Nomads Of Gor

APHRIS 0P TURIA

To be sure, it had not. The Turian feast usually consumes the better part of a night and can have as many as a hundred and fifty courses. This would be impractical, naturally, save for the detestable device of the golden bowl and tufted banquet stick, dipped in scented oils, by means of which the diner may, when he wishes, refresh himself and return with eagerness to the feast. I had not made use of this particular tool, and had contented myself with merely taking a bite or two, to satisfy the requirements of etiquette, from each course.

The Turians, doubtless, regarded this as a hopelessly bar- barian inhibition on my part.

I had, perhaps, however, drunk too much Paga.

This afternoon Kamchak and I, leading four pack kaiila, had entered the first gate of nine-gated Turia.

On the pack animals were strapped boxes of precious plate, gems, silver vessels, tangles of jewelry, mirrors, rings, combs, and golden tarn disks, stamped with the signs of a dozen cities. These were brought as gifts to the Turians, largely as a rather insolent gesture on the part of the Wagon Peoples, indicating how little they cared for such things, that they would give them to Turians. Turian embassies to the Wagon Peoples, when they occurred, naturally strove to equal or surpass these gifts. Kamchak told me, a sort of secret I gather, that some of the things he carried had been exchanged back and forth a dozen times. One small, flat box, however, Kamchak would not turn over to the stewards of Phanius Turmus, whom he met at the first gate. He insisted on carrying that box with him and, indeed, it rested beside his right knee at the table now.

I was very pleased to enter Turia, for I have always beenj excited by a new city.

I found Turia to match my expectations. She was luxuri- ous. Her shops were filled with rare, intriguing paraphernalia. I smelled perfumes that I had never smelled before. More than once we encountered a line of musicians dancing single file down the center of the street, playing on their flutes and drums, perhaps on their way to a feast. I was pleased to see again, though often done in silk, the splendid varieties of caste colors of the typical Gorean city, to hear once more the cries of peddlers that I knew so well, the cake sellers, the hawkers of vegetables, the wine vendor bending under a double verrskin of his vintage. We did not attract as much attention as I had thought we would, and I gathered that every spring, at least, visitors from the Wagon Peoples must come to the city. Many people scarcely glanced at us, in spite of the fact that we were theoretically blood foes. I suppose that life in high-walled Turia, for most of its citizens, went on from day to day in its usual patterns oblivious of the usually distant Wagon Peoples. The city had never fallen, and had not been under siege in more than a century. The average citizen worried about the Wagon Peoples, customarily, only when he was outside the walls. Then, of course, he worried a great deal, and, I grant him, wisely.

One disappointment to me in trekking through the streets of Turia was that a crier advanced before us, calling to the women of the city to conceal themselves, even the female slaves. Thus, unfortunately, save for an occasional furtive pair of dark eyes peering from behind a veil in a recessed casement, we saw in our journey from the gate of the city to the House of Saphrar none of the fabled, silken beauties of Turia.

I mentioned this to Kamchak and he laughed loudly. He was right, of course. Among the Wagons, clad in a brief bit of cord and leather, branded, wearing nose ring and Turian collar, could be found many of the beauties of Turia. Indeed, to the annoyance of Elizabeth Cardwell, who had spent her nights under the wagon in the last weeks, there were two such in our own wagon, the girl Dina, whom I had snared in the contests of the bole, and her companion, the fine wench who had bitten the neck of Kamchak's kaiila and had attempted to conceal her injury by the lance of Albrecht, Tenchika, a Tuchuk corruption of her Thurman name, Tendite; she struggled to serve Kamchak wed, but it was clear that she lamented her separation from Albrecht of the Kassars; he had, surprisingly, twice tried to buy his little slave back, but Kamchak was holding out for a higher price; Dina, on the other hand, served me skillfully and devotedly; once Albrecht, having a bole match planned, tried to buy her back, as well as Tenchika, but I had demurred.

"Does it mean," Dina had asked me that night, head to boot, "that Dina's master is pleased with her?"

"Yes," I said, "it does."

"I am happy," she had said.

"She has fat ankles," Elizabeth Cardwell had observed. "Not fat," I said, "Strong, sturdy ankles."

"If you like fat ankles," Elizabeth had said, turning about, perhaps inadvertently revealing the delightful slimness of her own ankles, and leaving the wagon.

Suddenly I became aware again of the banquet of Saphrar of Turia.

My piece of bask meat, roasted, had arrived. I picked it up and began to chew on it. I liked it better cooked over the open-fires on the prairie, but it was good bask. I sank my teeth into the juicy meat, tearing it and chewing on it. I observed the banquet tables, laid out in an open-ended rectangle, permitting slaves to enter at the open end, facilitat- ing the serving, and, of course, allowing entertainers to perform among the tables. To one side there was a small altar to Priest-Kings, where there burned a small fire. On this fire, at the beginning of the feast the feast steward had scattered some grains of meal, some colored salt, some drops of wine. "Ta-Sardar-Gor," he had said, and this phrase had been repeated by the others in the room. "To the Priest- Kings of Gor." It had been the general libation for the banquet. The only one in the room who did not participate in this ceremony was Kamchak, who thought that such a li- bation, in the eyes of the sky, would not have been fitting. I partook of the libation out of respect for Priest-Kings, for one in particular, whose name was Misk.

A Turian sitting a few feet from me noted that I had partaken of the libation. "I see," he said, "that you were not raised among the wagons."

"No," I said.

"He is Tarl Cabot of Ko-ro-ba," Saphrar had remarked. "How is it," I asked, "that you know my name?"

"One hears of such things," he said.

I would have questioned him on this matter, but he hadj turned to a man behind him and was talking with him, some matter I gathered pertaining to the feast.

I forgot about it.

If there had been no women for us to view in the streets of Turin, Saphrar, merchant of the city, had determined to make that omission good at his banquet. There were several women present at the tables, free women, and several others, slaves, who served. The free women, shamelessly to the mind of the rather prudish Kamchak, lowered their veils and threw back the hoods of their Robes of Concealment, enjoying the feast, eating with much the same Gorean gusto as their men. Their beauty and the sparkle of their eyes, their laughter and conversation, to my mind, immeasurably improved the eve- ning. Many were swift-tongued, witty wenches, utterly charm- ing and uninhibited. I did think, however, that it was some- what unusual that they should appear in public unveiled, particularly with Kamchak and myself present. The women in bondage present, who served us, each wore four golden rings on each ankle and each wrist, locked on, which clashed as they walked or moved, adding their sound to the slave bells that had been fixed on their Turian collars, and that hung from their hair; the ears of each, too, hall been pierced and from each ear hung a tiny slave boil. The single garment of these women was the Turian camisk. I do not know particularly why it is referred to as a camisk, save that it is a simple garment for a female slave. The common camisk is a single piece of cloth, about eighteen inches wide, thrown over the girl's head and worn like a poncho. It usually falls a bit above the knees in the front and back and is belted with cord or chain. The Turian camisk, on the other hand, if it were to be laid out on the floor, would appear somewhat like an inverted «T» in which the bar of the «T» would be beveled on each side. It is fastened with a single cord. The cord binds the garment on the girl at three points, behind the neck, behind the back, and in front at the waist. The garment itself, as might be supposed, fastens behind the girl's neck, passes before her, passes between her legs and is then lifted and, folding the two sides of the T's bar about her hips, ties in front. The Turian camisk, unlike the common camisk, will cover a girl's brand; on the other hand, unlike the common camisk, it leaves the back uncovered and can be tied, and is, snugly, the better to disclose the girl's beauty.

We had been treated to exhibitions of juggling, fire swal- lowing, and acrobats. There had been a magician, who par- ticularly pleased Kamchak, and a man who, whip in hand, guided a dancing sleen through its paces.

I could pick up snatches of conversation between Kam- chak and Saphrar, and I gathered from what was said that they were negotiating places of meeting for the exchange of goods. Then, later in the evening, when I was drunker on Paga than I should have permitted myself to become, I heard them discuss details which could only have pertained to what Kamchak had called the games of Love War, details having to do with specifications of time, weapons and judges, and such. Then I heard the sentence, "If she is to participate, you must deliver the golden sphere."

Abruptly, it seemed, I came awake, no longer half asleep, more than half drunk. It seemed suddenly I was shocked awake and sober. I began to tremble, but held the table, and, I believe, betrayed no sign of my inward excitement. "I can arrange that she is chosen for the games," Saphrar was saying, "but it must be worth my while."

"How can you determine that she is selected?" Kamchak was asking.

"My gold can determine that," Saphrar was saying, "and further determine that she is ill defended."

Oust of the corner of my eye I could see Kamchak's black eyes gleaming.

Then I heard the feast steward call out, his voice silencing all else, all conversation, even the musicians. The acrobats who were at the moment performing fled from between the tables. The feast steward's voice was heard, "The Lady Aphris of Turia."

I and all others turned our eyes to a wide, swirling marble stairway in the back and to the left of the lofty banquet hall in the house of Saphrar the merchant.

Down the stairway, slowly, in trailing white silk bordered with gold, the colors of the Merchants, there regally descend- ed the girl who was Aphris of Turia.

Her sandals were of gold and she wore matching gloves of gold.

Her face could not be seen, for it was veiled, a white silken veil trimmed with gold, nor even her hair, for it was hidden in the folds of the free woman's Robes of Conceal- ment, in her case, of course, done in the colors of the merchants.

Aphris of Turia, then, was of the caste of merchants. I recalled Kamchak had spoken of her once or twice. As the woman approached I suddenly became aware again of Saphrar speaking. "Behold my ward," he was saying, indi- cating the approaching girl.

"The richest woman in all Turia," Kamchak said.

"When she reaches her majority," Saphrar remarked. Until then, I gathered, her means were in the doubtless capable hands of Saphrar the merchant.

This supposition was later confirmed by Kamchak. Saphrar was not related to the girl, but had been appointed by the Turian merchants, on whom he undoubtedly exercised con- siderable influence, the guardian of the girl following the death of her father in a Paravaci caravan raid several years _ 92 before. The father of Aphris of Turia, Tethrar of Turia, had been the richest merchant in this city, itself one of the richest cities of Gor. There had been no surviving male heir and the considerable wealth of Tethrar of Turia was now that of his daughter, Aphris, who would assume control of these remark- able fortunes upon attaining her majority, which event was to occur this spring.

The girl, not unaware I am sure of the eyes upon her, stopped on the stairway and loftily surveyed the scene of the banquet. I could sense that she had almost immediately seen myself and Kamchak, strangers at the tables. Something in her carriage suggested that she might be amused.

I heard Saphrar whisper to Kamchak, whose eyes glowed as they rested on the figure in white and gold on the distant stairway.

"Is she not worth the golden sphere?" asked the mer- chant.

"It is hard to tell," said Kamchak.

"I have the word of her serving slaves," insisted Saphrar. "She is said to be marvelous."

Kamchak shrugged, his wily Tuchuk trading shrug. I had seen him use it several times while discussing the possible sale of little Tenchika to Albrecht in the wagon.

"The sphere is actually not of much value, Saphrar was saying, "it is not truly of gold but only appears so." "Still," Kamchak said, "the Tuchuks are fond of it." "I would only wish it as a curiosity," Saphrar was saying. "I must think on the matter," Kamchak was saying, not taking his eyes from Aphris of Turia.

"I know where it is," Saphrar was saying, his lips pulled back, revealing the golden canines, "I could send men for it." Pretending not to listen I was, of course, as attentive as possible to their conversation. But few in that room would have noted my interest had I displayed it openly. All eyes, it seemed, were on the girl on the stairs, slim, said to be beautiful, veiled, clad in Robes of Concealment of white and gold. Even I was distracted by her. Even I, in spite of my preoccupation with the conversation of Kamchak and Saphrar, would have found it difficult, had I wished, to take my eyes from her. Now she descended the last three stairs and, stopping to nod her head and grace an eager fellow here and there along the tables with a word or gesture, she began to approach the head of the table. The musicians, at a signal from the feast steward, took up their instruments again and the acrobats rushed back among the tables, tumbling and leaping about.

"It is in the wagon of Kutaituchik," Saphrar was saying. "I could send mercenary tarnsmen from the north, but I would prefer not to have war."

Kamchak was still watching Aphris of Turia.

My heart was beating with great rapidity. I had learned now, if Saphrar was correct, that the golden sphere, undoubt- edly the last egg of Priest-Kings, was in the wagon of Kutaituchik, said to be Ubar of the Tuchuks. At last, if Saphrar was correct, I knew its location.

I barely noticed, as Aphris of Turia made her way toward the head of the table, that she did not speak to nor acknowl- edge in any way any of the women present, though their robes suggested they must be of wealth and position. She gave them no sign that she recognized their existence. To a man here and there, however, she would nod her head or exchange a word or two. I thought perhaps Aphris was unwilling to acknowledge unveiled free women. Her own veil, of course, had not been lowered. Over the veil I could now see two black, deep, almond-shaped eyes; her skin, what I could see of it, was lovely and clear; her complexion was not so light as that of Miss Cardwell, but was lighter than that of the girl Hereena, of the First Wagon.

