelief, his hand thrust into hisleft armpit.

“Forgive me, Master,” asid I,

with concern.Unsteadily he went elsewhere, to

examine others farther along themarket chain.

“Do that again,” said the slavemaster, “amd I will cut your throat.”

“I doubt,” said I, “that Chenbarand Lurius would much approve ofthat.”

“Perhaps not,” said the slavemaster, grinning.

“What do you for that slave?”asked a captain, a tall man with asmall, carefully trimmed beard.

“Fifty copper tarn disks,” saidthe slave master.

“It is too much,” said the captain.

I agreed, but it did not seem up tome to enter into the question.

“That is the price,” said the slavemaster.

“Very well,” said the captaingesturing to a scribe near him witha wallet of coins slung over hisshoulder, to pay the slave master.

“May I ask,” I asked, “the nameof my master and his ship?”

“I am Tenrik,” said he, “Tenrikof Temos. Your ship will be theRena of Temos.”

“And when do we sail?” I asked.He laughed. “Slave,” he said,

“you ask questions like a passager.”I smiled.

“With the evening’s tide,” hesaid.

I bowed my head. “Thank you,Master,” said I.

Tenrik, followed by the scribe,turned and left. I noted that now thefisherman had finished with his netand that he, too, was preparing todepart. He folded the net carefullyand dropped it over his leftshoulder. He then picked up histrident in his right hand and, notlooking back, took his way from theslaves’ wharf.

The slave master was againcounting the fifty copper tarn disks.

I shook my head. “Too much,” I

told him.He shrugged and grinned.

“Whatever the market will bear,”he said.

“Yes,” I said, “I guess you areright.”

I was not displeased when I wasconducted to the Rena of Temos.She was indeed a round ship. Inoted with satisfaction the width ofher beam and the depth of her keel.Such a ship would be slow.

I did not much care for the crusts,and the onions and peas, on whichwe fed, but I did not expect to beeating them long.

“You will not find this an easy

ship to row,” said the oar-master,chaining my ankles to the heavyfootbrace.

“The lot of a slave is miserable,”I told him.

“Further,” he laughed, “you willnot find me an easy master.”

“The lot of a slave is indeedmiserable,” I lamented.

He turned the key in the locksand, laughing, turned about andwent to his seat, facing us, in thestern of the rowing hold.

Before him, since this was alarge ship, there sat a keleustes, astrong man, a time-beater, withleather-wrapped wrists. He would

mark the rowing stroke with blowsof wooden, leather-cushionedmallets on the head of a hugecopper-covered drum.

“Out oars!” called the oar-master.

I, with the others, slid my oaroutboard.

Above us, on the upper deck, Icould hear the crieds of the seamen,casting off mooring lines, shovingaway from the dock with thetraditional three long poles. Thesails would not be dropped fromthe yards until the ship was clear ofthe harbor.

I heard the creak of the great

side-rudders and felt the heavy,sweet, living movement of thecaulked timbers of the ship.

We were now free of land.The eyes of the ship, painted on

either side of the bow, would nowhave turned toward the opening ofthe harbor of Telnus. Ships of Gor,of whatever class or type, alwayshave eyes painted on them, either ina head surmounting the prow, as intarn ships, or, as in the Rena, as inround ships, on either side of thebow. It is the last thing that is donefor the ship before it is firstlaunched. The painting of the eyesreflects the Gorean seaman’s belief

that the ship is a living thing.1 Sheis accordingly given eyes, that shemay see her way.

“Ready oars!” called the oar-master.

The oars were poised.“Stroke!” called the oar-master.The keleustes struck the great

copper drum before him with theleather-cushioned mallet.

As one the oars entered thewater, dipping and moving withinit. My feet thrust against thefootbrace and I drew on the oar.

Slowly the ship, like a sweet, fatbird, heavy and stately, began tomove toward the opening between

the two high, round towers thatguard the entrance to the walledharbor of Telnus, capito city of theisland of Cos, seat of its Ubar’sthrone.

We had now been two days atsea.

I and the others, from our pans,were eating one of our four dailyrations of bread, onions and peas.We were passing a water skin aboutamong us.

The oars were inboard.We had not rowed as much as

normally we would have. We hadhad a fair wind for two days, whichhad slacked off yesterday evening.

The Rena of Temos, like mostround ships, had two permanentmasts, unlike the removable mast ofthe war galleys. The main mast wasa bit forward of amidships, andforemast was some four or fiveyards abaft of the ship’s yoke. Bothwere lateen rigged, the yard of theforesail being about half the lengthof the yard of the mailsail. We hadmade good time for a heavy ship,but then the wind had slacked.

We had rowed fro several Ahnthis morning.

It was now something better thanan Ahn past noon.

“I understand,” said the oar-

master, confronting me, “that youwere a Captain in Port Kar.”

“I am a captain,” I said.“But in Port Kar,” he said.“Yes,” I said, “I am a Captain in

Port Kar.”“But this is not Port Kar,” he

said.I looked at him. “Port Kar,” I

said, “is wherever her power is.”He looked at me.“I note,” I said, “the wind has

slackened.”His face turned white.“Yes,” I said.At that moment, from far above,

from the basket on the main mast,

came the cry of the lookout, “Twoships off the port beam!”

“Out and read oars!” cried theoar-master, running to his chair.

I put down my pan of bread,onions and peas, sliding it under thebench. I might want it later.

I slid the oar out of the thole portand readied it.

Above on the deck I could hearrunning feet, men shouting.

I heard the voice of the Captain,Tenrik, crying to his helmsmen,“Hard to starboard!”

The big ship began to swing tostarboard.

But then another cry, wild,

drifted down from the basket on themain mast, “Two more ships! Offthe starboard bow!”

“Helm ahead!” cried Tenrik.“Full 1sail! Maximun beat!”

As soon as the Rena had swungto her original course, the oar-master cried “Stroke!” and themallets of the keleustes began tostrike, in great beats, the copper-covered drum.

Two seamen came down from theupper deck and seized whips fromracks behind the oar-master.

I smiled.Beaten or not, the oarsmen could

only draw their oars so rapidly.

And it would not be rapidly enough.I heard another cry drifting down

from the basket far above. “Twomore ships astern!”

The heavy, leather-cushionedmallets of the keleustes struck againand again on the copper-covereddrum.

I heard, about a half an Ahn later,Tenrik call up to the lookout.

The man carried a long glass ofthe builders.

“Can you make out their flag?” hecried.

“It is white,” he cried, “withstripes of green. It bears on its fielfthe head of a bosk!”

One of the slaves, chained beforeme, whispered over his shoulder.“What is your name, Captain?”

“Bosk,” I told him, pulling on theoar.

“Aiii!” he cried.“Row!” screamed the oar-master.The seamen with the whips

rushed between the benches, butnone, of all those there chained,slacked on the oars.

“They are gaining!” I heard aseaman cry from above.

“Faster!” someone cried fromabove decks.

But already the keleustes waspounding maximun beat. And

doubtless that beat could not belong maintained.

About a quarter of an Ahn later Iheard what I had been waiting for.

“Two more ships!” cried thelookout.

“Where?” cried Tenrik.“Dead ahead!” cried the lookout.

“Dead ahead!”“Helm half to starboard!” cried

Tenrik.“Up oars!” cried the oar-master.

“Port Oars! Stroke!”We lifted our oars, and then those

of the port side only entered thewater and pressed against it. In afew strokes the heavy Rena had

swung some eight points, by theGorean compass, to starboard.

“Full oars!” cried the oar-master.“Stroke!”

“What shall we do?” whisperedthe slave before me.

“Row,” I told him.“Silence!” cried one of the

seamen, and struck us each a strokewith the whip. Then, foolishly, theybegan to lash away at the sweatingbacks of the slaves. Two of the menlost the oars, and the free oarsfouled those of other men.

The oar-master rushed betweenthe benches and tore the whipsaway from the seamen, ordering

them above decks.He was a good oar-master.The man then called out, “Up

oars! Ready Oars! Stroke!”Again we found our rhythm, and

again the Rena moved through thewaters.

“Faster!” cried a man down intothe rowing hold.

The oar-master judged his men.The beat was, even now, scarcelybeing made.

“Decrease the beat by fivepoints,” said the oar-master to thekeleustes.

“Fool!” I heard.Anad an officer rushed down the

steps into the rowing hold, andstruck the oar-master from his chair.“Maximun beat!” he screamed tothe keleustes.

Again the rhythm was that of themaximun beat.

The officer, with a cry of rage,then turned and ran up the stairs tothe main deck.

Maximun beat.But, in less than an Ehn, one man

failed to maintain it, and then two,and the oars began to foul.Relentlessly though the keleustes,under his orders, pounded the greatdrum.

Then the strokes of the drum

were no longer coordinated withthe oars. The men, many of them,could no longer maintain the beat ofthe keleustes, and they had no guidefor a stroke they could draw.

The oar-master, his face bloodyclimbed to his feet. “Up oars!” hecried. Then he spoke to thekeleustes, wearily, “Ten frommaximum beat.”

We took u this beat, and again theRena moved.

“Faster!” cried the officer fromabove. “Faster!”

“This is not a tarn ship!” criedthe oar-master.

“You will die!” screamed the

officer down into the hold. “Youwill die!”

As the keleustes kept his beat, theoar-master, trembling, mouthbloody, walked between thebenches. He came toward me. Helooked at me.

“I am in command here,” I toldhim.

“I know,” he said.At that moment the officer again

came down the steps, entering therowing hold. His eyes were wild.He had a drawn sword in his hand.

“Which of these,” he asked, “isthe captain from Port Kar?”

“I am,” I told him.

“You are the one they callBosk?” he said.

“I am he,” I said.“I am going to kill you,” he said.“I would not, if I were you,” I

said.His hand hesitated.“Should anything happen to me,”

I said, “I do not think my menwould be much pleased.”

His hand fell.“Unchain me,” I told him.“Where is the key?” he asked the

oar-master.When I was unchained, I stepped

from the oar. The rest of the menwere startled, but they maintained

the beat.“Those of you who are with me,”

I said, “I will free.”There was a cheer from the

slaves.“I am in command here,” I said.

“You will do as I say.”There was another cheer.I held out my hand and the officer

placed his sword in it, hil1t first. Imotioned that he might take my oar.

In fury, he did so.“They are going to shear!” came

a cry from above board.“Oars inboard!” cried the oar-

master, instinctively.The oars slid inboard.

“Oars outboard!” I commanded.Obediently the oars slid

outboard, and suddenly, all alongthe starboard side there was a greatgrinding, and the slaves screamed,and there was a sudden ripping ofplanks and a great snapping andsplintering of wood, the soundsmagnified, thunderous anddeafening, within the wooden hold.Some of the oars were torn from thethole ports, others were snapped offor half broken, the inboard portionsof their shafts, with their looms,snapping in a stemward arc,knocking slaves from the benches,cracking against the interior of the

hull planking. I heard some men cryout in pain, ribs or arms broken.For an ugly moment the ship cantedsharply to starboard and weshipped water through the tholeports, but then the other ship, withher shearing blade, passed, and theRena righted herself, but rockedhelplessly, lame in the water.

From my point of view the battlewas now over.

I looked at the officer. “Take thekey,” I said, “and release the otherslaves.”

I heard Captain Tenrik abovecalling his men to arms to prepareto repel boarders.

The officer, obediently, one byone, began to release my fellowslaves.

I regarded the oar-master. “Youare a good oar-master,” I said. “Butnow there are injured men to attendto.”

He turned away, to aid those whohad been hurt in the shearing.

I reached under my rowingbench. There, dented, its contentshalf spilled, itself floating in aninch or two of sea water, not yetdrained down to the cargo hold, Ifound my pan of bread, onions andpeas.

I sad down on my bench and ate.

From time to time I glanced outof my thole port. The Rena wasnow hemmed in by the eight ships,and two, heavy-class galleys, fromthe arsenal, were drawingalongside. No missiles were beingexchanged.

Then I heard Captain Tenrik,from above decks, call out not tooffer resistance.

In a moment I heard someoneboard the Rena, and then twoothers, and then several more.

I put down the pan, havingfinished its contents. And I walkedup the steps, carrying the officer’ssword.

“Captain!” cried Thurnock.Near him grinning, were Clitus

and Tab.There were cheers from the

clustered ships of Port Kar. I liftedmy blade to them, acknowledgingtheir salute.

I turned to Captain Tenrik.“My thanks,” said I, “Captain.”He nodded his head.“You have impressed me,” I

said, “as being an excellentcaptain.”

He looked at me, puzzled.“And your crew seems skilled,” I

said, “and he ship is a good ship.”“What will you do with us?” he

asked.“The Rena,” I said, “will need

repairs. Doubtless you can give herthe attention she will need either inCos or Tyros.”

“We are free?” he asked,disbelievingly.

“It would ill repay the hospitalityof a captain,” said I, “for hispassenger to refused churlishly toreturn to him his vessel.”

“My thanks,” said he, “Bosk,Captain of Port Kar.”

“The slaves, of course,” said I,“are freed. They come with us.Your crew, under sail or oar,doubtless, will make do.”

“We shall be all right,” he said.“Bring those who were slave,” I

said, “whether injured or not,aboard our ships. Within the Ahn Iwish to set course for Port Kar.”

Clitus barked orders to myseamen.

“Captain,” I heard a voice.I turned, and saw at my side, the

oar-master.“You are worthy,” said I, “of

calling stroke on a ram-ship.”“I was your enemy,” said he.“If you wish,” said I, “serve me.”“I do,” said he. “And I will.”I turned to Thurnock and Tab.“I carried peace to Cos and

Tyros,” I said, “and for this I wasawarded the chains of a slave in thegalleys.”

“When,” asked Tab, “do we sailagainst the ships of Cos andTyros?”

I laughed.“Surely now,” laughed he, “Cos

and Tyros have injured you.”“Yes,” said I, “they have, and

now we may sail against them!”There were cheers from the men

about, who felt that too long had theships of Bosk surrendered the seasto those of Cos and Tyros.

“The Bosk,” laughed Thurnock,“has been angered.”

“It has,” said I.“Then let Cos and Tyros

beware!” roared Thurnock.“Yes,” said I, turning to the

captain, “let them beware.”Captain Tenrik nodded his head,

curtly.“What shall we do now,

Captain,” asked Clitus, of me.“Return to Port Kar,” I said. “As

I recall, I have waiting for me therea galley, heavy class, for my workin Cos.”

“True!” said Thurnock.“An when he have come to Port

Kar, what then?” asked Tab.I looked at him evenly. “Then,”

said I, “paint my ships green.”Green, on Thassa, is the color of

pirates. Green hulls, sails, oars,even ropes. In the bright sunreflecting off the water, green is acolor most difficult to detect ongleaming Thassa. The green ship, inthe bright sun, can be almostinvisible.

“It will be done,” cried Tab.There were more cheers from the

men about.Seeing the officer whose sword I

had, I laughed and flung the weaponinto the deck at his1 feet. “Sir,” Isaid, “your sword.”

Then I vaulted over the rail of the

Rena onto the deck of the heavy-class arsenal galley.

I was followed by my men, wholoosened the grappling hooks andropes that bound our ships to theRena.

“Now,” said I, “to Port Kar!”“To Port Kar!” cheered my men.

“To Port Kar!”And thus it was that the ships to

Bosk, he of Port Kar, came to bepainted green.

Within the month, supplied andoutfitted, the ram-ships of Bosk, alight galley, two of medium class,and one of heavy class, made theirfirst strike on Thassa.

By the end of the second monththe flag of Bosk, carried by oneship or another, was known fromIanda to Torvaldsland, and from thedelta of the Vosk to the thronerooms of Cos and Tyros.

My treasures were soonincreased considerably, and thenumber of ships in my fleet, bycaptured prizes, was readicallyaugmented, so much so that I couldnot begin to wharf them within thelakelike courtyard of my holding.With gold won by sword at sea Ipurchased extensive wharfage andseveral warehouses on the westernedge of Port Kar. Even so I found

myself pressed and, to ease thedifficulties of wharfage andmooring right, I sold many a roundship taken, and some of the inferiorlong ships. My round ships, as muchas possible, I engaged in commerce,usually acting on the advice ofLuma, the slave girl, my chiefaccountant; the ram-ships I sentagainst Cos and Tyros, usually intwos and threes; I myself commonlycommanded a fleet of five ram-ships, and spent much timesearching the seas for larger prey.

But in all this time I had notforgotten the treasure fleet whichwas due to sail from Tyros to Cos,

bearing precious metals and jewelsfor her coffers, and a lovely lady,Vivina, to grace the couch of herUbar.

I put spies in Tyros and Cos, andin many of the other ports ofThassa.

I think I knew the shipping, thecargos and the schedules of thosetwo islands Ubarates, and severalof their allies, as well or better thanmany of the members of their ownhigh councils.

It was, accordingly, no accidentthat I, Bosk, from the marshes, inthe Fifth Passage Hand of he yeard10,120 from the founding of the city

of Ar, four months after theunsuccessful coup of HenriusSevarius in the city of Port kar,stood admiral on the stern castle ofmy flagship, the Dorna of Tharna, incommand of my fleet, eighteen shipsof my own and twelve consignedfrom the arsenal, at a given place ata given time on gleaming Thassa.

“Fleet off the port beam!” camethe cry from the man in the basket,circling the masthead above.

I turned to Tab.“Remove the mast,” said I, “from

the mast well. Lash it and it’s yardto the deck. Store the sail. We aregoing into battle.”

Chapter 14How Bosk Conducted

Business Upon ThassaIt must be understood that the

ship itself it the weapon.The Dorna, a tarn ship, is not

untypical of her class. AccordinglyI shall, in brief, describe her. Imention, however, in passing, that agreat variety of ram-ships plyThassa, many of which, in theirdimensions, their lines, theirri1gging and their rowingarrangements, differ from her

considerably. The major difference,I would suppose, is that betweenthe singly-banked and the mostdoubly-or trebly-banked vessel.The Dorna, like most other tarnships, is single-banked; and yet heroar power is not inferior to even thetrebly-banked vessels; how this is Ishall soon note.

The Dorna, like most tarn ships,is a long, narrow vessel of shallowdraft. She is carvel-built, and herplanking is fastened with nails ofbronze and iron; in places, woodenpegs are also used; her planking,depending on placement, variesfrom two to six inches in thickness;

also, to strengthen her against theshock of ramming, four-inch-thichwales run longitudinally about hersides. She carrieds a single,removable mast, with its long yard.It is lateen rigged. Her keep, onehundred and twenty-eight feetGorean, and her beam, sixteen feetGorean, mark her as heavy class.Her freeboard area, that betweenthe water line and the deck, is fivefeet Gorean. She is long, low andswift.

She has a rather straight keel, andthis, with her shallow draft, evengiven her size, makes it possible tobeach her at night, if one wishes. It

is common among Gorean seamento beach their craft in the evening,set watches, make camp, and launchagain in the morning.

The Dorna’s ram, a heavyprojection in the shape of a tarn’sbeak, shod with iron, rides justbelow the water line. Behind theram, to prevent it from going toodeeply into an enemy ship, pinningthe attacker, is, shaped like thespread crest of a tarn, the shield.The entire ship is built in such away that the combined strength ofteh keel, stempost and strut-framescenteres itself at the ram, or spur.The ship is, thus, itself the weapon.

The bow of the Dorna isconcave, sloping down to meet theram. Her stern describles what isalmost a complete semicircle. Shehas two steering oars, or siderudders. The sternpost is high, andfanlike; it is carved to representfeathers; the actual tail feathers of atarn, however, would be horizontalto the plane, not vertical; the prowof the tarn ship resembles the ramand shield, though it is made ofpainted wood; it is designed andpainted to resemble the head of atarn.

Tarn ships are painted in avariety of colors; the Dorna, of

course, was green.Besides her stem and stern

castles the Dorna carried twomovable turrets amidships, eachabout twenty feet high. She alsocarried, on leather-cushioned,swivel mounts, two lihgt catapults,two chain-sling onagers, and eightspringals. Shearing blades, too, ofcourse, were a portion of herequipment. These blades,mentioned before, are fixed on eachside of the hull, abaft of the bowand forward of the oars. Theyresemble quarter moons of steel andare fastened into the frames of theship itself. They are an invention of

Tersites of Port Kar. They are now,however, found on most recent ram-ships, of whatever port of origin.

Although the Dorna’s true beamis sixteen feet Gorean, her deckwidth is twenty-one feet Gorean,due to the long rectangular rowingframe, which carrieds the tholeports: the rowing frame is slightlyhigher than the deck area andextends beyond it, two and one halffeet Gorean on each side; it issupported by extensions of the hullbeams; the rowing frame is placedsomewhat nearer the stem that thesternpost; the extension of therowing frame not only permits

greater deck area but, because ofthe size of the oars used, isexpedient because of matters ofwork space.

The size and weight of the oarsused will doubtless seemsurprizing, but, in practice, they areeffective and beautiful levers. Theoars are set in groups of three, andthree men sit a single benc1h. Thesebenches are not perpendicular to thebulwarks but slant obliquely backtoward the stern castle.Accordingly their inboard ends arefather aft than their outboard ends.This slanting makes it possible tohave each of the three oars in an oar

group parallel to the others. Thethree oars are sometimes of thesame length, but often they are not.The Dorna used oars of varyinglengths; her oars, like those of manytarn ships, varied by about one andone-half foot Gorean, oar to oar; themost inboard oar being the longest;the outblard oar being the shortest.The oars themselves usually weighabout one stone a foot, or roughlyfounds pounds a foot. The length ofthose oars on a tarn ship commonlyvaries from twenty-seven to thirtyfoot Gorean. A thirty-foot Goreanoar, the most inboard oar, wouldommonly weigh thirty stone, or

about one hundred and twentypounds. The length and weight ofthese oars would make theiroperation impractical were it notfor the fact that each of them, on itsinboard end, is weighted with lead.Accordingly the rower is relievedof the weight of the oar and isresponsible only for its work. Thisarrangement, one man to an oar, andoars in groups of tree, and oarsmounted in the rowing frame, longand beautiful sweeps, had beenfound extremely practical in theGorean navies. It is almostuniversal on ram-ships. Thierowing deck, further, is open to the

air, thereby differing from therowing holds of round ships. Thisbrings many more free fighting men,the oarsmen, into any action whichmight be required. They, whilerowing, are protected, incidentally,by a parapet fixed on the rowingframe. Between eacy pair ofbenches, behind the parapet, is onebowman. The thole ports in a givengroup of three are about ten inchesapart and the groups themselves,center to center, are a bit less thanfour feet apart. Then Dorna carriedtwenty groups of three to a side, andso used one hundred and twenyoarsmen.

From this account it may perhapsbe conjectured why the oar powerof a single-banked ram-ship is oftencomparable or superior to that of adoubly-or trebly-banked ship. Themajor questions involve the numberand size of oars that can bepractically mounted, balancedagainst the size of ship required forthe differing arrangements. The useof extended rowing frame,permitting the leverage necessaryfor the great oars, and teh seating ofseveral oarsmen, each with his ownoar, on a given bench, conservingspace, are important in this regard.If we suppose a trebly-banked ship

with one hundred and twentyoarsmen, say, in three banks oftwenty each to a side, I think wechan see she would have to be arather large ship, and a good dealheavier than the single-decked,three-men-to-a-bench typ, also withone hundred and twenty oarsmen.She would thus, also, be slower.And this does not even take intoconsideration the longer, larger oarpossible with the projecting rowingframe. To be sure, they are manyfactors involed here, and one mightsuppose triple banks following themodel of the single-banked, three-men-oars-to-a-bench type, and so

on, but, putting aside questions ofthe size of vessel required for sucharrangements, we may simply note,without commenting further, that thesingle-banked, three-men-three-oarsarrangement is almost universal infighting ships on Thassa. The othertype of ship, though foundoccasionally, does not seem, atleast currently, to present a distinctchallenge to the low, swift, single-banked ships. In questions oframming, I suppose the heavier shipwould deliver the heaviest blow,but, even this might be contested forthe lighter ship would, presumably,be moving more rapidly. Further, of

course, the chances of beingrammed by a lighter ship are greaterthan those of being rammed by aheavier ship, because of the greaterspeed and maneuverablitity of theformer. Other disadvantages to thedouble-and triple-banked systems,of course, are that many of youroarsmen, if not all, are below decksand thus unable to enter intonecessary actions as easily as theymight otherwise do; further, in caseof ramming or wreck, it is a gooddeal more dangerous to be belowdecks than above decks. At anyrate, whatever the reasons orrationale, the single-banked tarn

ship, of which the Dorna is anexample, is the dominant type onThassa.

I had, at my disposal, thirty ram-ships, eighteeen of my own, andtwelve on consignment from thearsenal. The treasure fleet, with herescort, consisted of seventy ships;forty were ram-ships and thirtyround ships. Of the forty ram ships,twenty-five were heavy class, andfifteen medium class. Of my thirtyram-ships, twenty were heavyclass, and ten medium class. Therewere no light galleys in either fleet.

I had made it a practice never toram round ships, and I had seen that

this practice was wel publicized. Ihad even had it observed by men atthe various slave wharves,presumably inspecting themerchandise. Doubtless, from holdto hold over the months, this wordhad spread that Bosk not onlywould not sink a round ship, butthat, when he took one, he freed herslaves. I think, had it not been forthis, my own actions against roundships of the past months would nothave been as successful as they hadbeen. Further, I had spread therumor that I would be displeasedshould I discover, after capturing around ship, that her slaves had been

either mistreated or slain.Accordingly I thus, in effect,recruited tacit allies in the rowingholds of round ships. The slaves,eager for the capture of the vesselby one of my ships, could scarcelybe expected to row with their fullstrength, and the masters, knowingfull well the ship might be taken,feared, under the conditionsobtaining, to seriously abuse or slaythe chained oarsmen. The principalalternatives, under these conditions,open to the men of Cos and Tyroswould then seem to be, first, to usefree oarsmen, which was not,however, traditional on round

ships, or, two, increase the ram-ship escort for round ships. It wasthis latter alternative, ratherexpensive, which the men of Cosand Tyros had apparently, almostinvariably, selected. On the otherhand, the treasure fleet, under anyconditions, would have a heavyescort, which it did.

The prices of goods, I might note,carried on ships of Cos and Tyrosand her allies, because of the needof paying for additional escort, hadrisen considerably. Accordingly,her goods, to the dismay of hermerchants, were becoming lesscompetitive in the markets of

Thassa. Insurance rates on suchshipments, even those with escort, Imight add, had also soared.

Because of my practices inconnection with round ships, I didnot expect Cos and Tyros to enterthem seriously into any navalengagement with my fleet. Thus, theodds, which might have beenprohibitive under normalconditions, of seventy ships tothirty, I supected I had reduced tosomething of forty, or perhaps fifty,to thirty. But even so, I did notregard it as rational to undertakeodds of forty, or fifty, to thirty. I hadno intention of engaging except

under conditions of either equalityor, preferably, superiority. Theimportant thing as I saw it, was notso much the absolute numbers ofships involved as the numbers ofships that could be applied at agiven place and given time.

Accordingly I began to put myplan into effect.

With twelve ships I began toapproach the treasure fleet from thesoutheast.

Although I had had the masts,with their yards, taken down andlashed to the decks, and the saildstored below, I had the flutists anddrummers, not uncommon on the

ram-ships of Thassa, strike up amartial air.

Then, rather bravely, the musicdrifting over the water, or oars atonly half of maximum beat, wemoved across the gleaming waterstoward the large fleet.

Since the ram-ships of the enemyhad not yet struck their masts, itwould be only a matter of momentsbefore we were sighted.

From the stern castle of theDorna, then, with a long glass of thebuilders, I observed, far across thewaters, the masts of ram-ships, oneby one, lowering. I could hear,moreover, their war trumpets,

carrying form ship to the other,signaling fleet movements. Messageflags, doubltless repeating themessage of the trumpets, were beingrun from the decks on their halyardsto the heights of the stem castles.Although I could not yet see thedecks, I had no doubt that there wasa flurry of activity there. Bowmenwere setting their weapons;helmets, weapons and shields werebeing brought up from below decks.Fires were being stoked to heatpitch and stones; bundles of tarredjavelins would be shaken out nearthe springals and light catapults. Ina few moments hides, soaked

overside, would be spread overgood portions of decks andbulwarks; and bags of sea water,for putting our fires, would bedrawn and placed about the ships.In about ten Ehn the decks of thetreasure fleet, save for theparaphernalia of war, would beclear, and her hatches would besecured. Similar preparations, ofcourse, were taking place on myown ships.

