"You are a warrior," I said.

"Once," he said.

He turned and looked at the shop. "When the bodies are removed," he said. "I think I shall have this shop burned."

"There are adjoining buildings," I said.

"Ah, yes," he said. "We must avoid incidents. We must keep the verr pacified, lest they learn how they are milked and shorn."

"Surely you do not believe the merchant is involved with the Delta Brigade," I said.

"No," he said. "I do not really believe that."

"And the slain men?" I asked.

"Well-known brigands," he said, "insults to the armbands they wear."

"And what report will you make of this?" I asked.

"Heroes, of course," said he, "slain by overwhelming odds."

"I see," I said.

"There is a game here," he said, "which I shall play/ I have no wish to lose my post. You see, the sickness of Ar infects even her conquerors. We must pretend to believe the same lies."

"I understand," I said.

"And even if I did not make such a report I do not doubt but what it would be something to that effect which would eventually reach the tent of Myron, my polemarkos."

"He is a good officer," I said.

"Yes," said the captain/ I had always heard this of Myron. To be sure, I had gathered that he had once been too much under the influence of a woman, a mere slave, who had been named Lucilina. She had been captured and was now owned by a common soldier in the retinue of Dietrich of Tarnburg. No longer was she a high slave, pampered and indulged. She was now a low slave, and among the lowest of the low, and was worked hard. She must often kneel and fear whipping. It was said, too, that in the arms of her master, well handled and mastered, she had discovered her womanhood. I doubted that Myron, for his part, would again make the mistake he had made with her. I did not doubt but what his women would now be well kept in their place, at his feet. They would kneel there, I did not doubt, in all trembling and subservience, and be in no doubt as to their collaring.

Again the captain looked angrily at the furrowed wall, the tracing of that triangle, the delka.

"Captain?" I said.

"How many do you think are in the Delta Brigade?" he asked.

"I do not know," I said. "Surely no more than a few."

"A few today may become a regiment tomorrow, and after that, who knows?"

"The merchant spoke of only two men," I reminded him.

"There had to be more than that," said the captain, "though how many it is difficult to say, perhaps ten, perhaps twelve."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"The victims were not civilians, not tradesmen, not potters or bakers. They were skilled swordsmen," he said.

"Perhaps then there are ten in the Delta Brigade," I said.

"I am sure there are many more," he said.

"Oh?" I said, interested.

"This sign turns up frequently in the city, and more often from day to day," he said. "It is a symbol of resistance, smeared on a wall, scratched on a flagstone, carved into a post, found inscribed on an unfolded napkin."

I had not known these things. I myself had not seen much evidence of this sort of thing. To be sure, Marcus and I usually prowled in the darkness, protected from suspicion by our armbands, as though we might be on duty. And during the day we had normal duties, guarding portals and such, or, when assigned them, rounds, usually in public areas, as today, where the inscribing of the delka would be more likely to be noticed. I suspected these delkas were mostly to be found in the alleys and the back streets of Ar.

"The scratching of the delka," I said, " might even be permitted, as an outlet for meaningless defiance, as a futile token of protest from those too helpless or weak to do more."

"I am sure you are right, for the most part," said the captain.

"Then I would not concern myself with them," I said.

"Four soldiers were found murdered this morning," said the officer, "off the Avenue of Turia. The delka was found there, too."

"I see," I said. I had certainly known nothing of this. Marcus and I, it seemed, had allies.

The officer's men, the guardsmen, looked at one another. I gathered that this was information to them, too.

"Do you wish for us to remain on duty here, my fellow and myself," I asked, "until the arrival of the wagon?"

"No," he said.

"Is there any way we may be of service?" I asked.

"We have our rounds," said the officer. He glanced at the chest on the street, outside the door of the shop.

"Yes, Captain?" I said.

"What do you think of the contents of this chest?" he asked.

"A pretty lass," I said, "although young."

"Do you think she would look well in slave silk and a collar?"

I thought about it. "Yes," I said. "But perhaps more so in a year or so."

"Did you not see how, when the lid of the chest was held open, her veil had been disarranged, that her lips and mouth might be visible?"

"It was impossible not to notice it," I said. I recalled her father had chided her about this. Such a lapse I was sure, had not been inadvertent, not on Gor, with a free woman. If it had not been overtly intentional, consciously arranged, so to speak, it had surely been covertly so, unconsciously so, a pathetic sign manifested outwardly of a dawning sexuality and an innate need whose first powerful promptings were doubtless felt even now.

"Do you think she would make a slave?" he asked.

"I assume you do not mean a child might be a slave," I said, "carried into bondage to be trained as a mere serving girl or page, to be in effect held for true bondage later, say, to be auctioned as a pleasure object, if a female, or say, to be sent to the fields or quarries, if a male."

"No," he said.

"Yes," I said. "I suppose she is ready for the block now."

"Do you think she is on the registries?" he asked.

"Probably," I said.

"But it does not really matter one way or another," he said, "as she is a girl of Ar."

"True," I said. Ar, and its contents, belonged to Cos.

"Do you know where the loot area is," he asked, "that in the district of Anbar?"

"Yes," I said.

"I would be obliged if you would see to the chest, and the slave."

I suppose the young woman within the chest could hear our conversation. I would have supposed that she would then have pounded and wept, and scratched at the inside of the chest, begging mercy, but she did not. Slaves, those fit by nature for this elegant disposition, and whose minds and bodies crave it profoundly, and will not be happy without it, pretending that they are actually free women, commonly do such things. They are often among the most express in their protestive behaviors, the most demonstrative in their lamentations, and such, believing such things are expected of them, fearing only that they will be taken seriously. But this girl was actually very quiet, lying like a caressable, silken little urt in the chest. Indeed, for a moment, I feared there might be insufficient air in the chest and that she might have fainted, or otherwise lost consciousness. But then I noted that the chest was well ventilated, as made sense, considering it had probably been prepared to conceal her days ago, if not months ago. She had doubtless not, however, expected to have its lid nailed shut, and to find herself helplessly, nakedly, at the mercy of strong men, imprisoned within it, and perhaps timidly, fearfully, trying to understand her feelings.

"My fellow and I," I said, "if you wish, will see to the chest, and the girl."

"The slave," he said.

"Yes," I said, "the slave."

"I wish you well," said the captain.

"I wish you well," I said.

He then, and his men, took their leave.

"Why did you not wish the bodies placed outside the shop?" Marcus asked of me, when the officer with his small squad had departed.