"That is absurd," said a man.

"Last night, Cosian scouts, outside the walls," said a man, "distributed silver tarsks to the homeless, assuring them of the good intentions of the maritime ubarate!"

"That is preposterous," said a man.

"I know a fellow who received one," said the first fellow.

"Unfortunately," said a fellow," I was home in bed."

"You should have been outside the walls," said another.

"I could use a silver tarsk," said a man.

"Do you think that Cos is truly our friend?" asked a man.

"No," said a fellow.

Men looked at him.

"Why do you say that?" asked a man.

"I was in the delta," he said, and turned away.

"Ar's Station," said a man, "has been well treated by Cos."

"Do not respond to that," I said to Marcus, and drew him back a bit from the public boards, to the edge of the crowd.

The young warrior's face was flushed.

"Perhaps Seremides can save us," said a man.

"Or the intercessions of our beloved Talena," said another.

"We must fight to the death," said a man.

"Cos will show us no mercy," said another.

"Perhaps the city will be spared if we confess our wrongs, and make clear our desire for peace."

"What wrongs?" asked a man.

"Surely we must have wrongs," said a man.

"I suppose so," said another.

I myself could think of at least three, the failure to meet Cos at Torcadino, the failure to relieve the siege of Ar's Station, and the unprepared entry into the delta, in putative pursuit of the Cosian expeditionary force in the north. "We can do nothing," said a man.

"We are helpless under the tyranny of Gnieus Lelius," said another.

"Who can free us from the grip of this tyrant?" asked a man.

"Perhaps our friends in Cos," said a fellow.

"Where is he?" asked a man.

"Hiding in the Central Cylinder," said another.

"He had fled the city," said another.

"Ar cannot be indefinitely defended," said a man.

"We must declare ourselves an open city," said another.

"Others wiser than we will know," said another.

"How can we make Cos know we wish to be their friend?" asked another.

"I do not wish to be their friend," said a man, angrily.

"Our military situation is hopeless," said a man. "We must prove our desire for peace to the Cosians."

"How can we do that?" asked a man.

"I do not know," he said.

"They will wish some clear, explicit token," said a man.

"Yes," said another.

"But what?" asked a man.

"I do not know," said the first fellow.

"Come along," I said to Marcus.

In a few minutes we had come to a slave ring where we had left Phoebe.

The ring to which she was attached was set quite close to the ground level, a ring to which it was presumed a slave might be fastened by the ankle. Marcus, however, using a pair of slave bracelets, had fastened her to it by the neck, one bracelet about the ring, the other about her collar, pressing into her neck. She lay on her stomach on the stones, her neck held close to the ring, her eyes closed against the glare. Marcus kicked her, not gently, with the side of his foot. "Master," she said, and rose to her knees, bent over, her head held down to the stones.

"She is Cosian," he said to me.

"No," I said. "She is only a slave."

"Are you hungry?" Marcus asked Phoebe.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Perhaps then," he said, "you will not be fed today."

"I am not permitted to lie to my master," she said.

"A slave, like any other animal," I said, "may grow hungry."

"True," said Marcus.

He then crouched down and removed the bracelets from the ring and collar. "I, too, am hungry," I said.

"Very well," he said.

"There are food shops on Emerald Street," I said.

"Is it far?" he asked.

"No," I said.

Then, in a moment we left, retracing our steps, moving north on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder, past shops, fountains, columns and such, until we would make our left turn, toward Emerald Street, Phoebe heeling him, her hands now fastened behind her in the bracelets.

"Look," I said, while still on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder, pointing upward.

"Another Cosian tarnsman," he said.

"Yes," I said.

"Coppers, coppers for the temple," called an Initiate, rattling some tarsk bits in a tray.

"What do you think Cos wants?" asked Marcus.

"I think," I said, "the destruction of the gates of Ar."

"That is absurd," said Marcus.

"True," I said.

"They will never be given that," he said.

"No," I said.

We were muchly jostled.

"Hear the bars," asked Marcus.

"They are sounding out peals of rejoicing." I said.

It was now two days after we had read the first postings of the conciliatory message of Lurius of Jad on the public boards.

"Hail Ar! Hail Cos!" cried folks about.

It was difficult to keep our feet.

"Are they coming?" asked a man.

"Yes," said another, moving out further onto the avenue.

"Back," said a guardsmen. "Back."

We had come to this coign of vantage, such as it was, very early this morning, even at the second Ahn. Yet, even at that time, many had been about, some with blankets to sleep on the stones. It was in the open area near the Central Cylinder, which loomed in the center of a circular park, the territory open enough for defense, midway in the avenue.

"Hail Ar! Hail Cos!" cried a man.

Many folks held small Cosian banners which they might wave. Banners, too, of Ar were much in evidence.

The night before last, the night of that day on which we had taken note of the postings, the gates of Ar had been dismantled and burned. Some citizens had attempted to interfere with this, but were discouraged with clubs and blades. There had even been sporadic mutinies of small contingents of guardsmen, determined to hold their posts, but these for the most part dissipated when it became clear that the orders were from the Central Cylinder itself. Two of these armed reluctances, yielding neither to reason nor orders, were quelled bloodily by Taurentians. Gnieus Lelius, it seems, had been deposed, and Seremides, in a military coup he himself characterized as regrettable, had seized temporary power, a power to be wielded until the High Council, now the highest civilian authority in Ar, could elect a new leader, be it Administrator, Regent, Ubar or Ubara.

"I had not thought to see the gates of Ar burned, not by her own," said Marcus. "No," I said.

The metal plating had been pried from them, to be melted down. The great timbers then, shattered and separated, had been formed into gigantic pyres and burned. I think the light of these would have been visible for fifty pasangs. Marcus and I, and Phoebe, had watched the burning of the great gate for a time. Many folks from the city, too, some in numbness, some in sorrow, some in disbelief, had come out to watch. We could see their faces in the reflected light. Many had wept. Some uttered lamentations, tearing their hair and clothes. It had been uncomfortably hot even within a hundred pasangs of the flames, so great was the heat generated. I had come through that gate many times.

We could hear cheering in the distance.

"Cos is within the city," said Marcus.

"At last we are free!" cried a man.

"We have been liberated!" cheered another, waving a Cosian banner on a small stick.

The city was festooned with ribbons and garlands. It was hard to hear Marcus beside me, what with the sound of the bars ringing and the shouts of the crowd.

"Has there ever been such a day for rejoicing in Ar?" asked Marcus.

"I do not know," I admitted. After all, I was not of Ar.

"Do you think Cos will now sack and burn the city?" asked Marcus.