Magicians of Gor

11 The Delka

"Stop babbling, man!" ordered the guardsman, an officer in the scarlet of Ar, though his accent proclaimed him Cosian.

"It was so quick!" wept the merchant. "My shop, my wares, ruined!"

"Aii," said another of the guardsmen with the officer. There were four such men with him. They were, I think, of Ar. They were looking about the shop, one of ceramics. There were many shards about. Shelves had been pulled down. Among the shards and wreckage, by count, there were seven bodies, all Cosian merchants. "Who are you?" asked the officer, looking up.

"Auxiliaries, Captain," said I, "in the vicinity."

"See what carnage has been wrought here," said the officer, angrily.

"Looters?" I asked.

"Explain now," said the captain to the merchant, "what occurred. Control yourself. Be calm."

"I am sick!" wept the merchant.

"I am not of the physicians," said the officer. "I must have an account of this. There must be a report made."

"It was at the ninth Ahn," said the merchant, sitting on a stool.

"Yes?" said the officer.

"These fellows entered the shop," he said. "They claimed to be tax collectors."

"These fellows presented their credentials?" asked the captain.

"They are not tax collectors" said one of the guardsmen. "They are fellows come in from the camp, on passes. They are well known on the avenue. They pose as tax collectors, and then, in that guise, take what they wish."

"What did they want?" asked the captain of the merchant.

"Money," he said.

"You gave it to them?" asked the officer.

"I gave them what I had," he said, "but it was little enough. The collectors had come only five days earlier. They leave us destitute!"

"You murdered these men?" inquired the captain, skeptically.

"I did nothing," said the merchant. "They grew angry at not receiving more money. To be sure, had I any, I would have given it to them readily. Glory to Cos!"

"Glory to Cos," growled the officer. "Continue."

"Angry at the pittance they obtained they began to wreck the shop."

"Yes?" inquired the officer.

"My shop! My beautiful wares!" he moaned.

"Continue!" said the officer.

"It was then that two fellows entered the shop, in silence, like darkness and wind, behind them," he said.

"And?" inquired the officer.

"And this was done!" said the merchant, gesturing to the floor.

"There were only two who entered behind them?" asked the officer.

"Yes," said the merchant.

"I do not believe you," said the officer. "These fallen fellows are swordsmen, known in the camp."

"I swear it!" said the merchant.

"There appears to be only one mark on the body of each of these fellows," said one of the guardsmen, who had been examining the bodies.

"Warriors," said another of the guardsmen.

"I do not even know if they realized what was among them," said the merchant. "It seems to have been professionally done," said the captain.

"Yes, Captain," said one of the men.

"Whose work could it be?" asked the captain.

"Surely there is little doubt about the matter," said another of the guardsmen. The captain regarded the guardsmen.

"See, Captain?" asked the guardsmen. He rolled one of the bodies to its back. On the chest was a bloody triangle, the "delka." That is the fourth letter in the Gorean alphabet, and formed identically to the fourth letter of the Greek alphabet, the "delta', to which letter it doubtless owes its origin. In Gorean, the delta of a river is referred to as its, "delka." The reasoning here is the same as in Greek, and, derivatively, in English, namely the resemblance of a delta region to a cartographical triangle.

"It was the same five days ago," said one of the men, "with the five brigands found slain in the Trevelyan district, and the two mercenaries cut down on Wagon Street, at the second Ahn, only the bloody delka left behind, scrawled on the wall."

"In the blood of the brigands, and of the mercenaries," said one of the men. "Ar takes vengeance," said one of the guardsmen.

"Sooner could a verr snarl!" snapped the officer.

"We are not all urts," said one of the men.

"Your swords are pledged to Ar," said the officer, "Ar under the hegemony of Cos!"

"Is that other than to Cos herself?" asked a man.

"We obey our Ubara," said another.

"And whom does she obey?" asked the fellow.

"Silence," said the officer.

"Glory to Cos," I said.

"Let an auxiliary teach you your manners, your duties to the alliance," said the officer.

The guardsman shrugged.

