"Lady Sheila is much too innocent, and her sensibilities are far too delicate," said he, "to inquire as to what sort of His wagon that is."

"No," I said, "what?" I would pretend to an innocent ignorance.

"It is a slaver s wagon," he said, "a girl wagon."

"Oh," I said, as though surprised. After a time, I said, "I wonder if there are any girls in it."

"Probably," said Drusus. "Its canopy is up, and it is approaching the city." "Are girls fastened in such wagons?" I asked.

"Usually," be said.

"How?" I asked.

"The most usual arrangement," be said, "involves a metal bar and girls who are independently shackled. The bar runs parallel to the length of the wagon bed. It is a liftable bar. It has a binge at the end of the wagon bed near the wagon box. The bar is lifted, by means of the hinge, and the girls, by means of their ankle chains, are threaded upon it. It is then lowered and locked into a socket at the end of the wagon bed, near the gate."

"They are then well held in place," I said.

"Yes," be said.

"Are they clothed in such a wagon?" I asked.

"Sometimes they are, sometimes they are not," he said.

"I see," I said. I wondered what it might feel like to wear shackles, to have my ankles chained in proximity to one another, to have the chain looped about such a bar, so that I might not, even if I wished, be able to pull my ankles more than a few inches from it. I wondered what it might feel like, to know myself so helplessly and perfectly confined. My breath began to come more quickly. "Lady Sheila seems much interested in-the small details in the lives of female slaves," he said. Perhaps he had noticed the quickening of my breath, in the inward movements of the veil.

"Do not become presumptuous," I said.

"Forgive me," He said.

"I was merely curious," I said, irritably.

"Of course, Lady Sheila," he said. He need not know that I often, for no reason I clearly understood, in the loneliness of my quarters, slept at the lower end of the great couch, near the slave ring, and sometimes, seemingly almost unable to belp myself, had knelt beside it in the darkness, and kissed it.

"The wagon is moving now," I said. The grain wagons had passed it. It was now, again, pulling toward the center of the road, the high iron-rimmed wheels trundling on the stone, seeking the long, shallow, shiny, saucerlike ruts, polished in the stone by the earlier passage of countless vehicles. I had "It is natural for slavers to wish to get the highest possible prices for their girls," he said.

"Of course," I said.

I could not see the wagon now. It was somewhere below the wall.

I straightened myself on the riser, behind the parapet. drew a deep breath. flow pletsed I was that I was freel How dreadful, how horrifying, it would be to be merely a lowly slave!

"You seem nervous today, Drusus," I said.

"Forgive me, Lady Sheila," he said.

"Is there anything wrong?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"What is that sound from within your cloak," I asked, "as of metal?" "Nothing," said he.

One of the tarns moved on the perch, several feet to our right. I did not wish to approach too closely to such things. I wondered why Drusus had brought me to this particular place on the wall. The proximity of the tarns made it less pleasant than it might otherwise have been. the view, however, as I had remarked, was lovely.

"You do not think much of me, do you, Drusus?" I asked.

"I do not understand," he said, startled.

"You think that I am petty and ignoble, don't you?"

"I receive my fees for guarding Lady Sheila," he said, "not for forming opinions as to her character."

"Do you like me?" I asked.

"Having suggested that I might think little of you, and might regard you as pretty and ignoble, now you inquire if I might like you?" lie smiled.

"It is not impossible," I said.

He smiled.

"Do you?" I asked.

"Does it matter?" he asked.

"No," I said, angrily. "Of course notl"

"Then," he smiled, "there is no point in answering."

"Do you?" I asked, angrily.

"I am paid to guard you," he said, "not to consider any personal feelings, one way or another, which I might have towards you."

"One way or another?" I asked, angrily.

"Yes," he said.

"You despise and hate me!" I said.

"I could find it easy to despise you," he said, "and, at one time, from all that I had heard of the Tatrix of Corcyrus, and know of her governance of the city, I would have thought it would also be easy to hate you, but now, now that I have met you, I could not honestly say that I hate you."

"How flatteringl" I remarked.

"Your official self and your personal self, or your public and private selves, seem quite different," he said.

"Perhaps," I said, irritably.

"It is doubtless that way with many people," he said.

"Doubtless," I said.

He looked from one side to the other, along the walk behind the parapet. For most practical purposes we were alone on the wall. The nearest people, a couple, were better than a hundred yards away, to our left. He looked again then to the tarns. Then he looked at me. Then, angrily, he looked out, over the parapet. His fists were clenched.

I, too, looked out, over the parapet. I could feel tears in my eyes. I wanted to please Drusus Rencius. I wanted, desperately, for- him to like me. Yet everything I did or said seemed to be wrong. Then I was very angry with myself. It did not matter. I was not a slave at his feet, half naked in a collar, fearful of his whip, piteously suing for the least sign of his favor. I was a Tatrix. He was only a guard, nothing! I wondered, shuddering, what it would be to be the slave of such a man. I did not think he would be weak with me. I thought that he would, like any typical Gorean master, keep me under perfect discipline.

"I enjoyed the czehar concert," I said, lightly.

"Good," he said.

The czehar is a long, low, rectangular instrument. It is played, held across the lap. It has eight strings, plucked with a horn pick. It had been played by Lysander of Aspericbe.

The concert had taken place two nights ago in the small theater of Kleitos, off the square of Perimines.

"The ostraka were quite expensive, weren't they?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

It was quite commonly the case, I had learned, that for a concert by Lysander one could not buy admission at the gate, but must present ostraka purchased earlier in one of the market places or squares. These were apparently originally shells or pieces, shards, of pottery, but now were generally small clay disks, with a hole for a string near one edge. These were fired in a kiln, and glazed on one side. The glazing's colorations and patterns are difficult to duplicate and serve in their way as an authentication for the disk, the glazings differing for different performances or events. The unglazed back of the disk bears the date of the event or performance and a sign indicating the identity of the original vendor, the agent authorized to sell them to the public. Some of these disks, also, on the back, include a seat location. Most seating, however, in Gorean theaters, except for certain privileged sections, usually reserved for high officials or the extremely wealthy, is on a first-come-first-served basis. These ostraka, on their strings, about the necks of their owners, make attractive pendants. Some are worn even long after the performance or event in question, perhaps to let people know that one was fortunate enough to have been the witness of a particular event or performance, or perhaps merely because of their intrinsic aesthetic value. Some people keep them as souvenirs.

Others collect them, and buy and sell them, and trade them.

If the event or performance is an important one, and the ostraka are limited, their number being governed by the seating capacity of the structure or area in question, it is unlikely that they will be publicly displayed until after the event or performance. It is too easy to snatch them from about the neck in the market place. Too, sometimes rich men have been known to set ruffians on people to obtain them.