"The golden sphere for Aphris of Turia," Saphrar whispered to Kamchak.

Kamchak turned to the small, fat merchant and his scarred, furrowed face broke into a grin, bearing down on the round, pinkish face of the merchant. "The Tuchuks," he said, "are fond of the golden sphere."

"Very well," snapped Saphrar, "then you will not obtain the woman, I shall see to that and somehow I shall have the sphere understand that!"

Kamchak now turned to watch Aphris of Turia.

The girl now approached us, behind the tables, and Saphrar leaped to his feet and bowed low to her. "Honored Aphris of Turia, whom I love as my own daughter," he said. l he girl inclined her head to him, "Honored Saphrar, ? she said.

Saphrar gestured to two of the camisk-clad girls in the room, who brought cushions and a silken mat and placed them between Saphrar and Kamchak.

Aphris nodded her head to the feast steward and he sent the acrobats running and tumbling from the room and the musicians began to play soft, honeyed melodies. The guests at the banquet returned to their conversation and repast. Aphris looked about her.

She lifted her head, and I could see the lovely line of her nose beneath the veil of white silk trimmed with gold. She sniffed twice. Then she clapped her little gloved hands two times and the feast steward rushed to her side.

"I smell bosk dung," she said.

The feast steward looked startled, then horrified, then knowledgeable, and then bowed and spread his hands. I He smiled ingratiatingly, apologetically. "I 'm sorry, Lady Aphris," said he, "but under the circumstances"

She looked about, and then it seemed she saw Kamchak. "Ah!" she said, "I see a Tuchuk of course."

Kamchak, though sitting cross-legged, seemed to bounce twice on the cushions, slapping the small table, rattling dishes for a dozen feet on either side. He was roaring with laughter. "Superb!" he cried.

"Please, if you wish, Lady Aphris, join us," wheezed Saphrar.

Aphris of Turia, pleased with herself, assumed her place between the merchant and Kamchalc, kneeling back on her heels in the position of the Gorean free woman.

Her back was very straight and her head high, in the Gorean fashion.

She turned to Kamchak. "It seems we have met before," she said.

"Two years ago," said Kamchak, "in such a place at such a time you recall it was then you called me a Tuchuk sleen." "I seem to recall," said Aphris, as though trying very hard to do so.

"I had brought you a five-belt necklace of diamonds," said Kamchak, "for I had heard you were beautiful."

"Oh," said Aphris, "yes I gave it to one of my slaves." Kamchak slapped the table in merriment again.

"It was then," he said, "that you turned away, calling me a Tuchuk sleen."

"Oh, yes!" laughed Aphris.

"And it was then," said Kamchak, still laughing, "that I vowed I would make you my slave."

Aphris stopped laughing.

Saphrar was speechless.

There was no sound at the tables.

Kamras, Champion of the City of Turia, rose to his feet. He addressed Saphrar. "Permit me," he said, "to fetch weak ones."

Kamchak was now swilling Paga and acted as though he had not heard the remark of Kamras.

"No, no, no!" cried Saphrar. "The Tuchuk and his friend are guests, and ambassadors of the Wagon Peoples they must not come to harm!"

Aphris of Turia laughed merrily and Kamras, embar- rassed, returned to his seat.

"Bring perfumes" she called to the feast steward, and he sent forth the camisk-clad slave who carried the tiny tray of exotic Turian perfumes. She took one or two of these small bottles and held them under her nose, and then sprinkled them about the table and cushions. Her actions delighted the Turians, who laughed.

Kamchak now was still smiling, but he no longer laughed. "For that," he said, smiling, "you will spend your first night in the dung sack."

Again Aphris laughed merrily and was joined by those of the banquet.

The fists of Kamras were clenched on the table.

"Who are you?" asked Aphris, looking at me.

I was pleased to see that she, at least, did not know my name.

"I am Tart Cabot," I said, "Of the city of Ko-ro-ba." "It is in the far north," she said. "Even beyond Ar." "Yes," I said.

"How comes it," asked she, "that a Koroban rides in the stinking wagon of a Tuchuk sleep?"

"The wagon does not stink," I said, "and Kamchak of the Tuchuks is my friend."

"You are an outlaw of course," she said.

I shrugged.

She laughed.

The girl turned to Saphrar. "Perhaps the barbarians would care to be entertained," she suggested.

I was puzzled at this, for throughout much of the evening there had been entertainment, the jugglers, the acrobats, the fellow who swallowed fire to music, the magician, the man with the dancing sleen.

Saphrar was looking down. He was angry. "Perhaps," he said. I supposed Saphrar was still irritated at Kamchak's refusal to give up, or arrange the transfer, of the golden sphere. I did not clearly understand Kamchak's motivations in this matter less, of course, he knew the true nature of the golden sphere, in which case, naturally, he would recog- nize it as Priceless. I gathered he did not understand its true value, with some seriousness earlier in the evening only that, ap- pareutly, he wanted more than Saphrar was offering, even though that might be Aphris of Turia herself.

Aphris now turned to me. She gestured to the ladies at the tables, with their escorts. "Are the women of Turia not beautiful?" she asked.

"Indeed," I admitted, for there were none present who were not, in their own ways, beautiful.

She laughed, for some reason.

"In my city," I said, "free women would not permit them- selves to be seen unveiled before strangers."

The girl laughed merrily once more and turned to Kamchak. "What think you, my colorful bit of bosk dung? ' she asked.

Kamchak shrugged. "It is well known," he said, "the wom- en of Turia are shameless."

"I think not," snapped the angry Aphris of Turia, her eyes flashing above the golden border of her white silicon veil. "I see them," said Kamchak, spreading his hands to both sides, grinning.

Seeing that he had apparently discussed its exchange "I think not," said the girl.

Kamchak looked puzzled.

Then, to my surprise, the girl clapped her hands sharply twice and the women about the table stood, arid together, from both sides, moved swiftly to stand before us between the tables. The drums and flutes of the musicians sounded, and to my amazement the first girl, with a sudden, graceful swirl of her body lifted away her robes and flung them high over the heads of the guests to cries of delight. She stood facing us, beautiful, knees flexed, breathing deeply, arms lifted over her head, ready for the dance. Each of the women I had thought free did the same, until each stood before us, a collared slave girl clad only the diaphanous, scarlet danc- ing silks of Gor. To the barbaric music they danced. Kamchak was angry.

"Did you truly think," asked Aphris of Turia arrogantly, "that a Tuchuk would be permitted to look upon the face of a free woman of Turia?"

Kamchak's fists were clenched on the table, for no Tuchuk likes to be fooled, Kamras was laughing loudly and even Saphrar was giggling among the yellow cushions.

No Tuchuk, I knew, cares to be the butt of a joke, especially a Turian joke.

But Kamchak said nothing.

Then he took his goblet of Paga and drained it, watching the girls swaying to the caress of Turian melodies. "Are they not delightful?" spurred Aphris, after a time. "We have many girls among the wagons quite as good," said Kamchak.

"Oh?" asked Aphris.

"Yes," said Kamchak, "Turians slaves such as you will beg'

"You are aware, of course," she said, "that if you were not an ambassador of the Wagon Peoples at this time I would order you slain."

Kamchak laughed. "It is one thing to order the death of a Tuchuk," he said. "It is another to kill him."

"I'm sure both could be arranged," remarked Aphris. Kamchak laughed. "I shall enjoy owning you," he said. The girl laughed. "You are a fool," she said. Then she added, unpleasantly, "But beware for if you cease to amuse me, you will not leave these tables alive."

Kamchak was swilling down another bolt of Paga, part of it running out at the side of his mouth.

Aphris then turned to Saphrar. "Surely our guests would enjoy seeing the others" she suggested.

I wondered what she meant.

"Please, Aphris," said Saphrar, shaking his fat, pinkish head, sweating. "No trouble, no trouble."

"Hoi" cried Aphris of Turia, summoning the feast steward to her, through the turning bodies of the girls dancing among the tables. "The others!" ordered Aphris, "For the amuse- ment of our guests!"

The feast steward turned a wary eye toward Saphrar, who, defeated, nodded his head.

The feast steward then clapped his hands twice, dismissing the girls, who rushed from the room; and then he clapped his hands twice more, paused a moment, then twice more. I heard the sound of slave bells attached to ankle rings, to locked wrist bracelets, to Turian collars.

More girls approached rapidly, their feet taking small running steps in a turning line that sped forth from a small room in the back and to the right.

My hand clenched on the goblet. Aphris of Turia was bold indeed. I wondered if Kamchak would rise to do war in the very room.

The girls that now stood before us, barefoot, in swirling Pleasure Silks, belled and collared, were wenches of the Wagon Peoples, now, as could be determined even beneath the silks they wore, the branded slaves of Turians. Their leader, to her surprise, seeing Kamchak, fell in shame to her knees before him, much to the fury of the feast steward; the others did so as well.

The feast steward was handed a slave whip and stood toweling over the leader of the girls.

His hand drew back but the blow never fell, for with a cry of pain he reeled away, the hilt of a quiva pressed against the inside of his forearm, the balance of the blade emerging on the other side.

Even I had not seen Kamchak throw the knife, Now, to my satisfaction, another of the blades was poised in his finger tips Several of the men had leaped from behind the tables, including Kamras, but they hesitated, seeing Kamchak so armed-I, too, was on my feet. "Weapons," said Kamras, "are not permitted at the banquet."

"Ah," said Kamchak, bowing to him, "I did not know." "Let us sit down and enjoy ourselves, recommended Saphrar. "If the Tuchuk does not wish to see the girls, let us dismiss them."

"I wish to see them perform," said Aphris of Turia, though she stood within arm's reach of Kamchak's quiva.

Kamchak laughed, looking at her. Then, to my relief, and doubtless to the relief of several at the table, he thrust the quiva in his sash and sat back down.

"Dance," ordered Aphris.

The trembling girl before her did not move.

"Dance!" screamed Aphris, rising to her feet.

"What shall I do?" begged the kneeling girl of Kamchak. She looked not too unlike Hereena, and was perhaps a similar sort of girl, raised and trained much the same. Like Hereena, of course, she wore the tiny golden nose ring. Kamchak spoke to her, very gently. "You are slave," he said. "Dance for your masters."

The girl looked at him gratefully and she, with the others, rose to her feet and to the astounding barbarity of the music performed the savage love dances of the Kassars, the Parava- ci, the Kataii, the Tuchuks.

They were magnificent.

One girl, the leader of the dancers, she who had spoken to Kamchak, was a Tuchuk girl, and was particularly startling, vital, uncontrollable, wild.

It was then clear to me why the Turian men so hungered for the wenches of the Wagon Peoples.

At the height of one of her dances, called the Dance of the Tuchuk Slave Girl, Kamchak turned to Aphris of Turia, who was watching the dance, eyes bright, as astounded as I at the savage spectacle. "I will see to it," said Kamchak, "when you are my slave, that you are taught that dance."

The back anti head of Aphris of Turia was rigid with fury, but she gave no sign that she had heard him.

Kamchak waited until the girls of the Wagon Peoples had performed their dances and then, when they had been dis- missed, he rose to his booted feet. "We must go" he said. I nodded, and struggled to my feet, well ready to return to his wagon.

"What is in the box?" asked Aphris of Turia, as she saw Kamchak pick up the small black box which, throughout the banquet, he had kept at his right knee. The girl was clearly curious, female.

Kamchak shrugged.

I remembered that two years before, as I had learned, he had brought Aphris of Turia a five-string diamond necklace, which she had scurried, and had, according to her report at least, given to a slave. It had been at that time that she had called him a Tuchuk sleen, presumably because he had dared present her with a gift.

But, I could see, she was interested in the box. Indeed, at certain times during the evening, I had seen her casting furtive glances at it.

"It is nothing," said Kamchak, "only a trinket."

"But is it for someone?" she asked.

"I had thought," said Kamchak, "that I might give it to you."

"Oh" asked Aphris, clearly intrigued.

"likely you would not like it," He said.

"How do you know," she said, rather airily, "I have not seen it."

"I will take it home with me," said Kamchak.

"If you wish," she said.

"But you may have it if you wish," he said.

"Is it other," she asked, "than a mere necklace of dia- monds?" Aphris of Turia was no fool. She knew that the Wagon Peoples, plunderers of hundreds of caravans, occa- sionally possessed objects and riches as costly as any on Gor. "Yes," said Kamchak, "it is other than a necklace of diamonds."

"Ah!" she said. I then suspected that she had not actually given the five-string diamond necklace to a slave. Undoubted- ly it still reposed in one of her several chests of jewelry. "But you would not like it," said Kamchak, diffidently. "Perhaps I might," she said.