"Good fellow," said the officer.

"Thank you, Captain," I said.

The officer turned to the tradesman. "Those assailants who slew these poor lads and wrecked your shop, surely several of them, not two, could you recognize them?"

"There were but two, as I said," said the tradesman, "and it was not they but those who now lie about, drenched in their own blood, who disturbed my wares."

"I see," said the officer, angrily.

"I would follow Marlenus," said a guardsman.

"Follow his daughter," said the officer.

"One whom he himself repudiated?" asked the man.

"False," said the officer.

"She was disowned," said the man.

"False!" said the officer.

"As you say, Captain," said one of the guardsmen.

"In following his daughter, you follow him," said the officer.

"Never would his footsteps have led to Cos unless there were an army at his back," said another.

"Hail Talena, Ubara of Ar," I said.

"Well said," said the Captain.

"Glory to Ar," said on the men.

This sentiment was echoed by those present with the exception, I think, of the captain, myself and, if I am not mistaken, Marcus.

"Search the shop," said the officer.

Three guardsmen then went into the back of the shop, and one climbed the ladder to the second floor.

"Two many things of this sort have occurred," said the captain to me, looking about himself.

"Captain?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "More than the men know of."

There was at that moment a girl's scream, coming from the back room.

The shopkeeper cried out in misery.

"Captain!" called a man.

The captain then strode to the rear room. The shopkeeper, Marcus and myself followed him.

In the back there were many ceramic articles about, vessels of numerous sorts, on tiers, and stacks of shallow bowls. The ruffians who had assaulted the shop had not reached the rear room. Further it seemed likely the merchant was not as poorly off as might have been supposed.

"See, Captain?" said one of the men, lifting up the lid of a narrow, oblong chest. Within it, huddled there, looking up, over her right shoulder, terrified, there crouched a girl. Her veil had become somewhat disarranged, and in such a way that one could see her lips and mouth.

"Cover yourself, immodest girl!" scolded the shopkeeper. She pulled the veil more closely about her features. "She is my daughter," said the shopkeeper. She was probably not more than sixteen or seventeen years old.

"Do you always keep her in a chest?" asked the captain, angrily. Keeping female slaves in small confines, of course, in properly ventilated chests, in slave boxes, and such, is not that unusual, but this girl, as far as we knew, was free. Apparently the chest had not been locked, and, too, of course, she was clothed, rather than naked, as slaves are usually kept in such places. To be sure, they are sometimes granted a sheet or blanket for comfort or warmth. "Of course not," said the shopkeeper, frightened. "But when the ruffians came to the shop she was in the back and I told her to hide in the chest."

"Ruffians?" asked the officer.

"Yes, Captain," said the man.

"And yet you did not have her emerge from the chest when the danger was past," observed the officer.

"It slipped my mind," said the shopkeeper.

"Of course," said the captain, ironically.

The shopkeeper was silent.

"You feared us, your defenders, your neighbors and allies," said the captain.

"Forgive me, Captain," said the shopkeeper, "but there are the levies, and such."

"And have you concealed your daughter from the authorities, in such matters?" asked the captain.

"Of course not, Captain," he said. "I am a law-abiding man. She is on the registries."

"There is nothing upstairs," said the man who had come down the ladder from the second floor.

The girl made no attempt to leave the chest. I did not know if this was because she was mature enough, and female enough, to understand that she had not yet been given permission to do so, or if there were a deeper reason.

"Turus, Banius," said the captain, addressing two of the men, "clear the front of the shop, remove the bodies, put them on the street."

"May I submit, Captain," I said, "that it might be preferable to leave the bodies in the shop until they can be properly disposed of. If they are displayed on the street, the power of those of the delta might be too manifestly displayed."

"Excellent," said the officer. "Desist," he said to the men.

"I am considering my report," said the officer to the merchant. "It seems that some good fellows of Cos, esteemed mercenaries, in the service of her Ubar, with all good will and innocence, entered this shop, to purchase wares for loved ones, and were treacherously set upon by assailants, some twenty in number."