“Quarter of maximum!” I calleddown to the oar-master, some feetbelow me.

I did not wish to approach thefleet too rapidly.

The treasure fleet would have noway of knowing that I definitelyknew her size and composition.

For all the knew I might beastonished at the force on which Ihad come.

I listened for a while, chuckling,to the brave tunes being put forth bymy flutists and drummers.

Then, when I saw the perimeterships of the treasure feelt swingingabout toward me, I motioned for themusicians to discontinure theirperformance.

When they were silent, I couldhear the flutes and drums from theenemy ships.

I called down to the oar-masterto rest oars.

I wanted it to appear that I wassuddenly undecided as to whetheror not to attack, as though I wasconfused, startled.

I signaled my trumpeter totransmit the command “Rest oars.”The same message was run up thehalyard to the height of the stemcastle.

Over the faint music coming fromthe distant ships, now approaching,I could hear her war trumpets and,with the glass, observe her flags.Whereas I did not know exactly thecodes employed by the treasure

fleet, I had little doubt that ourhesitation was being signaled aboutthe fleet, and then I heard othertrumpets, and saw the round shipsdrawing apart, and tarn shipsstreaking between them, fanning outin our direction.

I slapped shut the glass of thebuilders and laughed. “Excellent!” Icried.

Thurnock, near me, the toothmissing on his upper right side,grinned.

“Helmsmen about,” I said. “Oar-master, half beat.”

I did not even, following myplan, signal this move to my other

ships. I wished to appear that wewere turning, suddenly fearing, inflight. I wanted it to appear that theother ships must take their cue toaction from our own, as though, infear and confusion, we had not evensignaled them. I heard moretrumpets from across the water.Some of these were from the enemyfleet. Others, brief notes,inter1rogations, demands forclarification, were from my ownships. They had good commanders.I listened to the flutes and drums ofthe ram-ships of the treasure fleet.A javelin, with tarred, buring blade,fell hissing into the water, some

hundred yards away.I snaped open the builder’s glass

again.I counted, clearly, some twenty

ships, fanned out in a longenveloping line moving toward us.

The Dorna had now come aboutand, at half beat, was movingsoutheast, directly away from thepursuing ships.

The other eleven ships with mewere, not too gracefully, byintention, coming about to join mein my flight.

I ordered the trumpeter and theman on the flags to now signal flightto them.

These twelve ships, including theDorna, incidentally, were myswiftest. It seemed probable, with adecent start, which we had, wecould stay ahead of the pursuingram-ships, if we chose, eitherindefinitely, or, if they were faster,which I doubted, at least for severalAhn.

We were not moving, of course,at only half beat.

I wished our pursuit to betempting.

It was.Anothered tarred, flaming javelin

fell hissing into the water. This timein fell only fifty yards astern.

In another quarter of an Ahn Icould count thirty ram-shipsengaged in our pursuit. IF therewere more, I could not see them.The treasure fleet itself lay to.

I watched a burning javelin fromthe lead ship of the pursuers arcgracefully and smoking through theair and drop hissing into the watersome fifteen yards to my right,abeam of stern.

I smiled. “Three quarters beat,” Irecommended to our oar-master.

My vessels as though in terror,were keeping no formation, butapparently scattering across thesoutheast. Each had picked up two

or three pursuers. My own ship,perhaps recongnized as theprobablye flagship, it having beenfirst in the original formation, washonored by five pursuers. After twoAhn, sometimes increasing the beat,sometimes decreasing it, dependingon whether or not we wished toavoid being actually overtaken orwe wished to encourage ourpursuers, we had spread thembehind us in a long, straggling line,its spacing an index to the speed oftheir individual ships.

By this time, of course, thebalance of my fleet, eighteenram’ships, would have struck the

treasure fleet, now protected onlyby some ten ram-ships, from thenorthwest.

I was puzzled somewhat, but nottoo much, that our pursuit had beenso relentless.

I had flown the flag of Bosk,from the marshes, boldly trustingthat this incitement wouldencourage prompt and fiercepursuit. Doubtless in Cos and Tyrosthere was a high price indeed on myhead. I was puzzled only that thepursuit had been as relentless andprolonged as it was. I had notrealized my importance to the menof the two island Ubarates. I

chuckled. Apparently I was moresignificant to them than I hadfancied myself.

It was the twelfth Ahn before thecommander of the first pursuingship understood either that had beentricked or that he was not likely toovertake our ships.

“Rest oars!” I called.I watched the tarn ship heave to,

then port oars, and turn away.“How are the men?” I asked the

oar-master.It was he who had been oar-

master on the Rena of Temos.“They are strong,” he said, “You

did not even call maximum beat.”

“Rest them now,” I said.There were trumpet signals now

from the ship that had been pursuingus, and flags on her halyards. Theships behind her began turningabout. Some of the ships to thesides, perhaps having seen the flagswith glasses from their stem orstern castles, also ceased thepursuit. Others were out of visualrange, scattered somewhere onThassa.

As soon as I saw the tarn shipwhich had been pursuing us begin tomove away, I gave my orders.

“Come about,” I said, “andmaximum beat.”

There was a cheer from theoarsmen.

I had little doubt the Dorna wasswifter than the ship that hadpursued her.

She was now moving way,perhaps at half beat.

I did not think she would havetime to turn about again.

We fired no missile, and gave nowarning.

We were within fifty yards of herbefore a seaman on her stern castle,looking back, screamed thewarning.

The iron-shod ram of the Dornasplintered into her stern a foot

below water line.“Back oars!” came the cry from

the oar-master, and the Dorna,rocking and shuddering from theimpact, chopped her waybackward.

“Helmsmen pass to starboard!” Icalled. “Stroke, Maximum beat!”

The stern of the enemy ship wasalready under water as she slippedpast her.

Crossbow quarrels struck thereinforced parapet protecting myrowers.

There wee no other missiles.We heard screams, cries of

alarm.

There were still fourn shipsahead of us. The nearest was notmore than a hundred yards beforethe one we had just struck.

The noice of our strike and thecries of the men aboard the rammedship carried over the water.

We saw the ship ahead of ustrying to come about, but, beforeshe could make four points of theGorean compass, or ram struck thecorner of her stern, skidding throughand freeing itself, the ships, theDorna’s port ors inboard, gratingtogether, and the the Dorna wasclear, free, and we were drivingtoward the stern of the next ship.

We heard trumpets blaringbehind us frantically, trying to warnthe ship ahead of us.

It, too, began to come about, andwe caught her amidships, the ramthrusting through the heavy plankinglike kindling, then stopped by theshield, like a spread tarn’s crest,and we chopped our way back andfree, and then knifed past her sterntoward the next two ships.

By this time the two ships aheadof us wee well aware of theirdanger and, given he distancesinvolved, neither captain elected tochance the dangerous maneuver ofcoming about to meet us. Both were

fleeing at maximum beat.“Half of maximum beat,” I told

the oar-master.The oar-master grinned, and went

to the center of the rowing frame.As the beat dropped, I took out

the glass of the builders andscanned the horizon.

I could see few ships, but most ofthose I swa were green, my own. Icould see the wreckage of two ofthe enemy tarn ships. I was quitecontent, of course, if each of myships not in view were continuingto lead their pursuers a merrychase. If each of them could luretheir two or three hounds astray, the

oods of engagement at the trulycritical points would be so muchthe more in my favor. I was willingto spend one ship to draw two orthree enemy ships from the battle, ifbattle there was to be. And, ofcourse, as soon as he enemy shipswould turn back, they would bevulnerable to my own, presumablyfaster vessels. Of the twelve shipsin my diversion, five were myfastest and seven were among thefastest in the arsenal.

I now turned the glass again tothe ship fleeing me. As I hadexpected, he had now begun todawn substantially ahead, since I

had reduced to half to maximumbeat. In another four or five Ehn Iexpected he would regard his leadas sufficient to permit him the timeto safely come about and engage.He would assuming, of course, thatI, in pursuing him, was at maximumbeat, as he was. I had held my beatto had of maximum. My oar-masterhad been calling beat, this time, bymouth from the center of the rowingframe.

When I saw the tarn ship ahead,its captain doubtless confident ofhis speeds and distances, lift heroars, preparing to come about, Icalled to the oar-master, “Now!”

Without the loss of a stroke he, atthe center of the rowing frame,began to call maximum beat,“Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!”

The Dorna, stern low, ram almostlifted from the water, leapt ahead,as beautiful, as eager and vicious asan unleashed sleen.

We took the fourth shipamidships, as we had the third.

Angrily the Dorna shook herselfloose.

Then, in an Ehn, we were inpursuit of the last ship. It showed nosign of turning. It was now far inadvance of us.

“Maximum beat,” said the oar-

mater to his keleustes, and thencame to stand beside me on thestern castle.

“Can we catch her?” I asked.“Hand me your glass,” he asked.I did so.“Do you know the ship?” I asked.“No,” he said.He looked at her for better than

an Ehn, studying the rise and fall,the sweep, of the oars.

Then he said, “Yes, we can catchher.”

He handed me back the glassHe then went down the steps of

the stern castle, to the helm deck,and then down to the chair of the

oar-master.“Three quarters beat.” I heard

him tell the keleustes.I did not question him. I knew

him to be a good oar-master.From time to time I observed the

distand ship growing father andfather away.

But after about an Ahn and a half,when I again raised the glass. I sawthat she was not much father waythan she had been when last I hadlooked. My own men were stilldrawing a strong three quartersbeat.

The oar-master again joined meon the stern castle. He did not ask

for the glass agai1n.âœhe carrieds one hundred and

thirty-two oars,âhe said. âœut she isa heavier ship, and her lines are notas good as those of the Dorna.â/p>

âœpparently,âI said, âœhe hashad to reduce her beat.â/p>

âœhe will be at three quartersnow,âhe said, âœs we are. Onecannot maintain maximum beat thatlong. And, at three quarters we canovertake her.â/p>

âœhank you,âsaid I, âœar-master.â/p>

He returned to his chair.Doubtless it would soon become

evident to our enemy also that she

could not outrun us. Accordingly,sooner or later, she would turn tofight.

After a quarter of an Ahn, in thedistance, I could see her, at last,come about.

âœuarter of maximum,âI called tothe oar-master. Then, aobut four ehnlater, âœest oars.â/p>

The two tarn ships, the Dornaand the otehr, faced one another,motionless, save for their responsto the swells of Thassa.

We were separated by some fourhundred yards.

Since the principal weapons ofthe ram-ship are the ram and

shearing blades, she is mostdangerous taken head on.Accordingly, in such a combatsituation, involving only two shipsat sea, both ships commonlydescribed the broad starboardcircles, prowling about one anotherlike wary sleen, exchangingmissiles, watchful fro theopportunity to engage with ram andblades. I had little doub that theDorna, a somewhat lighter ship,with better lines and shorter keel,would be more responsive to herhelm than the other ship and that,sooner or later, as the circles grewsmaller, she would be able to

wheel and take her foe in the sternquarter or amidships.

Doubtless this was reasonablyclear, also, to the commander of theother vessel. He had surely refusedto engage. Now it seemed he had nochoice.

He did what I expected.His oars took up maximum beat

and his heavy ship, the crest of theram dividing the water before theconcave bow, the tarnâ™ beak justbelow the water line, plungedtoward us.

I laughed. I had caught the othership. I had proven the Dorna, andher oar-master.

The other ship did not truly wishto fight.

âœelmsmen,âsaid I, âœake yourcourse four points to starboard.â/p>

âœes, Captain,âsaid they.âœar-master,âsaid I, âœe have an

appointment with the treasure fleetof Cos and Tyros.â/p>

He grinned up. âœes,Captain!âsaid he. Then he called tohis keleustes. âœaximum beat!â/p>

The ram of the other ship did notfind us. As it plunged throughThassa we had slipped, as swiftlyas a sleen, from its path, knifing bya hundred yards past his port bow,and soon leaving him astern. He did

not even fire missiles.I laughed.I saw him turn slowly toward

Cos.I had removed him from the

battle, if battle there was to be.âœelmsmen,âsaid I, âœake your

course now for the treasure fleet ofCos and Tyros.â/p>

âœes, Captain,âsaid they.â€Half-beat,âsaid I to the oar-

master.âœes, Captain,âsaid he.Matters had proceeded as I had

expected at the treasure fleet. Of theforty tarn ships in her escort, thirty,lured away, had pursued my ships

far from the critical points. I myselfhad damaged or destroyed four ofthese ships. and had removed a fifthfrom the theater of action. As myother eleven ships, one by one,began to return to the treasure fleet,the story was similar with them.Some of the enemy ships, however,in turning back from the chase, hadbeen able to regroup andsomewhere, abroad on Thassas,there was doubtless a fleet of someten enemy tarn ships, still apossible threat. They had not yetreturned to the treasure fleet. Theothers had been damaged ordestroyed, or driven away. At the

treasure fleet itself, while most ofher escort pursued my diversionaryships, the other eighteen vessels inmy fleet had fallen, suddenly,silently, on the ten tarn ships leftbehind with the treasure fleet.Using, on the whole, elementarytriangle, tactics, wherein an attackby two ships, from differentquadrants, is made on a single ship,which can face but one of theattackers, my ships had, in a shorttime, less than an Ahn, destroyedseven of the ten ream-ships leftbehind at the treasure fleet. Twohad been permitted to escape, andone lay, even now, penned in among

the round ships. Some of the roundships, intelligently, had scattered,but, of the thirty originally in thefleet, there were now twenty-tworinged with our vessels. Andanother was soon herded in by oneof my ram-ships, which, in returningto the fleet, had picked it up.

I was in no particular hurry tomove against the captured roundships. They were mine.

I was more interested in theseven round ships that had fled.

Accordingly, as soon as asufficient number of my ships hadreturned to the treasure fleet, I setabout organizing a pursuit of the

missing round ships. Icommunicated with my other shipsby flag and trumpet, some of themconveying my messages to othersmore distant. I dispatched ten tarnships abroad in search patterns,hoping to snare some of the sevenmissing round ships. Five of thesesearch ships I sent in a netformation toward Cos, supposingthis the most likely, if not the mostwise, course that would soon betaken by the majority of theescaping round ships. My other fivesearch ships I sent in sweeps awayfrom Cos. If the endeavors of thesevarious ships, after two days, were

unsuccessful, they were to return toPort Kar. This left, after the last ofmy orginal eleven ships hadreturned, tweny of my ships with thetreasure fleet, more than enough tocounter any returning enemy tarnships.

I ordered the mast raised on theDorna. When the mast, with its sailfastened to its yard, had been set inthe mast well, and stayed fore, aftand amidships, I climbed to thebasket myself, carrying the glass ofthe builders.

I looked upon my twenty-threeround ships, and was notunsatisfied.

Round ships, like ram-ships,differ among themselvesconsiderably. But most are, as Imay have mentioned, two masted,have permanent masts and, like theram-ships, are lateen rigged. They,though they carry oarsmen,generally slaves, are more of asailing ship than the ram-ship. Theycan, generally, sail satisfactoryilyto windward, taking full advantageof their lateen rigging, which isparticularly suited to windwardwork. The ram-ship, on the otherhand, is difficult to sail towindward, even with lateen rigging,because of its length, its narrowness

and its shallow draft. In tacking towindward her leeward oars androwing frame are likely to drag inthe water, cutting down speedconsiderably and not infrequentlybreaking oars. Accordingly the ram-ship most commonly sails only witha fair wind. Further, she is lessseaworthy than the round ship,having a lower freeboard area,being more easily washed withwaves, and having a higher keel-to-beam ratio, making the danger ofbreaking apart in a high sea greaterthan it would be with a round ship.There are in the building of ships,as in other things, values to be

weighed. The ram-ship is not builtfor significant sail dependence ormaximum seaworthiness. She isbuilt for speed, and the capacity todestroy other shipping. She is not arowboat but a racing shell; she isnot a club, but a rapier.

I, swaying in the basket at themasthead, with the glass of thebuilders, smiled.

Penned in among the twenty-threeround ships was a long galley, apurple ship, flying the purple flag ofCos. It was a beautiful ship. Andthe flag she flew was bordered withgold, the admiral’s flag, markingthat vessel as the flagship of the

treasure fleet.I snapped shut the glass of the

builders and, by means of a slenderrope ladder fastened at themasthead and anchored to a cleatnear the mast well below, took myway down to the deck.

“Thurnock,” I said, “let the flagsof division and acquistion beraised.”

“Yes, Captain,” said he.There was a cheer from the men

on the deck of the Dorna.I anticipated, and received, little

resistance from the round ships.There were various reasons forthis. They had been herded together

and could not maneuver. They wereslower than the ram-ships and,under any conditions, little matchfor them. And their rowing slaves,by this time, were fully aware thatthe fleet encircling them was that ofBosk, from the marshes.

Vessel by vessel my menboarded the round ships, commonlymeeting no resistance.

The free crews of these ships, ofcourse, were hopelesslyoutnumbered by my men. The roundship, although she often carries overone hundred, and sometimes overtwo hundred, chained slaves in herrowing hold, seldom, unless she

intends to enter battled, carries afree crew of more than twenty totwenty-five men. Moreover, thesetwenty to twenty-five are oftenlargely simply sailors and theirofficers, and not fighting men. TheDorna, by contrast, carried a freecrew of two hundred and fifteenmen, most of whom were welltrained with weapons.

In an Ahn I stepped across theplank thrown from the rail of theDorna to that of the flagship of thetreasure fleet. The ship itself, by mymen, had already been subdued.

I was met by a tall bearded figurein a purple cloak. “I am Rencius

Ho-Bar,” said he, “of Telnus,Admiral of the Treasure Fleet ofCos and Tyros.”

“Put him in chains,” I told mymen.

He looked at me in fury.I turned to Clitus, who had been

on the ship before me. “Do youhave the master cargo list?” I asked.

He presented a folio-sized book,bound with golden cord and sealedwith wax, bearing the impress ofthe Ubar of Tyros, Chenbar.

The admiral, to one side, wasbeing fitted with wrist and ankleirons, joined by a length of chain.

I broke the golden cord and the

seal and opened the master cargolists.

They were most excellent.From time to time, I scanned the

lists, there1 was a cheer from oneround ship or another as her slaveswere freed. The free crewmen, ofcourse, were places in chains, menand officers alike. The distincitionof man and officer does not exist onthe benches of a galley.

“Admiral!” said the admiral ofthe treasure fleet to me.

I glanced to the gold-bordered,purple flag, the admiral’s flag,flying from the halyard strungbetween the forward starboard

mooring cleat and the height of thestem castle. “Strike that flag,” Isaid, “and put there the flag ofBosk, from the marshes.”

“Yes, Captain,” said Thurnock.“Admiral!” protested the admiral

of the treasure fleet to me.“Take him away,” I told my men.He was dragged from my

presence.I snapped shut the book. “If these

figured are correct,” I said toClitus, “as doubtless they are, weand the Captains of Port Kar aretoday the master of much treasure.”

He laughed. “Surely enough,”said he, “to make us all among the

richest of men!”“More wisely spent,” said I,

“these goods would go to increasethe arsenal fleet of Port Kar.”

“But surely,” said he, “thearsenal does not require so much?”

I laughed. “The arsenal share,”said I, “is eighteen shares of thirty.”Eighteen of the ships in my fleet hadbeen arsenal vessels.

I had, by agreement with thecouncil, reserved to myself twelveshares of thirty divisions, as well asall slaves taken.

“Captain,” said a voice.“Yes,” I said.A seaman had approached me.

“The Lady Vivina,” said he,“asks to be presented to you.”

“Very well,” said I. “Tell herthat her request to present herself tome has been granted.”

“Yes, Captain,” said he.I reopened the book of cargo

lists.When I lifted my head again I

discovered that the Lady Vivinawas, and had been, standing beforeme.

Seeing me, she started.I smiled.Her hand was before her veil.

Her eyes were wide. She woreswirling, dazzling robes of

concealment, of purple and goldcloths, brocades and silks. The veilitself was purple, and trimmed withgold.

Then she caught herself andpresented herself before me, as ahigh-born lady.

“I am Vivina,” said she, “of thecity of Kasra of Tyros.”

I nodded my head. “Call meBosk,” I said. “I am a captain ofPort Kar.”

Behind the girl, in robes almostas rich as hers, were two otherhigh-born maidens.

“I gather,” she said, “I am yourprisoner.”

I said nothing.“You will, of course,” said she,

“be severely punished for what youhave done.”

I smiled.“As you know,” she said, “I am

pledged to be th1e Free Companionof Lurius, Ubar of Cos.Accordingly, my ransom will behigh.â/p>

I indicated the two girls behindVivina. âœow many of these arethere?âI asked Clitus.

âœorty,âhe said.âœhey did not appear,âI said to

him, âœn the master cargo lists.â/p>Clitus ginned.

The girls looked at one anotheruneasily.

âœy maidens,âsaid Vivina, âœillalso be ransomed, though theirransoms will be less than mine.â/p>

I regarded her.âœhat makes you so certain,âI

asked, âœhat you will be held forransom?â/p>

She looked at me, stunned.âœemove you veil,âI told her.âœever!âshe cried. âœever!â/p>âœery well,âsaid I. I returned my

attention to the master cargo lists.âœhat is to be done with us?âshe

asked.I turned to Clitus. âœhe Lady

Vivina,âI said to him, âœill ofcourse grace the prow of this ship,the flagship of the treasurefleet.â/p>

âœo!âshe screamed.âœes, Captain,âsaid Clitus.Already two men held her arms.âœake then those that were with

her,âI said, âœnd distribute them tothe extent of their number amongour other ships, the twent mostbeautiful to our twenty tarn shipsnow with the fleet, and the mostbeautiful of the twenty to the prowof the Dorna, and the other twentyset at the prows of twenty of ourprizes.

âœes, Captain,âsaid Clitus.Men laid hands on the two girls

behind the Lady Vivina, and theycried out with fear.

I again turned my attention to themaster cargo lists.

âœaptain!âsaid the Lady Vivina.âœes,âI said, lifting my head and

looking at her.âœ--I,âshe said, âœill remove

my veil.â/p>âœhat will not be necessary,âI

said.I handed Clitus the book of cargo

lists and strode to the girl, jerkingout the pins that held her veil, facestripping her.

âœeast!âshe cried.I gestured that the seamen should

remove the veils from the two girlswho stood behind her.

They wept.They were beauties, all.I looked down into the face of the

Lady Vivina, who was beautiful.âœut her at the prow,âI said to

Clitus.I turned away, taking the book of

master cargo lists from Clitus, andagain giving them my attention. Theother two girls were taken from mypresence. The Lady Vivina, to oneside, was readied for the prow.

Within the Ahn we were ready to

sail for Port Kar. I had the admiralof the treasure fleet, Rencius Ho-Bah of Telnus, in his chains,brought before me.

✠am returning one round shipto Cos,âI said. âœou withe certainof the seamen captured, will sitchained at her benches. Beyondthis, I will give you, from amongour prisoners, ten free men, sixseamen, two helmsmen, an oar-master and a keleustes. The treasurefrom the ship, of course, will beplaced aboard other ships, taken toPort Kar as prizes. On the otherhad, your ship will be adquatelyprovisioned and I do not doubt you

will make port in Telnus within fivedaysâ/p>

âœou are generous,âsaid theAdmiral, dismally.

✠expect,âI said, âœhen youreturn to Telnus, should you decideto do so, that you will make areasonably full and accurateaccound of what had occured hererecently.â/p>

âœoubtless,âsmiled the Admiral,✠shall receive requests to thateffect.â/p>

âœn order that your informationmy be as accurate as possible, atleast to this point, I inform you thatseven of your treasure ships have,

at least until now, eluded me. Iexpect to pick up some of them,however. And, of tarn ships, I haveone captured, your flagship, andfrom the reports of my captains,some eighteen or twenty have beenseriously damaged or sunk. Thatwould leave you with some ten, orperhaps twelve, ships yet abroad onThassa.â/p>

At that point, from the foremastof a nearby round ship, where I hadplaced a lookout, came the cry,âœwelve sail! Twelve saidabeam!â/p>

âœh,âsaid I, âœwelve ships, itseems.â/p>

âœhey will fight!âcried theadmiral. âœou have not yetwon!â/p>

âœoubtless they will strike theirmasts,âI said, âœut I do not thinkthey will fight.â/p>

He looked at me, his fistsclenched in his irons.

âœhurnock,âsaid I, âœignalseventeen of my twenty ships topresent themselves to ourapparoaching friends. Let tworemain on the far side of thetreasure fleet. The Dorna, for thetime will remain here. Theseventeen ships are not to enterbattle unless accompained by the

Dorna, and under no conditions, ifbattle ensues, are any of my ships tomove more than four pasangs fromthe fleet.â/p>

âœes, Captain,âroared Thurock,turning and crossing on the plank tothe deck of the Dorna, then takinghis way to the shielded flag racks atthe foot of her stem castle.

Soon the flags were whippingfrom the halyards.

Battled preparations wereunderway on my ships. Seventeensoon began to move around thefleet, or come about, to face theapproaching twelve vessels. Mensat ready at the oars of the Dorna,

should I come aboard her. Others,with axes, stood ready to chopaway the lines that now bound theDorna to the flagship.

âœhey are striking theirmasts!âcame the cry from thelookout.

In a quarter Ahn my vessels werealigned for battle. The enemy fleet,the twelve ships, was now, byestimate from the lookout, with hisglass, some four pasangs distant.

If they came within two pasangs,I would board the Dorna.

I had the admiral freed of his legirons and he and I, from the stemcastle of his own ship, regarded the

approaching ships.âœo you wager,âI asked him,

âœhat they come within twopasangs?â/p>

âœhey will fight!âhe said.The Lady Vivina, prepared for

the prow, stood nearby, a sailorâ™hand on her arm, she, too, watchingthe approaching ships.

Then the admiral cried out withrage and the Lady Vivina, her handat her breasts, eyes horrified, criedout, “No, No!”

The twelve ships had put about,taking their course now for Cos.

“Take the admiral away,” I saidto Turnock.

The admiral was dragged away.I looked on the Lady Vivina. Our

eyes met. “Put her at the prow,” Isaid.

Chapter 15How Bosk Returned in

Triumph to Port KarThe return to Port Kar was

triumphal indeed.I wore the purple of a fleet

admiral, with a golden cap withtassel, and gold trim on the sleevesand borders of my robes, with cloakto match.

I wore at my side a jeweledsword, no longer the sword I hadworn for the long years when I hadserved Priest-Kings. That sword,shortly after coming to Port Kar, Ihad put aside, and purchased others.I did not feel, somehow, that Ishould carry that old sword anylonger. It stood for too many things,and its steel was deep with toomany memories. It spoke to me ofan old life, that of a fool, which I,now grown wise, had put from me.Besides, more importantly, it wasinsufficiently grand, with its plainpommel and unfigured blade, forone of my position, one of the most

significant me in one of Gor’sgreatest prots. I was Bosk, asimple, but shrewd man, who hadcome from the marshes to startlePort Kar and dazzle and shake thecities of Gor with my cunning andmy blade, and now my power andwealth.

My ten search vessels hadmanaged to bring in five of theseven missing round ships, four ofwhich had been, foolishly, strikingout directly for Telnus in Cos. Theworld, I thought, is filled withfools. There are the fools, and thereare the wise, and I could nowsurely, perhaps for the first time,

count myself securely among thelatter.

I stood at the prow of the long,purple ship, which had been theflagship of the treasure fleet. Therooftops and the windows of thebuildings were crowded withcheering throngs, and I lifted myarm to them and accepted theiracclaim. The ships, in a splendid,long line, filing behind me, theDorna first, then the tarn ships, thenthe round ships, under oars, moveslowly through the city, followingthe triumphal circuit of the greatcanal, passing even before thechamber of the Council of Captains.

Flowers had been scattered in thecanal, and others were thrown onour ships as we passed.

The cheers and cries weredeafening.

I had decreed that from my sharesof the treasure, each worker in thearsenal would receive one goldpiece, and each citizen of the city ofa silver tarsk.

I lifted my hand to the crowd,smiling and waving.

Near me, chief among my prizes,exposed to the crowds, theirhootings and jeerings, bound on theprow, ankles and wrists, neck andbelly, like a common slave girl,

was the Lady Vivina, who was tohave been the Ubara of Cos.

Few men, thought I, have enjoyedsuch a triumph as thish.

And, petty though it might seem, Iwas eager to present myself beforeMidice, my favored slave, with mynew robes and treasures. I couldnow give her garments and jewelsthat would b1e the envy of Ubaras. Icould well imagine the wonder inher eyes as she understood thegreatness of her master, her joy, theeagerness with which she wouldnow serve me.