"No," said Kamchak, "you would not like it."

"You brought it for me, did you not?" she said.

Kamchak shrugged and looked down at the box in his hand. "Yes," he said, "I brought it for you."

The box was about the size in which a necklace, perhaps on black velvet, might be displayed.

"I want it," said Aphris of Turia.

"Truly?" asked Kamchak. "Do you want it?"

"Yes," said Aphris. "Give it to met"

"Very well," said Kamchak, "but I must ask to place it on you myself."

Kamras, the Champion of Turia, half rose from his posi- tion. "Bold Tuchuk sleen!" he hissed.

"Very well," said Aphris of Turia. "You may place it on me yourself."

So then Kamchak bent down to where Aphris of Turia knelt, her back straight, her head very high, before the low table. He stepped behind her and she lifted her chin delicate- ly. Her eyes were shining with curiosity. I could see the quickness of her breath marked in the soft silk of her white and gold veil.

"Now," said Aphris.

Kamchak then opened the box.

When Aphris heard the delicate click of the box lid it was all she could do not to turn and regard the prize that was to be hers, but she did not do so. She remained looking away, only lifting her chin a bit more.

"Now!" said Aphris of Turia, trembling with anticipation. What happened then was done very swiftly. Kamchak lifted from the box an object indeed intended to grace the throat of a girl. But it was a round metal ring, a Turian collar, the collar of a slave. There was a firm snap of the heavy lock in the back of the collar and the throat of Aphris of Turia had been encircled with slave steel! At the same instant Kamchak lifted her startled to her feet and turned her to face him, with both hands tearing the veil from her face! Then, before any of the startled Turians could stop him, he had purchased by his audacity a bold kiss from the lips of the astounded Aphris of Turia! Then he hurled her from him across and over the low table until she fell to the floor where Tuchuk slaves had danced for her pleasure. The quiva, ap- pearing as if by magic in his hand, warned back those who would press in upon him to revenge the daughter of their city. I stood beside Kamchak, ready to defend him with my life, yet as startled as any in the room at what had been done.

The girl now had struggled to her knees tearing at the collar. Her tiny gloved fingers were locked in it, pulling at it, as though by brute force she would tear it from her throat. Kamchak was looking at her. "Beneath your robes of white and gold," he said, "I smelled the body of a slave girl." "Sleen! Sleen! Sleen!" she cried.

"Replace your veil!" ordered Saphrar.

"Remove the collar immediately," commanded Kamras, plenipotentiary of Phanius Turmus, Administrator of Turia. Kamchak smiled. "It seems," he said, "that I have forgot- ten the key."

"Send for one of the Caste of Metal Workers!" cried Saphrar.

There were cries on all sides, "Slay the Tuchuk sleen!" "Torture for him!" "The oil of tharlarions!" "Leech plants" "Impalement!" "Tongs and fire!" But Kamchak seemed un- moved. And none rushed upon him, for in his hand, and he was Tuchuk, there gleamed the quiva.

"Slay him!" screamed Aphris of Turia, "Slay him!"

"Replace your veil," repeated Saphrar to the girl. "Have you no shame?"

The girl attempted to rearrange the folds of the veil, but could only hold it before her face, for Kamchak had ripped away the pins by which it was customarily fastened. Her eyes were wild with fury and tears.

He, a Tuchuk, had looked upon her face.

I was pleased, though I would not have admitted it, at Kamchak's boldness, for it was a face for which a man might risk much, even death in the torture dungeons of Turia, utterly beautiful though now, of course, transformed with rage, far more beautiful than had been that of the most beautiful of the slave girls who had served us or given us of the beauty of their dances.

"You recall, of course," Kamchak was saying, "that I am an ambassador of the Wagon Peoples and am entitled to the courtesies of your city."

"Impale him!" cried a number of voices.

"It is a joke," cried out Saphrar. "A joker A Tuchuk joker" "Slay him!" screamed Aphris of Turia.

But no one would move against the quiva.

"Now, gentle Aphris," Saphrar was purring, "you must be calm soon one from the Caste of Metal Workers will ap- pear to free you all will be well return to your own chambers."

"Nor" screamed Aphris. "The Tuchuk must be slain!" "It is not possible, my dear," wheezed Saphrar.

"You are challenged!" said Kamras, spitting to the floor at Kamchak's booted feet.

For an instant I saw Kamchak's eyes gleam and thought he might at the very table at which he stood accept the challenge of the Champion of Turia, but instead, he shrugged and grinned. "Why should I fight?" he asked.

It did not sound like Kamchak speaking.

"You are a coward!" cried Kamras.

I wondered if Kamras knew the meaning of the word which he had dared to address to one who wore the Courage Scar of the Wagon Peoples.

But to my amazement, Kamchak only smiled. "Why should I fight?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" demanded Kamras.

"What is to be gained?" inquired Kamchak.

"Aphris of Turia!" cried the girl.

There were cries of horror, or protest, from the men crowded about.

"Yes!" cried Aphris of Turia. "If you will meet Kamras, Champion of Turia, I, Aphris of Turia, will stand at the stake in Love War!"

Kamchak looked at her. "I will fight," he said.

There was a silence in the room.

I saw Saphrar, a bit in the background, close his eyes and nod his head. "Wily Tuchuk," I heard him mutter. Yes, I said to myself, wily Tuchuk. Kamchak had, by means of the very pride of Aphris of Turia, of Kamras, and the offended Turians, brought the girl by her own will to the stake of Love War. It was something he would not buy with the golden sphere from Saphrar the merchant; it was something he was clearly capable of arranging, with Tuchuk cunning, by himself. I supposed, naturally, however, that Saphrar, guard- ian of Aphris of Turia, would not permit this to occur. "No, my dear," Saphrar was saying to the girl, "you must not expect satisfaction for this frightful injury which has been wrought upon you must not even think of the games you must forget this unpleasant evening you must try not to think of the stories that will be told of you concerning this evening what the Tuchuk did and how he was permitted to escape with impunity."

"Never!" cried Aphris. "I will stand, I tell you! I will! I will!"

"No," said Saphrar, "I cannot permit it, it is better that the people laugh at Aphris of Turia and perhaps, in some years, they may forget."

"I demand to be permitted to stand," cried the girl. Then she cried, "I beg of you Saphrar, permit mel"

"But in a few days," said Saphrar, "you will attain your majority and receive your fortunes then you may do as you wish.»

"But it will be after the games!" cried the girl.

"Yes," said Saphrar, as though thinking, "that is true." "I will defend her," said Kamras. "I will not lose." "It is true you have never lost," wavered Saphrar. "Permit it!" cried several of those present.

"Unless you permit this," wept Aphris, "my honor will be forever stained."

"Unless you permit it," said Kamras sternly, "I may never have an opportunity to cross steel with this barbaric sleen." It then occurred to me, suddenly, that, following Gorean civic law, the properties and titles, assets and goods of a given individual who is reduced to slavery are automatically regarded as having been transferred to the nearest male relative or nearest relative if no adult male relative is avail- able or to the city or to, if pertinent, a guardian. Thus, if Aphris of Turia, by some mischance, were to fall to Kamchak, and surely slavery, her considerable riches would be immediately assigned to Saphrar, merchant of Turia. Moreover, to avoid legal complications and free the assets for investment and manipulation, the transfer is asymmetri- cal, in the sense that the individual, even should he somehow later recover his freedom, retains no legal claim whatsoever on the transferred assets.

"All right," said Saphrar, his eyes cast down, as though making a decision against his better judgment, "I will permit my ward, the Lady Aphris of Turia, to stand at the stake in Love War."

There was a cry of delight from the crowd, confident now that the Tuchuk sleen would be fittingly punished for his bold use of the richest daughter of Turia.

"Thank you, my guardian," said Aphris of Turia, and with one last vicious look at Kamchak threw back her head and with a swirl of her white gown, bordered with gold, walked regally from between the tables.

"To see her walk," remarked Kamchak, rather loudly, "one would hardly suspect that she wears the collar of a slave."

Aphris spun to face him, her right fist clenched, her left hand muffling her veil about her face, her eyes flashing. The circle of steel gleamed on the silk at her throat. "I meant only, little Aphris," said Kamchak, "that you wear your collar well."

The girl cried out in helpless rage and turned, stumbling and clutching at the banister on the stairs. Then she ran up the stairs, weeping, veil disarranged, both hands jerking at the collar. With a cry she disappeared.

"Have no fear, Saphrar of Turia," Kamras was saying, "I shall slay the Tuchuk sleen and I shall do so slowly." It was early in the morning, several days after Saphrar's banquet, that Kamchak and myself, among some hundreds of others of the Four Wagon Peoples, came the Plains of a Thousand Stakes, some pasangs distant from lofty Turia. Judges and craftsmen from Ar, hundreds of pasangs away, across the Cartius, were already at the stakes, inspecting than and preparing the ground between them. These men, as in every year, I learned, had been guaranteed safe passage across the southern plains for this event. The journey, even so, was not without its dangers, but they had been well recompensed, from the treasure chests of both Turia and the Wagon Peoples. Some of the judges, now wealthy, had offici- ated several times at the games. The fee for even one of their accompanying craftsmen was sufficient to support a man for a year in luxurious Ar.

We moved slowly, walking the kaiila, in four long lines, the Tuchuks, the Kassars, the Kataii, the Paravaci, some two hundred or so warriors of each. Kamchak rode near the head of the Tuchuk line. The standard bearer, holding aloft on a lance a representation of the four bask horns, carved from wood, rode near us. At the head of our line, on a huge kaiila, rode Kutaituchik, his eyes closed, his head nodding, his body swaying with the stately movement of the animal, a half- chewed string of kanda dangling from his mouth.

Beside him, but as Ubars, rode three other men, whom I took to be chief among the Kassars, the Kataii, the Paravaci I could see, surprisingly near the forefront of their respective lines, the other three men I had first seen on coming to the Wagon Peoples, Conrad of the Kasars, Hakimba of the Kataii and Tolnus of the Paravaci. These, like Kamchak, rode rather near their respective standard bearers. The stan- dard of the Kassars is that of a scarlet, three-weighted bole, which hangs from a lance; the symbolic representation of a bole, three circles joined at the center by lines, is used to mark their bask and slaves; both Tenchika and Dina wore that brand; Kamchak had not decided to rebrand them, as is done with bask; he thought, rightly, it would lower their value; also, I think he was pleased to have salves in his wagon who wore the brand of Kissers, for such night lie taken as evidence of the superiority of Tuchuks to Kassars, that they had bested them and taken their slaves; similarly Kamchak was pleased to have in his herd bask, and he had several, whose first brand was that of the three-weighted bole; the standard of the Kataii is a yellow bow, bound across a black lance; their brand is also that of a bow, facing to the left; the Paravaci standard is a large banner of jewels beaded on golden wires, forming the head and horns of a bosk its value is incalculable; the Paravaci brand is a symbol- ic representation of a bask head, a semicircle resting on an inverted isoceles triangle.

Elizabeth Cardwell, barefoot, in the larl's pelt, walked beside Kamchak's stirrup. Neither Tenchika nor Dina would be with us. Yesterday afternoon, for an incredible forty pieces of gold, four quivas and the saddle of a kaiila, Kachak had sold Tenchika back to Albrecht. It was one of the highest prices ever paid among the wagons for a slave and I judged that Albrecht had sorely missed his little Tenchika; the high price he was forced to pay for the girl was made even more intolerable by Kamchak's amusement at his ex- pense, roaring with laughter and slapping his knee because only too obviously Albrecht had allowed himself to care for the girl, and she only slave! Albrecht, while binding her wrists and putting his thong on her neck, had angrily cuffed her two or three times, calling her worthless and good for nothing; she was laughing and leaping beside his kaiila, weeping with joy; I last saw her running beside his stirrup, trying to press her head against his fur boot. Dina, though she was slave, I had placed on the saddle before me, her legs over the left forequarters of the animal; and had ridden with her from the wagons, until in the distance I could see the gleaming, white walls of Maria. When I had come to this place I set her on the grass She looked up at me, puzzled.

"Why have you brought me here?" she had asked.

I pointed into the distance. "It is Turia," I said, "your city."

She looked up at me. "Is it your wish," she asked, "that I run for the city?"

She referred to a cruel sport of the young men of the wagons who sometimes take Turian slave girls to the sight of Turia's walls and then, loosening bole and thong, bid them run for the city.

"No," I told her, "I have brought you here to free you." The girl trembled.

She dropped her head. "I am yours so much yours," she said, looking at the grass. "Do not be cruel."

"No," I said, "I have brought you here to free you." She looked up at me. She shook her head.

"It is my wish," I said.

"But why?" she asked.

"It is my wish," I said.

"Have I not pleased you?" she asked.

"You have pleased me very much," I told her.

"Why do you not sell me?" she asked.

"It is not my wish," I said.