"They came pretending to be collectors," said the merchant, "to rob me under this pretense, and dissatisfied with my inability to fill their purses, set out to destroy the shop and goods, and then two fellows whom I did not know, their features concealed in wind scarves, entered and did what you see in the front of the shop."

"I like my version better," said the captain.

"As you will," said the merchant.

"I do not care for what occurred here," said the captain, "and I find you uncooperative."

"I will cooperate in any way I can," said the merchant.

The captain then went to the sides of the back room and suddenly, angrily, kicked and struck goods about, shattering countless articles.

"Stop!" cried the merchant.

The captain swept kraters from a shelf.

In futility did the merchant wring his hands.

"I suspect," said the captain, overturning a stack of bowls, treading upon several of them, "you are in league with the brigands, that your shop served as a trap!"

"No!" cried the shopkeeper, anguished. "Would I have myself ruined. Stop! I beg you, stop!"

"Impalement would be too good for you, traitor of Ar!" said the officer. "No!" wailed the merchant.

"If your story is true," said the officer, thrusting over a rack of ceramics, and a cabinet, "why were these goods, not destroyed, as well?" He hurled a kylix to the wall. In his anger, his destructive fury, doubtless the belated eruption of precedent frustrations, he kicked articles about, and trod even on bowls. Even his ankles and legs were bloodied.

"They did not come so far," said the merchant. "But you, it seems, are determined to complete their work."

"Do you have rope, or hammers and nails?" asked the officer.

"Of course, Captain," said the man.

"Strip her," said the captain to one of the men.

"No!" cried the merchant. He was restrained by two guardsmen.

The girl, crying out, shrieking, pulled half from the chest, had her veil and clothing torn from her.

She was then thrust down again, now naked, trembling, in the chest.

"No!" wept the shopkeeper, throwing himself to his knees before the officer. "This will teach you to put her on the registries," said the officer.

"She is on the registries!" wept the merchant.

"I have found hammers, and nails," said the other of the guardsmen.

"Please, no!" cried the merchant.

"Is this where free men of Ar belong, asked the captain, "at the feet of Cos?"

"Get off your knees!" said one of the guardsmen.

The merchant could not move, but sobbed helplessly.

"Nail shut the chest," said the officer.

"I will say anything you want," said the shopkeeper, looking up piteously at the officer, "anything! I will render whatever testimony you desire. I will sign anything, anything!"

The room rang with the blow of the hammers.

"It will not be necessary," said the officer. The merchant collapsed.

The lid was no hammered shut on the chest.

The officer left the fellow on the floor of the rear room, and signaled for two of his men to pick up the chest and follow him.

He then, followed by the rest of us, including the two fellows with the chest, threaded his way through the front of the shop and to the street outside.

"Captain!" said one of the men outside, pointing to the exterior wall of the building.

There, on the wall, scratched on the stone, was a delka.

The captain cried out with rage.

"I am sure that was not there when we entered, Captain," said one of the guardsmen.

"No, it was not," said the captain.

That was true. As it might be recalled, Marcus and I had entered the shop after the captain and his men, having been on our rounds in the neighborhood.

Some men were about, but seeing the captain and his men, and Marcus and myself, hurried away, perhaps fearing that the delka might be blamed on them.

I did not doubt but what some of these folks had peeped within the shop and seen the bodies about. That would have been easy enough to do when we were in the back of the shop.

The two fellows carrying the chest put it down.

"I fear they are everywhere," said the captain.

"Who?" I asked.

"The Delta Brigade," he said.

I myself, in a paga tavern or two, some days ago, had dropped this expression, mentioning it as though it were one I had heard somewhere, and was curious to understand. I was pleased to note that it was no common currency in Ar. Such are the wings of rumors.

"You think the afternoon's attack was the work of this Delta Brigade?" I asked. "Surely," he said.

"Who are they?" I asked.

"Dissidents, or renegades, doubtless," said the captain, "traitors to both Cos and Ar."

"I see," I said.

"I suspect veterans of the delta campaign," he said, "or scions of disaffected cities, such as Ar's Station."

