The tharlarion saddle, unlike the tare saddle, is constructed to absorb shock. Primarily, this is done by constructing the tree of the saddle in such.a way that the leather seat is mounted on a hydraulic fitting which actually floats in a thick lubricant. Not only does this lubricant absorb much of the shock involved, but it tends, except under abnormal stress, to keep the seat of the saddle parallel to the ground. In spite of this invention, the mounted warriors always wear, as an essential portion of their equipment, a thick leather belt, tightly buckled about their abdomen. In addition, the mounted warriors inevitably wear a high, soft pair of boots called tharlarion boots. These protect their legs from the abrasive hides of their mounts. When a tharlarion runs, its hide could tear the unprotected flesh from a man's bones.

Kazrak, as he had promised, turned over the balance of his hiring price to me — a very respectable eighty tarn disks. I argued with him to accept forty, on the ground that he was a sword brother, and at last convinced him to accept half of his own wages back. I felt better about this arrangement. Also, I didn't want Kazrak, when his wound was healed, to be reduced to challenging some luckless warrior for a bottle of Ka-la-na wine. We, with Talena, shared a tent, and, to Kazrak's amusement, I set aside a portion of the tent for the girl's private use, protecting it with a silk hanging.

Because of the miserable condition of Talena's single garment, Kazrak and I procured from the supply master some changes of slave livery for the girl. This seemed to me the most appropriate way to diminish any possible suspicion as to her true identity. From his own tarn disks, Kazrak purchased two additional articles which he regarded as essential a collar, which he had properly engraved, and a slave whip.

We returned to the tent, handing the new livery to Talena, who, in fury, regarded the brief, diagonally striped garments. She bit her lower lip, and, if Kazrak had not been present, would undoubtedly have roundly informed me of her displeasure.

"Did you expect to be dressed as a free woman?" I snapped.

She glared at me, knowing that she must play her role, at least in the presence of Kazrak. She tossed her head haughtily. "Of course not," she said, adding ironically, "Master." Her back straight as a tarp-goad, she disappeared behind the silk hanging. A moment later the torn rag of blue silk flew out from behind the hanging.

A moment or two after, Talena stepped forth for our inspection, brazen and insolent. She wore the diagonally striped slave livery of Gor, as had Sana — that briefly skirted, simple, sleeveless garment.

She turned before us.

"Do I please you?" she asked.

It was obvious she did. Talena was a most beautiful girl.

"Kneel," I said, drawing out the collar.

Talena blanched, but, as Kazrak chuckled, she knelt before me, her fists clenched.

"Read it," I ordered.

Talena looked at the engraved collar and shook with rage.

"Read it," I said. "Out loud."

She read the simple legend aloud: "I AM THE PROPERTY OF TARL OF BRISTOL."

I snapped the slender steel collar on her throat, placing the key in my pouch.

"Shall I call for the iron?" asked Kazrak.

"No," begged Talena, now, for the first time, frightened.

"I shall not brand her today," I said, keeping a straight face.

"By the Priest-Kings," laughed Kazrak, "I believe you care for the shetharlarion."

"Leave us, Warrior," I said.

Kazrak laughed again, winked at me, and backed with mock ceremony from the tent.

Talena sprang to her feet, her two fists flying for my face. I caught her wrists.

"How dare you?" she raged. "Take this thing off," she commanded.

She struggled fiercely, futilely. When in sheer frustration she stopped squirming, I released her. She pulled at the circle of steel on her throat. "Remove this degrading object," she commanded, "now!" She faced me, her mouth trembling with rage. "The daughter of the Ubar of Ar wears no man's collar."

"The daughter of the Ubar of Ar," I said, "wears the collar of Tarl of Bristol."

There was a long pause.

"I suppose," she said, attempting to save face, "it would perhaps be appropriate for a tarnsman to place his collar on the captive daughter of a rich merchant."

"Or the daughter of a goat keeper," I added.

Her eyes snapped. "Yes, perhaps," she said. "Very well. I concede the reasonableness of your plan." Then she held out her small hand imperiously. "Give me the key," she said, "so that I may remove this when I please."

"I will keep the key," I said. "And it will be removed, if at all, when I please."

She straightened and turned away, enraged but helpless. "Very well," she said. Then, her eyes lit on the second object Kazrak had donated to the project of taming what he called the she-tharlarion — the slave whip. "What is the meaning of that?"

"Surely you are familiar with a slave whip?" I asked, picking it up and, with amusement, slapping it once or twice in my palm.

"Yes," she said, regarding me evenly. "I have often used it on my own slaves. Is it now to be used on me?"

"If necessary," I said.

"You wouldn't have the nerve," she said.

"More likely the inclination," I said.

She smiled.

Her next remark astonished me. "Use it on me if I do not please you, Tarl of Bristol," she said. I pondered this, but she had turned away.

In the next few days, to my surprise, Talena was buoyant, cheerful, and excited. She became interested in the caravan and would spend hours walking alongside the colored wagons, sometimes hitching rides with the strap masters, wheedling from them a piece of fruit or a sweetmeat. She even conversed delightedly with the inmates of the blue and yellow wagons, bringing them precious tidbits of camp news, teasing their as to how handsome their new masters would be.

She became a favorite of the caravan. Once or twice mounted warriors of the caravan had accosted her, but on reading her collar had backed grumblingly away, enduring with good humor her jibes and taunts. In the early afternoon, when the caravan halted, she would help Kazrak and me set up our tent and would then gather wood for a fire. She cooked for us, kneeling by the fire, her hair bound back so as not to catch the sparks, her face sweaty and intent on the piece of meat she was most likely burning. After the meal she would clean and polish our gear, sitting on the tent carpet between us, chatting about the small, pleasant inconsequentialities of her day.

"Slavery apparently agrees with her," I remarked to Kazrak.

"Not slavery," he smiled. And I puzzled as to the meaning of his remark. Talena blushed and lowered her face, rubbing vigorously on the leather of my tharlarion boots.