"But you would sell a bosk or kaiila," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"Why not Dina?" she asked.

"It is not my wish," I said.

"I am valuable," said the girl. She simply stated a fact. "More valuable than you know," I told her.

"I do not understand," she said.

I reached into the pouch at my belt and gave her a piece of gold. "Take this," I said, "and go to Turia find your people and be free."

Suddenly she began to shake with sobs and fell to her knees at the paws of the kaiila, the gold piece in her left hand. "If this is a Tuchuk joke," she wept, "kill me swiftly." I sprang from the saddle of the kaiila and kneeling beside her held her in my arms, pressing her head against my shoulder. "No," I said, "Dina of Turia. I do not jest. You are free.

She looked at me tears in her eyes. "Turian girls are never freed," she said. "Never."

I shook her and kissed her. "You, Dina of Turia," I said, "are free." Then I shook her again. "Do you want me to ride to the walls and throw you over?" I demanded.

She laughed through her tears. "No," she said, "no." I lifted her to her feet and she suddenly kissed me. "Tarl Cabot!" she cried. "Tarl Cabot!"

It seemed like lightning to us both that she had cried my name as might have a free woman. And indeed it was a free woman who cried those words, Dina, a free woman of Turia. "Oh, Tarl Cabot," she wept.

Then she regarded me gently. "But keep Dina a moment longer yours," she said.

"You are free," I said.

"But I would serve you," she said.

I smiled. "There is no place," I said.

"Ah, Tarl Cabot," she chided, "there is all the Plains of Turia."

"The Land of the Wagon Peoples, you mean."

She laughed. "No," she said, "the Plains of Turia." "Insolent wench," I observed.

But she was kissing me and by my arms was being lowered to the grasses of the spring prairie.

When I had lifted her to her feet I noted, in the distance, a bit of dust moving from one of the gates of the city towards us, probably two or three warriors mounted on high thar- larion.

The girl had not yet seen them. She seemed to me very happy and this, naturally, made me happy as well. Then suddenly her eyes clouded and her face was transformed with distress. Her hands moved to her face, covering her mouth. "Oh!" she said.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I cannot go to Turia!" she cried.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I have no veil!" she cried.

I cried out in exasperation, kissed her, turned her about by the shoulders and with a slap, hardly befitting a free woman, started her on the way to Turia.

The dust was now nearing.

I leaped into the saddle and waved to the girl, who had run a few yards and then turned. She waved to me. She was crying.

An arrow swept over my head.

I laughed and wheeled the kaiila and raced from the place, leaving the riders of the ponderous tharlarion far behind.

They circled back to find a girl, free though still clad Kajir, clutching in one hand a piece of gold, waving after a departed enemy, laughing and crying.

When I had returned to the wagon Kamchak's first words to me had been, "I hope you got a good price for her." I smiled.

"Are you satisfied?" he asked.

I recalled the Plains of Turia. "Yes," I said, "I am well satisfied."

Elizabeth Cardwell, who had been fixing the fire in the wagon, had been startled when I had returned without Dina, but had not dared to ask what had been done with her. Now her eyes were on me, wide with disbelief. "You sold her?" she said, uncomprehendingly. "Sold?"

"You said she had fat ankles," I reminded her.

Elizabeth regarded me with horror. "She was a person" said Elizabeth, "a human person"

"No!" said Kamchak, giving her head a shake. "An ani- mal! A slaver" Then he added, giving her head another shake, "Like yourself!"

Elizabeth looked at him with dismay.

"I think" said Kamchak, "I will sell you."

Elizabeth's face suddenly seemed terrified. She threw a wild, pleading look at me.

Kamchak's words had disturbed me as well.

I think it was then, perhaps the first time since her first coming to the Wagon Peoples, that she fully understood her plight for Kamchak had, on the whole, been kind to her he had not put the Tuchuk ring in her nose, nor had he clothed her Kajir, nor put the brand of the bask horns on her thigh, nor even enclosed her lovely throat with the Turian collar. Now, again, Elizabeth, visibly shaken, ill, realized that she might, should it please Kamchak's whims, be sold or exchanged with the same ease as a saddle or a hunting sleen. She had seen Tenchika sold. Now she assumed that the disappearance of Dina from the wagon was to be similarly explained. She looked at me disbelievingly, shaking her head. Por my part I did not think it would be a good idea to tell her that I had freed Dina. What good would that information do her? It might make her own bondage seem more cruel, or perhaps fill her with foolish hopes that Kamchak, her master, might someday bestow on her the same beautiful gift of freedom. I smiled at the thought. Kamchak, Free a slaver And, I told myself, even if I myself owned Elizabeth, and not Kamchak, I could not free her for what would it be to free her? If she approached Turia she would fall slave to the first patrol that leashed and hooded her; if she tried to stay among the wagons, some young warrior, sensing she was undefended and not of the Peoples, would have his chain on her before nightfall. hand I myself did not intend to stay among the wagons. I had now learned, if the information of He that the golden sphere, doubtless the egg of Priest-Kings, lay in the wagon of Kutaituchik. I must attempt to obtain it and return it to the Sardar. This, I knew, might well cost me my life. No, it was best that Elizabeth Cardwell believe I had callously sold the lovely Dina of Turia. It was best that she understand herself for what she was, a barbarian slave girl in the wagon of Kamchak of the Tuchuks.

"Yes," said Kamchak, "I think I will sell her."

Elizabeth shook with terror and put her head to the rug at Kamchak's feet. "Please," she said, in a whisper, "do not sell me, Master."

"What do you think she would bring?" asked Kamchak. "She is only a barbarian," I said. I did not wish Kamchak to sell her.

"Perhaps I could have her trained" mused Kamchak.

"It would considerably improve her price," I admitted. I also knew a good training would take months, though much can be done with an intelligent girl in only a few weeks. "Would you like to learn," asked Kamchak of the girl, "to wear silk and bells, to speak, to stand, to walk, to dance to drive men mad with the desire to own and master you?" The girl said nothing but shuddered.

"I doubt if you could learn," said Kamchak.

Elizabeth said nothing, her head down.

"You are only a little barbarian," said Kamchak wearily. Then he winked at me. "But," said he, "she is a pretty little barbarian, is she not?"

"Yes," I said, "She is that indeed."

I saw Miss Cardwell's eyes close and her shoulders shake with shame. Her hands then covered her eyes.

I followed Kamchak out of the wagon. Once outside, to my astonishment, he turned to me and said, "You were a fool to free Dina of Turia."

"How do you know I freed her?" I asked.

"I saw you put her on your kaiila and ride toward Turia," he said. "She was not even running beside the kaiila bound." He grinned. "And I know that you liked her that you would not wager for her and," he added, nodding toward the pouch at my belt, "your pouch is no heavier now than when you left."

I laughed.

Kamchak pointed to the pouch. "You should have forty pieces of gold in that pouch," he said. "That much for her at least maybe more because she was skilled in the games of the bole." He chuckled. "A girl such as Dina of Turia is worth more than a kaiila," he said. "And, too," he added, "she was a beauty!" Kamchak laughed. "Albrecht was a fool," he said, "but Tarl Cabot was a bigger one!"

"Perhaps," I admitted.

"Any man who permits himself to care for a slave girl," said Kamchak, "is a fool."

"Perhaps someday," I said, "even Kamchak of the Tuchuks will care for a slave girl."

At this Kamchak threw back his head and roared, and then bent over slapping his knee.

"Then," I said, determinedly, "he may know how it feels." At this Kamchak lost all control over himself and he leaned over backward slapping his thighs with the palms of his hands, laughing as though he were demented. He even reeled about roaring as though he were drunk and slapped the wheel of a neighbor's wagon for a minute or two until his laughter turned into spasmodic gasps and, making strange noises, he wheezingly fought to get a mouthful or two of air under his shaking ribs. I would not have much minded if he had asphyxiated himself on the spot.

"Tomorrow," I said, "you fight on the Plains of a Thou- sand Stakes."

"Yes," he said, "so tonight I will get drunk."

"It would be better," I said, "to get a good night's sleep." "Yes," said Kamchak, "but I am Tuchuk so I will get drunk."

"Very well," I said, "then I, too, shall get drunk." We then spat to determine who would bargain for a bottle of Paga. By starting from the side and turning his head quickly, Kamchak bested me by some eighteen inches. In the light of his skill my own effort seemed depressingly naive, quite simple-minded, unimaginative and straightforward. I had not known about the head-twisting trick. The wily Tuchuk, of course, had had me spit first.

Now this morning we had come to the Plains of a Thou- sand Stakes.

For all his uproarious stomping about the wagon last night, Paga bottle in hand, singing gusty Tuchuk songs, half frightening Miss Cardwell to death, he seemed in good spir- its, looking about, whistling, occasionally pounding a little rhythm on the side of his saddle. I would not tell Miss Cardwell but the rhythm was the drum rhythm of the Chain Dance. I gathered Kamchak had his mind on Aphris of Turia, and was, perilously to my mind, counting his wenches before he had won them.

I do not know if there are, by count, a thousand stakes or not on the Plains of a Thousand Stakes, but I would suppose that there are that many or more. The stakes, flat-topped, each about six and half feet high and about seven or eight inches in diameter, stand in two long lines facing one another in pairs. The two lines are separated by about fifty feet and each stake in a line is separated from the stake on its left and right by about ten yards. The two lines of stakes extended for more than four pasangs across the prairie. One of these lines is closest to the city and the other to the prairies beyond. The stakes had recently been, I observed, brightly painted, each differently, in a delightful array of colors; further, each was trimmed and decorated variously, depend- ing on the whim of the workman, sometimes simply, some- times fancifully, sometimes ornately. The entire aspect was one of color, good cheer, lightheartedness and gaiety. There was something of the sense of carnival in the air. I was forced to remind myself that between these two lines of stakes men would soon fight and die.

I noted some of the workmen still affixing small retaining rings to some of the stakes, bolting them one on a side, usually about five feet to five and a half feet from the ground. A workman sprang a pair shut, and then opened them with a key, which he subsequently hung from a tiny hook near the top of the stake.

I heard some musicians, come out early from Turia, playing a light tune behind the Turian stakes, about fifty yards or so away.

In the space between the two lines of stakes, for each pair of facing stakes, there was a circle of roughly eight yards in diameter. This circle, the grass having been removed, was sanded and raked.

Moving boldly now among the Wagon Peoples were ven- dors from Turia, selling their cakes, their wines and meats, even chains and collars.

Kamchak looked at the sun, which was now about a quarter of the way up the sky.

"Turians are always late," he said.

From the back of the kaiila I could now see dust from Turia. "They are coming," I said.

Among the Tuchuks, though dismounted, I saw the young man Harold, he whom Hereena of the First Wagon had so sorely insulted at the time of the wagering with Conrad and Albrecht. I did not, however, see the girl. The young man seemed to me a strong, fine fellow, though of course un- scarred. He had, as I mentioned, blond hair and blue eyes, not unknown among the Tuchuks, but unusual. He carried weapons. He could not, of course, compete in these contests, for there is status involved in these matters and only warriors of repute are permitted to participate. Indeed, without the Courage Scar one could not even think of proposing oneself for the competition. It might be mentioned, incidentally, that without the Courage Scar one may not, among the Tuchuks, pay court to a free woman, own a wagon, or own more than five bosk and three kaiila. The Courage Scar thus has its social and economic, as well as its martial, import. "You're right," said Kamchak, rising in the stirrups. "First the warriors."

On long lines of tharlarion I could see warriors of Turia approaching in procession the Plains of a Thousand Stakes. The morning sun flashed from their helmets, their long thar- larion lances, the metal embossments on their oval shields, unlike the rounded shields of most Gorean cities. I could hear, like the throbbing of a heart, the beating of the two tharlarion drums that set the cadence of the march. Beside the tharlarion walked other men-at-arms, and even citizens of Turia, and more vendors and musicians, come to see the games.

On the heights of distant Turia itself I could see the flutter of flags and pensions. The walls were crowded, and I sup- posed many upon them used the long glasses of the Caste of Builders to observe the field of the stakes.

The warriors of Turia extended their formation about two hundred yards from the stakes until in ranks of four or five deep they were strung out in a line as long as the line of stakes itself. Then they halted. As soon as the hundreds of ponderous tharlarion had been marshaled into an order, a lance, carrying a fluttering pennon, dipped and there was a sudden signal on the tharlarion drums. Immediately the lances of the lines lowered and the hundreds of tharlarion, hissing and grunting, their riders shouting, the drums beating, began to bound rapidly towards us.

"Treachery!" I cried.

There was nothing living on Gor I knew that could take the impact of a tharlarion charge.

Elizabeth Cardwell screamed, throwing her hands before her face.

To my astonishment the warriors of the Wagon Peoples seemed to be paying very little attention to the bestial ava- lanche that was even then hurtling down upon them. Some were haggling with the vendors, others were talking among themselves.