I was well satisfied.How simple it is, I thought, to

become a true man, powerful andpredatory, self-regarding, and self-seeking. It requires only to put apartfrom oneself the hesitations andtrammels which the weak and thefools would impose uponthemselves, making themselves andtheir fortunes their prisoners. Incoming to Port Kar I had, for thefirst time, become free.

I lifted my hand to the corwds.Flowers fell about me. I looked atthe girl bound on the prow, myprize. I accepted the acclaim of thewild thongs.

I was Bosk, who could do as hepleased, who could take what he

wanted.I laughed.Had there ever been triumph such

as this is Port Kar?I brought with me fifty-eight

ships: the flagship of the treasurefleet, Vivina bound at its prow, theDorna, the other twenty-nine shipswhich had composed my originalfleet, and, as prizes, laden withwealth which might have been theransom of cities, a full twenty-seven of the thirty round ships of thefabulous treasure fleet of Cos andTyros. And bound at the prow of thefirst forty ships, following theflagship, beginning with the Dorna,

and then the tarn ships and the firstten and largets of the capturedround ships, was a high-bornbeauty, once intended to be themaiden of Cos’s Ubara, now, likeherseld, destined only for the brandand collar of a slave girl.

I raised my hand to the cheeringcrowds.

“This is Port Kar,” I told Vivina.She said nothing.The wild crowds screamed and

shouted, and threw flowers, and theflagship, oars dipping in statelyfashion, took her regal path, ram’screst dividing flowers in the water,between the buildings lining the

great canal.I stood among the falling flowers,

my hand lifted to the crowds.“Should I put you in a public

paga tavern,” I said, “doubtlesshundreds of these would crowd itsdoors, that they might be served byone once destined to be a Ubara inCos.”

“Slay me,” she said.I waved to the crowds.“My maidens?” she asked.“Slaves,” I said.“Myself?” she asked.“Slave,” said I.She closed her eyes.In the five days it had taken to

reach Port Kar from the scene of theengagement with the treasure fleet,due to the slowness of the roundships, I had not kept Vivina, and hermaidens, of course, at the prows ofthe ships. I had only placed themthere in victory, and now again, forthe entry of Port Kar.

I recalled, late the first night,under ship’s torches, I had hadVivina brought down from the prowand brought before me.

I received her in the admiral’scabin, which was, of course, on thetreasure fleet’s flagship.

“If I remember correctly,” I hadsaid, behind the admiral’s table,

busied with papers, “in the hall ofthe Ubar of Cos you told me thatyou did not frequent the rowingholds of round ship1s.”

She looked at me. There hadbeen laughter from my men present.High-born ladies commonly sail incabins, located in the stern castlesof either ram-ships or round ships.She had had, of course, a luxuriouscabin in the flagship of the treasurefleet, this very ship.

“I asked you, as I recall,” I hadreminded her, “if you had ever beenin the hold of a round ship?”

She said nothing.“You responded that you had not,

as I recall,” I had said, “and then, Imentioned that perhapss somedayyou would have the opportunity.”

“No,” she said, “please no!”I had then turned to some of my

men. “Take this lady, “said I tothem, “in a long boat to the largestof the round ships, one rowed bycaptured officers of the treasurefleet, and chain her there, with othertreasures, in the rowing hold.”

“Please,” she begged. “Please!”“I trust you will find the

accommodations satisfactory,” Isaid.

She drew herself up to her fullheight. “I am sure I shall,” said she.

“You may conduct the LadyVivina to her quarters,” I told theseaman responsible for her.

“Come along, Girl,” said he toher.

Like a Ubara she turned andfollowed him.

But before she had left my cabin,she turned again at the door. “Onlyslave girls, I understand,” said she,“are kept chained below decks inround ships.”

“Yes,” I said.Angrily she turned, and left,

following the seaman.Now, in my triumphal entry and

course through Port Kar, I looked

again upon her.I saw that she had again opened

her eyes.On the prow, she passed slowly

beneath the men, and the womenand children, on the rooftops, manyof whom called out to her, hootingand jeering her.

I took two talenders which hadfallen on my shoulder and fastenedthem in the ropes at her neck.

This delighted the crowds, whocried out their pleasure.

“No,” she begged. “Nottalenders.”

“Yes,” said I, “talenders.”The talender is a flower which,

in the Gorean mind, is associatedwith beauty and passion. FreeCompanions, on the Feast of theirFree Companionship, commonlywear a garland of talenders.Sometimes slave girls, having beensubdued, but fearing to speak, willfix talenders in their hair, that theirmaster may know that they have atlast surrendered themselves to himas helpless love slaves. to puttalenders in the neck ropes of thegirl at the prow, of course, wasonly mockery, indicative of herprobable disposition as pleasureslave.

“what are you going to do with

me?” she asked.“Whe the treasures have been

checked, tallied, and appraised,which should take some four or fiveweeks,” I told her, “you, with yourmaidens, in the chains of slavegirls, will be displayed, togetherwith samples of, and fullaccountings of, the other treasures,before the Council of Captains.”

“We are booty?” she asked.“Yes,” I said.“Apparently then, Captain,” said

she, icily, “you have perhaps a fullmonth of triumph before you.”

“Yes,” I said, waving again tothe crowds, “that is true.”

“What will you do with us afterwe have been displayed before thecouncil of captains?” she asked.

“That,” I told her, “you may waituntil then to find out.”

“I see,” she said, and turned herhead away.

More flowers fell, and there wasmore cheering, and hooting andjeers for the bound girl.

Had there ever been triumph suchas this in Port Kar, I asked myself,and answered, doubtless never, andsmiled, for I knew that this was butthe beginning. The climax wouldoccur in some four or five weeks inthe formal presentations before the

Council, and in the receipt of itshighest accolade as worthy captainof Port Kar.

“Hail Port Kar!” I cried to thecrowds.

“Hail Port Kar!” they cried.“And hail Bos, Admiral of PortKar!”

“Hail Bosk!” cried my retainers.“Hail Bosk, Admiral of Port Kar!”

It was now five weeks after mytriumphal entry into Port Kar.

In this very afternoon the formalpresentations and accountings of thevictory and its plunder had takenplace in the chamber of the Councilof Captains.

I rose to my feet and lifted mygoblet of paga, acknowledging thecries of my retainer.

The goblets clashed and wedrank.

It had been five weeks ofentertainments, of fetes, of banquetsand honors piled one upon another.The treasures taken were richbeyond our wildest expectations,beyond the most remotecalculations of our most avariciousscribes. And now, in this veryafternoon, my glories had beenclimaxed in the chamber of theCouncil of Captains, in which hadtaken place the formal presentations

and accountings of the victory andits pluder, in which had taken placethe commendation of the Councilfor mh deeds and the awardings ofits most coveted accolade, that ofworthy captain of Port Kar.

Even now, in my feast ofcelebration, hours after the meetingof the council, I still wore about myneck the broad scarlet ribbon withits pedant medallion of gold,bearing the design of a lateen-rigged tarn ship, the initials incursive Gorean script of Council ofCaptains of Port Kar in a half curvebeneath it.

I threw down more paga.

I indeed was a worthy captain ofPort Kar.

I smiled to myself. As the holdsof the round ships, one by one, hadbeen emptied, appraised andrecorded, hundreds of men, most ofthem unknown to me, had applied tome for clientship. I had receiveddozens of offers of partnership inspeculative and commercialventures. Untold numbers of menhad found their way to my holdingto see their various plans,proposals and ideas. My guards hadeven turned away the mad, half-blind shipwright, Tersites, with hisfantastic recommendations for the

improvement of tarn ships, asthough ships so beautiful, so switft,and vicious, might be improved.

Meanwhile, while I had beenplying the trade of pirate, themilitary and poitaical ventures ofthe Council itself, within the city,had proceeded well. For one thing,they had now formed a CouncilGuard1, with its destinct livery, thatwas now recognized as a force ofthe Council, and, in effect, as thepolice of the city. The ArsenalGuard, however, perhaps fortraditional reasons, remained aseparate body, concerned with thearsenal, and having jurisdiction

within its walls. For another thing,the four Ubars, Chung, Eteocles,Nigel and Sullius Maximus, theirpowers considerably reducedduring the time of the unsuccessfulcoup of Henrius Sevarius, hadapparently resigned themselves tothe supremacy of the Council in thecity. At any rate, for the first time inseveral years, there was now asingle, effective sovereign in PortKar, the Council. Accordingly, itsword, and, in effect, its word alone,was law. A similar consolidationand unification had taken place, ofcourse, in the realm of inspectionsand taxations, penalties and

enforcements, codes and courts. Forthe first time in several years onecould count on the law being thesame on both sides of a given canal.Lastly, the forces of HenriusSevarius, under the regency ofClaudius, once of Tyros, had beendriven by the Council forces fromall their holdings, save one, a hugefortress, its walls extending into theTamber itself, sheltering the sometwo dozen ships left him. Thisfortress, it seems, might be taken bystorm, but the effort would becostly. Accordingly the Council,ringing it with double walls on theland side and blockading it with

arsenal ships by sea, chose to wait.The time that the fortress might stillstand was now most adequately tobe charted by the depth of its siegereservior, and by the fish that mightswim within her barred sea gates,and teh mouthfuls of bread stored inher towers. The Council, for themost part, in her calculations,ignored the remaining fortress ofSevarius. It was, in effect, theprison of those penned within. Oneof those therein imprisoned, ofcourse, in the opinion of theCouncil, was Henrius Sevarius, theboy, himself, the Ubar.

I looked up. The slave boy, Fish,

had emerged from the kitchen,holding over his head on a largesilver platter a whole roasted tarsk,steaming and crisped, basted,shining under the torchlight, a larmain its mouth, garnished with sulsand Tur-pah.

The men cried out, summoninghim to their table.

It had been on one side, a landside, of that last remaining fortressof Henrius Sevarius, that Lysias,Henrak, and others had emergedfrom a postern, carrying the heavysack which they had hurled inot thecanal, that sack from which I hadsaved the boy.

Fish put down the whole roastedtarsk before the men. He wassweating. He wore a single, simplerep-cloth tunic. I had had a platecollar hammered about his neck. Ihad had him branded.

The men ordered him awayagain, that he might fetch yet anotherroasted tarsk from the spit which hehad been turning slowly over thecoal fires during the afternoon. Hesped away.

He had not been an easy slave tobreak to his collar. The kitch masterhad had to beat him often.

One day, after he had been threeweeks slave in my house, the door

to my audience chamber hadsuddenly burst open, and he hadstumbled in, breathless, the kitchenmaster but two steps behind him,with a heavy switch.

“Forgive me!” cried the kitchenmaster.

“Captain!” demanded the boy.The kitchen master, in fury,

grabbed him by the hair and raisedhis arm to thrash him.

I gestrued that he not do so.The kitchen master stepped back,

angry.“What do you want?” I had asked

the boy.“To see you, Captain,” said he.

“Master!” corrected the kitchenmaster.

“Captain!” cried the boy.“Normally,” I said to the boy, “a

kitche slave petitions to enter hismaster’s presence through thekitchen master.”

“I know,” said the boy.“Why did you not do so?” I

asked.“I have,” said the boy defiantly,

“many times.”“And I,” said the kitchen master,

“have refused him.”“What is his request?” I asked

the kitchen master.“He would not tell me,” said the

kitchen master.“How then,” I asked the boy,

“did you expect the kitchen masterto consider whether or not youshould be permitted to enter mypresence?”

The boy looked down. “I wouldspeak with you alone,” he said.

I had no objection to this, but, ofcourse, as master of the hosue, Iintended to respect the prerogativesof the kitchen master, who, in thekitchen, must speak with my ownauthority.

“If you speak,” I said, “you willdo so before Tellius.”

The boy looked angrily at the

kitchen master.Then the boy looked down, and

clenched his fists. Then agonized,he looked up at me. “I would learnweapons,” he whispered.

I was stunned. Even Tellus, thekitchen master, could say nothing.

“I would learn weapons,” saidthe boy, again, this time boldly.

“Slaves are not taught weapons,”I said.

“Your men,” said he,“Thurncock, Clitus, and others,have said that they will teach me,should you give your permission.”He looked down.

The kitchen master snorted with

the absurdity of the idea. “Youwould do better,” said he, “to learnthe work of the kitchen.”

The boy looked up angrily. “I amnot stupid,” he said.

I looked at the boy, absently, asthough I could not place him.

“What is your name?” I asked.He looked at me. Then he said, “-

--Fish.”I permitted myself to betray that I

now remembered the name. “Yes,”I said, “--Fish.”

“Do you like your name?” Iasked.

“No,” he said.“What would you call yourself,”

I asked, “if you had your choice ofnames?”

“Henrius,” said he.The kitchen master laughed.“That is a proud name for a

kitchen boy,” I commented.The boy looked at me proudly.“It might,” I said, “be the name of

a Ubar.”The boy looked down angrily.I knew that Thurnock and Clitus,

and others, had taken a liking to theboy. He had often, I had heard,snuck away fro1m the kitchen toobserve the ships in the courtyardand the practices of men withweapons. The kitchen master had

had his hands full with the boy,there was no doubting that. Telliushad, and deserved, my sympathies.

I looked at the boy, the blondishhair and the frank, earnest eyes,blue, pleading.

He was a spare, strong-limbedlad, and perhaps might, if trained,be able to handle a blade.

Only three in my holding, otherthan himself, knew his true identity.I knew him, and so, too didThurnock and Clitus. The boyhimself, of course, did not knowthat we knew who he was. Indeed,he, a price on his head from theCouncil, had excellent reasons fro

concealing his true identity. Andyet, in a sense, he had no trueidentity other than that of Fish, theslave boy, for he had been enslavedand a slave has no identity otherthan that which his master mightcare to give him. In Gorean law aslave is an animal: before the lawhe has no rights; he is dependent onhis master not only for his name forfor his very life; he may bedisposed of by the master at anytime and in any way the masterpleases.

“The slave boy, Fish,” I said tothe kitchen master, “has comeunbidden into my presence and he

has not, in my opinion, shownsufficient respect for the master ofmy kitchen.”

The boy looked at me, fightingback tears.

“Accordingly,” I said, “he is tobe beaten severely.”

The boy looked down, his fistsclenched.

“And beginning tomorrow,” Isaid, “if his work in the kitchenimproves to your satisfaction, andonly under that condition, he is tobe permitted one Ahn a day to trainwith weapons.”

“Captain!” cried the boy.“And that Ahn,” I said, “is to be

made up in extra work in theevening.”

“Yes Captain,” said the kitchenmaster.

“I will work for you, Tellius,”said the boy. “I will work betterthan any for you!”

“All right, Lad,” said Tellius.“We shall see.”

The boy looked at me. “Thankyou,” he said, “Captain.”

“Master,” corrected Tellius.“May I not,” asked the boy of me,

“address you as Captain?”“If you wish,” I said.“Thank you,” said he, “Captain.”“Now begone, Slave,” said I.

“Yes, Captain!” he cried andturned, followed by the kitchenmaster.

“Slave!” I called.The boy turned.“If you show skills with

weapons,” I said, “perhaps I shallchange your name.”

“Thank you, Captain,” he said.“Perhaps we could call you

Pulius,” I suggested, “--or Tellius.”“Spare me!” cried Tellius.“Or,” I said, “Henrius.”“Thank you, Captain,” said the

boy.“But,” said I, “to have such a

name, which is a proud name, one

would have to handle weapons verywell.”

“I shall,” he said. “I shall!”Then the boy turned and ran

joyfully from the room.The kitche master looked at me

and grinned. “Never,” said he,“Captain, did I see a slave run moreeagerly to a beating.”

“Nor did I,” I admitted.Now, at my victory feast, I drank

more paga. That, I told myself,letting a boy train with weapons,have been a moment of weakness. Idid not expect I would allow myselfmore such moments.

I observed the boy bringing in yet

another roasted tarsk.No, I told myself, I should not

have shown such a lenience to aslave.

I would not again allow myselfsuch moments of weakness.

I fingered the broard scarletribbon and the medallion, pendantabout my neck, brearing its tarn shipand initials, those of the Council ofCaptains of Port Kar.

I was Bosk, Pirate, Admiral ofPort Kar, now perhaps one of therichest and most powerful men onGor.

No, I would not again show suchmoments of weakness.

I thrust out the silver paga goblet,studded with rubies, and Telima,standing beside my thronelike chair,filled it. I did not look upon her.

I looked down the table, to whereThurnock, with his slave Thura, andClitus, with his slave, Ula, weredrinking and laughing. Thurnockand Clitus were good men, they hadtaken a fancy to the boy, Fish, andhad helped him with his work inweapons. Such men were weak.They had not in themselves the stuffof captains.

I sat back on he great chair, pagagoblet in hand, surveying the room.

It was crowded with tables of my

retainers, feasting.To one side musicians played.There was a clear space before

my great table, in which, from timeto time, during the evening,entertainments had been provided,simple things, which even I hadupon occasion found amusing, foreeaters and sword swallowers,jugglers and acrobats, andmagicians, and slaves, riding onone another’s shoulders, striking atone another with inflated tarskbladders tied to poles.

“Drink!” I cried.And again goblets were lifted

and clashed.

I looked down the long table,and, far to my right, sitting alone atthe end of the long bench behind thetable, was Luma, my slave andchief scribe. Poor, scrawny, plainLuma, thought I, in her tunic ofscribe’s cloth, and collar! What apoor excuse for a paga slave shehad been! Yet she had a brilliantmind for a the accounts andbusiness of a great house, and hadmuch increased my fortunes. Soindebted to her was I taht I had, thisnight, permitted her to sit at one endof the great table. No free man, ofcourse,, would sit beside her.Moreover, that my other scribes and

retainers not be angered, I had hadher put in slave bracelets, and abouther neck had had fastened a chain,which was bolted into the heavytable. And it was thus that Luma,she of perhaps greatest importancein my house, saving its master, withus, yet chained and alone, apart,shared my feast of victory.

“More paga,” said I, putting outthe goblet.

Telima poured more paga.“There is a singer,” said one of

my men.This irritated me, but I had never

much cared to interfere with theentertainments which were

presented before me.“It is truly a singer,” said Telima,

behind me.It irritated me that she had

spoken.“Fetch Ta grapes from the

kitchen,” I told her.“Please, my Ubar,” said she, “let

me stay.”“I am not your Ubar,” I said. “I

am your master.”“Please, Master,” she begged,

“let Telima stay.”“Very well,” I said.The tables grew quiet.The man had been blinded, it was

said, by Sullius Maximus, who

believed taht blinding improved thequality of a singer’s songs. SulliusMaximus, who himself dabbled inpoetry, and poisons, was a man ofhigh culture, and his opinions insuch matters were greatlyrespected. At any rate, whatever bethe truth in these matters, the singer,in his darkness, was now alonewith his songs. He had only them.

I looked upon him.He wore the robes of his caste,

the singers, and it was not knownwhat city was his own. Many of thesingers wander from place to place,selling their songs for bread andlove. I had known, long ago, a

singer, whose name was Andreas ofTor.

We could hear the torchescrackle now, and the singer touchedhim lyre.

I sing the siege of Arof gleaming Ar.I sing the spears and wall of Arof Glorious Ar.In the long years past of the siege

of the citythe siege of Arof her spires and towersof undaunted ArGlorious ArI sing.

I did not care to hear his song. Ilooked down into the paga goblet.The singer continued.

I sing of dark-haired Talenaof the rage of MarlenusUbar of ArGlorious Ar.I did not wish to hear this song. It

infuriated me to see that the othersin that room sat rapt, bestowing onthe singer such attention for suchtrifles, the meaningless noises of ablind man’s mouth.

And of he I singwhose hair was like a larl from

the sunof he who came once to the walls

of ArGlorious Arhe called Tarl of Bristol.I glanced to Telima, who stood

beside my great chair. Her eyeswere moist, drinking in the song.

She was only a rence girl, Ireminded myself. Doubtless neverbefore had she heard a singer. Ithought of sending her to thekitchens, but did not do so. I felt herhand on my shoulder. I did notindicate that i was aware of it.

And, as the torches burned lowerin the wall racks, the singer

continued to sing, and sang of graeyPa-K1yr, Master of the Aassassins,leader of the hordes that fell on Arafter the theft of her Home Stone;and he sang, too, of banners andblack helmets, of upraisedstandards, of the sun flashing on thelifted blades of spears, of highsiege towers and deeds, of catapultsof Ka-la-na and tem-wood, of thethunder of war tharlarion and thebeating of drums and the roars oftrumpets, the clash of arms and thecries of men; and he sang, too, ofthe love of men for their city, and,foolishly, knowing so little of men,he sang, too, the bravery of men,

and their loyalties and theircourage; and he sang then, too, ofduels; of duels fought even on thewalls of Ar herself, even at thegreat gate; and of tarnsmen lockedin duels to the death over the spiresof Ar; and of yet another duel, onefought on the height of Ar’s cylinderof justice, between Pa-Kur, and he,in the song, called Tarl of Bristol.

“Why does my Ubar weep?”asked Telima.

“Be silent, Slave,” said I.Angrily I brushed her hand from myshoulder. She drew back her handswiftly, as though she had notknown it had lain there.

The singer had now finished hissong.

“Singer,” called I to him, “isthere truly a man such as Tarl ofBristol?”

The singer turned his head to me,puzzled. “I do not know,” he said.“Perhaps it is only a song.”

I laughed.I extended the paga goblet to

Telima and, again, she filled it.I rose to my feet, lifting the

goblet, and my retainers, as well,rose to their feet, lifting theirgoblets.

“There is gold and steel!” I said.“Gold and steel!” cried my

retainers.We drank.“And song,” said the blind

singer.The room was quiet.I looked upon the singer. “Yes,” I

said, lifting my goblet to him, “andsongs.”

There was a cry of pleasure frommy retainers, and again we drank.

When again I sat down I said tothe serving slaves, “Feast the singerwell,” and then I turned to Luma,slave and accountant of my house,braceleted and chained at the end ofthe long table, and said to her,“Tomorrow, the singer, before he is

sent on his way, is to be given a capof gold.”

“Yes Master,” said the girl.“Thank you, Captain!” cried the

singer.My retainers cried out with

pleasure at my generosity, many ofthem striking their left shoulderswith their right fists in Goreanapplause.

Two slave girls helped the singerfrom the stool on which he had satand conducted him to a table in afar corner of the room.

I drank more paga.I was furious.Tarl of Bristol lived only in

songs. There was on such man.There were, in the end, only goldand steel, and perhaps the bodies ofwomen, and perhaps songs, themeaningless noises that mightsometimes be heard in the mouths ofthe blind.

Again I was Bosk, from themarshes, Pirate, Admiral of PortKar.

I fingered the golden medallionwith the lateen-rigged tarn ship, andthe initials of the Council ofCaptains of Port K1ar in its half-curve beneath it.

“Sandra!” I called. “Send forSandra!”

There were cheers from thetables.

I looked about. It was indeed afeast of victory. I was only angeredthat Midice was not present withme. She had felt ill, and had beggedto remain in my quarters, whichleave I had given her. Tab, too, wasnot present.

Then there was a rustle of slavebells and Sandra, the dancing girl ofPort Kar, whom I had first seen in aPaga tavern, and had purchased,primarily for my men, stood beforeme, her master.

I looked on her with amusement.How desperate she was to please

me.She wanted to be first girl, but I

had kept her primarily with my men.Beautiful, dark-haired, slender,marvelously-legged Midice was, inmy house, first girl, and my favoredslave. As Tab was my first Captain.

But yet Sandra was of interest.She had high cheekbones, and

flashing black eyes, and coal-blackhair, now worn high, pinned, overher head. She stood wrapped in anopaque sheet of shimmering yellowsilk. As she had approached me Ihad heard the bells which had beenlocked on her ankles and wrists,and hung pendant from her collar.

It would not hurt, I thought, forMidice to have a bit of competion.

And so I smiled upon Sandra.She looked at me, eagerness and

pleasure transfusing her features.“You may dance, Slave,” I told

her.It was to be the dance of the six

thongs.She slipped the silk from her and

knelt before the great table andchair, between the other tables,dropping her head. She wore fivepieces of metal, her collar andlocked rings on her wrists andankles. Slave bells were attached tothe collar and the rings. She lifted

her head, and regarded me. Themusicians, to one side, began toplay. Six of my men, each with alength of binding fiber, approachedher. She held her arms down, and abit to the sides. The ends of sixlengths of binding fiber, like slavesnares, were fastened on her, onefor each wrist and ankle, and twoabout her waist; the men, then, eachholding the free end of a length offiber, stood about her, some six oreight feet from her, three on a side.She was thus imprisoned amongthem, each holding a thong thatbound her.

I glanced to Thura. I recalled that

she had been caught in captureloops on the rence island, ot unlikethe two now about Sandra’s waist.Thura was watching witheagerness.

So, too, were all.Sandra then, luxuriously, catlike,

like a woman awakening, stretchedher arms.

There was laughter.It was as though she did not know

herself bound.When she went to draw her arms

back to her body there was just thebriefest instant in which she couldnot do so, and she frowned lookedannoyed, puzzled, and then was

permitted to move as she wished.I laughed.She was superb.Then, still kneeling, she raised

her hand, head back, insolently toher hair, to remove from it one ofthe ornate pins, its head carvedfrom the horn of a kailiauk, thatbound it.

Again a thong, this time that onher right wrist, prohibited, but onlyfor an instant, the movement, butinches from her hair.

She frowned. There waslaughter.

At last, sometimes immediatelypermitted, sometimes not, she had

removed the pins from her hair. Herhair was beautiful, rich, long andblack. As she knelt, it fell back toher ankles.

Then, with her hands, she liftedthe hair again back over her head,and then, suddenly, her hands, bythe thongs were pulled apart andher hair fell again loose and richover her body.

Now, angrily, struggling, shefought to lift her hair, again but thethongs, holding apart her hands, didnot permit her to do so. She foughtthem. The thongs would permit heronly to wear her hair loosely.

Then, as though in terror andfury, as though she now firstunderstood herself in the snares of aslave, she leaped to her feet,fighting, to the music, the thongs.

The dancing girls of Port Kar, Itold myself, are the best on all Gor.

Dar and golden, shimmering,crying out, stamping, she danced,her thonged beauty incandescent inthe light of the torches and frenzy ofthe slave bells.

She turned and twisted andleaped, and sometimes seemedalmost free, but was always, by thedark thongs, held completeprisoner. Sometimes she would

rush upon one man or another, butthe others would not permit her toreach him, keeping her alwaysbeautiful female slave snared in herweb of thongs. She writhed andcried out, trying to force the thongsfrom her body, but could not do so.

At last, bit by bit, as her fear andterror mounted, the men, fist by fist,took up the slack in the thongs thattethered her, until suddenly, theyswiftly bound her hand and foot andlifted her over their heads, capturedfemale slave, displaying her boundarched body to the tables.

There were cries of pleasurefrom the tables, and much striking

of the right fist on the left shoulder.She had been truely superb.Then the men carried her before

my table and held her bound beforeme. “A slave,” said one.

“Yes,” cried the girl, “slave!”The music finished with a clash.The applause and cries were

wild and loud.I was much pleased.“Cut her loose,” I told the men.The did so and, swiftly, like a

cat, the girl ran to my chair, andknelt at my feet. She looked up,streaked with sweat, breathingheavily, her eyes shining.

“Your performance was not

without interest,” I said to her.She put her cheek to my knee.“Ka-la-na!” I called.A cup was brought. And I took

her by the hair and held back herhead, pouring the wine down herthroat, some of it running down herface and body under the slavecollar and its bells.

She looked up at me, her mouthstained with wine. “Did I pleaseyou?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.“Do not send me back to your

men,” said begged. “Keep Sandrafor yourself.”

“We 1shall see,” I said.

“Sandra wants much to pleaseMaster,” she said.

Wily wench, I thought.“You used Sandra only once,”

pouted the girl. “It is not fair.” Shelooked up at me. “Sandra is betterthan Midice,” she said.

“Midice,” I said, “is very good.”“Sandra is better,” wheedled the

girl. “Try Sandra and see.”“Perhaps,” I said. I gave her head

a rough shake and permitted her toremain kneeling at the arm of mychair. I saw other slave girls,serving at the tables, cast looks ofhatred and jealousy on her. Like asatisfied cat, she knelt beside my

chair.“The gold, Captain,” said one of

my treasure guards.I had arranged a surprise for my

retainers on this night of feastingand victory.