"I am from Ar's Station," said Marcus.

"But you are an auxiliary," said the captain.

"True," said Marcus.

"Perhaps Marlenus of Ar has returned," I said. I thought that an excellent rumor to start.

"No," said the captain. "I do not think so. Marlenus was not, as far as we know, in the delta. I think it is more likely to be veterans of the delta, of which there are many in the city, or fellows from the north, from Ar's Station or somewhere."

"Perhaps you are right," I said. The captain was a shrewd fellow, and thusly an unlikely candidate to enlist in my efforts to initiate rumors, or at least this particular one. To be sure, even a fellow of genuine probity, one who is unlikely to nourish, reproduce, transmit, or credit a rumor in its infancy, may find himself uncritically accepting it later on, when it becomes "common knowledge," so to speak. Are we not all the victims of hearsay, even with respect to many of our most profound «truths»? Of our thousands and hundreds of thousands, of such "truths," how many have we personally earned? How many of us can determine the distance of a planet or the structure of a molecule?

"I will have a wagon sent for the bodies," said the captain.

"Yes, Captain," I said.

The captain regarded the delka, scrawled on the wall, with anger.

"It is only a scratching, a mark," I said. "No," he said. "It is more. It is a defiance of Cos, and of Ar!"

"Of Ar?" I asked.

"As she is today," he said.

"But perhaps not of the old Ar," I said.

"Perhaps not," he said.

"You have met men of Ar in battle?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "And it is a mark of the old Ar, the Ar I knew in war, the Ar of spears and standards, of rides and marches, of dust and trumpets, of tarns and tharlarion, the Ar of imperialism, of glory, of valor, and pride. That is why it is so dangerous. It is a recollection of the old Ar."

"The true Ar?"

"If you wish," he said. Then he exclaimed, angrily. "They have been defeated! She is dead! She is gone! How dare they remember her?"

He looked up and down the street. It now seemed deserted. I did not doubt but what word of what had occurred had spread.

"How dare they resist?" he asked.

"There seem few here now," I said.

"They are there, somewhere," he said.

"Perhaps," I said.

"Guard yourselves," he said.

"Thank you, Captain," I said.

"They may be anywhere," he said.

"Surely there are only a few," I said, "perhaps a few madmen who cannot understand the barest essentials of the most obvious realities, political and prudential."

"They are verr," he said. "But not all of them. Some pretend to be verr. Some are sleen, disguised in the skins of verr."

"Or larls," I said, "patient, unreconciled, dangerous, capable of action."

"Cos, too, has her larls," said the captain.

"I do not doubt it," I said.

"Had I my way," he said, "we would have finished Ar. She would have been done with then, forever. There would be nothing here now but ashes and salt. Even her name would be excised from the monuments, from the documents, from the histories. It would be as though she had not been."

"It is hard for a man to be great who does not have great enemies," I said. "And so Cos and Ar require one another, that each may be greater than they could otherwise be?" he asked.

"Perhaps," I said.

"There was no glory here," he said. "We did not win this victory in storm and fire, surmounting walls, breaching gates, winning Ar street by street, house by house. It was not we who defeated Ar. It was her putative own who betrayed her, in jealousy and intrigue, in ambition and greed. Ideas and lies defeated Ar. It was done through the sowing of confusion, the propagation of self-doubt and guilt, all suitably bedizened in the meretricious rhetorics of morality. We taught them that evil was good, and good evil, that strength was weakness, and weakness strength, that health was sickness, and sickness health. We made them distrust themselves, and taught them to believe that their most basic instincts and elemental insights, the most essential and primitive promptings of their blood, were to be repudiated in favor of self-denial and frustration, in favor of vacuous principles, used by us as weapons against them, in favor stultifying verbalisms, to cripple and bleed them, and entrap them in our tolls. And thus, betrayed by those who sought advancement in the destruction and dissolution of their own community, abetted by the well-intentioned, the simpleminded, the idealists, the fools, they put themselves at our mercy, at that of another community, one not so foolish, or not so sickened, as theirs. I saw strong men gladly setting aside their weapons. I saw citizens of Ar singing as their gates burned, as they tore down their walls with their own hands. That is no honest victory for Cos, won at the walls, at the gates, in the streets. That is not a victory of which we can be proud. That is a victory not of steel but by poison."