I wheeled the Kaiila, looking for Elizabeth Cardwell, who, afoot, would be slain almost before the tharlarion had crossed the lines of the stakes. She was standing facing the charging tharlarion, as though rooted to the earth, her hands before her face. I bent down in the saddle and tensed to kick the kaiila forward to sweep her to the saddle, turn and race for our lives.

"Really," said Kamchak.

I straightened up and saw that the lines of the tharlarion lancers had, with much pounding and trampling of the earth, with shouting, with the hissing of the great beasts, stopped short, abruptly, some fifteen yards or so behind their line of stakes.

"It is a Turian joke," said Kamchak. "They are as fond of the games as we, and do not wish to spoil them."

I reddened. Elizabeth Cardwell's knees seemed suddenly weak but she staggered back to us.

Kamchak smiled at me. "She is a pretty little barbarian, isn't she, he said.

"Yes," I said, and looked away, confused.

Kamchak laughed.

Elizabeth looked up at us, puzzled.

I heard a cry from the Turians across the way. "The wenches!" he cried, and this shout was taken up by many of the others. There was much laughing and pounding of lances on shields.

In a moment, to a thunder of kaiila paws on the turf, racing between the lines of stakes, scattering sand, there came a great number of riders, their black hair swirling behind them, who pulled up on their mounts, rearing and squealing, between the stakes, and leaped from the saddle to the sand, relinquishing the reins of their mounts to men among the Wagon Peoples.

They were marvelous, the many wild girls of the Wagons, and I saw that chief among them was the proud, beauteous Hereena, of the First Wagon. They were enormously excited, laughing. Their eyes shone. A few spit and shook their small fists at the Turians across the way, who reciprocated with good-natured shouts and laughter.

I saw Hereena notice the young man Harold among the warriors and she pointed her finger imperiously at him, gestur- ing him to her.

He approached her. "Take the reins of my kaiila, Slave," she said to him, insolently throwing him the reins. He took them angrily and, to the laughter of many of the Tuchuks present, withdrew with the animal.

The girls then went to mingle with the warriors. There were between a hundred and a hundred and fifty girls there from each of the four Wagon Peoples.

"Hah!" said Kamchak, seeing now — the lines of thar- larion part for a space of perhaps forty yards, through which could be seen the screened palanquins of Turian damsels, borne on the shoulders of chained slaves, among them un- doubtedly men of the Wagon Peoples.

Now the excitement of the throng seemed mostly to course among the warriors of the Wagon Peoples as they rose in their stirrups to see better the swaying, approaching palan- quins, each reputedly bearing a gem of great beauty, a fit prize in the savage contests of Love War.

The institution of Love War is an ancient one among the Turians and the Wagon Peoples, according to the Year Keepers antedating even the Omen Year. The games of Love War, of course, are celebrated every spring between, 80 to speak, the city and the plains, whereas the Omen Year occurs only every tenth year. The games of Love War, in them- selves, do not constitute a gathering of the Wagon Peoples, for normally the herds and the free women of the peoples do not approach one another at these times; only certain dele- gations of warriors, usually about two hundred from a peo- ple, are sent in the spring to the Plains of a Thousand Stakes. The theoretical justification of the games of Love War, from the Turian point of view, is that they provide an excellent arena in which to demonstrate the fierceness and prowess of Turian warriors, thus perhaps intimidating or, at the very least, encouraging the often overbold warriors of the Wagon Peoples to be wary of Turian steel. The secret justifi- cation, I suspect, however, is that the Turian warrior is fond of meeting the enemy and acquiring his women, particularly should they be striking little beasts, like Hereena of the First Wagon, as untamed and savage as they are beautiful; it is regarded as a great sport among Turian warriors to collar such a wench and force her to exchange riding leather for the bells and silks of a perfumed slave girl. It might also be mentioned that the Turian warrior, in his opinion, too seldom encounters the warrior of the Wagon Peoples, who tends to be a frustrating, swift and elusive foe, striking with great rapidity and withdrawing with goods and captives almost before it is understood what has occurred. I once asked Kamchak if the Wagon Peoples had a justification for the games of Love War. "Yes," he had said. And he had then pointed to Dina and Tenchika, clad Kajir, who were at that time busy in the wagon. "That is the justification," said Kamchak. And he had then laughed and pounded his knee. It was only then that it had occurred to me that both girls might have been acquired in the games; as a matter of fact, I however, I later learned that only Tenchika had been so wenches!" he cried, and this sand The wagon girls, watching this, some of them chewing on fruit or stalks of grass, jeered.

One by one, clad in the proud arrays of resplendent silks, each in the Robes of Concealment, the damsels of Turia, veiled and straight-standing, emerged from their palanquins, scarcely concealing their distaste for the noise and clamor about them. ~ Judges were now circulating, each with lists, among the Wagon Peoples and the Turians.

As I knew, not just any girl, any more than just any warrior, could participate in the games of Love War. Only the most beautiful were eligible, and only the most beautiful of these could be chosen.

A girl might propose herself to stand, as had Aphris of Turia, but this would not guarantee that she would be cho- sen, for the criteria of Love War are exacting and, as much as possible, objectively applied. Only the most beautiful of the most beautiful could stand in this harsh sport. I heard a judge call, "First Stakel Aphris of Turial" "Hah!" yelled Kamchak, slapping me on the back, nearly knocking me from the back of my kaiila.

I was astonished. The Turian wench was beautiful indeed, that she could stand at the first stake. This meant that she was quite possibly the most beautiful woman in Turia, cer- tainly at least among those in the games this year. In her silks of white and gold, on cloths thrown before her, Aphris of Turia stepped disdainfully forward, guided by a judge, to the first of the stakes on the side of the Wagon Peoples. The girls of the Wagon Peoples, on the other hand, would stand at the stakes nearest Turia. In this way the Turian girls can see their city and their warriors, and the girls of the Wagons can see the plains and the warriors of the Wagon Peoples. I had also been informed by Kamchak that this places the girl farther from her own people. Thus, to interfere, a Turian would have to cross the space between the stakes, and so, too, would one of the Wagon Peoples, thus clearly calling themselves to the attention of the judges, those officials supervising the Games.

The judges were now calling names, and girls, both of the Wagon Peoples and of Turia, were coming forward.

I saw that Hereena, of the First Wagon, stood Third Stake, though, as far as I could note, she was no less beautiful than the two Kassar girls who stood above her. Kamchak explained that there was a slight gap between two of her teeth on the upper right hand side in the back. "Oh," I said.

I noted with amusement that she was furious at having been chosen only third stake. "I, Hereena of the First Wag- on, am superior," she was crying, "to those two Kassar she-kaiiIa!"

But the judge was already four stakes below her.

The selection of the girls, incidentally, is determined by judges in their city, or of their own people, in Turia by members of the Caste of Physicians who have served in the great slave houses of Ar; among the wagons by the masters of the public slave wagons, who buy, sell and rent girls, providing warriors and slavers with a sort of clearing house and market for their feminine merchandise. The public slave wagons, incidentally, also provide Paga. They are a kind of combination Paga tavern and slave market. I know of noth- ing else precisely like them on Gor. Karuchak and I had visited one last night where I had ended up spending four copper tarn disks for one bottle of Paga. I hauled Kamchak out of the wagon before he began to bid on a chained-up little wench from Port Kar who had taken his eye.

I looked up and down the lines of stakes. The girls of the Wagon Peoples stood proudly before their stakes, certain that their champions, whoever they were to be, would be victori- ous and return them to their peoples; the girls of the city of Turia stood also at their stakes, but with feigned indifference. I supposed, in spite of their apparent lack of concern, the hearts of most of the Turian girls were beating rapidly. This could not be for them an ordinary day.

I looked at them, veiled and beautiful in their silks. Yet I knew that beneath those Robes of Concealment many wore the shameful Turian camisk, perhaps the only time the hated garment would touch their bodies, for should their warrior lose this match they knew they would not be permitted to Lithe stake in the robes in which they came two of her teeth on the upper right hand side in the back. "Oh," I said.

I noted with amusement that she was furious at having been chosen only third stake. "I, Hereena of the First Wag- on, am superior," she was crying, "to those two Kassar she-kaiiIa!"

But the judge was already four stakes below her.

The selection of the girls, incidentally, is determined by judges in their city, or of their own people, in Turia by members of the Caste of Physicians who have served in the great slave houses of Ar; among the wagons by the masters of the public slave wagons, who buy, sell and rent girls, providing warriors and slavers with a sort of clearing house and market for their feminine merchandise. The public slave wagons, incidentally, also provide Paga. They are a kind of combination Paga tavern and slave market. I know of noth- ing else precisely like them on Gor. Kamchak and I had visited one last night where I had ended up spending four copper tarn disks for one bottle of Paga. I hauled Kamchak out of the wagon before he began to bid on a chained-up little wench from Port Kar who had taken his eye.

I looked up and down the lines of stakes. The girls of the Wagon Peoples stood proudly before their stakes, certain that their champions, whoever they were to be, would be victori- ous and return them to their peoples; the girls of the city of Turia stood also at their stakes, but with feigned indifference. I supposed, in spite of their apparent lack of concern, the hearts of most of the Turian girls were beating rapidly. This could not be for them an ordinary day.

I looked at them, veiled and beautiful in their silks. Yet I knew that beneath those Robes of Concealment many wore the shameful Turian camisk, perhaps the only time the hated garment would touch their bodies, for should their warrior lose this match they knew they would not be permitted to The stake in the robes in which they came. They would away as free women.

To myself, wondering if Aphris of Turia, standing first stake, wore beneath the robes of while of a slave girl. I guessed not. She would wench?

Egg his kaiila through the crown.

He leaned down from the saddle. "Good morning, little Aphris," he said cheerily.

She stiffened, and did not even turn to regard him. "Are you prepared to die, Sleen?" she inquired.

"No," Kamchak said.

I heard her laugh softly beneath the white veil, trimmed with silk.

"I see you no longer wear your collar," observed Kamchak. She lifted her head and did not deign to respond.

"I have another," Kamchak assured her.

She spun to face him, her fists clenched. Those lovely almond eyes, had they been weapons, would have slain him in the saddle like a bolt of lightning.

"How pleased I shall be," hissed the girl, "to see you on your knees in the sand begging Kamras of Turia to finish you!"

"Tonight, little Aphris," said Kamchakj "as I promised you, you shall spend your first night in the dung sack." "Sleen!" she cried. "Sleen! Sleen!"

Kamchak roared with laughter and turned the kaiila away. "Are the women at stake?" called a judge.

Prom down the long lines, from other judges, came the confirming cry. "They are at stake."

"Let the women be secured," called the first judge, who stood on a platform near the beginning of the stake lines, this year on the side of the Wagon Peoples.

Aphris of Turia, at the request of one of the minor judges, irritably removed her gloves, of silk-lined white verrskin, trimmed with gold, and placed them in a deep fold of her robes.

' "The retaining rings," prompted the judge.

"It is not necessary," responded Aphris. "I shall stand quietly here until the sleen is slain."

"Place your wrists in the rings," said the judge, "or it shall be done for you."

In fury the girl placed her hands behind her head, in the rings, one on each side of the stake. The judge expertly lipped them shut and moved to the next stake.

Aphris, not very obviously, moved her hands in the rings, fed to withdraw them. She could not, of course, do so. I ought I saw her tremble for just an instant, realizing herself cured, but then she stood quietly, looking about herself as though bored. The key to the rings hung, of course, on a small hook, about two inches above her head.

"Are the women secured?" called the first judge, he on the platform.

"They are secured," was relayed up and down the long lines.

I saw Hereena standing insolently at her stake, but her brown wrists, of course, were bound to it by steel. "Let the matches be arranged," called the judge.

I soon heard the other judges repeating his cry.

All along the lines of stakes I saw Turian warriors and those of the Wagon Peoples press into the area between the stakes.

The girls of the wagons, as usual, were unveiled. Turian warriors walked along the line of stakes, examining them, stepping back when one spit or kicked at him. The girls jeered and cursed them, which compliment they received with good humor and pointed observations on the girls' real or imaginary flaws.

At the request of any warrior of the Wagon Peoples, a judge would remove the pins of the face veil of a Turian girl and push back the hood of her robes of concealment, in order that her head and face might be seen.

This aspect of the games was extremely humiliating for the Turian girls, but they understood its necessity; few men, especially barbarian warriors, care to fight for a woman on whose face they have not even looked.

"I would like to take a look at this one," Kamchak was saying, jerking a thumb in the direction of Aphris of Turia. "Certainly," remarked the nearest judge.

"Can you not remember, Sleen," asked the girl, "the face of Aphris of Turia?"

"My memory is vague," said Kamchak. "There are so many faces."

The judge unpinned her white and gold veil and then, with a gentle hand, brushed back her hood revealing her long, lovely black hair.

