"The beads are on the string," said the second fellow, he who was checking the security of the chain. This was an oblique allusion to the "slaver's necklace," as a coffle, of female slaves is sometimes called. To be sure, the women on this chain, as they were merely free women, had only been referred to, in rude humor, as «beads» and not "jewels. I did not doubt, however, but what in a few months time these same women, properly disciplined, trained and brought into touch with their most profound and fundamental realities would also, in the same fashion as other female slaves, become "jewels."

"Bring the extra chain back through the coffle," said the fellow with the whip. There was coil of unused chain near my feet, left from the coffling. We could probably have added forty or fifty more women to the coffle had we wished. My fellow guardsman lifted the far end of the chain and threaded it through the arms of the blonde. I then drew it forward and put it through the arms of the next woman. Then, in time, with the help of three or four other fellows, locating themselves along the coffle line, most of the weight being shortly borne by the wrist chains of the lovely «beads» themselves, we had doubled the chain, bringing it forward. In this way we distributed the weight of the unused length of chain over the wrist chains of the last forty women or so, this constituting no unusual burden to any one of them. We did not wish to cut the chain. Moreover it would be needed the next day. Coffle chains are usually adjusted, of course, to the number of women to be placed in it. To be sure, women can be spaced more or less closely on such a chain. A slaver's joke, one which free women are likely to hear with apprehension, has it that there is always room for another female on the chain.

In a few Ehn I had returned to my place at the end of the line.

The chain, ahead, to the crack of a whip, began to move. The blonde, however, at the end of the chain, given the length of the chain, did not move until at least two Ehn later.

Some of the women at the front of the chain had probably had to be informed that the first step taken in coffle is with the left foot. Later, of course, such things would become second nature to them.

As we moved from the Plaza of Tarns the streets seemed muchly deserted. Among the people we did pass, or who were passing by, few seemed to take much interest in the coffle. Many even looked away. It now had little, or nothing, to do (pg. 162) with them. Its contents, in effect, were no longer of Ar. Some fellows in Turian garb did stand by a wall, their arms folded, considering the coffle, much as might have assessing slavers. Twice some children addressed themselves to the coffle, jeering its captives, spitting upon them, stinging them with hurled pebbles, rushing forward, even, to lash at them with switches. Already, it seemed, to these children, the women were no more than mere slaves.

When I had threaded the chain back through the arms of Claudia Tentia Hinrabia, incidentally, I did not mention to her that she had been selected to entertain at a late supper to be given by Talena of Ar, her Ubara, in the room of the Ubar, in the Central Cylinder. She would find out, soon enough.

"I can remember when the men of Ar, those I saw of them in the north, walked proudly," said Marcus.

The city was subdued, save for some idealistic youth, who seemed to take pride in its downfall.

"Yes," I said.

It was now some months after the entry of Myron, polemarkos of Temos, into Ar. The systematic looting of Ar had proceeded apace. More levies of women, free and slave, had been conducted. Work on the destruction of the walls had continued. Marcus and I were on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder, the major thoroughfare in Ar.

"The major blow," said he, "was doubtless the movement of the Home Stone to Telnus."

This had been admitted on the public boards at last. Originally it had been rumored, which rumors had been denied, that only a surrogate for the stone had appeared in the Planting Feast. Later, however, when the ceremony of citizenship, in which the Home Stone figures, was postponed, speculation had become rampant. There had been demands by minor Initiates, of smaller temples, outside the pomerium of the city, first, for the ceremonies to be conducted, and, later, these ceremonies not taking place, for the Home Stone to be produced. In the furor of speculation over this matter the secular and ecclesiastical authorities in the city had remained silent. At last, in view of the distinct unrest in the city, and the possible danger of riots and demonstrations, a communication was received from the Central Cylinder, jointly presented by Talena, Ubara of Ar; Seremides, captain of the guard; Antonius, executive officers of the High Council; Tulbinius, Chief Initiate; and Myron, polemarkos of Temos, to the effect that Ar might now rejoice, as in these unsettled times Lurius of Jad, in his generosity and wisdom, at the request of the governance of Ar, and in the best interests of the people and councils of Ar, had permitted the Home Stone to be brought to Telnus for safekeeping. A surrogate stone was subsequently used for the ceremony of citizenship. Certain youth refused then to participate in the ceremony and certain others, refusing to touch the surrogate stone, uttered the responses and pledges while facing northwest, toward Cos, toward their Home Stone.

Marcus and I, with the armbands of auxiliary guardsmen, saluted a Cosian officer whom we passed.

"Tarsk," grumbled Marcus.

"He is probably a nice enough fellow," I said.

"Sometimes I regret that you are a dear friend," he said.

"Why is that?" I asked.

"It makes it improper to challenge you to mortal combat," he said.

"Folks have occasionally slain their dearest friends," I said.

"That is true," he said, brightening up.

"Just because someone is your mortal enemy," I said, "does not mean that you have to dislike him."

"I suppose not," said Marcus.

"Of course not," I said.

We walked on.

"You are just in a bad mood," I said. Such moods were not uncommon with Marcus. "Perhaps," he said.

"Does Phoebe have her period?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"You were out late last night," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"Frequenting the taverns?" I asked.

"No," he said. "I was wandering about."

"It is now dangerous to walk the streets of Ar at night," I said.

"For whom?" he said.

"For anyone, I suppose," I said.

"Perhaps," he said.

"Where did you walk?" I asked.

"In the Anbar district," he said.

"That is a dangerous district," I said, "even formerly." It and the district of Trevelyan were two of the most dangerous districts in Ar, even before the fall of the city.

"Oh?" he said.

"Yes," I assured him. "It is frequented by brigands."

"It is now frequented by two less than yesterday," he said.

"Why do you do these things?" I asked.

"My sword," he said, "was thirsty."

"I am angry," I said.

"I made a profit on the transaction," he said.

"You robbed the brigands?" I asked.

"Their bodies," he said.

"We do not need the money," I said. Indeed, we had most of a hundred gold pieces left, a considerable fortune, which we had obtained last summer in the vicinity of Brundisium.

"Well, I did not really do it for the money," he said.

"I see," I said.

"Not all values are material," Marcus reminded me.

"You should not risk your life in such a way," I said, angrily.

"What else is there to do?" he asked.

"I am sure you could think of something," I said, "if you seriously put your mind to it."

"Not it is you who seem in an ill humor," he remarked.