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."