"I do not know," I admitted. Rings were then brought, heavy rings of silver and gold, large enough for a wrist or arm, and Genserix distributed these to high retainers. From the same box, he then distributed coins among the others. Even I received a silver tarsk. There were treasures among the wagons, it seemed. The tarsk was one of Telnus. In this small detail I suspected there might be found evidence of the possible relationship between the movements of Cos and the coming of the Alar wagons to the Genesian Road.

"Are there such women as these in the cities?" asked Hurtha, indicating Feiqa. "Thousands," I informed him.

"Surely we should study siege work," smiled Hurtha.

Feiqa shrank back a bit.

"Such women may be bought in the cities," I said, "in slave markets, from the houses of slavers, from private dealers. Surely you could have such among the wagons, if you wished. You could have strings brought out to be examined, or accepted, on approval. I see no problem in the matter." Interestingly, I had noted few, if any, slaves among the wagons. This was quite different from the Wagon Peoples of the far south. There beautiful slaves, in the scandalously revealing chatka and curla, the kalmak and the koora, tiny rings in their noses, were common among the wagons. "You mentioned, as I recall, that slavers among others, came occasionally to the wagons."

"Yes," he said, "but usually to buy our captures, picked up generally in raids or fighting."

"Why are there so few slaves among the wagons?" I asked.

"The free women kill them," said Hurtha.

Feiqa gasped. I decided that perhaps I had best be soon on my way. She was a beauty, and was extremely sexually exciting, sometimes almost maddeningly so, to men. I had no wish to risk her in this place. She was exactly the sort of female which, in her helplessness and collar, in her vulnerability and brief tunic, tends to inspire jealous hatred, sometimes bordering almost on madness, in free women, particularly homely and sexually frustrated ones. "Oh!" said Feiqa, as he called Sorath closed his hand about her upper arm. His grip was tight. There was no mistaking its nature. He had her in mind. "Hold," I said to him, putting my hand on his arm.

"Hold?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "Hold."

"You are not an Alar," he said. "I will take her."

"No," I said.

"This is our camp," he said.

"It is my slave," I said.

"Give her to me," he said. "I will give her back to you happier, and with only a few bruises."

"No," I said.

"In the camp I do what I wish," he said.

"I doubt that that is always the case," I said.

He stood up. I, too, stood up. He was a bit shorter than I, but was extremely broad and powerful. It is a not uncommon build among Alars.

"You have taken food here," said Sorath.

"And I have been pleased to have done so," I said. "Thank you."

"You are a guest here," said Sorath.

"And I expect to receive the respect and courtesy due a guest," I said. "Let him have her for a few Ehn," suggested Hurtha.

"He has not asked," I said.

"Ask," suggested a fellow to Sorath.

"He will not know the ax," said Hurtha. "He is not of the wagons." "Let them then be blades!" roared Sorath.

"The ax will be fine," I said. I had learned its use in Torvaldsland. I had little doubt that the Torvaldslanders could stand up to any folk in the use of the ax.

"Let the axes be headless," said Genserix. This proposal surprised me somewhat, but I welcomed it. It seemed a decent and generous gesture on the part of Genserix. Not every chieftain of the Alars, I supposed, would have been so thoughtful. In this fashion the worse that was likely to happen was that the loser would have his head broken open. The men about the fire grunted their agreement. They all seemed rather decent fellows. Sorath, too, I was pleased to see, nodded. Apparently he, at least after a moment of choler, upon a more sober reflection, had no special wish to kill me. He would probably be satisfied to beat me unconscious. In the morning then I might awaken naked, tied to a stake outside the wagons. In a few days, then, which I might have spent ruminating on my ingratitude, while living on water poured into a hole near me, and on vegetables thrown to me, like a tarsk, when the wagons moved I might have been freed, a well-used Feiqa then returned to me, perhaps with a fresh Alar brand in her hide, that I might be reminded, from time to time, of the incident.

Two of the long heavy handles were brought.

I hefted one. It had good weight and balance.

"Beware, friend" said Hurtha. "Sorath well knows the ways of the ax." "Thank you," I said.

Feiqa whimpered.

"Prepare yourself for the future," I said.

"Master?" she asked, puzzled.

"Shall the female be held?" asked a fellow.

"That will not be necessary," I said. "Stay, Feiqa"

"Yes, Master," she said. She would now keep her place, kneeling as she was, until a free person might permit her to move.

Sorath spit upon his hands and gripped the handle. He cut the air with a stroke or two.

I went to an open place near the fire.

"See?" said one of the fellows, "He takes a position with the fire at his back." Some of the others nodded, too, seemingly having noted this.

When possible, of course, given consideration of the land, warriors like to have both the sun and wind at their back. The glare from the sun, even if it is not blinding, can be wearing upon an enemy, particularly if the battle persists for Ahn. The advantages of having the wind at one's back are obvious. It flights one's arrows, increasing their range; it gives additional impetus to one's movements and charges; and whatever dust or debris it might carry is more likely to effect the enemy than oneself.

Sorath struck fiercely down at me with the handle and I blocked the blow, smartly. His blow had been a simple, obvious one, and unless he had intended to use it in wearing down my strength or perhaps breaking the handle I carried, it made little sense. He stood back, considering matters.

"Surely you would not have struck at an Alar like that," I said. He must be clear that I had not brought my handle back, under the blow, slashing upward to his neck, a blow that can, with the Torvaldsland ax, at least, cut the head from a man.

"True, Stranger," said a woman's voice. I stepped back a little, sensing that there was momentary truce between Sorath and myself, but also keeping track of him. He could not change position without my detecting it. "I have seen tharlarion who could handle and ax better than that," she said. Sorath reddened, angrily. It was apparently a free woman of the Alars, only she was not dressed as were the other women of the camp, in their coarse, heavy, ankle-length woolen dresses. She wore rather the garmenture of a male, the furs and leather. At her belt there was even a knife. She was strikingly lovely, though, I supposed, given her mien and attitude, she would not have taken such an observation as a compliment. She was about the same size as Feiqa, though perhaps a tiny bit shorter, and like Feiqa, was dark-haired and dark-eyed. I thought they might look well together, as a brace of slaves.

Sorath then, stung by her remark, flung himself wildly toward me and fought frenziedly, but rashly. I blocked blows, not wishing to take advantage of his recklessness. I refrained from striking him. Had we been using real axes, the handles armed with iron, I might have finished him several times. I do not know if he was fully aware of this, but I am sure some of the others were. Hurtha and Genserix, for example, judging from the alarm which I noted in their expressions, seemed to be under no misapprehensions in the matter. To be sure, had the handles been armed perhaps he would have addressed himself to our match with much greater circumspection. Panting, Sorath backed away.