"You are a warrior," I said.

"Once," he said.

He turned and looked at the shop. "When the bodies are removed," he said. "I think I shall have this shop burned."

"There are adjoining buildings," I said.

"Ah, yes," he said. "We must avoid incidents. We must keep the verr pacified, lest they learn how they are milked and shorn."

"Surely you do not believe the merchant is involved with the Delta Brigade," I said.

"No," he said. "I do not really believe that."

"And the slain men?" I asked.

"Well-known brigands," he said, "insults to the armbands they wear."

"And what report will you make of this?" I asked.

"Heroes, of course," said he, "slain by overwhelming odds."

"I see," I said.

"There is a game here," he said, "which I shall play/ I have no wish to lose my post. You see, the sickness of Ar infects even her conquerors. We must pretend to believe the same lies."

"I understand," I said.

"And even if I did not make such a report I do not doubt but what it would be something to that effect which would eventually reach the tent of Myron, my polemarkos."

"He is a good officer," I said.

"Yes," said the captain/ I had always heard this of Myron. To be sure, I had gathered that he had once been too much under the influence of a woman, a mere slave, who had been named Lucilina. She had been captured and was now owned by a common soldier in the retinue of Dietrich of Tarnburg. No longer was she a high slave, pampered and indulged. She was now a low slave, and among the lowest of the low, and was worked hard. She must often kneel and fear whipping. It was said, too, that in the arms of her master, well handled and mastered, she had discovered her womanhood. I doubted that Myron, for his part, would again make the mistake he had made with her. I did not doubt but what his women would now be well kept in their place, at his feet. They would kneel there, I did not doubt, in all trembling and subservience, and be in no doubt as to their collaring.

Again the captain looked angrily at the furrowed wall, the tracing of that triangle, the delka.

"Captain?" I said.

"How many do you think are in the Delta Brigade?" he asked.

"I do not know," I said. "Surely no more than a few."

"A few today may become a regiment tomorrow, and after that, who knows?"

"The merchant spoke of only two men," I reminded him.

"There had to be more than that," said the captain, "though how many it is difficult to say, perhaps ten, perhaps twelve."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"The victims were not civilians, not tradesmen, not potters or bakers. They were skilled swordsmen," he said.

"Perhaps then there are ten in the Delta Brigade," I said.

"I am sure there are many more," he said.

"Oh?" I said, interested.

"This sign turns up frequently in the city, and more often from day to day," he said. "It is a symbol of resistance, smeared on a wall, scratched on a flagstone, carved into a post, found inscribed on an unfolded napkin."

I had not known these things. I myself had not seen much evidence of this sort of thing. To be sure, Marcus and I usually prowled in the darkness, protected from suspicion by our armbands, as though we might be on duty. And during the day we had normal duties, guarding portals and such, or, when assigned them, rounds, usually in public areas, as today, where the inscribing of the delka would be more likely to be noticed. I suspected these delkas were mostly to be found in the alleys and the back streets of Ar.

"The scratching of the delka," I said, " might even be permitted, as an outlet for meaningless defiance, as a futile token of protest from those too helpless or weak to do more."

"I am sure you are right, for the most part," said the captain.

"Then I would not concern myself with them," I said.

"Four soldiers were found murdered this morning," said the officer, "off the Avenue of Turia. The delka was found there, too."

"I see," I said. I had certainly known nothing of this. Marcus and I, it seemed, had allies.

The officer's men, the guardsmen, looked at one another. I gathered that this was information to them, too.

"Do you wish for us to remain on duty here, my fellow and myself," I asked, "until the arrival of the wagon?"

"No," he said.

"Is there any way we may be of service?" I asked.

"We have our rounds," said the officer. He glanced at the chest on the street, outside the door of the shop.

"Yes, Captain?" I said.

