"Summon him," I said.

"It is not my building," said the fellow. "It belongs to Appanius!"

"Ah, yes!" I said.

"You know the name?" asked Marcus.

"Yes," I said. "Do you not remember? He is the owner of Milo, the handsome fellow, the actor who played the part of Lurius of Jad in the pageant, and is an agriculturist, an impresario, and slaver. That explains, probably, his interest in this establishment, and his catering to a certain clientele." I looked up at the pool of light. "It is that Appanius, is it not?" I asked.

"Yes," said the fellow, "and a powerful man."

I lowered the blade. I had no wish to do anything which Appanius might find disagreeable, such as burn down one of his buildings. He was undoubtedly a splendid fellow, and, in any case, I might later wish to do business with him. I sheathed my sword.

"Appanius is not one to be lightly trifled with!" said the fellow, seemingly somewhat emboldened by the retreat of my blade.

Marcus' blade half left its sheath. "And what of heavily trifling with him?" he asked. "Or trifling with him moderately?" Marcus was still not well disposed toward most fellows from Ar, and did not seem prepared to make an exception in favor of the fellow on the landing. I pushed Marcus' blade back down in its sheath.

"This," I said, indicating a cord and bar to one side, "is undoubtedly the alarm bar, to be rung in the case of emergency or fire."

"Yes?" said the voice from the pool of light.

"I am pleased to see it," I said. "This will quite possibly save me burning down the building."

"Why do you wish to see Renato?" asked the fellow, nervously. I think he did not relish the thought of being on the landing if the occupants of the building should suddenly, in their hundreds, begin to stream forth in vigorous, or even panic-stricken, haste, down the stairs.

"That is our business," I said.

"You are not going to lead him off in chains, are you?" he asked. "He owes two weeks rent."

I surmised that more than an occasional lodging fee had in such a manner escaped the agent of Appanius.

"No," I said.

"Hah!" he suddenly cried.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"It is the same trick!" he said. "I see it now! The same trick!"

"What trick?" I asked.

"The rogue last year pretended to have himself arrested and led away, but it turned out to be by members of his own troupe, and thus they all escaped without paying the rent!"

"And you took him back in?" I asked.

"Who else would give such a rogue lodging but Appanius?" said the man. "But he made him pay double, and for the time before, too!"

"Interesting," I said. "But we wish to see him on business, now."

"We can force the doors, one after the other," said Marcus.

"There are at least a hundred rooms here," I said. "Perhaps more."

"Which is his room?" asked Marcus. "And we shall rout him out ourselves."

"I would have to consult the records," said the fellow. "He may not even be rooming here."

"But surely you have one or more of his slaves chained somewhere as a surety," I said.

The fellow made a tiny, angry noise above us.

I saw I had guessed right. The only slave of the ponderous fellow I had seen in the show had been the one he was now calling Litsia. I expected he had one or more elsewhere. For example, I had not seen a certain blonde about whom he often used in his dramatic farces, in various roles, such as that of the Golden Courtesan. She, and perhaps one or two others, I did not know, were in this very building, or elsewhere, chained or caged, as a surety for the lodging fees. If he wished to use one of them in some farce, or such, he would perhaps take that one, and leave another, say, Litsia, as he now called her, with the agent, or his men. Such women, being properties, may be used as sureties, to be taken over by the creditors of their former master's creditors. There are many variations on this sort of thing. For example, it is not unknown for one fellow, desiring the slave of another, to advance his fellow money, perhaps for gambling, in the hope that he may not be able to pay it back, in which case the creditor, in accord with the contractual arrangements, may claim the slave. Also, of course, it is not unusual, in serious cases, for a debtor's properties to be seized and auctioned, that his debts may be satisfied. These properties include, of course, his livestock, if any, which category includes slaves. Daughters, too, in some cities, are subject to such seizure and sale. Also, a female debtor, in many cities, is subject to judicial enslavement, she then coming rightlessly and categorically, identically with any other slave, into the ownership of the creditor.

"Shall I tell him that two guardsmen are asking after him?" asked the fellow. "No, just say, "two friends'," I said.

"I am not his friend," said Marcus.

"One friend," I called.

"I see," said the fellow from above, carefully. "There are two fellows calling for him, who do not wish him to know they are guardsmen, one of whom is his friend, and one of whom is not, and both of whom are armed, and seem ready to unsheath their weapons at a moment's notice, if not earlier."

"I am sure he is here," I said. "So do not return and tell us he is not in."

"Shall I go up with him?" asked Marcus.

"No, no!" said the fellow above, quickly.

"You realize," said Marcus, "that the fellow may elude us, over the roofs, or climb out on a ledge, and fall to his death, or lower himself by means of a rope to the alley from the room?"

"Or disappear into thin air?" I asked.

"Possibly," grumbled Marcus, who had not yet, I fear, been persuaded to an attitude of skepticism in such matters."

"I have it," I said. Then I called up to the fellow on the landing. "Tell him," I said, "that the world's worse actor desires to speak with him."

"That seems a strange request," said the fellow with the lantern.

"Not so strange as you might think," I said.

"Very well," he said. He then turned about and began to climb the flights of stairs upward, toward the least desirable, hottest, most dangerous levels of the insula. We watched the flickering light of the lantern making its way irregularly up the walls on either side of the staircase, and then, eventually, saw it fade and disappear.

"He whom you seek is now doubtless making his exit," said Marcus.

An urt hurried down the stairs and darted along the side of the wall and through a crack in the wall.

Marcus swiftly drew his sword.

"No," I said, staying his hand. "That is not he."

"Are you sure?" asked Marcus.

"Pretty sure," I said.

"Perhaps we should wait out back," said Marcus. "Perhaps he can see in the dark."

"It's dark out there," I said.

In a moment, however, we heard the stairs shaking and creaking, from flights above, and then, in a bit, apparently feeling his way by the walls at the sides of the stairs, down came the bulk of the large fellow, his paunch swaying, his robes flying behind him.

"He moves with great rapidity," said Marcus. "Perhaps he can see in the dark?"

"No," I said.

"Perhaps he is part sleen," he said.

"Some have claimed more than a part," I said.

Marcus whistled softly, to himself.

"He knows the stairs," I said, somewhat irritably. "So, too, would you, if you lived here."

Then the great bulk was on the floor of the hall, rushing toward me.

Without a moment's hesitation it seized me in a great embrace.

Then we joyfully held one another at arm's length.

"How did you know it was me?" I asked.

"It could be no other!" he cried, delightedly.

"Who is this?" he asked, regarding Marcus.

"My friend, Marcus," I said, "of Ar's Station."

"The state of knaves, traitors, and cowards?" inquired the ponderous fellow. I restrained Marcus.