He lifted, heavily, to the dais onwhich my chair and talbe sat aheavy leather sack filled withgolden tarn disks of double weight,of Cos and Tyros, of Ar and PortKar, even of distant Thentis andremote Turia, far to the south. Heplaced the sack beside my greatchair. Few, saving thoseimmediately near me, saw it there.

“Send for the slave girl from

Tyros!” I called.There was laughter from the

tables.I held out my paga goblet, but it

was not filled. I looked about,angrily.

I called out to a passing slavegirl. “Wher is the slave Telima?” Idemanded.

“She was here but a momentago,” said a slave girl.

“She went to the kitchens,” saidanother.

I had not given her permission toleave.

“I will serve you paga,” saidSandra.

“No,” I said, holding the pagagoblet away from her. I addressedmyself to one of the slave girls.“Have Telima beaten,” I said, “andsent to my side. I would be served.”

“Yes Master,” said the girl,speeding away.

Sandra looked down, angrily,pouting.

“Do not fret,” I said to her, “or Ishall have you beaten as well.”

“It is only, Master,” said she,“that I wish to serve you.”

I laughed. She was indeed a wilywench.

“Paga?” I asked.She looked up at me, suddenly,

her eyes bright, her lips slightlyparted. “No,” she said, “wine.”

“I see,” I said.There was a rustle of chain and

the Lady Vivina, to the pleasure ofthe tables, was conducted beforeme.

I heard a movement at my sideand saw that Telima now stoodagain where she had before. Therewere tears in her eyes. I did notdoubt taht she now had four or fivewelts on her back from the switchof the kitchen master. The thin rep-cloth tunic provides little protectionfrom the kitchen master’s switch. Iheld out the paga goblet, and she

refilled it.I looked upon the Lady Vivina.All attention was upon her. Even

several of the slaves, about theedges of the room, behind the1tables, had gathered to look uponher. I saw the slave boy, Fish,among them.

I regarded the girl before me. Shehad been chief among my prizes.

This afternoon I had presentedher, with her maidens, in the chainsof slave girls, together withportions of the treasures of thetreasure fleet, and accountings ofthe balance thereof, before theCouncil of Captains of Port Kar.

They had been beautiful, in silverthroat coffle, their wrists boundbehind their backs in golden slavebracelets, kneeling as pleasureslaves among the jewels, the piledgold, and the heaps of silk and kegsof spices. She who was to havebeen the Ubara of Cos was in thecity of Port Kar only booty.

“Greetings Lady Vivina,” said Ito her.

“Is that the name you will chooseto know me by?” she asked.

This afternoon, after returningfrom the Coucil of Captains, I hadhad her marked and collared.

Now, aside from her collar and

brand, standing before me, shewore only slave bracelets.

She was very beautiful.“Remove the bracelets,” I told

the man who had conducted herbefore me.

He did so.“Unbind her hair,” I said.He did so, and her hair fell about

her shoulders, and there was a cryof pleasure from my men.

“Kneel,” I told her.She did so.“You are Vina,” I told her.She dropped her head,

acknowledging the name I had givenher. Then she looked up. “I

congratulate Master,” said she. “Itis an excellent name for a slavegirl.”

“Who are you?” I asked.“I am Vina,” she said.“What are you?” I asked.“Slave,” she said.“What are your duties, Slave?” I

asked.“Master has not yet informed

me,” she said.I looked upon her. I had also had

her maidens marked and collared,following the meeting of theCouncil of Captains. They werenow chained within my holding. Ihad not yet decided on their

dispostion. Perhaps I shoulddistribute them among my officers,or give them to my men. They mightserve as prizes in games or asinducements to serve me better, thatone might be received as gift intoken of good service. Also I hadtoyed with the idea of opening apaga tavern in the center of the city,the most opulent in Port Kar,perhaps, called the Tavern of theForty Maidens. There were few inPort Kar who would not be eager topatronize such as as establishment,that they might be served by thehigh-born beauties of Tyros.

But now my attention was on the

girl Vina, once the Lady Vivina,once to have been the Ubara of Cos,now only female slave in the houseof Bosk, he of Port Kar.

“What garments shall be broughtfor you?” I asked.

She looked up at me.“Shall it be the tunic of a house

slave?” I asked.She said nothing.“Or,” I asked, “should I call for

the bells and the silk, and theperfumes, of a pleasure slav1e?”

She smiled. “I assume,” she saidicily, “that I will be used as apleasure slave.”

From the sack at the side of my

chair, that filled muchly with gold, Idrew forth a small piece of folded,wadded cloth. I threw it to the girl.

She caught it, and looked at it.“No!’ she cried.

“Put it on,” I told her.“No, no!” she cried in fury,

leaping to her feet, holding thepiece of cloth.

She turned to flee, but was ringedby my men. She turned again to faceme, holding the cloth. “No!” shesaid in rage, “No!”

“Put it on,” I told her.Furiously she drew on the

garment.There was great laughter from the

tables.The Lady Vivina stood before me

clad in the garment of a KettleSlave.

“In Cos,” I told her, “you wouldhave been Ubara. In my house youwill be Kettle Slave.”

Enraged, red with shame, herfists clenched, in the brief garmentof the Kettle Slave, the Lady Vivinastood before us.

The room was convulsed withlaughter.

“Kitchen Master!” I called.“Here, Captain!” cried Tellius,

from behind the tables.“Come here!” I called.

The man approached the table.“Here,” I told him, gesturing to

the girl, “is a new girl for thekitchens.”

He laughed, and walked abouther, his switch in his hand. “She isa beauty,” he said.

“See that she is worked well,” Isaid.

“She will be,” he promised me.The Lady Vivina looked on me

with fury.“Fish!” I called. “Where is the

slave boy Fish!”“Here!” he cried, and came

forward, from behind the tables,where, with other slaves, for some

time, he had been watching whathad been going on.

I gestured to the girl. “Do youfind this slave pleasing?” I asked.

He looked at me, puzzled.“Yes,” he said.“Good,” said I. Then I turned to

the girl. “You please the slave boyFish,” I said to her. “Therefore youruse will be his.”

“No!” she cried. “No! No!”“The use of her,” I told the boy,

“is yours.”“No!” she cried. “No! No! No!

No!”She threw herself to her knees

before me, weeping, extending her

arms. “He is only a slave,” shewept. “I was to have been Ubara!Ubara!”

“Your use is his,” I said.She held her face in her hands,

bent over, weeping.There was much laughter in the

room. I looked about, well pleased.Of those I looked upon, only Lumadid not laugh. There were tears inher eyes. This irritated me.Tomorrow, I thought, I will haveher beaten.Sandra, at my side, was laughingmerrily. I gave her head a roughshake. She began to kiss my leftarm, and I, with my right hand,

brushed her away. But in a momentshe again held her cheek to my leftarm.

The boy, Fish, was looking onthe girl, Vina, not withoutcompassion. They were both young.He was perhaps seventeeen, sheperhaps fifteen or sixteen. Then hereached down and lifted her to herfeet, turning her to face him.

“I am Fish,” he said.“You are only a slave boy!” she

cried.She would not meet his eyes.He took her by the collar and

turned it slightly upward in hislarge hands, forcing her head up to

face his.“Who are you?” he asked.“I am the Lady Vivina of Kasra!”

she cried.“No,” he said, “you are a slave.”“No!” she said, shaking her head.“Yes,” he said, “and I, too, am a

slave.”And then, to our surprise, holding

her head in his hands, he kissed hergently on the lips.

She looked at him, tears in hereyes.

Raised as she had been, in thesequestered quarters of high-bornwomen in palace of Tyros in Kasra,I supposed it was perhaps the first

time that the lips of a man hadtouched hers. Doubtless she hadexpected to receieve that kissstanding in the swirling love silksof the Free Companion, beneathgolden love lamps, beside thecouch of the Ubar of Cos; but it wasnot in the white, marbled palace ofthe Ubar of Cos that that kiss was totake place; and it was not to bereceieved as a Ubara from the lipsof a Ubar; that kiss wa to be takenplace in Port Kar, in the holding ofher enemies, under barbarictorchlight, before the table of hermaster; and she was not to wear thelove silks of a Free Companion and

Ubara but the brief, wretchedgarment of a Kettle Slave, and acollar that proclaimed her slavegirl; and the lips would be those ofa slave which touched hers, thosethemselves of a slave.

To our surprise she had notresisted the boy’s kiss.

He held her by the arms. “I am aslave,” he said.

To our astonishment, then she, inall her friendlessness, in all hermisery and loneliness, lifted herlips to his, with great timidity, thathe might, should it please him to doso, again touch them.

Again he gently kissed her.

“I, too, am a slave,” she said.“My name is Vina.”

“You are worthy,” he said,holding her head in his hands, “tobe a Ubara.”

“And you,” she whispered, “tobe a Ubar.”

“I think you will find,” I told her,“the arms of the boy Fish morewelcome, though on a mat of aslave, than the arms of gross Lurius,on the furs of the Ubar’s couch.”

She looked at me, tears in hereyes.

I spoke to the kitchen master. “Atnight,” I said, “chain themtogether.”

“A single blanket?” he asked.“Yes,” I told him.The girl collasped weeping, but

Fish, with great gentleness lifted1her in his arms and carried her fromthe hall.

I laughed.And there was great laughter.How rich a joke it was, to have

enslaved the girl who would havebeen Ubara of Cos, to have put herto work in my kitchens, to havegiven the use of her to a mere slaveboy! This story would soon be toldin all the ports of Thassa and all thecities of Gor! How shamed wouldbe Tyros and Cos, enemies of my

city, Port Kar! How delicious is thedefeat of the enemies! Howglorious is power, success,triumph!

I reached drunkenly into the bagof gold beside my chair andgrabbed up handfuls flinging themabout the room. I stood and threwabout me showers of the tarn disksof Ar, of Tyros, of Cos, Thentis,Turia and Port Kar! Men scrambledwildly laughing and fighting for thecoins. Each was of double weight!

“Paga!” I cried and held back thegoblet and Telima filled it.

I regretted only that Midice andTab were not with me to share my

trimuph.I stood drunkenly, holding to the

table. I spilled paga. “Paga!” Icried, and Telima again filled thegoblet. I drank again. And ten,again, wildly, shouting, crying out, Ithrew gold to all the corners of theroom, laughing as the men foughtand leaped to seize it.

I drank and then threw morecoins and more coins about theroom.

There was laughter and delightedcries.

“Hail Bosk!” I heard. “HailBosk, Admiral of Port Kar!”

I threw more gold wildly about. I

drank again, and again. “Yes,” Icried. “Hail Bosk!”

“Hail Bosk!” they cried. “HailBosk, Admiral of Port Kar!”

“Yes,” I cried. “Hail Bosk! Hail,Bosk, Admiral of Port Kar! HailBosk, Admiral of Port Kar!”

I heard a cry, as of fear, from myright, and I turned to stare drunkenlytoward the end of the table. There,Luma, chained at the table, in herbracelets, was looking at me. Onher face there was a look of horror.

“Your face,” she cried. “Yourface!”

I looked at her, puzzled.The room was suddenly quiet.

“No,” she said, suddenly, shakingher head. “It is gone now.”

“What is wrong?” I asked her.“Your face,” she said.“What of it?” I asked.“It is nothing,” she said, looking

down.“What of it!” I demanded.“For an instant,” she said, “I

thought-I thought it was the face ofSurbus.”

I cried out with rage and seizedthe great table, flinging it, scatteringdishes and paga, from the dias.Thura and Ula screamed. Sandrascreamed, darting away, her handsbefore her, with an incongruous

clash of slave bells. Luma, fastenedby the neck to the table, was jerkedfrom the dais, and thrown over thetable to the tiles of the hall. Slavegirls fled from the room, screaming.

Enraged I took the bag of gold,what was left of it, and hurled it outinto the hall, spilling a rain ofgolden tarn disks before it struckthe tiles.

Then, furi1ous, I turned aboutand, stumbling, left the hall.

“Admiral!” I heard behind me.“Admiral!”

I clutched the medallion about myneck, with its tarn ship and theinitials of the Council of Captains.

Stumbling, crying out in rage, Istaggered toward my quarters.

I could hear the consternationbehind me.

In fury, I rushed on, sometimesfalling, sometimes striking againstthe walls.

Then I burst open the doors of myquarters.

Midice and Tab leaped apart.I howled with rage and turned

about striking the walls with myfists and then, throwing off mycloak, spun weeping to face them,in the same instant drawing myblade.

“It is torture and impalement for

you, Midice,” I said.“No,” said Tab. “It is my fault. I

forced myself upon her.”“No, No!” cried Midice. “It is

my fault! My fault!”“Torture and impalement,” I said

to her. Then I regarded Tab. “Youhave been a good man, Tab,” Igestured with my blade. “Defendyourself,” I said.

Tab shrugged. He did not drawhis weapon. “I know you can killme,” he said.

“Defend yourself,” I screamed tohim.

“Very well,” said Tab, and hisweapon left its sheath.

Midice flung herself on her kneesbetween us, weeping. “No!” shecried. “Kill Midice!”

“I shall slay you slowly beforeher,” I said, “and then I shalldeliver her to the torturers.”

“Kill Midice!” wept the girl.“But let him go! Let him go!”

“Why have you done this to me!”I cried out to her weeping. “Why?Why?”

“I love him,” she said, weeping.“I love him.”

I laughed. “You cannot love,” Itold her. “You are Midice. You aresmall, and petty, and selfish, andvain! You cannot love!”

“I do love him,” she whispered.“I do.”

“Do you not love me?” I begged.“No,” she whispered, tears in her

eyes. “No.”“But I have given you many

things,” I wept. “And have I notgiven you great pleasure?”

“Yes,” she said, “you have givenme many things.”

“And have I not,” I demanded,“given you great pleasure!”

“yes,” she said, “you have.”“Then why!” I cried out.“I do not love you,” she said.“You love me!” I screamed at

her.

“No,” she said, “I do not loveyou. And I have never loved you.”

I wept.I returned my blade to its sheath.“Take her,” I said to Tab. “She is

yours.”“I love her,” he said.“Take her away!” I screamed.

“Leave my service! Leave mysight!”

“Midice,” said Tab, hoarsely.She fled to him and he put one

arm about her. Then they turned andleft the room, he still carrying theunsheathed sword.

I walked slowly about the room,and then I sat on the edge of the

stone couch, on the furs, and put myhead in my hands.

How long I had sat thus I do notknow.

I heard, after some time, a slightsound in the threshold of myquarters.

I looked up.In the threshold stood Telima.I looked at her.“Have you come to scrub the

tiles?” I asked, sternly.She smiled. “It was done

earlier,” she said, “that I mightserve late at the feast.”

“Does the kichen master knowyou are here?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No,” shesaid.

“You will be beaten,” I said.I saw taht, about her left arm, she

wore again the armlet of gold,which I remembered from so longago, that which I had taken from herto give to Midice.

“you have the armlet,” I said.“Yes,” she said.“How did you get it?” I asked.“From Midice,” she said.“You stole it,” I said.“No,” she said.I met her eyes.“Midice gave it back to me,” she

said.

“When?” i asked.“More than a month ago,” said

Telima.“She was kind to a Kettle Slave,”

I said.Telima smiled, tears in her eyes.

“yes,” she said.“I have not see you wear it,” I

said.“I have kept it hidden in the

straw of my mat,” said Telima.I looked on Telima. She stood in

the doorway, rather timidly. Shewas barefoot. She wore the brief,stained, wretched garment of aKettle Slave. About her throat,locked, was a simple, steel collar.

But she wore on her left arm anarmlet of gold.

“Why have you worn the armletof gold?” I asked.

“It is al I have,” she said.“Why have you come here at this

time?” I asked.“Midice,” she said.I cried out and put my head in my

hands weeping.Telima timidly came closer. “She

did care for you,” she said.I shook my head.“She cannot help it if she did not

love you,” whispered Telima.“Go back to the kitchens!” I

wept. “Go back now, or I will kill

you.”Telima knelt down, a few feet

from me. There were tears in hereyes.

“Go away,” I cried. “or I willkill you!”

She did not move, but knelt there,with tears in her eyes. She shookher head. “no,” she said, “youwould not. You could not.”

“I am Bosk!” I cried, standing.“yes,” she said, “You ae Bosk.”

she smiled. “It was I who gave youthat name.”

“It was you,” I cried, “whodestroyed me!”

“If any was destroyed,” said she,

“it was not you, but I.”“You destroyed me!” I wept.“You have not been destroyed,

my Ubar,” said she.“You have destroyed me,” I

cried, “and now I shall destroyyou!”

I leaped to my feet, whipping thesword from my sheath and stoodover her, the blade raised to strike.

She kneeling, looked up at me,tears in her eyes.

In rage I hurled the blade awayand it struck the stones of the wallthirty feet across the room andclattered to the floor, and I sank tomy knees weeping, my head in my

hands.“Midice,” I wept. “Midice.”I had vowed once that I had lost

two women, and would never loseanother. And now Midice wasgone. I had given her the richest ofsilks, the most precious of jewels. Ihad become famed. I had becomepowerful and rich. I had becomefamed. I had become powerful andrich. I had become great. But nowshe was gone. It had not mattered.Nothing had mattered. And now shewas gone, fled away in the night, nolonger mine. To me she had chosenanother. I had lost her. I had losther.

“It is hard,” I said to Telima, “tolove, and not to be loved.”

“I know,” she said.I looked at her. Her hair had been

combed.“You hair is combed,” I said.She smiled. “One of the girls in

the kitchen,” she said, “has a brokencomb, one that Ula threw away.”

“She let you used it,” I said.“I did much work for her,” said

Telima, “that I might, one night,when I chose, use it.”

“Perhaps the new girl,” I said,“to please the boy Fish, willsometimes wish to use the comb.”

Telima smiled. “The she, too,”

said Telima, “will have to work.”I smile.“Come here,” I said.Obediently the girl rose to her

feet and came and knelt before me.I put out my hands and took her

head in my hands. “My proudTelima,” I said, “my formermistress.” I looked on her, kneelingbarefoot before me, my steelcollared locked on her throat, in thescanty, miserable, stained garmentof the Kettle Slave.

“My Ubar,” she whispered.“Master,” I said.“Master,” she said.I drew the golden armlet from her

arm, and looked at it.“How dare you, Slave,” I asked,

“wear this before me?”She looked startled. “I wanted to

please you,” she whispered.I threw the armlet to one side.

“Kettle Slave,” I said.She looked down, and a tear ran

down her cheek.“You thought to win my favor,” I

said, “by coming here at this time.”She looked up. “No,” she said.“But your trick,” I told her, “has

not worked.”She shook her head, no.I put my hands on her collar,

forcing her to look directly at me.

“you are well worthy of a collar,” Isaid.

Her eyes flashed, the Telima ofold. “You, too,” she said, “wear acollar!”

I tore away from my throat thebroad scarlet ribbon, with itspedant medallion, with the tarn shipand the intitials of the Council ofCaptains. I flung it from me.

“Arrogant Slave!” I said.She said nothing.“You have come to torment me in

my grief,” I told her.“No,” she said, “no!”I rose to my feet and flung her to

the tiles of the bed chamber.

“you want to be first girl!” Icried.

She stood up, looking down. “Itwas not for that reason that I camehere tonight,” she said.

“You want to be first girl!” Icried. “You want to be first girl!”

She looked suddenly at me,angrily. “Yes,” she cried, “I want tobe first girl!”

I laughed, pleased that she hadspoken her guilt out of her ownmouth.

“you are only a Kettle Slave,” Ilaughed. “First Girl! I am going tosend you back to the kitchens to bebeaten, Kettle Slave!”

She looked at me, tears in hereyes. “who will be first girl?” sheasked.

“Doubtless Sandra,” said I.“She is very beautiful,” said

Telima.“Perhaps,” I asked, “you saw her

dance?”“Yes,” said Telima, “she is very,

very beautiful.”“Can you dance thus?” I asked

her.She smiled. “No,” she said.“Sandra,” I said, “seems eager to

please me.”Telima looked at me. “I, too,”

she whispered, “am eager to please

you.”I laughed at her, that she, the

proud Telima, would so demeanherself.

“You resort well,” I said, “to thewiles of the slave girl,”

She dropped her head.“Are the kitchens that

unpleasant?” I taunted her.She looked up at me, angrily.

There were tears in her eyes. “Youcan be hateful,” she said.

I turned away.“You may return to the kitchens,”

I told her.I sensed her turn to move toward

the door.

“wait!” I cried, turning, and she,too, in the doorway, turned.

And then the words that I spokedid not seem to come from me butfrom something within me that wasdeeper than the self I knew. Notsince I had knelt bound before Ho-Hak on the rence island had suchwords come from me, so unbidden,so tortured. “I am unhappy,” I said,“and I am lonely.”

There were tears in her eyes. “I,too,” she said, “am lonely.”

We approached one another, andextended to one another our hands,and our hands touched, and I heldher hands. And then, weeping, the

two of us cried out, holding oneanother.

“I love you,” I cried.And she cried, “And I love you,

my Ubar. I have loved you for solong!”

Chapter 16What Occurred One

Night in Port KarI held the sweet, loving,

uncollared thing in my arms.“My Ubar,” whispered Telima.“Master,” I said, kissing her.She drew back, reproachfully.

“Would you not rather be my Ubar,than my Master?” she asked.

I looked at her. “Yes,” I said, “Iwould.”

“You are both,” she pronounced,again kissing me.

“Ubara,” I whispered to her.“Yes,” she whispered, “I am

your Ubara--and your slave girl.”“You wear no collar,” I pointed

out.“Master removed it,” said she,

“that he might more easily kiss mythroat.”

“Oh!” I said.“Oh!” she cried.“What is wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she laughed.I felt her back, and the five weals

left there by the switch of thekitchen master.

“But a few hours ago,” said she,“I displeased my master and he hadme beaten.”

“I am sorry,” I said.She laughed. “How silly you

sometimes are, my Ubar. I left yourside unbidden, and so, of course, Iwas beaten.” She looked up at me,laughing. “I have richly deservedmany beatings,” she confided, “but Ihave not always received them.”

Telima was Gorean to the core. Imyself would always be, doubtless,

at least partly, of Earth. I held her.There could never be, I told myself,any question of sending this womanto Earth. In tht overcrowded desertof hypocracies and hysterical,meaningless violences, she wouldsurely wither and blacken, likesome rare and beautiful plant of themarshes uprooted and thrust downamong stones to die.

“Are you still sad, my Ubar?”she asked.

“No,” I told her, kissing her.“No.”

She looked at me, gently. Andtouched my cheek with her hand.“Do not be sad,” she said.

I looked about and found thegolden armlet. I slipped it onceagain on her arm.

She leaped to her feet, standingon the furs of the couch, and threwher left arm into the air. “I amUbara!” she cried.

“Commonly,” I said, “a Ubarawears more than a golden armlet.”

“On the couch of her Ubar?”asked Telima.

“Well,” I admitted, “I do notknow about that.”

“I do not either,” said Telima.She looked down at me, brightly. “Ishall ask the new girl in thekitchens,” she said.

“You wench!” I cried, grabbingher ankle.

She stepped back swiftly, andthen stood there, regally on the furs.

“How dare you address such aword to your Ubara, Slave!”demanded she.

“Slave!” I cried.“Yes,” she taunted, “Slave!”I cast about for the slave collar I

had taken from her throat.“No, no!” she cried, laughing,

almost losing her footing in the furs.Then I had the collar.“You will never collar me!” she

cried.She darted away, laughing. I,

laughing, leaped from the couch,pursuing her. She ran this way andthat, and dodged back and forth,laughing, but then I had her pinnedin the corner of the room, her armsheld down by the walls and mybody, and snapped the collar againon her throat. I lifted her andcarried her again to the furs andthrew her down upon them.

She jerked at the collar andlooked up at me, as though in fury.

I held her wrists down.“You will never tame me!” she

hissed.I kissed her.“Well,” she said, “perhaps you

will tame me.”I kissed her again.“Ah,” she said, looking up at me,

“it is not unlikely that in the end Iwill succumb to you.”

I laughed.But then, as though infuriated by

my laughter, she began to struggleviciously. “But, in the meantime,”she hissed, between clenched teeth,“I shall resist you with all mymight!”

I laughed again, and she laughed,and I permitted her to struggle untilshe had exhausted herself, and then,with lips and hands, and teeth andtongue, I touched her, until her

body, caressed and loved, in all itsloneliness and passion, yieldeditself, moaning and crying out, tomine in our common ecstasy. And inthe moments before she yielded,when I sensed her readiness, to herfaint protest, then joy, I removedfrom her throat the slave collar thather yielding, our game ended,would be that of the free woman,glorious in the eager and willing,the joyous, bestowal of herself.

“I love you,” she said.“I love you, too,” I said. “I love

you, my Telima.”“But sometime,” she said,

teasingly, “you must love me as a

slave girl.”“Women!” I cried, in

exasperation.“Ever woman,” said Telima,

“sometimes wishes to be loved as aUbara, and sometimes as a slavegirl.”

“1Oh,” I said.For a long time we lay together

in one another’s arms.“My Ubar,” she said.“Yes,” I said.“Why, at the feast, when the

singer sang,” she asked, “did youweep?”

“For no reason,” I said.We lay side by side, looking up

at the ceiling.“Years ago,” she said, “when I

was so much younger, I recallhearing sing of Tarl of Bristol.”

“In the marshes?” I asked.“Yes,” she said, “sometimes a

singer comes to the rence islands.But, too, when I was a slave in PortKar I heard sing of Tarl of Brstol,in the house of my master.”

Telima had never spoken much tome of her slavery in Port Kar. Shehad hated her master, I had known,and she had escaped. And, as I hadsensed, her slavery had scarred herdeeply. In the marshes I had beenunfortunate enough to taste

something of the hatreds andfrustrations that had been built upwithin her. Her wounds had beendeep, and having been hurt by a manit had been her desire to hurt one inturn, and cruelly so, that in hissuffering her imagined vengeanceon another would be the sweeter.Telima was a strange woman. Iwondered again how she had comeby an armlet of gold. And Irecalled, now puzzled again, thatshe, though a rence girl, had beenable to read the lettering on thecollar I had placed on her one nightlong ago.

But I did not speak to her of these

things, for she was speaking to me,dreamily, remembering.

“When I was a girl on the renceisland,” she said, “and later,sometimes at night, when I was aslave, in my cage in my master’shouse, I would lie awake and thinkof the songs, and of heroes.”

I touched her hand.“And sometimes,” she said,

“even often, I would think of thehero Tarl of Bristol.”

I said nothing.“Do you think there is such a

man?” she asked.“No,” I said.“Could not such a man exist?”

she asked. She had rolled over onher stomach, and was looking at me.I was lying on my back, looking atthe ceiling.

“In songs,” I said. “Such a manmight exist in songs.”

She laughed. “Are there noheroes?” she asked.

“No,” I told her. “there are noheroes.”

She said nothing.“There are only human beings,” I

told her.I lay looking for a long time at

the ceiling.“Human beings,” I told her, “are

weak. They are capable of cruelty.

They are selfish, and greedy, andvain and petty. They can be vicious,and there is much in them that isugly and worthy only of contempt” Ilooked at her. “All men,” I told her,“are corruptible. There are noheroes, no Tarls of Bristol.”

She smiled at me. “There is goldand steel,” she said.

“And the bodies of women,” Isaid.

“And songs,” she said.“Yes,” I said, “and songs.”1p>She laid her head on my

shoulder.Dimly, far off, I heard the ringing

of a great bar.

Though it was early i heardnoises in the house. Some men,down one or another of thecorridors, were shouting.

I sat up on the couch, and drewabout myself my robes.

I heard feet running in thecorridor, approaching.

“The blade,” I said to Telima.She leaped up, and picked up the

sword, which lay near the wall,where I had thrown it some hoursbefore, where I had not slain her.

I put the blade in my scabbard,and wrapped the straps about thescabbard.

The steps were close now, and

then I heard a pounding at my door.“Captain!” I heard.It was Thurnock.“Enter!” I called.Thurnock burst in. He stood

there, within the room, his eyeswild, his hair wild, holding a torch.“Patrol ships have returned,” hecried. “The joint fleets of Cos andTyros are but hours from us!”

“Outfit my ships,” I said.“There is no time!” he cried.

“And captains are fleeing! All whocan are leaving Port Kar!”

I looked at him.“Flee, my Captain!” he said.

“Flee!”

“You may go,” said I,“Thurnock.”

He looked at me, confused, andthen turned and stumbled awaydown the hall. Somewhere I heard agirl screaming in fear.

I dressed, and slung the swordover my left shoulder.