"What do you think of the contents of this chest?" he asked.

"A pretty lass," I said, "although young."

"Do you think she would look well in slave silk and a collar?"

I thought about it. "Yes," I said. "But perhaps more so in a year or so."

"Did you not see how, when the lid of the chest was held open, her veil had been disarranged, that her lips and mouth might be visible?"

"It was impossible not to notice it," I said. I recalled her father had chided her about this. Such a lapse I was sure, had not been inadvertent, not on Gor, with a free woman. If it had not been overtly intentional, consciously arranged, so to speak, it had surely been covertly so, unconsciously so, a pathetic sign manifested outwardly of a dawning sexuality and an innate need whose first powerful promptings were doubtless felt even now.

"Do you think she would make a slave?" he asked.

"I assume you do not mean a child might be a slave," I said, "carried into bondage to be trained as a mere serving girl or page, to be in effect held for true bondage later, say, to be auctioned as a pleasure object, if a female, or say, to be sent to the fields or quarries, if a male."

"No," he said.

"Yes," I said. "I suppose she is ready for the block now."

"Do you think she is on the registries?" he asked.

"Probably," I said.

"But it does not really matter one way or another," he said, "as she is a girl of Ar."

"True," I said. Ar, and its contents, belonged to Cos.

"Do you know where the loot area is," he asked, "that in the district of Anbar?"

"Yes," I said.

"I would be obliged if you would see to the chest, and the slave."

I suppose the young woman within the chest could hear our conversation. I would have supposed that she would then have pounded and wept, and scratched at the inside of the chest, begging mercy, but she did not. Slaves, those fit by nature for this elegant disposition, and whose minds and bodies crave it profoundly, and will not be happy without it, pretending that they are actually free women, commonly do such things. They are often among the most express in their protestive behaviors, the most demonstrative in their lamentations, and such, believing such things are expected of them, fearing only that they will be taken seriously. But this girl was actually very quiet, lying like a caressable, silken little urt in the chest. Indeed, for a moment, I feared there might be insufficient air in the chest and that she might have fainted, or otherwise lost consciousness. But then I noted that the chest was well ventilated, as made sense, considering it had probably been prepared to conceal her days ago, if not months ago. She had doubtless not, however, expected to have its lid nailed shut, and to find herself helplessly, nakedly, at the mercy of strong men, imprisoned within it, and perhaps timidly, fearfully, trying to understand her feelings.

"My fellow and I," I said, "if you wish, will see to the chest, and the girl."

"The slave," he said.

"Yes," I said, "the slave."

"I wish you well," said the captain.

"I wish you well," I said.

He then, and his men, took their leave.

"Why did you not wish the bodies placed outside the shop?" Marcus asked of me, when the officer with his small squad had departed.

I motioned him to one side, that the girl in the chest might not overhear our conversation.

"Surely it would have been better if the bodies had been put outside," said Marcus, "that the strength of the Delta Brigade, as it is spoken of, and the effectiveness of its work, might seem displayed."

I spoke softly. "No, dear friend," I said. "Better that the carnage wrought within the shop should seem that those of Cos feared it to be known, that they were concerned to conceal it from the public."

"Ah!" said Marcus.

"But, too," I said, "do not fear that it is not known. The shop is muchly open. The door was ajar. I am confident men have spied within and see what lies strewn upon its tiles. And even if they had not, the bodies will presumably be removed and be seen then. And, too, if not this either, surely we may depend upon the tradesman to speak of such things."

"That the bodies were not put outside," said Marcus, "makes it seem as though Cos feared the Delta Brigade, and did not wish that the effectiveness of its work be known, and that is much more to the advantage of the Brigade."

"Yes," I said. "I think so."

"Accordingly," said Marcus, "its work is known, or likely to be known, but it is also made to seem that Cos fears the making broadcast of such intelligence."

"Precisely," I said.

"Thusly increasing the reputation of the Delta Brigade," he said.

"Yes," I said.

"It is a form of Kaissa, is it not?" he asked.

"Of course," I said.