Aphris of Turia was an incredibly beautiful woman. She shook her hair as well as she could, bound to the, "Perhaps now you can remember?" she queried acidly. "It's vague," muttered Kamchak, wavering, "I had in mind I think the face of a slave there was, as I recall, a collar" "You tharlarion," she said. "You sleety"

"What do you think?" asked Kamchak.

"She is marvelously beautiful," I said.

"She must be plain indeed," remarked Kamchak, looking closely again at Aphris.

"No," said the judge, "it is because she is defended by Kamras, Champion of Turia."

"Oh, no!" cried Kamchak, throwing his fist to his forehead in mock despair.

"Yes," said the judge, "he."

"Surely you recall?" laughed Aphris merrily.

"I had had much Paga at the time," admitted Kamchak. "You need not meet him if you wish." said the judge. I thought that a humane arrangement that two men must understand who it is they face before entering the circle of sand. It would indeed be unpleasant if one suddenly, unex- pectedly, found oneself facing a superb, famed warrior, say, a Kamras of Turia.

"Meet him!" cried Aphris.

"If no one meets him," said the judge, "the Kassar girl will be his by forfeit."

I could see that the Kassar girl, a beauty, at the stake opposite Aphris of Turia was distressed, and understandably so. It appeared she was to depart for Turia without so much as a handful of sand kicked about on her behalf.

"Meet him, Tuchuk!" she cried.

"Where are your Kassars?" asked Kamchak.

I thought it an excellent question. I had seen Conrad about, but he had picked out a Turian wench to fight for some six or seven stakes away. Albrecht was not even at the games. I supposed he was home with Tenchika.

"They are fighting elsewhere!" she cried. "Please, Tuchuk!" she wept.

"But you are only a Kassar wench," pointed out Kamchak. "Please! she cried.

"Besides," said Kamchak, "you might look well in Pleasure Silk."

"Look at the Turian wench!" cried the girl. "Is she not beautiful? Do you not want her?"

Kamchak looked at Aphris of Turia.

"I suppose," he said, "she is no worse than the rest." "Fight for met" cried Aphris of Turia "All right," said Kamchak. "I will."

The Kassar girl put her back against the stake, trembling with relief.

"You are a fool," said Kamras of Turia.

I was a bit startled, not realizing he was so close. I looked at him. He was indeed an impressive warrior. He seemed strong and fast. His long black hair was now tied behind his head. His large wrists had been wrapped in boskbide straps. He wore a helmet and carried the Turian shield, which is oval. In his right hand there was a spear. Over his shoulder was slung the sheath of a short sword.

Kamchak looked up at him. It was not that Kamchak was particularly short, but rather that Kamras was a very large man.

"By the sky," said Kamchak, whistling, "you are a big fellow indeed."

"Let us begin," proposed Kamras.

At this word the judge called out — to clear the space between the stakes of Aphris of Turia and the lovely Kassar wench. Two men, from Ar, I took it, came forward with rakes and began to smooth the circle of sand between the stakes, for it had been somewhat disturbed in the inspection of the girls.

Unfortunately for Kamchak, I knew that this was the year in which the Turian foeman might propose the weapon of combat. Fortunately, however, the warrior of the Wagon Peoples could withdraw from the combat any time before his name had actually been officially entered in the lists of the games. Thus if Kamras chose a weapon with which Kamchak did not feel at ease, the Tuchuk might, with some grace, decline the combat, in this forfeiting only a Kassar girl, which I was sure would not overly disturb the philosophical Kamchak.

"Ah, yes, weapons," Kamchak was saying, "what shall it be the kaiila lance, a whip and bladed bole perhaps the quiva?"

"The sword," said Kamras.

The Turian's decision plunged me into despair. In all my time among the wagons I had not seen one of the Gorean short swords, so fierce and swift and common a weapon among those of the cities. The warrior of the Wagon Peoples does not use the short sword, probably because such a weap- on could not be optimally used froth the saddle of the kaiila; the saber, incidentally, which would be somewhat more effective from ltaiilaback, is almost unknown on Gor; its role, I gather, is more than fulfilled by the lance, which may be used with a delicacy and address comparable to that of a blade, supplemented by the seven quiva, or saddle knives; it might further be pointed out that a saber would barely reach to the saddle of the high tharlarion; the warrior of the Wagon Peoples seldom approaches an enemy more closely than is required to bring him down with the bow, or, if need be, the lance; the quiva itself is regarded, on the whole, as more of a missile weapon than a hand knife. I gather that the Wagon Peoples, if they wanted sabers or regarded them as valuable, would be able to acquire them, in spite of the fact that they have no metalworking of their own; there might be some attempt to prevent them from falling into the hands of the Wagon Peoples, but where there are gold and jewels available merchants, in Ar and elsewhere, would see that they were manufactured and reached the southern plains. Most quivas, incidentally, are wrought in the smithies of Ar. The fact that the saber is not a common weapon of Wagon Peoples is a reflection of the style, nature and condi- ffons of warfare to which they are accustomed, a matter of choice on their part rather than the result of either ignorance or technological limitation. The saber, incidentally, is not only unpopular among the Wagon Peoples but among the warriors of Gor generally; it is regarded as being too long and clumsy a weapon for the close, sharp combat so dear to the heart of the warrior of the cities; further it is not of much use from the saddle of a tarn or tharlarion. The important point, however, in the circumstances was that Kamras had proposed the sword as the weapon of his en- counter with Kamchak, and poor Kamchak was almost cer- tain to be as unfamiliar with the sword as you or I would be with any of the more unusual weapons of Gor, say, the whip knife of Port Kar or the trained varts of the caves of Tyros. Incidentally, Turian warriors, in order to have the opportunist to slay a foe, as wed as acquire his woman, customarily choose as the weapon of combat in these encounters, buckler and dagger, ax and buckler, dagger and whip, ax and net, or the two daggers, with the reservation that the quiva, if used, not be thrown. Kamras, however, appeared adamant on the point. "The sword," he repeated.

,"But I am only a poor Tuchuk," wailed Kamchak.

Kamras laughed. "The sword," he said, yet again.

I thought, all things considered, that the stipulation of Kamras regarding weapons was cruel and shameful.

"But how would I, a poor Tuchuk," Kamchak was moan- ing, "know anything of the sword?"

'when withdraw," said Kamras, loftily, "and I will take this Kassar wench slave to Turia.

The girl moaned.

Kamras smiled with contempt. "You see," he said, "I am Champion of Turia and I have no particular wish to stain my blade with the blood of an urt."

The urt is a loathsome, horned Gorean rodent; some are quite large, the size of wolves or ponies, but most are very small, tiny enough to be held in the palm of one hand. "Well," said Kamchak, "I certainly would not want that to happen either."

The Kassar girl cried out in distress.

"Fight him, filthy Tuchuk" screamed Aphris of Turia, pulling against the retaining rings.

"Do not be uneasy, gentle Aphris of Turia," said Kamras. "Permit him to withdraw branded braggart and coward. Let him live in his shame, for so much the richer will be your vengeance."

But the lovely Aphris was not convinced. "I want him slain," she cried, "cut into tiny pieces, the death of a thou sand cuts!"

"Withdraw," I advised Kamchak.

"Do you think I should," he inquired.

"Yes," I said, "I do."

Kamras Divas regarding Aphris of Turia. "If it is truly your wish," he said, "I will permit him to choose weapons agreea ble to us both."

"It is my wish," she said, "that he be slaint"

Kamras shrugged. "All right," he said, "I will kill him." He then turned to Kamchak. "All right' Tuchuk," he said, "I will permit you to choose weapons agreeable to us both." "But perhaps I will not fight," said Kamchak warily. Kamras clenched his fists. "Very well," he said, "as you wish."

"But then again," mused Kamchak, "perhaps I shall." Aphris of Turia cried out in rage and the Kassar wench in distress.

"I will fight," announced Kamchak.

Both girls cried out in pleasure.

The judge now entered the name of Kamchak of the Tuchuks on his lists.

"What weapon do you choose?" asked the judge. "Remem ber," cautioned the judge, "the weapon or weapons chosen must be mutually agreeable."

Kamchak seemed lost in thought and then he looked up brightly. "I have always wondered," he said, "what it would be like to hold a sword."

The judge nearly dropped the list.

"I will choose the sword," said Kamchak.

The Kassar girl moaned.

Kamras looked at Aphris of Turia, dumbfounded. The girl herself was speechless. "He is mad," said Kamras of Turia. "Withdraw," I urged Kamchak.

"It is too late now," said the judge.

"It is too late now," said Kamchak, innocently.

Inwardly I moaned, for in the past months I had come to respect and feel an affection for the shrewd, gusty brawny Tuchuk.

Two swords were brought, Gorean short swords, forged in Ar.

Kamchak picked his up as though it were a wagon lever, used for loosening the wheels of mired wagons.

Kamras and I both winced.

Then Kamras, and I give him credit, said to Kamchak, 'withdraw." I could understand his feelings. Kamras was, after all, a warrior, and not a butcher.

"A thousand cuts!" cried the gentle Aphris of Turia. "A piece of gold to Kamras for every cull" she cried. Kamchak was running his thumb on the blade. I saw a sudden, bright drop of blood on his thumb. He looked up. "Sharp," he said.

"Yes," I said in exasperation. I turned to the judge. "May I fight for Lima" I demanded.

"It is not permitted," said the judge.

"But," said Kamchak, "it was a good idea."

I seized Kamchak by the shoulders. "Kamras has no real wish to kill you," I said. "It is enough for him to shame you. Withdraw."

Suddenly the eyes of Kamchak gleamed. "Would you see me shamed?" he asked.

I looked at him, "Beher, my friend," I said, "that than death."

"No," said Kamchak, and his eyes were like steel, "better death than shame."

I stepped back. He was Tuchuk. I would sorely miss my friend, the ribald, hard-drinking, stomping, dancing Kamchak of the Tuchuks.

In the last moment I cried out to Kamchak, "For the sake of Priest-Kings, hold the weapon thus" trying to teach him the simplest of the commoner grips for the hilt of the short sword, permitting a large degree of both retention and flexi- bility. But when I stepped away he was now holding it like a Gorean angle saw.

Even Kamras closed his eyes briefly, as though to shut out the spectacle. I now realized Kamras had only wished to drive Kamchak from the field, a chastened and humiliated man. He had little more wish to slay the clumsy Tuchuk than he would have a peasant or a potmaker.

"Let the combat begin," said the judge.

I stepped away from Kamchak and Kamras approached- him, by training, cautiously.

Kamchak was looking at the edge of his sword, turning it about, apparently noting with pleasure the play of sunlight on the blade.

"Watch out!" I cried.

Kamchak turned to see what I had in mind and to his great good fortune, as he did so, the sun flashed from the blade into the eyes of ELamras, who suddenly threw his arm up, blinking and shaking his head, for the instant blinded. "Turn and strike now!" I screamed "What?" asked Kamchak.

"Watch out!" I cried, for now Kamras had recovered, and was once again approaching.

Kamras, of course, had the sun at his back, using it as naturally as the tarn to protect his advance.

It had been incredibly fortunate for Kamchak that the blade had flashed precisely at the time it had in the way it had.

It had quite possibly saved his life.

Kamras lunged and it looked like Kamchak threw up his arm at the last instant as though he had lost balance, and indeed he was now tottering on one boot. I scarcely noticed the blow had been smartly parried. Kamras then began to chase Kamchak about the ring of sand. Kamchak was nearly stumbling over backward and kept trying to regain his bal- ance. In this chase, rather undignified, Kamras had struck a dozen times and each time, astoundingly, the off-balance Kamchak, holding his sword DOW like a physician's pestle, had managed somehow to meet the blow.

"Slay him!" screamed Aphris of Turia.

I was tempted to cover my eyes.

The Kassar girl was wailing.

Then, as though weary, Kamchak, puffing, sat down in the sand. His sword was in front of his face, apparently blocking his vision. With his boots he kept rotating about, always facing Kamras no matter from which direction he came Each time the Turian struck and I would have thought Kamchak slain, somehow, incomprehensibly, at the last in- stant, nearly causing my heart to stop, with a surprised weary little twitch, the blade of the Tuchuk would slide the Turian steel harmlessly to the side. It was only about this time that it dawned on me that for three or four minutes Kamchak had been the object of the ever-more-furious as- sault of Turia's champion and was, to this instant, un- scratched.

Kamchak then struggled wearily to his feet.

"Die, Tuchuk!" cried Kamrus now enraged, rushing upon him. For more than a minute, while I scarcely dared to breathe and there was silence all about save for the ring of steel, I watched Kamchak stand there, heavy in his boots, his head seeming almost to sit on his shoulders, his body hardly moving save for the swiftness of a wrist and the turn of a hand.

Kamras, exhausted, scarcely able to lift his arm, staggered backward.

Once again, expertly, the sun flashed from the sword of Kamchak in his eyes.

In terror Kamras blinked and shook his head, thrashing about wearily with his sword.