“Take your ships and what menare left to you,” said Telima. “Fillyour ships with treasure and fly, myUbar.”

I regarded her. How beautiful shewas.

“Let Port Kar die!” she cried.I picked up the broad scarlet

ribbon, with its medallion, that with

the tarn ship and the initials of theCouncil of Captains.

I put it in my pouch.“Let Port Kar burn,” said Telima.

“Let Port Kar die!”“You are very beautiful, my

love,” I told her.“Let Port Kar die!” she cried.“It is my city,” I said. “I must

defend it.”I heard her weeping as I left the

room.Strangely there was little in my

mind as I walked to the great hall,where the feast had been held. Iwalked as though I might beanother, no knowing myself.

I knew what I would do, and yet Iknew not why I would do it.

To my surprise, in the great hall,I found gathered the officers fo mymen.

I think there was not one that wasthere.

I looked from face to face, thegreat Thurnock, now calm, swift,strong Clitus, the shrewd oar-master, the others. Many of thesemen were cutthroats, killers,pirates. I wondered why they werein this room.

A door at the side opened andTab strode in, his sword over hisleft shoulder. “I am sorry, Captain,”

said he, “I was attending my ship.”We regarded one another evenly.

And then I smiled. “I am forunate,”I said, “to have one so diligent inmy service.”

“Captain,” said he.“Thurnock,” I said, “I gave

orders, did I not, to have my shopsoutfitted.”

Thurnock grinned, the toothmissing on his upper right side. “Itis being done,” he said.

“what are we to do?” asked oneof my captains.

What could on say to them? If thejoint fleets of Cos and Tyros wereindeed almost upon us, there was

little to do but flee, or fight. Wewere truly read to do neither. Evenhad the fortunes I had brought fromthe treasure fleet been appliedimmediately after my return to thecity, we could not, in the time, haveoutfitted a fleet to match that whichmust be decending upon us.

“What would be your estimate ofthe size of the fleet of Cos andTyros,” I asked Tab.

He did not hesitate. “Fourthousand ships,” he said.

“Tarn ships?” I asked.“All,” he said.His surmise agreed closely with

the reports of my spies. The fleet

would consist, according to myinformation, of forty-two hundredships, twenty-five hundred fromCos and seventeen hundred fromTyros. Of the forty-two hundred,fifteen hundred would be galleysheavy class, two thousand medium-clas galleys, and seven hundredlight galleys. A net, a hundredpasangs wide, was closing on PortKar.

It seemed that only the departuredate of the fleet had eluded myspies. I laughed, yet I could notblame them. One scarcelyadvertises such matters. And shipsmay be swiftly outfitted and

launched, if materials and crewsare at hand. The council and I hadapparently miscalculated thedamage done by the capture of thetreasure fleet to the war plans ofCos and Tyros. We had notexpected the launching of the fleetot take places until the spring.Besides, it was now in Se’Kara,late in the season to launch tarnships. Most sailing, save by roundships, is done in the spring andsummer. In Se’Kara, particularlylater in the month, there are oftenhigh seas on Thassa. We had beentaken totally unprepared. It wasdangerous to attack us now. In this

bold stroke I saw not the hand ofLurius, Ubar of Cos, but of thebrilliant Chenbar of Kasra, Ubar ofTyros, the Sea Sleen.

I admired him. He was a goodcaptain.

“What shall we do, Captain?”ask teh officer once more.

“What do you propose?” I askedhim, smiling.

He looked at me, startled. “Thereis only one thing to do,” he said,“and that is to ready our ships, takeour treasure and slaves aboard, andflee. We are strong, and may take anisland on our own, one of thenorthern islands. There you can be

Ubar and we can be your men.”“Many of the captains,” said

another officer, “are alreadyweighing anchor for the northernislands.”

“And others,” said another, “forthe southern ports.”

“Thassa is broard,” said anotherofficer. “There are many islands,many ports.”

“And what of Port Kar?” I asked.“She has no Home Stone,” said

one of the men.I smiled. It was true. Port Kar, of

al the cities on Gor, was the onlyone that had no Home Stone. I didnot know if men did not love her

because she had on Home Stone, orthat she had no Home Stone becausemen did not love her.

The officer had proposed, asclearly as one might, that the city beabandoned to the flames, and to theravaging seamen of Cos and Tyros.

Port Kar had no Home Stone.“How many of you think,” I

asked, “that Port Kar has no HomeStone?”

The men looked at one another,puzzled. All knew, of course, thatshe had no Home Stone.

There was silence.Then, after a time, Tab said, “I

think that she might have one.”

“But,” said I, “she does not yethave one.”

“No,” said Tab.“I,” said one of the men, “wonder

what it would be like to live in actiy where there is a Home Stone.”

“How does a city obtain a HomeStone?” I asked.

“Men decide that she hasll haveone,” said Tab.

“Yes,” I said, “that is how it isthat a city obtains a Home Stone.”

The men looked at one another.“Send the slave boy Fish before

me,” I said.The men looked at one another,

not understanding, but one went to

fetch the boy.I knew that none of the slaves

would have fled. They would nothave been able to. The alarm hadcome in the night, and, at night, in aGorean household, it is common forthe slaves to be confined; certainlyin my house, as a wise percaution, Ikept my slaves well secured; evenMidice, when she had snuggledagainst me in the love furs, when Ihad finished with her, was alwayschained by the right ankle to theslave ring set in the bottom of mycouch. Fish would have beenchained in the kitchen, side by sidewith Vina.

The boy, white-faced, alarmed,was shoved into my presence.

“Go outside,” I told him, “andfind a rock, and bring it to me.”

He looked at me.“Hurry!” I said.He turned about and ran from the

room.We waited quietly, not speaking,

until he returned. He held in hishand a sizable rock, somewhatbigger than my fist. It was acommon rock, not very large, andgray and heavy, granular in texture.

I took the rock.“A knife,” I said.I was handed a knife.

I cut in the rock the initials, inblock Gorean script, of Port Kar.

Then I held out in my hand therock.

I held it up so that the men couldsee.

“What have I here?” I asked.Tab said it, and quietly, “The

Home Stone of Port Kar.”“Now,” said I, facing the man

who had told me there was but onechoice, that of flight, “shall wefly?”

He looked at the simple rock,wonderingly. “I have never had aHome Stone before,” he said.

“Shall we fly?” I asked.

“Not if we have a Home Stone,”he said.

I held up the rock. “Do we have aHome Stone?” I asked the men.

“I will accept it as my HomeStone,” said the slave boy, Fish.None of the men laughed. The firstto accept the Home Stone of PortKar was only a boy, and a slave.But he had spoken as a Ubar.

“And I!” cried Thurnock, in hisgreat, booming voice.

“And I!” cried Clitus.“And I!” said Tab.“And I!” cried the men in the

room. And, suddenly, the room wasfilled with cheers and more than a

hundred weapons left their sheathsand saluted the Home Stone of PortKar. I saw weathered seamen weepand cry out, brandishing theirswords. There was joy in that roomthen such as I had never before seenit. And there was a belonging, and avictory, and a meaningfulness, andcries, and the clashing of weapons,and tears and, in that instant, love.

I cried to Thurnock. “Release allthe slaves! Send them throughout thecity, to the wharves, the taverns, thearsenal, the piazzas, the markets,everywhere! Tell them to cry outthe news! Tell them to tell everyonethat there is a Home Stone in Port

Kar!”Men ran from the room to carry

out orders.“Officers,” I cried, “to your

ships! Form your lines beyond theharbor four pasangs west of thewharves of Sevarius!”

“Thurnock and Clitus,” I said,“remain in the holding.”

“No!” they cried together.“Remain!” I ordered.They looked at one another in

dismay.I could not send them to their

deaths. I had no hopes that Port Karcould muster enough ships to fendoff the joint fleet of Cos and Tyros.

I turned away from them, and,with the stone, strode from theroom.

Outside the holding, on the broadpromenade before of the holding,bordering on the lakelike courtyard,with the canal gate beyond, Iordered a swift, tharlarionprowedlongboat made ready.

Even from where I was I couldhear, beyond the holding, the criesthat there was a Home Stone in PortKar, and could see torches beingborne along the narrow walkswhich, in most places, line thecanals.

“Ubar,” I heard, and I turned to

take Telima in my arms.“Will you not fly?” she begged,

tears in her eyes.“Listen,” I told her. “Hear them?

Hear what they are crying outside?”“They are crying that there is a

Home Stone in Port Kar,” she said,“but there is no Home Stone in PortKar. Everyone knows that.”

“If men will that there be a HomeStone in Port Kar,” I said, “then inPort Kar there will be a HomeStone.”

“Fly,” she wept.I kissed her and leaped down

into the longboat, which was nowbeside the promenade.

The men shoved off with theoars.

“To the Council of Captains,” Itold them.

The tharlarion head of the craftturned toward the canal gate.

I turned to lift my hand infarewell to Telima. I saw herstanding there, near the entryway tomy holding, in the garment of theKettle Slave, under the torches. Shelifted her hand.

Then I took my seat in thelongboat.

I noted that at one of the oars satthe slave boy Fish.

“It is a man’s work that must now

be done, Boy,” I said to him.He drew on the oar. “I am a

man,” he said, “Captain.”I saw the girl Vina standing

beside Telima.But Fish did not look back.The ship nosed through the canals

of Port Kar toward the hall of theCouncil of Captains.

There were torches everywhere,and lights in the windows.

We heard the cry about ussweeping the city, like a sparkigniting the hearts of men intoflame, that now in Port Kar therewas a Home Stone.

A man stood on a narrow walks,

a bundle on his back, tied over aspear. “Is it true, Admiral?” hecried. “Is it true?”

“If you will have it true,” I toldhim, “it will be true.”

He looked at me, wonderingly,and then the tharlarion-prowedlongboat glided past him in thecanal, leaving him behind.

I looked once behind, and sawthat he had thrown the bundle fromhis spear, and was following us,afoot.

“There is a Home Stone in PortKar!” he cried.

I saw others stop, and thenfollow him.

The canals we traversed werecrowded, mostly with smalltharlarion boats, loaded with goods,moving this way and that. All whocould, it seemed, were fleeing thecity.

I had heard already that men withlarger ships, hundreds of them, hadput out to sea, and that the wharveswere packed with throngs, biddingexorbitant amounts of gold for apassage from Port Kar. Manyfortunes, I thought, would be madethis night in Port Kar.

“Make way for the Admiral!”cried the man in the bow of thelongboat. “Make way for the

admiral!”We saw frightened faces looking

out from the windows. Men werehurrying along the narrow walkslining the canals. I could see theshining eyes of urts, their noses andheads dividing the torchlit waterssilently, their pointed, silken earslaid back against the sides of theirheads.

“Make way for the Admiral!”cried the man in the bow of thelongboat.

Our boat mixed oars withanother, and then we shoved apartand continued on our way.

Children were crying. I heard a

woman scream. Men were shouting.Everywhere dark figures, bundleson their backs, were scurryingalong the sides of the canals. Manyof the boats we passed werecrowded with frightened peopleand goods.

Many of those we passed askedme, “Is it true, Admiral, that there isa Home Stone in Port Kar,” and Iresponded to them, as I had to theman before, “If you will have ittrue, it will be true.”

I saw a man at the tiller of one ofthe 1boats put about.

There were now torches on bothsides of the canals, in long lines,

following us, and boats, too, beganto follow us.

“Where are you going?” asked aman from a window of the passingthrong.

“I think to the Council ofCaptains,” said one of the men onthe walk. “It is said that there isnow a Home Stone in Port Kar.”

And I heard men behind him cry,“There is a Home Stone in PortKar! There is a Home Stone in PortKar!” This cry was taken up bythousands, and everywhere I sawmen pause in their flight, and boatsput about, and men pour from theentryways of their buildings onto

the walks lining the canals. I sawbundles thrown down and armsunsheathed, and behind us, inthrongs of thousands now, came thepeople of Port Kar, following us tothe great piazza before the halls ofthe Council of Captains.

Even before the man in the bowhad tied the tharlarion-prowedlongboat ot a mooring post at thepiazza, I had leaped up to the tilesand was striding, robes swirling,across the squares of the broardpiazza toward the great door of thehall of the Council of Captains.

Four members of the CouncilGuard, beneath the two great

braziers set at the entrance, leapedto attention, the butts of their pikesstriking on the tiles.

I swept past them and into thehall.

Candles were lit on several ofthe tables. Papers were strewnabout. There were few scribes orpages there. Of the usual seventy oreighty, or so, captains of theapproximately one hundred andtwenty entitled to sit in the council,only some thirty or forty werepresent.

And even as I entered some twoor three left the hall.

The scribe, haggard behind the

great table, sitting before the bookof the council, looked up at me.

I glanced about.The captains sat silently. Samos

was there, and I saw that short-cropped white hair buried in hisrough hands, his elbows on hisknees.

Two more captains rose to theirfeet and left the room.

One of them stopped besideSamos. “Make your ships ready,”he said. “There is not much time toflee.”

Samos shook him away.I took my chair. “I petiton,” said I

to the scribe, as though it might be

an ordinary meeting, “to address thecouncil.”

The scribe was puzzled.The captains looked up.“Speak,” said the Scribe.“How may of you,” asked I of the

captains, “stand read to undertakethe defense of your city?”

Dark, long-haired Bejar wasthere. “Do not jest,” said he,“Captain.” He spoke irritably.“Most of the captains have alreadyfled. And hundreds of the lessercaptains. The round ships and thelong ships leave the harbor of PortKar. The people, as they can, flee.Panic has swept the city. We cannot

find ships to fight.”“The people,” said Antisthenes,

“flee. The will not fight. They aretruly of Port Kar.”

“Who knows what it is to be trulyof Port Kar?” I asked Antisthenes.

Samos lifted his head andregarded me.

“The people flee,” said Bejar.“Listen!” I cried. “Hear them!

They are outside!”The men of the council lifted

their heads. Through the thickwalls, and the high, narrowwindows of the hall of the Councilof Captains, there came a great,rumbling cry, the thunderous

mixture of roiling shouts.Bejar swept his sword from his

sheath, “They have come to kill us!”he cried.

Samos lifted his hand. “No,” hesaid, “listen.”

“What is it they are saying?”asked a man.

A page rushed into the hall. “Thepeople!” he cried. “They crowd thepiazza. Torches! Thousands!”

“What is it that they cry!”demanded Bejar.

“They cry,” said the boy, in hissilk and velvet, “that in Port Karthere is a Home Stone!”

“There is no Home Stone in Port

Kar,” said Antisthenes.“There is,” I said.The captains looked at me.Samos threw back his head and

roared with laughter, pounding thearms of the curule chair.

Then the other captains, too,laughed.

“There is no Home Stone in PortKar!” laughed Samos.

“I have seen it,” said a voicenear me. I was startled. I lookedabout and, to my wonder, saw,standing near me, the slave boyFish. Slaves are not permitted in thehall of the captains. He hadfollowed me in, through the guards,

in the darkness.“Bind that slave and beat him!”

cried the scribe.Samos, with a gesture, silenced

the scribe.“Who are you?” asked Samos.“A slave,” said the boy. “My

name is Fish.”The men laughed.“But,” said the boy, “I have seen

the Home Stone of Port Kar.”“There is no Home Stone of Port

Kar, Boy,” said Samos/. The, slowly, from my robes, I

removed the object which I hadhidden there. No one spoke. Alleyes were upon me. I slowly

upwrapped the silk.“It is the Home Stone of Port

Kar,” said the boy.The men were silent.The Samos said, “Port Kar has

no Home Stone.”“Captains,” said I, “accompany

me to the steps of the hall.”They followed me, and I left the

chamber of the council, and, in afew moments, stood on the top ofthe broad marbled steps leading upto the hall of the Council ofCaptains.

“It is Bosk,” cried the people. “Itis Bosk, Admiral!”

I looked out into the thousands of

faces, the hundreds of torches.I could see the canals far away,

over the heads of the people,crowded even to the distant watersbordering the great piazza. And inthose waters beyond there werecrowded hundreds of boats,, filledwith men, many of them holdingtorches, the flames’ reflectionflickering on the walls of thebuildings and on the water.

I said nothing, but faced thecrowd for a long moment.

And then, suddenly, I lifted myright arm, and held in my right hand,high over my head, was the stone.

“I have seen it!” cried a man,

weeping. “I have seen it! The HomeStone of Port Kar!”

There were great cheers, andcries, and shouts, and the lifting oftorches and weapons. I saw menweep. And women. And I sawfathers lift their sons upon theirshoulders that they might see thestone.

I think the cries of joy in thepiazza might have carried even tothe moons of Gor.

“I see,” said Samos, standingnear to me, his voice indistinct inthe wild cries of the crowd, “thatthere is indeed a Home Stone inPort Kar.”

“You did not flee,” I said, “nordid the others, nor have thesepeople.”

He looked at me puzzled.“I think,” I said, “that there has

always been a Home Stone in PortKar. It is only that until this night ithad not been found.”

We looked out over the vastthrong, shaken in its jubilation andits tears.

Samos smiled. “I think,” said he,“Captain, you are right.”

Near to me, tears in his eyes,shouting, was the slave boy Fish.And I saw tears, too, in the eyes ofthe vast crowds, with their torches,

before me.There was much shouting, and a

great crying out.“Ye, Captain,” said Samos, “I

think that you are right.”

Chapter 17How Bosk Conducted the

Affairs of Port Kar UponThassa

I stood in the swaying basket atthe height of the mast of the Dorna,the glass of the builders in hand.

It was a very beautiful sight, thegreat lines of ships in the distance,

extending to the ends of thehorizons, the sails like yellow andpurple flags, in their thousands, inthe sun of the ninth Gorean hour, anAhn before noon.

Port Kar had mustered whatships she could.

In the hurrying of our formationsand the drawing of battle plans, Iwas not even certain of the numbersof ships engaged in our variousventures. The nearest estimations Icould make were that we werebringing, at the time of theengagement, in the neighborhood oftwenty-five hundred ships, fourteenhundred of them only round ships,

against the joint fleet of Cos andTyros, of some forty-two hundredships, all tam ships, nowapproaching from the west. We hadall of the arsenal ships that wereavailable, some seven hundred outof an approximate thousand. Somany were in the arsenal because ofthe lateness of the season. As I mayhave mentioned, most Goreansailing, particularly by tarn ships, isdone in the spring and summer. Ofthe seven hundred arsenal ships,three hundred and forty were tamships, and three hundred and sixtywere round ships. Our fleet wasfurther supplemented by some

fourteen hundred ships furnished byprivate captains, minor captains ofPort Kar, most of which were roundships. Beyond this, we had threehundred and fifty ships furnished bythe captains of the council who hadnot, prior to the time of the showingof the Home Stone, fled. Of thesethree hundred and fifty ships,approximately two hundred,happily, were tarn ships. my ownships counted in with th1ese of thecaptains of the council. Lastly, Iwas pleased, though astonished, toaccept the service of thirty-fiveships of two of Port Kar’s Ubars,twenty from the squat, brilliant

Chung, and fifteen from tall, long-haired Nigel, like a war lord fromTorvaidsland. These were all theships that were left to these twoUbars after the fires of En’Kara.None of the ships of the UbarsEteocles or SuUius Maximus hadbeen pledged to the fleet, nor, ofcourse, none of those of HenriusSevarius, under the command of hisregent, Claudius, once of Tyros.

Had it not been for the finding ofthe Horne Stone of Port Kar, if onemay so speak, I doubt that we couldhave brought more than four or fivehundred ships against Cos andTyros.

I snapped shut the glass of thebuilders and descended the narrowrope ladder to the deck of theDorna.

I had scarcely set foot on thedeck when I saw, near the mastwell, the boy Fish.

“I told you,” I cried, “to remainashore!”

“Beat me later,” said be,“Captain.”

I turned to an officer. “Give hima sword,” I said.

“Thank you, Captain,” said theboy.

I strode to the stern castle of theDorna.

“Greetings, Oar-master,” said I.“Greetings, Captain,” said be.I climbed the stairs past the helm

deck to the captain’s deck of thestem castle.

I looked out.Astern there were, each

separated by about one hundredyards, four tarn ships of Port Kar,and behind this four, there wasanother, and behind that another,and behind that another. The Dornawas thus leading a relatively closeformation of sixteen tarn ships. Thiswas one of fifty such task forces,consisting altogether of eighthundred tam ships. The attacking

fleet, in order to provide its net toprevent escape from Port Kar, hadoverextended its lines. Their shipswere only four deep and widelyspaced. Our sets of sixteen ships,each in a position not to interferewith but support one another, couldcut such a line easily. We would cutit in fifty places. As soon as theships broke through the line theywould spread in predesignatedpairs, attacking where possiblefrom the rear, but alwaysconjointly. Each pair would singleout a given ship by signals and as itmaneuvered to meet one the othercould make its strike. The balance,

the great majority of ships in thejoint fleet, thus, would remain, atleast for the time, unengaged, apartfrom the battles. Once more itwould not be so much a question ofabsolute numbers of ships asconcentrating superior numbers atstrategic points. With their lines cutin fifty places, for no extendedhandful of tarn ships, part of a greatline, could resist a close-setformation of sixteen tarn ships, Ihoped that many of the ships wouldturn to face the attackers, now intheir rear. Each of my fifty sets ofattacking tam ships would befollowed, by some half of an Ahn,

by another pair of my tarn ships,which, hopefully, would be able totake a number of these come-aboutships of Cos and Tyros from therear. I recalled the Doma, undersimilar circumstances, had donegreat damage. The original pairs, ofthe fifty sets of sixteen tarn ships,after cutting the line and fighting,would, if possible, regroup withtheir sixteen and recut the lineagain, this time moving toward PortKar, and repeat these tactics. I had,however, little hope that we couldsuccessfully, in many cases, cut theline more than once. By that timethe ships of Cos and Tyros would

have concentrated in their numbersan1d shortened their lines. After thefirst cutting I expected a freecombat, except insofar as thedesignated pairs of ships couldcontinue to work together. Thepredesignation of fighting pairs,inciden-tally, and my injunctions torefuse to engage singly if possible,even withdrawing from equal odds,I am told, was new in Gorean navalwarfare, though the pairingprinciple, on a more informal basis,is as old as the triangle tactic,which may be remembered from theen-gagement of my nondiversionships with the ships which had been

left behind to guard the treasurefleet. I had also arranged signalswhereby my ships, those of my taskforces and others, might, if the pairsbecame separated, switch partners,thus retaining the possibility ofpair-at-tacks on single ships even ifthe members of the original pairsshould become separated.

The first two waves of my attackconsisted, thus, of fifty task forcesof sixteen tam ships apiece and,following each of the task forces, atan interval of half an Ahn, anotherpair of tam ships. This meant thefirst wave consisted of eighthundred ships, and the second of

one hundred.This left me approximately one

hundred and eighty-five tam ships,and the large numbers, fourteenhundred, of round ships.

I signaled that the sixteen tamships with me should proceed. Theypulled away, acknowledging withflags my message. The Domadropped back.

i would have preferred to gowith them, but, as a commander, Icould not.

My third wave, following thesecond by an Ahn, would consist ofa long extended line of round ships,the fun fourteen hundred. It was my

hope that by the time they arrived atthe engagement the fleet of Cos andTyros, responding to my first twowaves, would have shortened theirlines and concentrated their ships.Thus the fourteen hundred roundships might, hopefully, be able toenvelop their formation, surround it,and attack on the flanks, with theirnot inconsiderable barrage offlaming javelins, heated stones,burning pitch and showers ofcrossbow bolts. Further, when theships of Cos and Tyros turned uponthese round ships I did not thinkthey would find them common foes.Each was rowed either by citizens

of Port Kar or by eager slaves,armed and uncbained, that theymight, if they chose, fight for theirfreedom and the Home Stone of acity. Only slaves whose origin wasof Cos or Tyros, or their allies, hadbeen taken from the ships and leftbehind, chained in the warehousesof Port Kar. Besides having largenumbers of unchained, armed menin their rowing holds, these roundships, moreover, were, belowdecks, and in the turrets and thestem and stern castles, crowdedwith armed, able-bodied men,citizens of Port Kar who hadswarmed aboard, that they might

fight. There were crews on theseships armed with grappling ironsand each of the ships carried two ormore of the spiked planks. Theseare actually like gangplanks, someflve feet in width, to be fastened atone end to the round ship andintended to be dropped, with theirheavy spiked ends, into the deck ofan enemy ship. The round ship has asubstantially higher freeboard areathan the ram-ship, which is lower,and so the spiked plank is feasible.Commonly, of course, it is theround ship, with her normallysmall, free crews, which attempts toevade boarding. But now I

expected, to the surprise ofattacking ram-ships which mightattempt to board them, they wouldfind themselves boarded, and theirdecks over-whelmed with swarmsof armed, free men. We hadcrowded far more armed men intoeach of these round s than would becarried even in the normal crew ofa heavy-class tam ship. Thecommon strategy with a round shipis to shear and board, because,normally, one wishes not to sink theship but take it as a prize. Thisstrategy, however, we expectedwould work, under the presentcondi-tions, to our advantage. And

if the tarn ships of Cos and Tyrosshould use their rains, we hopedthat, in the mo-ments it would taketo disengage the ram, the grapplingirons and the spiked planks mightbe brought into play. Meanwhile, ofcourse, the numerous bowmen, andthe men at the springals, catapultsand onagers would be keeping up aheavy fire, the more devastating, thecloser the distance. It was my hopethat my round ships, with theirlarge, free crews, and theirartillery, and their boardingpotentialities, might be a match foreven heavy-class tarn ships. Ineffect, rather than do sea battle, they

would attempt to close with theenemy and, via the rails and thespiked planks, board her and fightwhat would be, for most practicalpurposes, a land engagement at sea.

My fourth wave consisted of fiftytarn ships, instructed not to lowertheir masts, which would follow theround ships by an Ahn. Coming onthe heels of the round ships, withtheir masts high, these, I assumed,might well be taken for more roundships, for the mast of a tarn ship isalways lowered before battle.Accordingly I hoped the tarn shipsof Cos and Tyros, seeing the sails,would think their new enemies

were single-masted round ships, ofwhich there are some types, andeither misjudge their speeds or rushon them unwarily, finding out, toolate, that they were plungingheadlong toward swift, maneu-verable, deadly, ram-carrying tamships. These ships would then,when free to do so, support theround ships in their battle,destroying tarn ships which might,unaware of the new danger, beattempting to close with them.

My fifth wave, following thefourth by half an Ahn, consisted oftwo fleets of forty tarn ships apiece,one attacking from the north and the

other from the south. I did not thinkI had the ships to make this pincerattack truly devastating, but, in theturmoil of a battle at sea, withoutthe clearest understanding of theposition and numbers of the enemy,such flanking attacks might haveunusual psychological value. TheAdmiral of Cos and Tyros, ChenbarI supposed, could not know theexact numbers and disposition ofour forces. Indeed, we our-selves,until early this morning, had not afull comprehension of our plans, or,indeed, even the ships we wouldhave to carry them out. I hoped thatChenbar might assume that many of

the ships which had fled from PortKar might have come about anddecided to join the battle, or hemight infer that he had, before hecould ascertain the ships involvedin the flanking attacks, seriouslymis-judged our numbers. Theflanking attack, of course, wasmounted as late as it was because,until the fleet of Cos and Tyros hadshortened their lines andconcentrated their ships, to meet ourearlier moves, it would have beenimpractical. Hopefully, the terror ofbeing taken in the flank might causemany captains, or even Chenbarhimself, to have the fleet put about,

and, if so’, this would make theirships the most vulnerable to ourown.

We saw my second-wave shipssweep past, the pairs scatteringthemselves, each pair following itsassigned task force.

The Dorna rested, rocking on thewaters, her oars inboard.

I kept in reserve one hundred andfive tam ships, which,simultaneously with the fifth wave,that of the flanking fleets, woulddraw within signal distance of theDorna.

“Shall I lower our mast,Captain?” asked one of my officers.

“No,” I told him.I would wish to use its height to

observe, as well as I might, thebattle.

It was fall, and the wind wascold whipping across the water.Clouds scudded across the sky. Inthe north there was a darkness lyinglike a line against the horizon. W1ehad had a frost in the morning.

“Furl the sail,” I told an officer.He began to cry orders to the

seamen.Soon seamen were clambering

out on the long sloping yard and,assisted by others on the deck,hauling on brail ropes, were tying

in the long triangular sail.I studied the surface of the water

to windward.“What shall we do now?” asked

an officer.“Lay to,” I told him.“What will you do now?” he

asked.“I am going to sleep,” I told him.