"Well played," he said.

"Perhaps," I said. "But it is difficult to foresee the continuations."

"I do not like such games," he said.

"You prefer a fellow at sword point, in an open field, at noon?" I asked. "Of course," he said.

I was sympathetic with his view. The board had a thousand sides, and surfaces and dimensions, the pieces were of unknown number, and nature and value, the rules were uncertain, often you did not know whom you played, or where they were, often the moves must be made in darkness, in ignorance of your opponent's position, his pieces, his strengths, his skills, his moves.

"Perhaps, I too," I mused. Yet I had known men who enjoyed such Kaissa, the games of politics and men. My friend, Samos, of Port Kar, was one such.

"You enjoy such things," said Marcus.

"Perhaps," I said. "I am not sure." It is often easier to know others than ourselves. Perhaps that is because there is less need to tell lies about them. Few of us recognize the stranger in the shadows, who is ourself.

"I am a simple warrior," said Marcus. "Set me a formation, or a field, or a city. I think I know how to solve them, or set about the matter. Let things be clear and plain. Let me see my foe, let me meet him face to face."

"Subtlety and deception are not new weapons in the arsenal of war," I said. "They are undoubtedly as ancient as the club, the stone, the sharpened stick." Marcus regarded me, angrily.

"Study the campaigns of Dietrich of Tarnburg," I said.

Marcus shrugged, angrily.

"He has sowed silver and harvested cities," I said.

"More gates are opened with gold than iron," he said.

"You pretend to simplicity," I said. "Yet you quote from the Diaries." These were the field diaries attributed by many to Carl Commenius of Argentum. The reference would be clear to Marcus, a trained warrior.

"That I do not care for such games," said Marcus, "does not mean I cannot play them."

"How many are in the Delta Brigade? I asked him.

"Two," he smiled. "We are the Delta Brigade."

"No," I said, "there are more."

He looked at me, puzzled.

"This morning," I said, "four soldiers, doubtless Cosians, were found slain in the vicinity of the Avenue of Turia. The delka was found there."

Marcus was silent.

"We have allies," I said. "Too, I have learned that the delka appears elsewhere in Ar, presumably mostly in poorer districts."

"I do not welcome unknown allies," he said.

"At least we cannot betray them under torture, nor they us."

"Am I to derive comfort from that thought?" he asked.

"Why not?" I asked.

"We cannot control them," he said.

"Nor they us," I said.

"We began this," said Marcus. "But I do not know where it will end."

"Cos will be forced to unsheath her claws."

"And then?" he asked.

"And then we do not know where it will end," I said.

"What of the Home Stone of Ar's Station?" he asked.

"Is that your only concern?" I asked.

"For all I care, traitorous Ar may be burned to the ground," he said.

"It will be again publicly displayed," I said.

"That is part of your Kaissa?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"You see far ahead," he said.

"No," I said. "It is a forced continuation."

"I do not understand," he said.

"Ar will have no choice," I said.

"And if the Home Stone of Ar's Station is again displayed, what then?" he asked. "It was displayed before."

"I know a fellow who can obtain it for you," I said.

"A magician?" he asked.

I smiled.

"The Delta Brigade," he asked, "the two of us?"

"I think there are more," I said.

He looked at the delka, scratched on the exterior wall of the shop.

"You are curious as to its meaning, and its power?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"So, too, am I," I said.

"I am afraid," he said.

"So, too, am I" I said.

"And what of this?" asked Marcus, indicating the chest on the street, near us. "Bring it along," I said.

"What are we going to do with it?" he asked.

"You will see," I said.

"You saw her mouth was uncovered," he said. "She belongs with other lewd women in the loot pits of the Anbar district, awaiting their brands and collars."

"With other needful women," I said.

"She is a slave slut," he said.

"And will perhaps one day find her rightful master," I said.

"What are we going to do with her?" he asked.

"You will see," I said.

We then went to the chest. "Help me lift it," I said.

In a moment we had it in hand. It was a bit bulky to be easily carried by one man, but it was not heavy.

We felt its contents more within it.