— Then, foot by booted foot, Kamchak advanced toward him. I saw the first blood leap front the cheek of Kamras, and then again from his left arm, then from the thigh, then from an ear.

"Kill him!" Aphris of, Turia was screaming. "Kill him!" But now, almost like a drunk man, Kamras was fighting for his life and the Tuchuk, like a bear, scarcely moving more than arm and wrist, followed him about, shuffling through the sand after him, touching him again and again with the blade.

"Slay hind" howled Aphris of Turia!

For perhaps better than fifteen minutes, patiently, not hurrying, Kamchak of the Tuchuks shuffled after Kamras of Turia, touching him once more and ever again, each time leaving a quick, bright stain of blood on his tunic or body And then, to my astonishment, and that of the throng who had gathered to witness the contest, I saw Kamras, Champi- on of Turia, weak from the loss of blood, fall to his knees before Kamchak of the Tuchuks. Kamras tried to lift his sword but the boot of Kamchak pressed it into the sand, and Kamras lifted his eyes to look dazed into the scarred, inscru- table countenance of the Tuchuk. Kamchak's sword was at his throat. "Six years," said Kamchak, "before I was scarred was I mercenary in the guards of Ar, learning the walls and defenses of that city for my people. In that time of the guards of Ar I became First Sword."

Kamras fell in the sand at the feet of Kamchak, unable even to beg for mercy.

Kamchak did not slay him.

Rather he threw the sword he carried into the sand and though he threw it easily it slipped through almost to the hilt. He looked at me and grinned. "An interesting weapon," he said, "but I prefer lance and quiva."

There was an enormous roar about us and the pounding of lances on leather shields. I rushed to Kamchak and threw my arms about him laughing and hugging him. He was grinning from ear to ear, sweat glistening in the furrows of his scars. Then he turned and advanced to the stake of Aphris of Turia, who stood there, her wrists bound in steel, regarding him, speechless with horror Kamchak regarded Aphris of Turia.

"Why is a slave," he asked, "masquerading in the robes of a free woman?"

"Please, no, Tuchuk," she said. "Please, no!"

And in a moment the lovely Aphris of Tuna stood at the stake revealed to the eyes of her master.

She threw back her head and moaned, wrists still locked in the retaining rings.

She had not, as I had suspected, deigned to wear the shameful camisk beneath her robes of white and gold. The Kassar wench, who had been bound across from her to the opposing stake, had now been freed by a judge and she strode to where Aphris was still confined.

"Well done, Tuchuk!" said the girl, saluting Kamchak. Kamchak shrugged.

Then the girl, with vehemence, spat in the face of the lovely Aphris. "Slave girl!" hissed the girl. "Slave! Slave girl!" She then turned and strode away, looking for warriors of the Kassars.

Kamchak laughed loudly.

"Punish her!" demanded Aphris.

Kamchak suddenly cuffed Aphris of Turia. Her head snapped sideways and there was a streak of blood at the corner of her mouth. The girl looked at him in sudden fear. It might have been the first time she had ever been struck. Kamchak had not hit her hard, but sharply enough to in- struct her. "You will take what abuse any free person of the Wagon Peoples cares to inflict-upon you," he said. "I see," said a voice, "you know how to handle slaves." I turned to see, only a few feet away, on the shoulders of slaves standing on the bloodied sand, the open, bejeweled, cushioned palanquin of Saphrar of the Caste of Merchants. Aphris blushed from head to toe, enfolded transparent in the crimson flag of her shame Saphrar's round, pinkish face was beaming with pleasure, though I would have thought this day a tragic one for him. The tiny red-lipped mouth was spread wide with benign satisfaction. I saw the tips of the two golden canines. Aphris suddenly pulled at the retaining rings, trying to rush to him, now oblivious of the riches of her beauty revealed even to the slaves who carried his palanquin. To them, of course, she was now no more than they, save perhaps that her flesh would not be used to bear the poles of palanquins, to carry boxes nor dig in the earth, but would be appointed even more pleasing than theirs to a master. "Saphrar!" she cried. "Saphrar!"

Saphrar looked on the girl. He took from a silken pouch lying before him on the palanquin a small glass, with glass petal edges like a flower, mounted on a silver stem about which curled silver leaves. Through this he looked on her more closely.

"Aphris!" he cried, as though horrified, but yet smiling. 'Saphrar, ' she wept, "free me!"

`'How unfortunate!" wailed Saphrar. I could still see the tips of the golden teeth.

Kamchak had his arm about my shoulder, chuckling.

"Aphris of Turia," he said, "has a surprise coming." Aphris turned her head to Kamchak. "I am the richest woman in all Turia," she said. "Name your price!"

Kachak looked at me. "Do you think five gold pieces would be too much?" he asked.

I was startled.

Aphris nearly choked. "Sleep," she wept. Then she turned to Saphrar. "Buy mel" she demanded. "If necessary, use all my resources, all! Free mel"

"But Aphris," Saphrar was purring, "I am in charge of your funds and to barter them and all your properties and goods for one slave would be a most unwise and absurd decision on my part, irresponsible even."

its own tasks, lighter and more suitable. doubtless Aphris suddenly looked at him, dumbfounded.

"It is or was true that you were the richest woman in all Turia," Saphrar was saying, "but your riches are not yoursI to manage but mine not, that is, until you would have reached your majority, some days from now I believe." "I do not wish to remain a slave for even a day!" she cried.

"Is its over his eyes rising, "that you would upon reaching your I majority transfer your entire fortunes to a Tuchuk, merely to obtain your freedom."

"Of course" she wept.

"How fortunate then," observed Saphrar, "that such a transaction is precluded by law."

"I don't understand," said Aphris.

Kamchak squeezed my shoulder and rubbed his nose.

"Surely you are aware," said Saphrar, "that a slave cannot own property any more than a kaiila, a tharlarion or sleep."

"I am the richest woman in Turia!" she cried.

Saphrar reclined a bit more on his cushions. His little round pinkish face shone. He pursed his lips and then smiled. He poked his head forward and said, very quickly, "You are a slaver" He then giggled.

Aphris of Turia threw- back her head and screamed. your wardrobes and jewels, your investments and assets, chattels and lands, became mine."

Aphris was weeping uncontrollably at the stake. Then she lifted her head to him, her eyes bright with tears. "I beg you, noble Saphrar," she wept, "I beg of you I beg of you to free me. Please! Please! Please!"

Saphrar smiled at her. He then turned to Kamchak, "What, Tuchuk, did you say her price was?"

"I have lowered it," said Kamchak. "I will let you have her for one copper tarn disk."

Saphrar smiled. "The price is too high," he said.

Aphris cried out in distress.

Saphrar then again lifted the tiny glass through which he had regarded her, and examined her with some care. Then he shrugged and gestured for his slaves to turn the palanquin. «Saphrar» cried out the girl one last time.

"I do not speak to slaves," said he, and the merchant, on the palanquin, moved away toward the walls of distant Turia.

Aphris was looking after him, numbly, her eyes red, her cheeks stained with tears.

"It does not matter," said Kamchak soothingly to the girl. "Even had Saphrar been a worthy man you would not now be free."

She turned her beautiful head to stare at him, blankly. "No," said Kamchak, taking her hair and giving her head a friendly shake, "I would not have sold you for all the gold in Turia."

"But why? she whispered.

"Do you recall," asked Kamchak, "one night two years ago when you spurned my gift and called me sleep?" The girl nodded, her eyes frightened.

"It was on that night," said Kamchak, "that I vowed to make you my slave."

She dropped her head.

"And it is for that reason," said Kamchak, "that I would not sell you for all the gold of Turia."

She looked up, red-eyed.

"It was on that night, little Aphris," said Kamchak, "that I decided I wanted you, and would have you, slave."

The girl shuddered and dropped her head.

The laugh of Kamchak of the Tuchuks was loud.

He had waited long to laugh that laugh, waited long to see his fair enemy thus before him, thus bound and shamed, his, a slave.

In short order then Kamchak took the key over the head of Aphris of Turia and sprang open the retaining rings. He then led the numb, unresisting Turian maiden to his kaiila. There, beside the paws of the animal, he made her kneel. "Your name is Aphris of Turia," he said to her, giving her a name.

"My name is Aphris of Turia," she said, accepting her name at his hands.

"Submit," ordered Kamchak.

Trembling Aphris of Turia, kneeling, lowered her head and extended her arms, wrists crossed. Kamchak quickly and tightly thonged them together.

She lifted her head. "Am I to be bound across the saddle?" she asked numbly.

"No," said Kamchak, "there is no hurry."

"I don't understand," said the girl.

Already Kamchak was placing a thong on her neck, the loose end of which he looped several times about the pom- mel of his saddle. "You will run alongside," he informed her. She looked at him in disbelief.

Elizabeth Cardwell, unbound, had already taken her position on the other side of Foteak's kaiila, beside his right It might have been the first time ship Kamchak had not hit her hard, but ship To be sure there might have been some doubt that the miserable wench thonged behind Kamchak's kaiila could have been first stake. She was gasping and stumbling; her body glistened with perspiration; her legs were black with wet dust; her hair was tangled and thick with dust; her feet and ankles were bleeding; her calves were scratched and speckled with the red bites of fennels. When Kamchak reached his wagon, the poor girl, gasping for breath, legs trembling, fell exhausted to the grass, her entire body shaking with the ordeal of her run. I supposed that Aphris of Turia had done little in her life that was more strenuous than stepping in and out of a scented bath. Elizabeth Cardwell, on the other hand, I was pleased to see, ran well, breathing evenly, showing few signs of fatigue. She had, of course, in her time with the wagons, become used to this form of exercise. I had rather come to admire her. The life in the open air, the work, had apparently been good for her. She was trim, vital, buoyant. I wondered how many of the girls in her New York office could have run as she beside the stirrup of a Tuchuk warrior.

Kamchak leaped down from the saddle of the kaiila, puffing a bit.

"Here, here!" he cried cheerily, hauling the exhausted Aphris to her knees "There is work to be done,!"

She looked up at him, the thong still on her neck, her wrists bound. Her eyes seemed dazed.

"There are bask to be groomed," he informed her, "and their horns and hoofs must be polished there is fodder to be fetched and dung to be gathered the wagon must be wiped and the wheels greased and there is water to be brought from the stream some four pasangs. away and meat to ham- mer and cook for supper! hurry! hurry, Lazy Girl!" Then he leaned back and laughed his Tuchuk laugh, slapping his thighs.

Elizabeth Cardwell was removing the thong from the girl's neck and unbinding her wrists. "Come along," she said, kindly. "I will show you."

Aphris stood up, wobbling, still dazed. She turned her eyes on Elizabeth, whom she seemed to see then for the first time. "Your accent," said Aphris, slowly. "You are barbarian." She said it with a kind of horror.

She turned in fury and followed Elizabeth Cardwell away. After this Kamchak and I left the wagon and wandered about, stopping at one of the slave wagons for a bottle of Paga, which, while wandering about, we killed between us. This year, as it turned out, the Wagon Peoples had done exceedingly well in the games of Love War a bit of news we picked up with the Paga and about seventy percent of the Turian maidens had been led slave from the stakes to which they had been manacled. In some years I knew the percentages were rather the other way about. It apparently made for zestful competition. We also heard that the wench Hereena, of the First Wagon, had been won by a Turian officer representing the house of Saphrar of the Merchants, to whom, for a fee, he presented her. I gathered that she would become another of his dancing girls. "A bit of per- fume and silk will be good for that wench," stated Kamchak. It seemed strange to think of her, so wild and insolent, arrogant on the back of her kaiila, now a perfumed, silken slave of Turians. `'She could use a bit of whip and steel, that wench," Kamchak muttered between swallows of Paga, pretty much draining the bottle. It was too bad, I thought, but at least I supposed there would be one fellows among the wagons, the young man Harold, he whom the girl had so abused, he who had not yet won the Courage Scar, who would be just as pleased as not that she, with all her contempt and spleen, was now delightfully salted away in bangles and bells behind the high, thick walls of a Turian's pleasure garden.

Kamchak had circled around and we found ourselves back at the slave wagon.

We decided to wager to see who would get the second bottle of Paga.

"What about the flight of birds?" asked Kamchak.

"Agreed," I said, "but I have first choice."

"Very well," he said.

I knew, of course, that it was spring and, in this hemi- sphere, most birds, if there were any migrating, would be moving south. "South," I said.

"North," he said.

We then waited about a minute, and I saw several birds river gulls flying north.

"Those are Vosk gulls," said Kamchak, "In the spring, when the ice breaks in the Vosk, they fly north."

I fished some coins out of my pouch for the Paga.

"The first southern migrations of meadow kites," he said, "have already taken place. The migrations of the forest hurlit and the horned aim do not take place until later in the spring. This is the time that the Vosk gulls fly." "Oh," I said.

