I nodded. I did not thank his estimates in error. For all practical purposes, considering the forces that could realisticall be marshaled upon the river the stronghold of Policrates was impregnable. I had heard similar asseverations from others. Miss Beverly Henderson and her beauty, the thought crossed my mind, were now locked behind those lofty, dark walls.

"The situation then is hopeless?" I asked. "Yes,hopeless," he said.

"Tomorrow," I said, "the tribute is to be paid to Policrates." The man shrugged. "It is said," I said, "that the priates own Victoria."It is true," he said. "It is true."

"And are there none to gainsay them?" I asked. "None," said he. "What can I do for you?" I asked sadly."Give me a drink," he said.

I turned away from him and walked up the street to the tavern of Tasdron, which was still open, though much subdued. I entered the tavern. I did not speak to anyone, nor did any meet my eyes. I purchased a bottle of page which I then took from that tavern, retracing my steps to the slumped dark figure sitting against the wall. I stopped before himand he lifted his head from his knees, and looked at me, blearily. I handed the bottle to him, which, fumbling, quickly he reached for. He bit and pulled the cork from the bottle. He clutched the bottle with both hands. He looked up at me, sitting by the wall.

"I am sorry, " I said, "to have spoken cruelly to you. It was not my right. It was in anger, in rage, in frustration, that I spoke, I am truly sorry."Do you pity me?" he asked."Yes," I said, "I pity you.

Slowly, by an act of will, in cold fury, movement by movement the man struggled unsteadily to his feet. There was a terrible fury in his eyes, "Pity?" he asked, "Me?"

"Yes," I said, "You have fallen. You cannot help yourself. It is not your fault. I do not blame you."

"Pity?" he asked. "Me?" I know that you have been disgraced," I said. "I know that the scarlet has been taken fro you."No one can take the scarlet from me, once it is granted, unless it be bythe sword." He tore open the tunic he wore, revealing beneath it, dark, blackish in appearance, in the moonlight, the scarlet."This," said he, "can be taken from me only by the sword. Let himdare to do so who will."

"You are finished," I said. "Drink."He looked dismally, angrily, at the bottle clutched in his right hand.

"You have forgotten the name of the warrior," I said, "who was once of Port Cos. He is no more. Drink."

The man then held the bottle near the neck, with both hands. For a long moment he looked at it. His shoulders then hunched forward, and he moaned in pain. Then slowly, painfully, he straightened his body. He lifted his head to the Gorean moons and, in the dark street, in anguish uttered a wild cry.It began as a cry of angish, and pain, and ended as a howl of rage.He turned about and with two hands broke the bottle suddenly into a thousand fragments against the stone. In the darkness he was cut with glass and soiled with scattered paga."I remember him," he said.

"What was his name?" I asked."Callimachus," he said, "His name is Callimachus, of Port Cos."

"Is he gone?" I asked.Then the man with two fists struck against the wall. " No," he said with a terrible ferocity. There was blood on his hands, dark, running between the fingers. "Where is he?" I asked.Slowly the man turned to face me. "He is here," he said, "I am he."

"I am pleased to hear it," I said. I reached down and picked up the fallen blade. I handed it to him. "This, is yours."

He sheathed the blade. He looked at me for a long time. "you have done me service," he said, "How can I repay you?"

"I have a plan," I said. "Teach me the sword.

The naked slavegirl in her bells and jewels writhed on the scarlet tiles of the floor before us.

Policrates, sitting beside me, behind the broad, low table, musingly fitted together the two pieces of yellowish, brown stone, the two halves of the once shattered topaz. Again I found it startling, and impressive, how the figure of a river galley emerged from the brownish discolorations in the two pieces of stone once they were fitted together. There was no mistaking that they were the two halves of what was once an unusual, divided stone.

"Fatcinating," said Policarates. "and how is my friend, Ragnar Voskjard?" Well," I said, "and he, of course inquires after your health."I am well," said Policrates, "and you may, upon your return, assure him that I am eager to participate in our common venture."

"In twenty days," I said, "allowing for my return and the fitting of our ships, we shall be at your sea gate."Excellent," said Policrates.

"We shall then," I said, "proceed to Ar's Station to sck the stores and burn her vessels. Following that we shall wreak similar havoc upon Port Cos. These two major ports crippled, the river then for all practical purposes will be ours."

"It is amusing," said Policrates, "that the tension between Cos and Ar prevents the linkage of their powers upon the river. "Their foolishness in this respect," I said, "should redound considerably to our advantage."

"True," laughed Policrates. "Let us drink to that." He lifted his goblet and we clinked our goblets together and I reached across Policrates, extending my goblet to Kliomenes, who surily sat on the right of Policrates. We three then, touched goblets and then we drank.Kliomenes eyes me narrowly.

I turned away and gave my attention to the slave writhing on the tiles before me.She was performing a need dance, of a type not uncommon among Gorean female slaves.Such a dance usually proceeds in clearly defined phrases, evident not merely in the expressions and movements of the girl but in the nature of the accompanying music. There are usually five phases to such a dance. In the first phase the girl, dancing feighs indifference to the presence of men, before, whom as a slave she must perform.In the second phase, for she has not yet been raped, her distress and uneasiness, her restlessness, her disturbance by her sexual urges, must become subtly more manifest. Here is must be evident that she is beginning to feel her sexuality and drive, profoundly, and yet is struggling against them. Toward the end of this phase, it must become clear not only that she has sexual needs and deep ones, but that she is beginning to fear that she may not be simply, as she is, of sufficient interest to men to obtain their satisfaction.

Here, need, coupled with anxiety and self-doubt, for she has not yet been seized by strong men, must become clear. In the third phase of the dance she, in an almost ladylike fashion, acknowledges herself defeated in her attempt to conceal her sexuality; she then, again in an almost ladylike fastion, delicately but clearly, with restraint but unmistakably, acknowledges and publicly before masters that she has sexual needs.

Then with smiles and gestures displaying herself, she makes manifest her readiness for the service of men, her willingness and her receptivity. She invites them, so to spake to have her. But she has not yet been seized by an arm or an ankle or by her collar, a thumb hooked rudely under it, or hair, and pulled from the floor. What if she is not sufficiently pleasing? What if she is not to be fulfilled? What is she must continued to dance alone unnoticed. At this point it becomes clear to her that it is by no means a foregone conclusion that men will find her of interest, or that they will see fit to satisfy her. She must strive to be pleasing. If she is not good enough she may be chained, unfulfilled, another night alone in the kennel. There are always other girls. She must earn her rape.

Too, if she should be insufficiently pleasing consistently it is likely that she will be slain. Goreans place few impediments in the way of te liberation of a slave female's sexuality. In this phase of the dance, then, shamelessly the woman dances her need and shamelessly begs for her sexual satisfaction.This phase of the dance is sometimes known as the Heat of the Collared She-Sleen.