“Call me in half an Ahn.”After some sleep I felt much

refreshed.Upon awakening I was served

some bread and cheese in my cabin.I came out on the deck.The wind was very cold now,

and, the Doma shook in it, the

windward waters striking at herhull. We had both the stern and stemanchors down.

I was given my Admiral’s cloakand I flung this over my shoulder,my left, that to which the strapcarrying the glass of the builderswas attached. I then thrust somestrips of dried tarsk meat in my belt.I called the lookout down from thebasket, that I might climb to hisplace. In the basket I wrapped theadmiral’s cloak about me, began tochew on a piece of tarsk meat, asmuch against the cold as the hunger,and took out the glass of thebuilders.

I examined the state of the battle.Tarsk meat tends to be salty.

There is usually a water gourd keptat the masthead, for the lookout. Iuncorked the gourd and took someof the water. There had been a lightfilm of ice in it. Some of thecrystals melted in my mouth.

The line of darkness in the northwas now a margin of darkness.

I turned my attention again to thebattle.

As I watched, the long, strting-out line of round ships of Port Karmoved past, tacking, scarcely usingtheir oars, their small, triangularstorm sails beaten from the north.

The lateen-rigged galley, whether around ship or a ram-ship, althoughit can furl its sail, cannot well letout and take in sail; it is not asquare-rigged craft; accordingly shecarries different sails for differentconditions; the yard itself, from themast, is lowered and hoisted, sailsbeing removed or attached; thethree main types of sail used are alllateens, and differ largely in theirsize; there is a large, fair-weathersail, used with light winds; there isa smaller sail, used with strongwinds astem; and yet a smaller sail,a storm sail, used most often inriding out storms. It was the latter

sail which, although it was unusual,the round ships were using fortacking; had they Used either of thelarger sails, with the sharp wind,they would have heeleddangerously toward the water,perhaps shipping water through theleeward thole ports.

I smiled as the ships swept past.Their decks were al-most deserted.But I knew that, crowded in thestem and stern castles, in the turrets,below decks, in the rowing andcargo holds, there were hundreds ofmen.

I resumed my watch, lifting againthe glass of the builders toward the

west.The ships of my farst wave had

now struck the lines of the fleet ofCos and Tyros.

It was cold in the basket.Behind them, scattered across the

cold waters of Thassa, I could seethe pairs of the second waveproceeding, swiftly gliding, oarsdipping, toward the long lines ofyel-low and purple sails in thedistance, yellow for Tyros, purplefor Cos.

I wondered how many menwould die.

I pulled the admiral’s cloak moreclosely about me. I asked myself

who I was, and I told myself, I didnot know. I knew only that I wascold, and that I was alone, and that,far in the distance, men were:fighting, and so, too, would others.

I wondered if my plans had beengbod ones, and I told myself I didnot know that, either. There were somany thousands of factors,impossible to foresee, so much thatmight alter, or shift unaccountably.

I knew Chenbar to be a brilliantUbar and captain, but even he, thebrilliant Chenbar, could not wellhave understood our plans, ourdispositions and our ventures, forwe ourselves, until hours before,

had not known with what we mightwork and how it might be used.

I did not expect to win the day.It seemed to me a fool’s choice

that I had not, when it had beenpossible, fled Port Kar. Surelymany captains, of the council andotherwise, had done so, their holdsfilled with their chained slaves andsecured treasures. Why had I notfled? Why had not these others?Were all men fools? Now menwould die. Is anything worth somuch as a human life? Is not themost ab ect surrender preferable tothe risk of its loss? Is it not better togrovel as a slave, begging the favor

of life from a master, than to riskthe loss of even one life? I recalledthat I, once, in the far marshes of thedelta of the Vosk, had whined andgroveled that I might live, and now,I, that same coward, wrapped in therobes of an admiral, watched thelocking of the lines of battle,watched men move to fates anddestructions, or victories, to whichI had sent them, knowing as little asI did of life, or war, or fortunes.

Surely there must be others morefitted than I to assume theresponsibilities of such wordssending men forth to fight, to die orlive. What would they think of me

as they fell beneath the cold watersof Thassa or reeled from the blowsof sword blades, their death’sblood in their mouths? Would theysing me then? And what guilt must Ibear for each of those deaths, for ithad been my words, those of anignorant fool, which had sent themto the waters and the blades?

I should have told them all toflee. Instead I had given them aHome Stone.

“Admiral!” cried a voice below.“Look!” The voice came from aseaman, he, too, with a glass, highon the prow of the Dorna. “TheVeniaal” he cried. “She has broken

throughl”I lifted the glass to the west.

There, far off, I could see my tarnship, the Venna. She had struck theline of Cos and Tyros, had torn herway through, and was now comingabout, to strike again. With her washer sister ship, the Tela. I saw twoof the tarn ships of Cos and Tyros,one heeled over in the water, theother slipping stern first beneath thewaves. There was wreckage in thewater.

The Venna was under thecommand of the incomparable Tab.

There was a cheer from the menbelow me.

Well done, I thought well done.Several of the ships in the lines

near the point where my task forcehad struck were now coming aboutto meet their enemy.

But, behind them, low in thewater, no inasts, came1 the secondwave of my attack.

I saw the lines of Cos and Tyrosshortening, com-pressing theirformations to bring more ships intoplay at given points. As theydeepened their lines I could nowsee the borders of their fleet, as Ihad not been able to before.

Behind my second-wave ships, Isaw, scattered in its long

enveloping line stretching fromhorizon to hori n aemss Thassa,their small storm sails pounded bythe wind, the third wave, that of theround ships.

I glanced back. Astern of theDorna, not hurrying, at half beat,came fifty tarn ships, their mastshigh, storm sails bound to theirlong, sloping yards. In the turmoilof the battle I had little doubt thatthey would be taken, at first, andper-haps until it was too late, as asecond wave of round ships.

Following the fourth wave, itsown attack timed to occur half anAhn after that of the fourth wave,

would come the fifth wave, the twosmall fleets of tam ships, of fortyships apiece, masts down, whowould initiate their pincers attackfrom the north and the south.

And simultaneously with theinitiation of the pincers attack thebalance of my fleet, the reserves,one hundred and five tam ships,should draw within signal distanceof the Doma.

With the reserves would cometen more round ships, wide-beamedlumber ships from the arsenal.Their cargoes were unknown evento my highest officers.

All the factors which had entered

into my calculations were now inmotion.

But there would be other factors,always others.

I glanced to the north. Then Iopened the glass and studied thewaters to the north. I snapped shutthe glass. Above the waters to thenorth there was now a toweringblackness. Overhead the whiteclouds swept past, like white,leaping Tabuk fleeing from the jawsof the black-maned lart.

It was late in the season.I had not counted on Thassa

herself, her swiftness and hermoods.

I was cold in the basket, and Ichewed on another piece of driedtarsk meat. The water had nowfrozen in the gourd, splitting it.

I reopened the glass of thebuilders, turning it again to thewest.

For better than three Ahn I hadsat in the basket at the masthead ofthe Dorna, whipped by the wind,my fingers numb on the glass of thebuilders, observing the battle.

I had watched my first wavebreak in dozens of places the longlines of Cos and Tyros, and hadseen the ships of the great fleet turnto face them, and had witnessed

their vulnerability to the slendersecond wave of ships, eachwreaking destruction beyond whatmight be expected of their sizes andweights. Then, as the lines of Cosand Tyros had closed anddeepened, to match formations withmy task forces, the great encirclingline of round ships had cast its netabout them. Hundreds of ships had.turned to destroy these clumsyintruders, but, of these hundreds,great numbers discovered, too late,that they fought not common roundships but floating fortresses jammedwith armed men, eager to engage.And then I had seen fleet ships, in

their fifties, come about to moveagainst what they had taken to be anew wave of round ships, only tobe taken off guard by the rams andshearing blades of ships as swiftand terrible as their own. I wasproud of my men and their ships. Ithink they did well. And I did notfeel my strategies were negligible.And yet, as I sat there, I felt that intime the weight of ships andnumbers would be felt. I had onlysome twenty-five hundred ships,most of them round ships, to bringagainst a fleet of prime vessels,some forty-two hundred in strength,each a tam ship with fierce ram and

shearing blades.I could see numerous ships

burning in the dark, windsweptafternoon. Sparks and flames werecarried from one ship to another. Inplaces ships were crowdedtogether, in tens and twelves, aefloating wooden islands in the sea.

The sea was now growing high,and the darkness in the north wasnow half the sky, looming like abeast with wild fur rooting andsniffing for its prey.

The fifth wave was late.The Dorna fought her anchors.

We had lifted them that she mightswing into the wind, and bad then

dropped them once more, but stillshe shook and reared, lifted anddropped into the waters. Hertimbers groaned, and I could hearthe creaking of the bolts, the ironsand great chains that, in places,reinforced her beams.

My fifth wave was divided intotwo portions, the pin-cer bladestriking from the north under thecommand of the tall, long-hairedNigel, with his fifteen ships,supple-mented by twenty-five of thearsenal, and the pincer blade fromthe south under the command ofChung, with his twenty ships,supplemented by another twenty,

from the arsenal. AU of these shipswere tam ships.

But I did not see the fifth wave.I could see, now, approaching-

the Dorna, from the east, thereserves, the hundred and five tarnships, and the ten wide-beamedround ships, lumber ships from thearsenal, whose cargoes wereunknown even to my highestofficers.

I wondered if I should havetrusted the Ubars Nigel and Chung.

The command ship of thereserves heaved to within hailingdistance of the Doma.

With the glass I saw, on her stem

castle, Antisthenes, that captain ofthe council whose name had beenalways first on her rolls.

The other ships took their placesin four lines behind the commandship of the reserves.

And between them, heavy, theirhulls buffeted by the wind, eventheir small storm sails now furledto their yards, came the ten roundships, the lumber ships from thearsenal. Even they, broad-beamedand deep-keeled, pitched andbucked in the roiling waters of lateSe’Kara on Thassa.

I turned the glass again to thewest, to the smoke in the distance.

I saw now that the tam ships ofCos and Tyros were, wherepossible, not engaging the roundships, but con-centrating theirsuperior numbers on my tarn ships.The round ships, slow, much at themercy of the wind, were now beingabandoned as antagonists.

I smiled. Chenbar was anexcellent admiral. He chose to fightwars in which he was mostfamiliar. He would use his superiornumbers on my tam ships, leavingthe round ships for later, when theymight be struck by as many as fouror five tam ships simultaneously.The round ships, of course, were

too slow to offer the swift, decisivesupport to my tam ships which theywould surely need shortly.

I Closed the glass, and blew onmy fingers. It was very cold, and itnow seemed to me that the outcomeof the battle was written on thatgreat board, the width of thehorizon, the pieces ships and men,which lay burning and smoking inthe distance.

The wind whipped past.Then I heard a cry from below

me, and a cheer. The1 man on theheight of the prow, his builders’glass slung about his shoulder,standing his feet fixed in ropes, was

waving his cap’in the air. Theoarsmen below were cry-ing outand waving their caps.

I snapped open the glass of thebuilders. From both the north andthe south, like distant black sliversknifing through the cold waters ofThassa, masts down, came the fleetsof the fifth wave.

I grinned.Chung had been forced to beat

his way northward against the wind.Nigel, wise in the ways of sea war,had held back his ships, the windpounding behind them, that theblades of the pincers might strikesimultaneously, as though wielded

by a single hand and will.I let the builders’ glass, attached

to the strap about my shoulder, fallto my side. I crammed the last of thetarsk meat into my mouth and,chewing, climbed down the narrowrope ladder, fastened to the decknear the mast well.

I leaped from the ladder to thedeck of the Doma and waved myhand to Antisthenes, some hundredyards away on the stem castle of thecommand ship of the reserves. He,in turn, ran a flag up the halyardrunning to the height of the stemturret.

I climbed to my own stem castle.

To cries of wonder from my men,and those of other ships nearby, thedeck planking of the ten round shipswas lifted and thrown aside.

The tam is a land bird, generallyof mountainous origin, though thereare brightly-plumaged jungle tarns.The tarns crowded into the holds ofthe round ships were hooded.Feeling the wind and the coldsuddenly strike them they threwback their heads and beat theirwings, pulled against the chains thatbound them to the keel timbers.

One was unhooded, the strapsthat bound its beak un-buckled.

It uttered its scream, that pierced

even the freezing winds of Thassa.Men shook with fear.It is extremely difficult to take a

tarn far out over the water.I did not know if they could be

controlled at sea.Generally even tarn goads cannot

drive them from the sight of land.I took the glass of the builders,

and its strap, from my shoulder. Ihanded them to a seaman.

“Lower a longboat,” I told anofficer.

“in this sea?”“Hurry!” I cried.The boat was lowered to the

water. At one of the oars, as though

he belonged there, was the slaveboy Fish. The oar-master took thelongboat’s tiller.

We approached the first of theround ships on its leeward side.

Soon I stood on the deck of theround ship.

“You are Terence,” I asked,“mercenary captain of Treve?”

The man nodded.Treve is a bandit city, high

among the crags of the lari-prowledVoltai. Most men do not even knowits location. Once the tamsmen ofTreve had withstood the tarncavalries of even Ar. In Treve theydo not grow their own food but, in

the fall, raid the harvests of others.They live by rapine and plunder.The men of Treve are said to beamong the proudest and mostruthless on Gor. They are most fondof danger and free women, whomthey bind and, steal from ci1vilizedcities to carry to their mountain fairas slave girls. It is said the city canbe reached only on tarnback. I hadonce known a girl from Treve. Hername laad been Vika.

“You have, in the ten roundships,” I said, “one hundred tarns,with riders.”

“Yes,” said he, “and, as youasked, with each tam a knotted rope

and five of the seamen of Port Kar.”I looked down into the open hold

of the round ship. The wicked,curved, scimitarlike beak of theunhooded tarn lifted itself. Its eyesblazed. It looked like a good bird. Iregretted that it was not Ubar of theSkies. It was a reddish brown tam,a fairly common coloring for thegreat birds. Mine own had beenblack-plumaged, a giant tam,glossy, his great talons shod withsteel, a bird bred for speed andwar, a bird who had been, in hisprimitive, wild way, my friend. Ihad driven him from the Sardar.

“I will have a hundred stone of

gold for the use of these birds andmy men,” said Terence of Treve.

“You shall have it,” I said.“I wish payment now,” said the

captain of Treve.I whipped my blade from its

sheath, angrily, and held it to histhroat.

“My pledge is steel,” I said.Terence smiled. “We of Treve”

he said, “understand such apledge.”

I lowered the blade.“Of all the tarnsmen in Port Kar,”

I said, “and of an the captains, youalone have accepted the risks of thisventure, the use of tams at sea.”

There was one other who hadbeen in Port Kar, whom I thoughtmight, too, have undertaken therisks, but he, with his thousand men,had not been in the city for severalweeks. I speak of lean, scarred Ha-Keel, who wore about his neck, ona golden chain, a worn tarn disk, setwith diamonds, of the city of Ar. Hehad cut a throat for that coin, to buysilks and perfumes for a woman, butone who fled with another man; Ha-Keel had hunted them, slain incombat the man and sold the womaninto slavery. He had been unable toreturn to Ar. His forces were nowengaged, I had learned, by the city

of Tor, to quail incursions by tarn-riding desert tribesmen. Theservices of Ha-Keel and his menwere available to the highest bid-der. I knew he had once, throughagents, served the Others, notPriest-Kings, who contestedsurreptitiously for this world, andours. I had met Ha-Keel at a housein Turia, the house of Saphrar, aMerchant.

“I will want the hundred stone,”said Terence, “regardless of theoutcome of your plan.”

“Of course,” I said. Then Iregarded him. “A hundred stone,” Isaid, “though a high price, seems

small enough considering the risksyou will encounter. It is hard for meto believe that you ride only for ahundred stone of gold. And I knowthat the Home Stone of Port Kar isnot yours.”

“We are of Treve,” said Terence.“Give me a tarn goad,” I said.

He handed me one of theinstruments.

I threw off the robes of theAdmiral. I accepted a wind scarffrom another man.

It had begun to sleet now.The tarn can scarcely be taken

from the sight of land. Even drivenby tarn goads he will rebel. These

tarns had been hooded. Whereastheir instincts apparently tend tokeep them within the sight of land, Idid not know what would be thec1ase if they were unhooded at sea,and there was no land to be found.Perhaps they would not leave theship. Perhaps they would go madwith rage or fear. I knew tarns haddestroyed riders who had attemptedto ride them out Over Thassa fromthe shore. But I hoped that the tarns,finding themselves out of the sightof land, might accommodatethemselves to the experience. I washoping, that, in the strangeintelligence of animals, it would be

the departure from land, and not themere positioning of being out of thesight of land, that would be counter-instinctual for the great birds.

Doubtless I would soon know.I leaped down to the saddle of

the unhooded tarn. It screamed as Ifastened the broad purple safetystrap. The tarn goad was loopedabout my right wrist. I wrapped thewind scarf about my face.

“If I can control the bird,” I said,“follow me, and keep theinstructions I have given you.”

“Let me ride first,” said Terenceof Treve.

I smiled. Why would one who

had been a tamsman of Ko-ro-ba,the Towers of the Morning, let oneof Treve, a traditional enemy, takethe saddle of a tam before him? itwould not do, of course, to tell himthis.

“No,” I said.There was a pair of slave

manages wrapped about thepommel of the saddle, also a lengthof rope. These things I thrust in mybelt.

I gestured and the tam hobble,fastening the right foot of the greatbird to a huge bolt set in the ship’skeel, was opened.

I drew on the one-strap.

To my delight the tarn, with asnap of its wings, leaped from thehold. He stood on the deck of theround ship, opening and closing hiswings, looking about himself, andthen threw bark his head andscreamed. The other tarns below inthe hold, some ten of them, shiftedand rattled their hobbles.

The sleet struck down cutting myface.

I drew again on the one-strap andagain the bird’s wings snapped, andhe was on the long, sloping yard onthe round ship’s foremast.

His head was very high andevery nerve in his body seemed

alert, but puzzled. He looked abouthimself.

I did not hurry the bird.I slapped the side of its neck, and

spoke to it, gently, confidently.I drew on the one-strap. The bird

did not move. His talons clutchedthe sloping yard.

I did not use the tarn goad.I waited for some time, stroking

it, and talking to it.And then, suddenly, I gave a cry

and jerked on the one-strap and thebird, by training and instinct, flungitself into the sleeting wind andbegan to climb the dark, runningsky.

I was again on tamback!The bird climbed until I released

the one-strap and then it began tocircle. Its movements were as sureand as swift as though it might havebeen over the familiar crags of theVoltai or the canals of Port Kar.

I tested its responses to thestraps. They were im-mediate andeager. And suddenly I realized thatthe bird was trembling withexcitement and pleasure, findingitself swift and alive and strong in anew world to his senses.

Already, below me, I saw tarnsbeing unhooded, and the straps th1atbound their beaks being unbuckled,

and cast aside. Riders wereclimbing into the saddles. I sawtarns leaping to the decks of theround ships, and I saw the knottedropes being attached to the saddles,and picked seamen, experts with thesword, five to a rope, taking theirpositions. And besides theseseamen, each tarnsman, tied to hissaddle, carried a shielded,protected ship’s lantern, lighted,and, in the pockets of leatheraprons, tied together and thrownacross the saddles numerous clayflasks, corked with rags. Theseflasks I knew, were filled withtharlarion oil, and the rags that

corked them had been soaked in thesame substance.

Soon, behind me, there weresome hundred tarnsmen, and beloweach, dangling, hanging to theknotted ropes, were five pickedmen.

I saw that the fleets of my fifthwave, the two fleets of forty shipsapiece, under the command ofChung and Nigel, were wellengaged in their strikes on theflanks of the great fleet.

At this time, before their numberscould have been well ascertainedby the enemy, before the enemycould be much aware of anything

more than the unexpected flankingattacks, I, followed by the tarnsmen,with the picked seamen, dartedthrough the sleeting, windy skiesover the locked fleets.

In the turmoil below, primarily oftam ships locked in battle, and thegreat round ships trying to closewith enemy tam ships, I saw,protected by ten tam ships on eachside, and ten before and ten behind,the flagship of Cos and Tyros. Itwas a great sNp, painted in theyellow of Tyros, with more thantwo hundred oarsmen.

It was the ship of Chenbar. Itwould carry, besides its oarsmen,

who were all free, fighting men,some one hundred bowmen, andanother hundred men, seamen,artillery men, auxiliary personneland officers.

I drew on the four-strap. Almostinstantly the ship was the center of agreat beating of wings anddescending tams.

My own tarn landed on the sterncastle itself, and I leaped from itsback.

I whipped the sword from itssheath. Startled, Chenbar himself,LJbar of Tyros, the Sea Sleen, drewhis blade.

I tore away the wind scarf from

my face. “You!” he cried.“Bosk,” I told him, “Captain of

Port Kar.” Our blades met.Behind us I could hear shouts and

cries, and the sounds of mendropping from their ropes to thedeck, and of weapons meetingweapons. I heard the hiss ofcrossbow quarrels.

As one set of birds hovered overthe deck and their men dropped toits planks, the birds darted away,and another set took their place.And then, their fightersdisembarked, the birds with theirriders swept away, up into the‘black, vicious sleeting sky, to light

the oily rags, one by one, in the clayflasks of tharlarion oil and hurtthem, from the heights of the sky,down onto the decks of ships of Cosand Tyros. I did not expect a greatdeal of damage to be done by theseshattering bombs of burning oil, butI was counting on the confluence ofthree factors: the psychologicaleffect of such an attack, the fear ofthe outflanking fleets, whosenumbers could not yet well havebeen ascertained, and, in theconfusion and, hopefully terror, theunexpected, sudden loss of theircommander.

I slipped on the sleet-iced deck

of the stern castle and parriedChenbar’s blade from my throat.

I leaped to my feet and again weengaged.

Then we grappled, the swordwrist of each in the hand of th1eother.

I threw him against the sternpostand his back and head struck againstthe post. I heard someone behindme but whoever it was was met byone of my men. There were bladesclashing at my back. I feared for theinstant I might have brokenChenbar’s back. I released thesword hand of the admiral of Tyrosand struck him in the stomach with

my left fist. As he sank forward Iwrenched free my sword hand and,holding the sword still in my fist,struck him a heavy blow across thejaw with my fist. I spun about. Mymen were engaging those whowould try to climb to the sterncastle. Chenbar had sunk to hisknees, stunned. I pulled the slavemanacles from my belt and clappedthem on Chenbar’s wrists. Then, onhis stomach, I dragged him to thetalons of the tarn. With the rope,taken from my belt, I tied the slavemanacles to the right foot of thebird.

Chenbar tried, groggily, to get up,

but my foot on his neck held him inplace.

I looked about.My men were forcing the

defenders of the ship over the side,into the cold waters. The defendershad not been prepared for such anattack. They had been takenunawares and resistance had beenslight. Moreover, my menoutnumbered them by some hundredswords.

The defenders were swimmingacross to the other tam ships ofTyros, now swinging about to closewith us and board.

Crossbow bolts from the other

ships began to fall into the deck ofthe flagship.

“Hold the men of Tyros leftaboard at the parapetsl” I cried.

I heard a voice from across thewater cry out. “Hold your fire!”

Then the first of the tarnsreturned to the flagship, having castdown its flaming bombs of burningoil.

Five of my men seized its rope,and, in an instant, they were liftedaway from the ship.

“Fire the ship!” I called to mymen.

They rushed below the decks toset fires in the hold.

More tarns returned and more ofmy men, sometimes six and seven toa rope, were carried away from theship.

Smoke began to drift up throughthe planking of the deck.

One of the ships of Cos gratedagainst the side of our own.

My men fought back boardersand then, with oars thrust away theother ship.

Another ship struck our side,shearing oars. My men rushed torepel boarders again.

“Look!” one cried.They gave a cheer. The ship flew

the flag of Bosk, with its green

stripes on the white background.“Tab!” they cried. “Tab!”It was the Venna, thrust through

to free us.I briefly saw Tab, sweating even

in the cold, in a torn tunic, a swordin his hand on the stem castle of theVenna.

Then, on the other side, was theTela, the Venna’s sister ship. Theheavy, protective wales, theparallel beams protecting her hull,were fresh scarred and half cutaway.

My men eagerly leaped aboardthese two ships.

I waved away other tamsmen,

returning to the flagship to pick upmen.

I could see ships burning in thedistance.

Then flames shot up through thedeck planking of the flagship.

The last of the men of Tyrosaboard the ship leaped free to thecold waters to swim to their ownships. I could see some, a hundredyards-away, climbing the wales oftarn ships, some clinging to theiroars.

Chenbar and I remained alone onthe deck of the stern castle of theflagship.

I climbed to the saddle.

A crossbow bolt dropped pastme, striking into the burning deck.

Chenbar shook his head, andleaped to his feet, his wrists inmanacles. “Fightl” he screamed tohis distant ships. “Fight!”

I drew on the one-strap and thetam, against the wind, took flightand Chenbar of Kasra, LThar ofTyros, the Sea Sleen, in themanacles of a common slave,swung free below us, helpless andpendant in the furies of the windand the sleeting rain, the captive ofBosk, a captain of Port Kar,admiral of her fleet.

Chapter 18How Bosk Returned to

His HomeWhen we struck the icy, wind-

driven decks of the Dorna MY menrose at their benches and, cheering,waved their caps.

“Take this prisoner,” I told anofficer, “and chain him belowdecks. The council will decidewhat is to be done with him.”

There was another cheer.Chenbar stood facing me for an

instant, his fists clenched, fury inhis eyes, and then he was rudely

turned about and, by two seamen,forced below decks.

“I expect,” said the oar-master,“that in the rag of a slave he willeventually find his place at thebench of an arsenal round ship.”

“Admiral!” cried the voice fromthe masthead. “The fleet of Cos andTyros is putting aboutf They fly!”

I shook with emotion. I could notspeak. The men were cheeringabout me. Then I said, “Recall ourships.”

Men ran to signal ships amongthe reserves, that they might drawtoward our engaged fleet, recallingit.

The Doma now heaved andpitched like a snared sleen. She,like most tarn ships, was a narrowvessel, long and of shallow draft. Ilooked to the round ships. Even theyleaped in the water. I did not thinkthe Dorna would long live in such asea unless she might run before it.

“Lift the anchors,” I said. “Setthe storm sail!”

Men hastened to do what I hadtold them, and, as they did so, I sentsignals to reserve ships, to beconveyed to the balance of the fleet,that they might save themselveswhile they could. There could be noquestion of following up what had

appeared to be the victory over thefleets of Cos and Tyros.

I stood on the icy, wind-struckdeck of the Doma, my back turnedto the storm. My admirals cloak,brought with my returning men fromthe round ship, was given to me andI wrapped it about my shoulders. Avessel of hot Paga was brought, too.

“The victory draught,” said theoar-master.

I grinned. I did not feelvictorious. I was cold. I was alive.I swallowed the hot paga.

The yard had been lowered 1andthe small, triangular storm sail wasattached to it. The anchors were

raised and the yard, on its ropes andpulleys, began to climb toward themasthead. Meanwhile, the starboardoars, under the call of the oar-master began swinging the vesselabout, to bring her stern into thewind. The wind struck the side ofthe hull and the ship heeled toleeward. The deck was suddenlywashed with cold waves, and thenthe waters had slipped back. Thetwo helmsmen strained with theirside rudders, bringing the shipabout. Then the wind was at thestern and the oar-master began hiscount, easing the ship ahead untilthe storm sail was caught by the

blasts. When it was it was like afist striking the sail and the mastscreamed, and the bow, for aterrible moment dipped in the waterand then, dripping the cold waters,the bow leaped up and tilted to thesky.

“Stroke!” called the oar-master,his cry almost lost in the sleet andwind “Stroke! Stroke!”

The beating of the copper drumof the keleustes took UP maximumbeat.

The tiny storm sail, swollen withthe black wind and sleet, tore at theyard and the brail ropes. The Dornaknifed ahead, leaping between the

waves that rose towering on eitherside.

