"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.