Singing Tuchuk songs, we managed to make it back to the wagon.

Elizabeth had the meat roasted, though it was now consid- erably overdone.

"The meat is overdone," said Kamchak.

"They are both stinking drunk," said Aphris of Turia. I looked at her. Both of them were beautiful. "No," I corrected her, "gloriously inebriated."

Kamchak was looking closely at the girls, leaning forward, squinting.

I blinked a few Ames.

"Is anything wrong?" asked Elizabeth Cardwell.

I noted that there was a large welt on the side of her face, that her hair was ripped up a bit and that there were five long scratches on the left side of her face.

"No," I said.

Aphris of Turia appeared in even worse shape. She had surely lost more than one handful of hair. There were teeth marks in her left arm and, if I was not mistaken, her right eye was ringed and discolored.

"The meat is overdone," grumbled Kamchak. A master takes no interest in the squabbles of slaves, it being beneath him. He of course would not have approved had one of the girls been maimed, blinded or disfigured.

"Have the bask been tended?" asked Kamchak.

"Yes," said Elizabeth firmly.

Kamchak looked at Aphris. "Have the bask been tended?" he asked.

She looked up suddenly, her eyes bright with tears. She cast an angry look at Elizabeth. "Yes," she said, "they have been tended."

"Good," said Kamchak, "good." Then he pointed at the meat. "It is overdone," he said.

"You were hours late," said Elizabeth.

"Hours," repeated Aphris.

"It is overdone," said Kamchak.

"I shall roast fresh meat," said Elizabeth, getting up, and she did so. Aphris only sniffed.

When the meat was ready Kamchak ate his fill, and drank down, too, a flagon of bosk milk; I did the same, though the milk, at least for me, did not sit too well with the Paga of the afternoon.

Kamchak, as he often did, was sitting on what resembled a gray rock, rather squarish, except that the corners tended to be a bit rounded. When I had first seen this thing, heaped with other odds and ends in one corner of the wagon, some of the odds and ends being tankards of jewels and small, heavy chests filled with golden tarn disks, I had thought it merely a rock. Once, when rummaging through his things, Karnchak had kicked it across the rug for me to look at. I was surprised at the way it bounced on the rug and, when I picked it up, I was interested to see how light it was. It was clearly not a rock. It was rather leathery and had a "rained surface. I was a bit reminded of some of the loose, tumbled rocks I had once glimpsed in certain abandoned portions of the place of Priest-Kings, far beneath the Sardar. Among such rocks it would not have been noticed. "What do you make of it?" Kamchak asked.

"Interesting," I observed.

"Yes," said he, "I thought so." He held out his hands and I tossed the object back. "I have had it for some time," he said. "It was given to me by two travelers."

"Oh," I said.

When Kamchak had finished his freshly roasted meat and his flagon of bask milk, he shook his head and rubbed his nose.

He looked at Miss Cardwell. "Tenchika and Dina are gone," said he. "You may sleep once more in the wagon." Elizabeth cast a grateful look at him. I gathered that the ground under the wagon was hard.

"Thank you," she said.

"I thought he was your master," remarked Aphris.

"Master," added Elizabeth, with a withering look at Aphris, who smiled.

I now began to understand why there were often problems in a wagon with more than one girl. Still, Tenchika and Dina had not quarreled very much. Perhaps this was because Tenchika's heart was elsewhere, in the wagon of Albrecht of the Kassars.

"Who, may I ask," asked Aphris, "were Tenchika and Dina?"

"Slaves, Turian wenches," said Kamchak.

"They were sold," Elizabeth informed Aphris.

"Oh," said Aphris. Then she looked at Kamchak. "I do not suppose I shall be fortunate enough to be sold?"

"She would probably bring a high price," pointed out Elizabeth, hopefully.

"Higher than a barbarian surely," remarked Aphris. "Do not fret, Little Aphris," said Kamchak, "when I am finished with you I shall if it pleases me put you on the block in the public slave wagon."

"I shall look forward to the day," she said.

"On the other hand," said Kamchak, "I may feed you to the kaiila."

At this the Turian maiden trembled slightly, and looked down. "I doubt that you are good for much," Kamchak said, "but kaiila feed."

Aphris looked up angrily.

Elizabeth laughed and clapped her hands.

"You," said Kamchak, glaring at Elizabeth, "you stupid little barbarian you cannot even dance!"

Elizabeth looked down, confused, rather shamed. It was true, what Kamchak had said.

The voice of Aphris was timid and quiet. "I can't either," she said.

"What!" howled Kamchak.

"No," cried Aphris, "I never learned!"

"Kaiila feed!" cried Kamchak.

"I'm sorry," said Aphris, now a bit irritated, "I just never planned on becoming a slave."

"You should have learned anyway," cried the disappointed Kamchak.

"Nonsense," said Aphris.

"It will cost money," grumbled Kamchak, "but you will learn, I will have you taught."

Aphris sniffed and looked away.

Elizabeth was looking at me. Then she turned to Kamchak. To my astonishment, she asked, "Could I, too, be taught?"

"Why?" he asked.

She looked down, blushing.

"She is only a barbarian," said Aphris, "All knees and elbows she could never learn."

"Hah!" laughed Kamchak. "The Little Barbarian does not wish to become second girl in the wagon!" He gave Eliza- beth's head a rough, affectionate shake. "You will fight for your place! Excellent!"

"She can be first girl if she wishes," sniffed Aphris. "I shall escape at the first opportunity and return to Turia." "Beware of the herd sleep," said Kamchak.

Aphris turned white.

"If you attempt to leave the wagons at night they will sense you out and rip my pretty little slave girl in pieces." "It is true," I warned Aphris of Turia.

"Nonetheless," said Aphris, "I will escape."

"But not tonight!" guffawed Kamchak.

"No," said Aphris acidly, "not tonight." Then she looked about herself, disdainfully at the interior of the wagon. Her gaze rested for a moment on the kaiila saddle which had been part of the spoils which Kamchak had acquired for Tenchika. In the saddle, in their sheaths, were seven quivas. Aphris turned again to face Kamchak. "This slave," she said, indicating Elizabeth, "would not give me anything to eat." "Kamchak must eat first, Slave," responded Elizabeth. "Well," said Aphris, "he has eaten."

Kamchak then took a bit of meat that was left over from the fresh-roasted meat that Miss Cardwell had prepared. He held it out in his hand. "Eat," he said to Aphris, "but do not touch it with your hands."

Aphris looked at him in fury, — but then smiled. "Certainly," she said and the proud Aphris of Turia, kneeling, bent for- ward, to eat the meat held in the hand of her master. Kamchak's laugh was cut short when she sank her fine white teeth into his hand with a savage bite.

"Aiii!" he howled, jumping up and sticking his bleeding hand into his mouth, sucking the blood from the wound. Elizabeth had leaped up and so had I.

Aphris had sprung to her feet and ran to the side of the wagon where there lay the kaiila saddle with its seven sheathed quivas. She jerked one of the quivas from its saddle sheath and stood with the blade facing us. She was bent over with rage.

Kamchak sat down again, still sucking his hand. I also sat down, and so, too, did Elizabeth Cardwell.

We left Aphris standing there, clutching the knife, breath- ing deeply.

"Sleep!" cried the girl. "I have a knife!"

Kamchak paid her no attention now but was looking at his hand. He seemed satisfied that the wound was not serious, and picked up the piece of meat which he had dropped, which he tossed to Elizabeth, who, in silence, ate it. He then pointed at the remains of the overdone roast, indicating that she might eat it.

"I have a knife!" cried Aphris in fury.

Karochak was now picking his teeth with a fingernail. "Bring wine," he said to Elizabeth, who, her mouth filled with meat; went and fetched a small skin of wine and a cup, which she filled for him. When Kamchak had drunk the cup of wine he looked again at Aphris. "For what you have done," he said, "it is common to call for one of the Clan of Torturers." "I will kill myself first," cried Aphris, posing the quiva over her heart.

Kamchak shrugged.

The girl did not slay herself. "NO," she cried, "I will slay you."

"Much better," said Kamchak, nodding. "Much better." "I have a knife!" cried out Aphris.

"Obviously," said Kamchak. He then got up and walked rather heavily over to one wall of the wagon and took a slave whip from the wall.

He faced Aphris of Turia.

"Sleep!" she wept. She threw back her hand with the knife to rush forward and thrust it into the heart of Karnchak but the coil of the whip lashed forth and I saw its stinging tip wrap four times about the wrist and forearm of the Turian girl who cried out in sudden pain and Kamchak had stepped to the side and with a motion of his hand had thrown her off balance and then by the whip dragged her rudely over the rug to his feet. There he stepped on her wrist and removed the knife from her open hand. He thrust it in his belt. "Slay me!" wept the girl. "I will not be your slave!" But Kamchak had hauled her to her feet and then flung her back to where she had stood before. Dazed, holding her right arm, on which could be seen four encircling blazes of scarlet, she regarded him. Kamchak then removed the quiva from his belt and hurled it across the room until it struck in one of the poles of the frame supporting the wagon hides, two inches in the wood, beside the throat of the girl. "Take the quiva," said Kamchak.

The girl shook with fear.

"Take it," ordered Kamchak.

She did so.

"Now," he said, "replace it."

Trembling, she did so.

"Now approach me and eat," said Kamchak. Aphris of Turia did so, defeated, kneeling before him and turning her head delicately to take the meat from his hand. "Tomor- row," said Kamchak, "you will be permitted after I have eaten to feed yourself."

Suddenly Elizabeth Cardwell said, perhaps unwisely. "You are cruel"

Kamchak looked at her in surprise. "I am kind," he said. "How is that?" I asked.

"I am permitting her to live," he said.

"I think," I said, "that you have won this night but I warn you that the girl from Turia will think again of the quiva and the heart of a Tuchuk warrior."

"Of course," smiled Kamchak, feeding Aphris, "she is superb."

The girl looked at him with wonder.

"For a Turian slave," he added. He fed her another piece of meat. "Tomorrow, Little Aphris," said he, "I will give you something to wear."

She looked at him gratefully.

"Bells and collar," said he.

Tears appeared in her eyes.

"Can I trust you?" he asked.

"No," she said.

"Bells and collar," said he. "But I shall wind them about with strings of diamonds that those who see will know that your master can well afford the goods you will do without." "I hate you," she said.

"Excellent," said Kamchak. "Excellent."

When the girl had finished and Elizabeth had given her a dipper of water from the leather bucket that hung near the door, Aphris extended her wrists to Kamchak.

The Tuchuk looked puzzled.

"Surely," she said, "you will lock me in slave bracelets and chain me tonight?"

"But it is rather early," pointed out Kamchak.

The girl's eyes showed a moment of fear but then she seemed resolved. "You have made me your slave," she said, "but I am still Aphris of Turia. You may, Tuchuk, slay Aphris of Turia if it pleases you, but know that she will never serve your pleasure never."

"Well," said the Tuchuk, "tonight I am pretty drunk." "Never," said Aphris of Turia.

"I note," said Kamchak, "that you have never called me Master."

"I call no man Master," said the girl.

"I am tired tonight," said Kamchak, yawning. "I have had a hard day."

Aphris trembled in anger, her wrists still forward. "I would retire," she said.

"Perhaps then," said Kamchak, "I should have sheets of crimson silk brought, and the furs of the mountain larl." "As you wish,) said the girl.

Kamchak clapped her on the shoulders. "Tonight," he said, "I will not chain you nor put you in the bracelets." Aphris was clearly surprised. I saw her eyes furtively dart toward the kaiila saddle with its seven quivas.

"As Kamchak wishes," she said.

"Do you not recall," asked Kamchak, "banquet ofSaphrar?" "Of course," she said, warily.

"Do you not recall," asked Kamchak, "the affair of the tiny bottles of perfume and the smell of bask dung how nobly you attempted to rid the banquet hall of that most unpleas- ant and distasteful odor?"

"Yes," said the girl, very slowly.

"Do you not recall," asked Kamchak, "what I then said to you what I said at that time?"

"Nor" cried the girl leaping up, but Kamchak had jumped toward her, scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. She squirmed and struggled on his shoulder, kicking and pounding on his back. "Sleep!" she cried. "Sleep! Sleen! Sleen!"

I followed Kamchak down the steps of the wagon and, blinking and still sensible of the effects of the Paga, gravely held open the large dung sack near the rear left wheel of the wagon. "No, Master!" the girl wept.

"You call no man Master," Kamchak was reminding her. And then I saw the lovely Aphris of Turia pitched head first into the large, leather sack, screaming and sputtering, threshing shout.

"Master!" she cried. "Master! Master!"

Sleepily I could see the sides of the sack bulging out wildly here and there as she squirmed about.

Kamchak then tied shut the end of the leather sack and wearily stood up. "I am tired," he said. "I have had a diffi- cult and exhausting day."

I followed him into the wagon where, in a short time, we had both fallen asleep.