She would live.I did not know if the victory we

had won, for victory it surelyseemed to be, was decisive or not,but I well knew that the twenty-fifthof Se’Kara, for that was the day onwhich this battle had been fought,would not be soon forgotten in PortKar, that city once called squalidand malignant, but which had nowfound a Home Stone, that city oncecalled the scourge of gleamingThassa, but which might now bebetter spoken of, as she had been bysome of her citizens aforetimes, as

her jewel, the jewel of gleamingThassa. I wondered how many menwould claim to have fought on thetwenty-fiftb of Se’Kara, abroad onThassa. I smiled. This day woulddoubtless be made holiday in PortKar. And those who had fought herewould be, in years to come, ascomrades and brothers. I amEnglish. And I recalled another vic-tory, in another time, on a distantworld. I supposed that in time tocome men might, on this holiday,show their wounds to slaves andwondering children, saying to them,“These I had in SeKara.” Wouldthis battle be sung as had that one?

Not in England, I knew. But on Gor,it would. And yet songs ‘I toldmyself, are lies. And those that haddied this day did not sing. And yet, Iasked myself, had they lived, wouldthey not have sung? And I toldmyself, I thought yes. And so, then, Iasked Myself, might we not thensing for them, and for ourselves aswell, and could there not be, insome way that was hard tounderstand, but good, truth insongs?

I went to the tarn that I had riddenback to the Dorna. I took off myAdmiral’s cloak and threw it overthe shivering bird.

Standing near it was the slaveboy Fish.

I looked intc, his eyes, and I saw,to my surprise, that he understoodwhat I must do.

“I am coming with you,” he said.I knew that the ships of Eteocles

and Suilius Maximus had not beenadded to bur fleet. I also knew thatthe blockade about the last majorholding of Sevarius had been lifted,that its ships, arsenal ships, mightparticipate in the day’s battle.There had been, I knew, exchangesof

information between Claudius,regent for Renrius Sevarius, and

Cos and Tyros. I was not disposedto think that there had not beensimilar communications betweenCOS and Tyros and Eteocles andSullius Maximus. Doubtless therewould be coordinated actions. Thehall of the council itself might nowbe i1n flames. The two Ubars, andClaudius, regent for RenriusSevarius, I supposed, might alreadyhave claimed power, as atriumvirate, in Port Kar. Theirpower, of course, would not lastlong. Port Kar had not lost thebattle. When the storm abated,whether in hours or in one or twodays, the fleet would put about and

return to Port Kar. But in themeantime I knew that the two Ubarsand Claudius, confident but ignorantof the outcome of the battle, wouldbe attempting to rid the city of thosewho stood against them.

I wondered if my holding stillstood.

I had meat brought for the tarn,great chunks of tarsk, thighs andshoulders, which I had thrownbefore it, on the cold deck. It tore atthem greedily. I had had the bonesremoved from the meat. If it hadbeen bosk I would not, but thebones of the tarsk are thinner andsplinter easily. Then I had water

brought for the tarn, in a leatherbucket, the ice broken through thatcoated the water like a lid. It drank.

“I am coming with you,” said theboy.

In the belt of his tunic he hadthrust the sword that I had had theofficer give him before the battle.

I shook my head. “You are only aboy,” I told him. “No,” he said, “Iam a man.” I smiled at him.

“Why would you come to myholding?” I asked.

“It is to be done,” he said.“Does the girl Vina mean so

much to you?” I asked.He looked at me, and, flustered,

looked down at the deck. He kickedat the deck. “She is a mere slave,”he said.

“Of course,” I said.“And,” said he, defiantly, “a man

does not concern himself for a merefemale slave.”

“of course not,” I admitted.“Even if it were not for her,” he

said, looking up, angrily, “I wouldaccompany you.”

“Why?” I asked.“You are my captain,” he said,

puzzled. “Remain here,” I told him,gently.

He drew the sword I had hadgiven him.

“Test me!” he demanded.“put away”, I said, “the tools of

men.”“Defend yourself!” be cried.My blade leaped from its sheath

and I parried his blow. He hadcome to me much more swiftly thanI had expected.

Men gathered about. “It is sport,”said one of them.

I moved the blade toward the boyand he parried it. I was impressed,for I had intended to touch him thattime.

Then, moving about, on thepitching deck, in the sleet,

we matched blades. After an Ehn

or two I replaced my blade in itssheath. “At four times,” I said, “Icould have killed you.”

He dropped his blade, andlooked at me agonized.

“But,” I said, “You have learnedyour lessons well. I have foughtwith warriors who were less swiftthan you.”

He grinned. Some of the seamenpounded their left shoulders withtheir right fists.

The boy, Fish, was a favoritewith them. How else, I askedmyself, had he been 1able to take anoat on the long. boat in the canalswhen I had gone to the hall of the

Council of Captains, or been able toboard the Dorna, or taken his placein the longboat that had ferried meto the round ship? I, too, was notunfond of the boy. I saw in him, inthis boy, wearing a collar, branded,clad in the garment of a kitchenslave, as most others would not, ayoung Ubar.

“You may not come with me,” Itold him. “You are too young todie.”

“At what age,” asked he, “is aman ready for death?”

“To go where I am to go,” I toldhim, “and do what I must do, is theaction of a fool.”

He grinned. I saw a tear in hiseye.

“Yes,” said he, “Captain.”“It is the action of a fool!” I told

him.“Each man,” said the boy, “has

the right, does he not, to perform, ifhe wishes, the act of a fool?”

“Yes,” I said, “each man may, ifhe wishes, choose such acts.”

“Then,” said he, “Captain, thebird having rested, let us be on ourway.”

“Bring a woolen cloak for ayoung fool,” I told a seaman. “And,too, bring a belt and scabbard.”

“Yes, Captain,” cried the man.

“Do you think you can cling,”asked I, “to a knotted rope forhours.”

“Of course, Captain,” said he.In a few moments the tarn spread

his wings before the black windand, caught in the blast, was hurledbefore the Dorna, and began, indizzying circles, to climb in thewind and slee’t. The boy, his feetbraced on a knot in the swayingrope, his hands clenched on itsfibers, swung below me. Far belowI saw the Dorna, lifting and failingin the troughs of the waves, and,separated from her, tlae ships of thefleet, round ships and tarn ships,

storm sails set, oars dipping, flyingbefore the storm.

I did not see any of the ships ofCos or Tyros.

Terence of Treve, mercenarycaptain of the tamsmen, had refusedto return to Port Kar before thereturn of the fleet. The environs ofPort Kar might now be filled withtarnsmen, other mercenaries, but inthe hire of the re-bellious Ubars,and Claudius, regent of HenriusSevarius. “We men of Treve arebrave,” had said be, “but we are notmad.”

The bird was buffeted by thestorm, but it was a strong bird. I did

not know the width of the storm, butI hoped its front-would be only afew pasangs. The bird could not flya direct line to Port Kar, because ofthe wind, and we managed anoblique path, cutting away from thefleet. From time to time the bird,tiring, its wings wet, cold, coatedwith sleet, would drop sickeninglydownward, but then again it wouldbeat its way on the level, halfdriven by the wind, half flying.

The boy, Fish, cold, numb, wet,his hair and clothing iced withsleet, clung to the rope danglingbeneath the bird.

Once the bird fell so low that the

boy’s feet and the bottom of therope on which he stood splashed apath in the-churning waters, andthen the bird, responding to myfierce pressures on the one-strap,beat its way up again and againflew, but then only yards over theblack, rear-ing waves, the roaringsea.

And then the sleet became onlypelting rain, and the rain becameonly a cruel wind, and then 1thecruelty of the wind yielded to onlythe cold rushing air at the fringe ofthe’storm’s garment.

And Thassa beneath us wassuddenly streaked with the cold

sunlight of Se’Kara, and the birdwas across and through the storm.In the, distance we could see rockybeaches, and grass and brushlandbeyond, and beyond that, awoodland, with Tur and Ka-la-natrees.

We took the shuddering birddown among the trees. Fish leapedfree as I let the bird hover, thenalight. I unsaddled it and let it shakethe water from its wings and body.Then I threw over it the admiral’scloak. The boy and I built a fire,over which we might dry ourclothes and by which we mightwarm ourselves.

“We will return to Port Kar afterthe fall of darkness,” I told him.

“Of course,” he said.The boy, Fish, and I now stood in

the dimly lit great hall of my house,where, the night before, had beencelebrated the feast of my victory.

The only light in the huge high-roofed hall was furnished by asingle brazier, whose coals, throughthe iron basket, now glowed redly.

Our footsteps sounded hollow onthe tiles of the hall. We had left thetam outside on the promenadefronting on the lakelike courtyard.

We had encountered no tamsmenover the city.

The city itself was muchdarkened.

We had flown over the city,seeing below us the dark-enedbuildings, the reflection of the threemoons of Gor Bickering in the darkcanals.

Then we had come to my holdingand now we stood, together, side byside, in the apparently deserted,almost darkened great hall of myholding.

Our blades were unsheathed,those of an admiral of the fleet anda slave boy.

We looked about ourselves.We had encountered no one in the

passageways, or the rooms intowhich we had come, making ourway to. the great hall.

We heard a muffled noise,coming from a comer of the almostdarkened hall.

There, kneeling on the tiles, backto back, their wrists bound behindtheir backs to a slave ring, weretwo girls. We saw their eyes, wild,over their gags. They shook theirheads.

They wore the miserablegarments of kitchen slaves.

They were the girl Vina, andTelima.

Fish would have rushed forward,

but my hand restrained him.Not speaking, I motioned that he

should take his place at the side ofthe entryway to the great hall,where he might not be seen.

I strode irritably to the two girls.I did not release them. They hadpermitted themselves to be taken, tobe used as bait. Vina was veryyoung, but Telirna should haveknown better, and yet she, too, theproud Telima, knelt helplessly atthe ring, her wrists bound behindher back, securely and expertlygagged, a young and beautifulwoman, yet fastened as helplesslyto a slave ring as a young girl.

I gave her head a shake. “Stupidwench,” I said.

She was trying to tell me thatthere were men about, to attack me.

“The mouths of rence girls,” Isaid, “are said to be as large as thedelta itself.”

She could make only tiny,protesting, futile noises.

I examined the gag. Heavyleather strips were bound tightlyacross her mouth, doubtless holdinga heavy packing within, probablyrep-cloth. Such a gag would not bepleasant to wear. It had been welldone.

“At last,” I commented,

“someone has discovered a way tokeep rence girls quiet.”

There were tears in Telima’seyes. She squirmed in futility,’infear, in fury.

I patted her on the headcondescendingly.

She looked at me in rage andexasperation.

I turned away from the girls, butstood before them.

I spoke loudly. “Now,” I said,“let us release these, wenches.”

In that instant I heard, from downthe passageway, a sharp whistle,and the sound of running feet, thoseof several men. I saw torches being

carried.“At him!” cried Lysias, helmeted,

the helmet bearing the crest of steenhair, marking it as that of a captain.Lysias himself, however, did notengage me.

Several men rushed forward,some of them with torches.

Perhaps forty men rushed into theroom.

I met them, moving swiftly,constantl shifting my position,drawing them after me, thenpressing one or another of themback. I kept, as well as I could, nearthe girls, that the backs of the menwould be, in turn, kept toward the

entryway.I could see, as they did not, a

shadow moving-swiftly behindthem, it, too, rapidly shifting itsposition, moving about amidst thefrantic shadows of men, torches andconfusions, but always staying inthe background, like an absence ofsubstance but one which carried ablade of steel. Then the shadow haddonned a helmet, and it was almostindistinguishable from the others.Those who fell before that shadowdid so unnoticed, and without greatcries, for the blade had crossedtheir throats as unexpectedly as awhisper in the darkness.

I myself dropped nine warriors.Then we heard more shouting,

and saw more torches.Now the room was high with

light and even the beams of the hallstood forth, heavy in their ceiling.

Now, discovered, Fish fought bymy side, that we might, together,protect one another.

“Now, Slave,” said I to Fish,“you should have stayed with thefleet.”

“Be silent,” said he, adding, “—Master.”

I laughed.I saw the boy, with a lightning

thrust, Hash four inches steel

through a body, returning to the on-guard position before the manrealized he had been struck.

In fighting as we were, one didnot use a deep thrust, that the blademight be more swiftly freed.

“You have learned your lessonswell,” said I, “Slave.”

“Thank you, Master,” said he.He dropped another man.I dropped two others, to my right.I heard more men coming down

the passageway.Then, from one side, the door to

the kitchens, a number of other mencame 1forth, carrying torches andsteel.

We are lost, I thought. Lost.To my fury I saw that these men

were led by Samos of Port Kar.“So,” I cried, “as I thought, you

are in league with the enemies ofPort Kar!”

But to my astonishment heengaged and dropped one of ourattackers.

I saw that some of the men withhim were my own, who had beenleft behind in the holding, to guardit. Others I did not know.

“Withdraw!” cried Lysias,wildly in the fighting.

His men backed away, fighting,and we, and those others who had

come to help us, pressed them backeven as they retreated through thegreat door to the high-roofed hall.

At the entryway we stopped andthrew shut the doors, dropping thebeams into place.

Samos and I, together, droppedthe last beam into the heavy ironbrackets.

He was sweating and the sleeveof his tunic was torn. There was asplash of blood across his face,staining the left side of his face, hisshort, white, cropped hair and thegolden ring in his ear.

“The fleet?” he asked.“Victory is ours,” I told him.

“Good,” he said. He sheathed hissword. “We are defending the keepnear the delta wall,” he said.“Follow me.”

Near the bound girls he stopped.“So here you are,” said Samos.

He turned to face me. “They snuckaway to find you.”

“They were successful,” I said.I slashed the binding fiber which,

tying their wrists together, hadpassed through the slave ring,fastening them to it. They struggledto their feet. Their wrists, though nolonger tethered to the slave ring,were still fastened behind theirbacks. They were still gagged. Vina

ran to Fish, tears in her eyes, andthrust her head against his leftshoulder. He took her in his arms.

Telima approached me timidly,head down, and then, looking up,smiling with her eyes, put her headagainst my right shoulder. I held herto me.

“So,” Fish was saying to Vina,“you snuck away from the keep.”

She looked at him, startled.He took her by the shoulders,

turned her about and started herstumbling down the kitchenpassageway. Then, with a swiftmotion, he leaped behind her and,with the flat of his blade, dealt her a

sharp, stinging blow. She speddown the passageway.

“You, too,” I said to Telima,“apparently left the keep unbidden.”

She backed warily away fromme.

“Have you something to say tome, Rence Girl?” I asked.

“Umm-ummph,” protestedTelima, shaking her head. I took astep toward her.

She shook her head. She had adon’t-you-dare-you-beast-you lookin her eyes.

I took another step toward her.Telima, dignity to the winds,

turned and fled down the

passageway, but, before she hadmanaged to make ten yards, she hadbeen stung twice, and roundly, bythe flat of my blade.

Twenty yards beyond, running,she stopped, and turned to lookupon me. She drew herself up in herfull, angry dignity.

I took another step toward herand, wildly, she wheeled and,barefoot, fled stumbling down thepassageway.

The dignity of the proud Telima,I gathered, could not endure anothersuch blow.

I laughed.“One must know how to treat

women,” said the boy, Fish,gravely.

“Yes,” I said, gravely.“One must teach them who is

master,” said the boy.“Quite,” I agreed.The men about us laughed and, as

comrades in arms, we made ourway through the passageway, andthen the kit-chens, and the hads tothe keep.

The next afternoon Samos and Istood together behind the parapet ofthe keep. Over our heads, high,between beams, was strung tamwire. Heavy wooden mantelets,mounted on posts, were nearby,

under which we might protectourselves from crossbow fire fromtarnsmen.

My large yellow bow of Ka-a-na, tipped with bosk hom and strungwith hemp, whipped with silk, wasat hand, It had helped to keepbesiegers at their distance. Therewere few arrows left.

Our men were below. We wereweary. We had caught what steepwe could.

Now, only Samos and I stoodwatch.

Before my return to the holding,Samos, with his men and mine, hadwithstood eleven assaults on the

keep, both by tamsmen andbesieging infantry. Since I hadreturned yesterday evening, we hadwithstood another four. we now hadleft only thirty-five men, eighteenwho had accompanied Samos to myholding, and seventeen of my own.

“Why have you come to defendmy keep, and my holding?” I askedSamos.

“Do you not know?” he asked.“No,” I said.“It does not matter,” he said,

“now.”“Had it not been for you and your

men,” I said, “my holding wouldlong ago have fallen.”

Samos shrugged.We looked out over the parapet.

The keep is near the delta wall ofthe holding. We could, from theramparts, look out over the marsh,stretching far beyond, that vastbeautiful delta of the great Vosk,through which I had come, so longago.

Our men, exhausted, lay below,within the keep. The Ehn of sleepthey could obtain were precious tothem They, like Samos and myself,were almost overcome withweariness. The waiting, and thenthe fighting, and the waiting again,had been so long, so long.

Also below were four girls, Vinaand Telima, and Lums, the chiefaccountant of my house, who hadnot iled, and the dancer, Sandra,who had been afraid to leave theholding. Most others, whether menor women, slave or free, had fled.Even Thumock and Thura, andClitus and Ula, whom I hadexpected to stay, had fled. I did notreproach them, even in my heart.They were wise. It was madness tostay behind. In the end, I toldmyself, it was I, and not they, whowas truly the fool. And yet I wouldnot have chosen, at this time, to beany place other than where I stood,

on height of my keep, in the holdingI had made mine own in Port Kar.

And so Samos, and I, kept watch.I looked at him. I did not

understand the slaver. Why had hecome to defend my holding? Was heso irrational so mad, socontemptuous Of the value of hislife?

He did not belong here.This holding was mine, minel“You are weary,” said Samos.

“Go below. I will watch.” Inodded. There was no longer anypoint, nor time, to distrust Samos.His sword had been much stained inmy behalf. I-Es own life, like mine,

had stood stake on the parapet ofmy keep. If he served the Ubars, orClaudius, regent of HenriusSevarius, or the Ubarates of Cosand Tyros, or the Others, or Priest-Kings, or himself, I no longer cared.I no longer cared about anything. Ihad wme back. I was very tired.

I descended through the trap andclimbed down the ladder to the firstlevel beneath the keep’s roof. Therewas food and water there, enoughfor another week of fight-ing. But Idid not think we would need thatmuch. Before nightfall doubtlessmore assaults would take place, andin the first, or the second, or in

another, we would surely fall.I looked about the room. The men

were sleeping. It was and littered.They were unshaven. Several ofthem, men of Samos, were unknownto me, but others, mine, I had caredfor. Some were even slaves, whobad fought with poles and hammers.Others were men who had beenslaves, whom I had freed andtrained with weapons. Others wereseamen, and two others weremercenaries, who had refused toleave my service. I saw the boyFisk sleeping, Vina in his arms. Hehad done well, I thought.

“Master,” I heard.

In one comer of the room I sawSandra, the dancer. To my surprise,she had arrayed herself in pleasuresilu and cosmetics. She was trulybeautiful.

I went to her side. She waskneeling before a bronze mirror,touching an eyebrow with a brush.

She looked up at me, frightened.“When they come,” she asked, “theywill not kill Sandra, will they?”

“I do not think so,” I said. “Ithink they will Bad her beautiful,and permit her to live.”

She shook with relief, andreturned to her mirror, anxiouslystudying her countenance.

I lifted her gently to her feet andlooked into her eyes.

“Please do not disturb mycosmetics,” she begged.

I smiled. “No,” I said, “I willnot. They will find you verybeautiful.”

I kissed her on the side of theneck, beneath the ear, anddescended to another level.

She looked after me.On this level, sitting against a

wall, her knees drawn up, I foundLuma.

I went to her, and stood beforeher.

She stood up, and touched my

check with her bancl There weretears in her eyes.

“I would free you,” I said, “but Ithink they might kill free women, ifthey found theml” I touched hercollar.

“With this,” I said, “I think youmight be permitted to live.”

She wept and put her head to myshoulders. I held her in my arms.

“My brave Luma,” I said. “Myfine, brave Luma.”

I kissed her and, pressing hergently from me, descended anothe1rlevel.

There Telima had been caring fortwo men who had been wounded.

I went to one wall and, on acloak that was lying there, satdown, my head in my hands.

The girl came to be beside me,where, in the fashion of the Goreanwoman, she knelt, back on her heels

“I expect,” she said, after a time,“the fleet will return in a few hours,and we shall be saved.”

Surely she knew the fleet, as wellas I, had been driven pasangs south,and would not be able to reach theharbor of Port Kar for another twoor three days, at the least.

“Yes,” I said, “in a few hours thefleet will return and we shall besaved.”

She put her hand on my head, andthen her face was against mine.

“Do not weep,” I told her.I held her against me.“I have hurt you so,” she said.“No,” I said, “no.”“It is all so strange,” she said.“What is so strange?” I asked.“That Samos should be here,”

said she.“But why?” I asked.She looked at me. “Because,”

said she, “years ago, he was mymaster.”

I was startled.“I was taken slave at the age of

seven in a raid,” she said, “and

Samos, at a market, bought me. Foryears he treated me with greatconcern and care. I was treatedwell, and taught things that slavesare seldom taught. I can read, youknow.”

I recalled once, long ago, beingpuzzled that she, though a mererence girl, had been literate.

“And I was taught many otherthings, too,” said she, “when I couldread, even to the secondknowledge.”

That was reserved, generally, forthe high castes on Gor.

“I was raised in that house,” shesaid, “with love, though I was only

slave, and Samos was to me almostas a father might have been. I waspermitted to speak to, and learnfrom, scribes and singers, andmerchants and travelers. I hadfriends among other girls in thehouse, who were also much free,though not as free as I. We had thefreedom of the city, though guardswould accompany us to protect us.”

“And then what happened?” Iasked.

Her voice grew hard. “I had beentold that on my seventeenth birthdaya great change would occur in mylife.” She srnfled. “I expected to befreed, and to be adopted as the

daughter of Samos.”“What happened?” I asked.“At dawn that morning,” she

said, “the Slave Master came forme. I was taken below to the pens.There, like a new girl taken fromthe rence islands, I was stripped.An iron was heated. I was marked.My head was placed across ananvil and, about my throat, washammered a simple plate collar.Then my wrists were tied widelyapart to wrist rings mounted in astone wall, and I was whipped.After this, when’l had been cutdown, weeping, the Slave Master,and his men, much used me. After

this I was fitted with slave chainsand locked in a pen, with othergirls. These other girls, some ofthem rence girls themselves, would1often beat me, for they knew whatfreedom I had had in the house, andthey knew, as was true, that I hadregarded myself as far superior tosuch as they, only common girls,simple merchandise. I thought therewas some great mistake. For days,though the other girls would beatme for it, I begged the SlaveMaster, the guards, to be takenbefore Samos. At last, kneeling, in asimple plate collar, beaten andshackled, stripped, I was thrown

before him.”“What did he say?” I asked.“He said,” said she, “take this

slave away.”I looked down, but held her.“I was taught the duties of the

slave girl in that house,” she said,“and I learned them well. The girlsamong whom I had been first wouldno longer even condescend to speakto me. Guards who had formerlyprotected me would now, as theychose, take me in their arms, and Imust well serve them or be beaten.”

“Did Samos himself use you?” Iasked.

“No,” she said.

“The most miserable of taskswere often given to me,” continuedthe girl. “Often I was not permittedclothing. Often I was beaten, andcruelly used. At night I was noteven chained, but locked in a tinyslave cage, in which I couldscarcely move.” She looked at me,angrily. “In me,” said she, “a greathatred grew, of Port Kar and ofSamos and of men, and of slaves, ofwhom I was one. I lived only formy hate and the dream that I mightone day escape, and take vengeanceon men.”

“You did escape,” I said.“Yes,” she said, “in cleaning the

quarters of the slave master I foundthe key to my collar.”

“You were then no longerwearing a plate collar,” I said.

“Almost from the beginning, aftermy seventeenth birthday,” saidTelima, “I was trained as apleasure slave. One year after myenslavement I was certified to thehouse by the slave mistress ashaving become accomplished insuch duties. At that time the platecollar was opened by one of themetal workers and replaced with aseven-pin lock collar.”

The common female slave collaron Gor has a seven-pin lock. There

are, incidentally, seven letters in themost common Gorean expressionfor female slave, Kajira.

“It seems careless,” I said, “thatthe slave master should leave,where a slave might find it, the keyto her collar.”

She shrugged.“And, too,” she said, “nearby

there was a golden armlet.” Shelooked at me. “I took it,” she said.“I thought I might need gold, if onlyto bargain my way past guards.”She looked down. “But,” she said,“I had little difficulty in leaving thehouse. I told them I was on anerrand, and they permitted me to

leave. I had, of course, run errandsin the city before. Outside the houseI removed the collar, that I mightmove more freely, beingunquestioned, in the city. I foundsome beams and rope, and a pole,bound together a simple raft andthrough one of the delta canals,which were not then barred, mademy escape. As a child I had been ofthe marshes, and so I did not fear toreturn to them. I was found by themen of Ho-Hak and accepted intotheir community. He permitted me,even, to retain the golden armlet.”

I looked at the opposite wall.“Do you still hate Samos so?” I

asked. “I had thought I would,” shesaid. “But now that he is here, andhelping us, I do not hate him. It isall very strange1.”

I was tired, and I felt I mustsleep. I was pleased that Telimahad told me these parts of her story,which I had not heard before. Isensed that there was more herethan I could clearly understand atthe moment, and more than sheunderstood, as well. But I was verytired.

“You know,” I said, “the keepwill be overrun and most of us, themen, at least, will be slain?”

“The fleet will come,” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “But if it doesnot.” “It will,” she said.

“Where is the collar I took fromyour throat on the night of thevictory feast?” I asked.

She looked at me, puzzled. “Ibrought it to the keep,” she said.She smiled. “I did not knowwhether you wished me slave orfree.”

“The men will come withweapons,” I said. “Where is thecollar?”

She looked at me. “Must I wearit?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. I did not want herslain, if possible, when the men

came. If they thought her a freewoman, and mine, she might beswiftly killed, or tortured andimpaled.

She found the collar.“Put it on,” I told her.“Is there so little hope?” she

asked.“Put it on,” I said to her. “Put it

on.”“No,” she said. “If you die, I am

willing to die beside you, as yourwoman.”

Port Kar does not recognize theFree Companionship, but there arefree women in the city, who areknown simply as the women of their

men.“Are you my woman?”-I asked.“Yes,” she said.“Then,” I said, “obey me.”She smiled. “If I must be

collared,” she said, “let it be at thehand of my Ubar.”

I placed the collar on her throat,and kissed her. In her tunic I saw,concealed, a small dagger.

“Would you fight with this?” Iasked, taking it from her.

“I do not wish to live withoutyou!” she cried.

I threw the dagger to one side.She wept in my arms. “No,” I said,“life is what is important. It is life

that is important. Life.”Collared, she wept in my arms.Weary, I fell asleep.

“They’re coming!” I heard cry.I shook my head, and leaped to

my feet.“My Ubar!” cried Telima. “This

I brought to the keep.”To my astonishment she handed

me the sword that I had broughtoriginally to Port Kar.

I looked at it.I put aside the admiral’s sword.“Thank you,” I said.Our lips brushed as I thrust her

aside, and ran to the ladder. I

slipped the blade into the sheathand began to climb the rungs. Icould hear shouts and the feet ofmen above me.

I climbed the ladder. At my side Inow w1ore the sword that I hadbrought originally to Port Kar, thatwhich I had carried so many yearsbefore, even at the siege of Ar, andin Thama, and in the Nest of Priest-Kings and on the plains of theWagon Peoples, and in the streetsof great Ar itself, when I hadseemed to serve Cemus, Master ofthe House of Cemus, greatest of theslave houses of Ar. It did not havethe jeweled hilt or the figured blade

of my admiral’s sword, but I foundit sufficient. Telima had found itamong my belongings, and hadbrought it to the keep, that itmight’be waiting for me there.Strangely she had apparent-ly notexpected me to do anything otherthan return to my holding. As Iclimbed the ladder I was glad thatthe old blade, the familiar steel,with its memories of another lifeand time, when I had been TartCabot, was at my side.

If one must die, how could onebetter die than with such a blade inhand?

We fought on the height of the

keep.The last four arrows of the great

yellow bow were fired, and fourwho threatened us fell from thedelta wall beyond the keep, fromwhich they were attempting tocover the climb of the besiegers.

Standing even on the manteletsunder the tarn wire, with spears andswords, we thrust at the tarnsmendrop-ping to the wire, leaving go ofthe ropes to which they had clung.

We heard grappling irons withknotted ropes fly over the parapet,scrape across the stones, and wedgein the crenels. We heard the strikingagainst the walls of the keep of

siege poles, like ladders with asingle upright, rungs tiedtransversely on the single axis. Weheard the trumpets of the attack, therunning feet, the climbing, theclashing of weapons, the shouting ofmen.

Then helmeted heads, eyes wildin the “Y”-like openings of thehelmets, appeared at the crenels,and gauntleted hands and bootedfeet appeared, and men wereswarming at the walls.

I leaped down from the manteleton which I had stood and flungmyself to the wall.

I heard the ringing of the steel of

Samos, the cries of the men behindme.

I caught sight of the boy, Fish,running past, a spear held over hishead in both hands, and heard ahorrible cry, long and wailing,ending with the abrupt striking of abody far below on the stones.

“Keep more from coming!” Icried to my men.

They rushed to the walls.Within the parapets we fought

those who had scaled the walls.I saw one invader climbing down

the ladder to the lower levels.Then he cried out and slipped to

the level beneath, his hands off the

rungs.I saw Telima’s head in the

opening. In her teeth was the daggerI had seen. In her right hand,bloody, was the admiral’s sword Ihad discarded.

“Go back!” I cried to her.I saw Luma and Vina climbing up

behind her. They picked up stonesfrom the roof of the keep, and ran tothe walls, to hurl them at point-blank range against the menclimbing.

Telima, wildly, her two hands onthe sword, struck a man frombehind in the neck and he fell awayfrom the blade. Then she had lost

the blade, as an invader struck itfrom her hand. He raised his own tostrike her but I had my steel beneathhis left shoulder blade and hadturned again before he coulddeliver his blow.

I saw a man on the1 parapet fallscreaming backward, struck by arock as large as his head, hurledfrom the small hands of Luma. Vina,with a shield, whose weight shecould hardly bear, was trying tocover the boy, Fish, as he fought. Isaw him drop his man, and turn,seeking another.

I threw a man whom I had struck,even before he died, over the

parapet, striking another, who,clinging desperately to the siegepole, carried it back in a long arcwith him as he fell. I saw one of myformer slaves, with a spear shaft,beating another man from the wall.

Samos thrust his blade into the“Y”-shaped opening of a helmet,parried a spear thrust from hisbody, and met the steel of anotherman.

We heard the trumpet of retreat,and killed six as they tried toescape back over the wall.

We, panting, bloody, lookedabout ourselves.

“The next attack,” said Samos,

indifferently, “will be the last.”Samos survived, and I, and the

boy, Fish, and the three girls, and,beyond these, other than the dancer,Sandra, who had remained below,only five men, three who had cometo my holding with Samos, and twoof my own, one a simple mercenary,one who had once been a slave.

I looked out over the delta.We heard, behind walls, within

the holding, the rnarshalling of men,the click of arms. It would not, thistime, be a long wait.

I went to Samos. “I wish youwell,” I said to him. The heavy,squarish face regarded me, still so

much the countenance of thepredator. Then he looked away. “I,too,” said he, “wish you well,Warrior.”

He seemed embarrassed to saywhat he had. I wondered why hehad called me Warrior.

I took Telima in my arms. “Whenthey. come again,” I said, “hidebelow. If you fight you willdoubtless be slain. When they comebelow, submit to them. They mayspare you.” And then I looked toVina and Luma. “You, also,” I said.“Do not mix in the matters of men.”

Vina looked to the boy, Fish.He nodded. “Yes,” he saiid, “go

below.”“I, for one,” said Telima, “find it

stuffy below.”“I, too,” smiled Luma.“Yes,” said Vina, firmly “It is

very stuffy below.”“Very well,” I said, “then it will

be necessary, before the next attack,to bind you to the foot of the ladderbelow.”

“I think,” said Samos, lookingover the parapet, “you will not havetime for that.” We heard thetrumpets signaling a new attack. Weheard the rush of hundreds of feeton the stones below.

“Go below!” I cried to the girls.

They stood away, feet fixedapart, in-the garments of slaves,obdurate, rebellious.

“We acknowledge ourselvesyour slave girls!” screamed Telima.“If we do not please you, beat us orslay us!”

A crossbow quarrel sweptoverhead. “Go below!” screamedFish to Vina.

“If I do not please you,” shescreamed, “beat me or kilI me!”

He kissed her swiftly, and turnedto defend a wall.

The girls took up stones andswords, and1 stood beside us.

“Good-bye, my Ubar,” said

Telima.“Farewell,” said I, “Ubara.”With a great cry the hundreds of

men swarmed to the foot of thekeep. Again we heard the strikingagainst the walls of siege poles.Again irons, on their ropes, loopedover the parapet wall. And acrossfrom the keep, on the delta wall,boldly, there stood crossbowmen,now without fear, for our arrowsand bolts were gone, to cover theclimbing men.

We heard the men nearing us, onthe other side of the wall, thescraping of swords and spears onthe vertical stones of the keep.

On the delta wall, opposite, Isaw the leader of the ssbowmen,standing even on the parapet of thedelta wall itself, directing his men.

I heard the climbers approachingeven more closely. Then, to myamazement, I saw something, like astreak of light, leap from the deltabehind the wall, and the leader ofthe crossbowmen spun about asthough struck with a war hammerand dropped, inert, from the wall.“You’re hurting me!” cried Telima.

My hand clutched her arm.I leaped to my feet.“Stay down!” cried Samos.Suddenly more than a hundred

irons with ropes struck the deltawall, wedging in the crenels, and Isaw the irons tighten in the crenelsand strain with the weight on them.One of the crossbowmen lookedover the delta wall and flewbackwards off the wall, his handsnot reaching his head. Protrudingfrom his forehead, its pile stoppedby the metal helmet in the back, wasthe long shaft of an arrow, one thatcould be only from the peasantbow.

We saw crossbowmen fleeingfrom the wall.

We heard the men climbingcloser on the siege poles. Then,

swarming over the delta wall, werehundreds of men.

“Rencers!” I cried.But each of these men, over his

back, carried a peasant bow. Inperfect order they stood in linewithin the para-pet on the deltawall. As one their arrows leaped tothe string, as one the great bowsbent, and I saw Ho-Hak on theheight of the wall bring down hisarm with a cry, and I saw, likesheets of oblique rain, the torrent ofgull-feathered shafts leap towardthe keep. And I saw, too, on thewall, with Ho-Hak, Thurnock, thePeasant, with his bow, and beside

him, with net and trident, Clitus.There was a great screaming fromthe siege ladders, and I heard mencrying out with death, and terror,and heard the scraping of theladders and then their falling back,showering bodies on those crowdedbelow, waiting to scale them. Againand again the great line blastedshafts of pile-tipped tem-wood intothose packed at the foot of the keep.And then the invaders began toscatter and run, but each archerpicked his target, and few therewere who reached cover other thanthe side of the keep away from thearchers. And now archers were

running down the side walls, andleaping to other roofs, that everypoint at the foot of the keep mightbe within the assailing orbit of thestring-flung missiles, and the girls,and the men, too, flung stones fromthe top of the keep down on the mentrying to hide behind it, and then,again, the invaders scattered,running back toward the holding.For an instant, white-faced, wild, Isaw below Lysias, with his helmetwith its crest of sleen hair, andbeside him, with the string of pearlsof the Vosk sorp about his forehead,the rencer Henrak, who had, longago, betrayed the rencers for the

gold of Port Kar. And behind them,in a rich swirling cloak of the fur oft1he white, spotted sea sleen,sword in hand, looking wildlyabout, was another man, one I didnot know.

“It is Claudius!” cried the boy,Fish, beside me. “Claudius!”

So that, I thought, was Claudius,who had been regent for HenriusSevarius, and who, doubtless, hadattempted to have him killed.

The boy’s fists were clenched onthe parapet.

Then the three men, with someothers, fled into my holding.

On the wall Thumock waved his

great bow over his head.“Captain!” he cried.Clitus, too, raised his hand.I, too, lifted my hand,

acknowledging their salute. And Ilifted my hand, too, to Ho-Hak, therencer. I saw how his men usedtheir bows. I had little doubt thathaving been taught the might of thegreat bow in the marshes, when Ihad freed them from the slavers inthe barges, they had traded for theweapons and now had made themtheir own, and proudly, as much asthe peasants. I did not think therencers would any longer be at themercy of the men of Port Kar. Now,

with weapons and courage, perhapsfor the first time, they were trulyfree men, for they could now defendtheir freedoms, and those whocannot do this are not truly free; atbest they are fortunate.

“Look!” cried Samos.From the height of the keep, we

could see over my holding, even tothe canal and sea gate beyond thelake-like courtyard.

Men were fleeing from myholding but, even more important,approaching down the canal, oarsflashing, mast down, came a tarnship, and then another.

“It is the Vennal” I cried. “And

the Tela!”Standing at the prow of the

Venna, shield on his arm, helmeted,spear in hand, was Tab.

He must have brought the Vennaand the Tela into the wind, cutt gaway even the storm sails, andrisked the destruction of the twoships in the high sea, not to bedriven from Port Kar, and then,when the storm had lulled, they hadput about and raced for the harbor.The rest of the fleet was stilldoubtless a hundred or morepasangs to the south.

“A seaman truly worthy of PortKar,” said Samos.

“Do you love the city so?” Iasked.

Samos smiled. “It is the place ofmy Home Stone,” he said.

I grinned.We saw the two ships, the Venna

and her sister ship, the Tela, knifeinto the courtyard and swing about,their bowmen firing on the menrunning on the Promenade andtrying to escape about the edges ofthe courtyard.

We saw men throwing downtheir weapons and kneeling. Theywould be roped together as slaves.

I seized Telima in my arms. Shewas laughing and crying.

I then seized one of the ropesattached to a grappling iron wedgedin one of the crenels and began todescend the outer side of the keepwall. Fish and Samos were not farbehind me.

With other ropes the men behindwould lower the girls, and thenfollow themselves.

At the foot of the keep we metThurnock, Clitus and Ho-Hak.

We embraced.“You have learned the les1son of

the great bow well,” I said to Ho-Hak.

“You well taught it to us,Warrior,” said Ho-Hak.

Thurnock and Clitus, with Thuraand Ufa, had gone for aid to therencers, traditionally enemies ofthose of Port Kar. And the rencers,to my astonishment, had come torisk their lives for me.

I decided I did indeed know littleof men.

“Thank you,” said I to Ho-Hak.“it is nothing,” said he,

“Warrior.”It is such nothings, I thought, that

are our manhood and our meaning.“Three are cornered within,”

said a seaman.Samos and I, and Fish, and

Thurnock, Clitus and Ho Hak, and

others, went within the holding.In the great hall, surrounded by

crossbowmen, stood three men, atbay. Lysias, Claudius and Henrak.

“Greetings, Tab,” said I, salutinghim as I entered the room.

“Greetings, Captain,” said he.By now the three girls, Telima,

Vina and Luma, had been loweredfrom the height of the keep, andwere close behind us.

Lysias, seeing me, flung himselfat me. I met his attack The exchangewas sharp. Then he fell at my feet,his helmet rolling to the side, bloodon the sleen-hair crest, that markingit as that of a captain.

“I am rich,” said Claudius. “I canpay for my freedom.”

“The Council of Captains of PortKar,” said Samos, “has businesswith you.”

“My business is first,” said avoice.

We turned to see the slave boy,Fish, his sward in hand.

“You!” cried Claudius. “You!”Samos looked at the boy,

curiously. Then he turned toClaudius. “You seem disturbed,”said be, “at the sight of a mereslave boy.”

I recalled that there was a priceon the head of the young Ubar,

Henrius Sevarius.And he stood there, though

branded, though collared, though inthe miserable garment of a slave, asa young Ubar. He was no longer aboy. He had loved, and he hadfought. He was a man.

Claudius, with a cry of rage, thecloak of white, spotted fur of seasleen swirling behind him, leapedat the boy, sword high, rainingblows upon him.

The boy smartly parried them,not striking his own blows.

“Yes,” said the boy, “I am not anunskilled swordsman. Now let usfight.”

Claudius threw aside hisswirling cloak and, warily,approached the boy.

Claudius was an excellentswordsman, but, in moments, theboy, Fish, had stepped away fromhim, and wiped his blade on theflung-aside cloak. Claudius stoodunsteadily in the center of the greathall, and then, he fell forward,sprawling on the tiles.

“Remarkable,” said Samos.“Claudius is dead. And slain onlyby a slave.”

The boy, Fish, smiled.“This one,” said Ho-Hak,

indicating Henrak, “is a rencer, and

he is mine.”Henrak regarded him, white-

faced.Ho-Hak regarded him. “Eechius

was killed at the rence island,” hesaid to Henrak. “Eechius was myson.”

“Do not hurt me!” cried Henrak.He turned to run, but there was

no place to run.Ho-Hak, solemn and large,

removed his weapons, drop-pingthem to the floor. About his neckthere was still the heavy iron collarhe had worn as a galley slave, withits links of heavy, dangling chain.His large ears laid themselves flat

against his head.“He has a knife!” cried Luma.Ho-Hak, carefully, approached

Henrak, who held a knife poised.When Henrak struck, Ho-Hak

caught his wrist. Slowly Ho-Hak’sgreat hand, strengthened from yearsat the oar, closed on Henrak’swrist, and the knife, as the mensweated and strained, droppedclattering to the floor.

Then Ho-Hak picked up Henrakand, slowly, holding him over hishead, carried him screan-ting andstruggling from the room.

We went outside, and saw Ho-Hak slowly climb the long, narrow

stairs beside the delta wall, until hestood behind the parapet, at itsheight. Then we saw him, out-linedagainst the sky, climb to the parapetitself, hold Henrak over his headfor a long moment and then flinghim screaming from the wall outinto the marsh beyond.

At the foot of the delta wall therewould be tharlarion.

It was now late at night.We had supped and drank, on

provisions brought from the Vennaand the Tela.

We were served by Telima andVina, who wore the garments stillof Kettle Slaves. The young man,

Fish, sat with us, and was served.Serving us as well, thoughuncollared, were Midice, and Thuraand Ula. When we had been servedthe girls sat with us, and we atetogether.

Midice did not meet my eyes.She was very beautiful. She wentand knelt near Tab.

“I never thought,” Tab wassaying, “that I would find a freewoman of interest.” He had one armabout Midice.

“On a peasant holding,” saidThurnock, defensively, as though hemust justify having freed Thura,“one can get much more work from

a free woman!” He pounded thetable. Thura wore talenders in herhair.

“For my part,” said Clitus,chewing, “I am only a poorfisherman, and could scarce affordthe costs of a slave.”

Ula laughed and thrust her headagainst his shoulder, holding hisarm.

“Well,” said Samos, chewing ona vulo wing, “I am glad there arestill some women slave in PortKar.”

Telima and Vina, in their collars,looked down, smiling.

“Where is the slave Sandra?” I

asked Thurnock.“We found her hiding in your

treasure room in the keep,” saidThurnock.

“That seems appropriate,” saidTelima, acidly.

“Let us not be unpleasant,” Icautioned her.

“So what did you do?” I asked.“We bolted the door from the

outside,” said Tburnock. “Shescreamed and pounded but is wellcontained within.”

“Good,” I said.I would let her remain there for

two days without food and water, inamong the gold and the jewels.

“When you release her,” saidTelima, “why don’t you sell her?”

Telima was Gorean.“Would you like me to sell her?”

I asked.“Yes,” said Telima.“Why?” I asked.“Beast,” smiled Telima.“In my arms,” I said, “I have

found her a true slave.”“In your arms,” said Telima,

looking down, “I am a truer slavethan Sandra could ever be.”

“Perhaps,” I said, “I shall let youcompete anxiously against oneanother.”

“Good,” said Telima. “I will

compete. I will win.”I laughed, and Telima looked at

me, puzzled. I reached across andseized her by the arms, and drewher to me. She was so utterlyGorean. Looking down intoTelima’s eyes I told her, “In twodays, when I free Sandra from thetreasure room, I am going to giveher her freedom and gold, that shemay go where she wishes and dowhat she pleases.”

Telima looked at me, startled.“It is Telima,” I said, “whom I

will not free.”Her eyes were wide. She

squirmed in my arms.

“It is Telima,” I told her, “whomI will keep as a slave.”

She laughed, and lifted her lipseagerly to mine, and it was long thatwe kissed.

“My former mistress kisseswell,” I said.

“Your slave,” said Telima,“rejoices that master finds her notdispleasing.”

“is it not time for some of theslaves to be sent to the kitchens?”asked the young man, Fish.

“Yes,” I said. I then addressedmyself to Fish and Vina. “Go to thekitchens, Slaves,” said I, “and donot permit me to see you until

dawn.”Fish lifted Vina in his arms and

left the table.At the entryway to that passage

leading to the kitchens he stopped,and then, as she laughed and kissedhim, he swept her, once the LadyVivina, who was to have been theUbara of Cos, now only a young,collared slave girl, in a brief,miserable garment, through theportal and disappeared down thepassageway. And I do not doubt thatthe Lady Vivina would have foundthe couch Of the LTbar of Cos lessjoyful than did the slave girl Vinathe blanket and the mat of the

kitchen boy, Fish, in the house ofBosk, a captain of Port Kar.

“I see,” said Ho-Hak to TeUtna,“that you still wear the goldenarmlet.”

“Yes,” said Telima.“It was by that,” said Ho-Hak,

“that I was to recognize you, whenyears ago you were to have fled tothe marshes.”

Telima looked at him, puzzled.Samos put down a cup of paga.

“Now do you suppose matters in thecity will proceed?” be asked Tab.

Tab looked down at the table.“The Ubars Eteocles and SulliusMaximus,” he said, “have already

fled with their ships and men. Thelast holding of Henrius Sevariusha1s been abandoned. The councilhall, though partly burnt, is notdestroyed. The city, it seems to me,is safe. The fleet will doubtlessreturn within four or five days.”

“Then,” said Samos, “it seemsthat the Home Stone of Port Kar issecure.” He lifted his goblet.

We drank his toast.“If my captain will permit,” said

Tab, “it is late, and I shallwithdraw.”

“Withdraw,” I said.He bowed his head and took his

leave, and Midice slipped to her

feet and accompanied him.“I do not think it wise for

Rencers,” said Ho-Hak, “to be overlong in Port Kar. Under the cover ofdarkness we shall depart.”

“My thanks to you and yourpeople,” said I.

“The rence islands, nowconfederated,” said Ho-Hak, “areyours.”

“I thank you,” I said, “Ho-Hak.”“We can never repay you,” he

said, “for having once saved manyof us from those of Port Kar, andfor having taught us the lesson of thegreat bow.”

“I am already more than paid,” I

said.“Then no longer,” said Ho-Hak,

“are we in one another’s debt.”“No longer,” said I.“Then,” said Ho-Hak, putting out

his hand, “let us be friends.”We clasped hands.“In the marshes,” he said, “you

have friends.”“Good,” I said.Ho-Hak turned and I saw the

board back of the exgalley-slavemove through the door. Outside Iheard him summoning his men. Theywould return to their rence crafttied at the foot of the delta wall.

“With your permission, Captain,”

said Thurnock, with a look atThura, “it is late.”

I nodded, and lifted my hand, andThurnock and Clitus, with Thuraand Ula, left the table.

“Good-night,” said I, “myfriends.”

“Good-night,” said they.Now only Telima, and I and

Samos, remained at the table, alonein the great hall.

“It must be nearly morning,” saidSamos.

“Perhaps an Ahn till dawn,” Isaid.

“Bring cloaks,” said Samos, “andlet us climb to the height of the

keep.”We found cloaks, I that of the

admiral, and we followed Samosfrom the room, across the tiled yardbehind the great hall, and into thenow-opened keep, and climbedbehind him to its height.

From the height of the keep wecould see the men of Tab, from theVenna and the Tela, here and thereon guard. The great sea gate,leading out into the city, had beenclosed. The rencers, one by one,were climbing down ropes over thedelta wall, returning to their smallcraft below.

We saw Ho-Hak the last to climb

over the wall, and we raised ourhands to him. He waved, and thendisappeared over the wall.

In the light of the three moons themarshes flickered.

Telima looked at Samos,“Then1,” she said, “I was permittedto escape your house.”

“Yes,” said Samos, “and youwere permitted to take the goldenarmlet, that Ho-Hak, with his men,would recognize you in themarshes.”

“They found me within hours,”she said.

“They were waiting for you,”said Samos.

“I do not understand,” saidTelima.

“I bought you when you were agirl,” said Samos, “with thesethings in mind.”

“You raised me as yourdaughter,” she said, “and then,when I became seventeen---”

“Yes,” said Samos, “you weretreated with great cruelty as a slavegirl, and then, years later, permittedto escape.”

“But why!” she demanded.“Why!”

“Samos,” said I, “was it fromyou that the message came, monthsago, which I received in the

Council of Captains, seeking tospeak with me?”

“Yes,” said Samos.“But you denied it,” I said.“The dungeon of the hall of

captains scarcely seemed the placeto discuss the business of Priest-Kings.”

“Priest-Kings?” breathed Telima.I smiled. “No,” I said, “I suppose

not.” I looked at him. “But when themessage was delivered,” I said,“you were not even in the city.”

“True,” said Samos. “I hoped bythat ruse to make it easier to denyany connection between myself andthe message, should denial seem in

order.”“You never again attempted to

contact me,” I said.“You were not ready,” said

Samos. “And Port Kar needed you.”“You serve Priest-Kings,” I said.“Yes,” said Samos.“And it was for this reason, to

protect me, one who once hadserved them as well, that you cameto my holding?”

“Yes,” said Samos, “but alsobecause you had done much for mycity, Port Kar. It was because ofyou that she now has a HomeStone.”

“Does that mean so much to

you?” I asked. Samos was thepredator, the cruel, insensitive larlof a man, the hunter, the killer.

“Of course,” he said.We looked out. Disappearing

now in the rence of the marshes,under the three moons, were themany small crafts of the rencers.

Samos, on the height of the keep,regarded me. “Return to the serviceof the Priest-Kings,” he said.

I looked away. “I cannot,” I said.“I am unworthy.

“All men,” said Samos, “and allwomen, have within themselvesdespicable elements, cruel thingsand cowardly things, things vicious,

and greedy and selfish, things uglythat we hide from others, and mostof all from ourselves.”

Telima and I regarded him.Samos put, not without

tenderness, a hand on the shoulderof Telima, and another on my ownshoulder.

“The human being,” he said, “is achaos of cruelties and nobilites, ofhatreds and of loves, ofre1sentments and respects, ofenvies and admirations. He containswithin himself, in his ferments,much that is base and much that isworthy. These are old truths, butfew men truly understand them.”

I looked out over the marshes. “Itwas no accident,” I said, “that I wasintercepted in the marshes.”

“No,” said Samos.“Does Ho-Hak serve Priest-

Kings?” I asked.“Not to my knowledge,” said

Samos. “But long ago, when wasrunning from the galleys, andhunted, I concealed him in myhouse. I later helped him get to themarshes. From time to tome he hasaided me.”

“What did you tell Ho-Hak?” Iasked.

“That I knew of one from PortKar who would soon be traversing

the marshes.”“Nothing else?” I asked.“Only,” said he, looking at the

girl, “that the girl Telima be used asthe bait to snare you.”

“The Rencers hate those of PortKar,” I said.

“Yes,” said Samos.“They might have killed me,” I

said.“It was a risk I took,” said

Samos.“You are free with the lives of

others,” I said.“Worlds are at stake,” said he,

“Captain.”I nodded.

“Did Misk,” I asked, “the Priest-King, know of any of this?”

“No,” said Samos, “He wouldsurely not have permitted it. ButPriest-Kings, for all their wisdom,know little of men.” He, too, lookedout over the marshes. “There aremen also who, coordinating withPriest-Kings, oppose the Others.”

“Who are the Others?” askedTelima.

“Don not speak now, CollaredFemale,” said Samos.

Telima stiffened.“I will speak to you sometime,” I

said, “of these things.”Samos has spoken gently, but he

was a slaver.“We anticipated,” said Samos,

“that your humanity would assertitself, that faced with ameaningless, ignominious death inthe marshes, you would grovel andwhine for your life.”

In my heart I wept. “I did,” Isaid.

“You chose,” said Samos, “aswarriors have it, ignominiousbondage over the freedom ofhonorable death.”

There were tears in my eyes. “Idishonored my sword, my city. Ibetrayed my codes.”

“You found your humanity,” said

Samos.“I betrayed my codes!” I cried.“IT is only in such moments,”

said Samos, “that a man sometimeslearns that all truth and all reality isnot written in one’s own codes.”

I looked at him.“We knew that, if you were not

killed, you would be enslaved.Accordingly, we had, for years,nursing in her hatreds andfrustrations, well prepared one whowould be eager to teach you, awarrior, a man, one bound for PortKar, the cruelties, the miseries anddegradations of the most abject ofslaveries.”

Telima dropped her head. “Youprepared me well, Samos,” shesaid.

I shook my head. “no,” I said,“Samos, I cannot again servePriest-Kings. You did your worktoo well. As a man I have beendestroyed. i have lost myself, allthat I was.”

Telima put her head to myshoulder. It was cold on the heightof the keep.

“Do you think,” asked Samos ofTelima, “that this man has beendestroyed? That he has losthimself?”

“No,” said the girl, “my Ubar has

not been destroyed. He has not losthimself.”

I touched her, grateful that sheshould speak so.

“I have done cruel anddespicable things,” I told Samos.

“So have we, or would we, ormight we all,” smiled Samos.

“It is I,” whispered Telima,“who lost myself, who wasdestroyed.”

Samos looked on her, kindly.“You followed him even to PortKar,” said he.

“I love him,” she said.I held her about the shoulders.“Neither of you,” said Samos,

“have been lost, or destroyed.” Hesmiled. “Both of you are whole,” hesaid, “and human.”

“Very human,” I said, “toohuman.”

“In fighting the Others,” saidSamos, “one cannot be humanenough.”

I was puzzled that he should havesaid that.

“Both of you now knowyourselves as you did not before,and in knowing yourselves you willbe better able to know others, theirstrengths and their weaknesses.”

“It is nearly dawn,” said Telima.“There was only one last

obstacle,” said Samos, “and neitherof you, even now, fully understandit.”

“What is that?” I asked.“Your pride,” he said. “that of

both of you.” He smiled. “When youlost your images of yourselves, andlearned your humanity, in yourdiverse ways, and shame, youabandoned your myths, your songs,and would accept only the meat ofanimals, as though one so lofty asyourself must be either Priest-Kingor beast. Your pride demandedeither the perfection of the myth orthe perfection of its most villainiousrenunciation. I f you were not the

highest, you would be nothing lessthan the worse; if there was not themyth there was to be nothing.”Samos now spoke softly. “there issomething,” he said, “between thefancies of poets and the biting, andthe rooting and sniffing of beasts.”

“What?” I asked.“Man,” he said.I looked away again, this time for

the marshes, and over the city ofPort Kar. I saw the Venna and theTela in the lakelike courtyard of myholding, and the sea gate, and thecanals, and the roofs of buildings.

It was nearly light now.“Why was I brought to Port

Kar?” I asked.“To be prepared for a task,” said

Samos.“What task?” I asked.“Since you no longer serve

Priest-Kings,” said Samos, “there isno point speaking 1of it.”

“What task?” I asked.“A ship must be built,” said

Samos, “A ship different from anyother.”

I looked at him.“One that can sail beyond the

world’s end,” he said.This was an expression, in the

first knowledge, for the sea somehundred pasangs west of Cos and

Tyros, beyond which the ships ofGoreans do not go, or if go, do notreturn.

Samos, of course, knew as wellas I the limitations of the firstknowledge. he knew, as well as I,that Gor was spheriod. I did notknow why men did not traverse theseas far waest of Cos and Tyros.Telima, too, of course, having beeneducated through the secondknowledge in the house of Samos,knew that “world’s end” was, to theeducated Gorean, a figurativeexpression. Yet, in a sense, theGorean world did end there, as italso, in a sense, eneded with the

Voltai ranges to the east. They werethe borders, on the east and west, ofknown Gor. To the far south andnorth, there was, as far as menknew, only the winds and thesnows, driven back and forth,across the bleak ice.

“Who would build such a ship?”I asked.

“Tersites,” said Samos.“He is mad,” I said.“He is a genius,” said Samos.“I no longer serve Priest-Kings,”

I said.“Very well,” said Samos. He

turned to leave. “I wish you well,”said he, over his shoulder.

“I wish you well,” I said.Even though Telima wore her

won cloak, I opened the great cloakof the admiral, and enfolded herwithin it, that we both might shareits warmth. And then, on the heightof the keep, looking out across thecity, we watched the dawn, beyondthe muddy Tamber gulf, softly touchthe cold waters of the gleamingThassa.

Table of ContentsCONTENTSChapter 1Chapter 2

Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18

Table of ContentsCONTENTSChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14

Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18