"Papers, papers?" inquired the soldier. "Have you papers?" "No," I said. I did not think it would be wise to advertise my possession of letters of safety until it should prove impossible to proceed further without them.

He then went to others, making the same inquiry. None of the refugees, of course, carried such papers.

We were in a roadside camp, eleven days from Torcadino. It was not a bad camp. There was shade, and a spring nearby. Peasants came there to sell produce. In a few Ehn Boabissia, Hurtha and I, and Feiqa, would be again on our way. I had purchased passage on a fee cart.

"It is good to see a uniform of Ar," said a man.

"Yes," I said.

"Does one need papers?" the small fellow with the mustache like string was asking a soldier.

The soldier did not respond to him.

"Can one enter Ar without them?" he asked.

But the soldier had then continued on his way.

Boabissia came up to see me. "I have spoken to the driver," she said. "He is ready to leave." Many of the refugees, afoot, had already left the camp. I nodded.

"You are looking pretty, Feiqa," observed Boabissia, somewhat critically. Feiqa looked up smiling from where she knelt, packing my things. "Thank you, beautiful Mistress," she said, and then put down her head.

"Slavery apparently agrees with you, slut," said Boabissia. "Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress," said Feiqa, smiling, looking down.

"Cart Seventeen will leave in two Ehn!" called a fellow.

"That is our car," said Boabissia.

"We had better get Hurtha," I said.

"He is still asleep," she said.

"Awaken him," I said. "He can sleep in the cart."

"Finish that packing, slut," said Boabissia to Feiqa.

"Yes, Mistress!" she said.

Boabissia then went to waken Hurtha. I did not envy her this task. It was not always easy to awaken the Alar giant.

"I am ready, Master," said Feiqa, smiling, shouldering my pack.

I went to Feiqa and put my hands on the collar on her throat. She looked up at me, eagerly.

"Apparently slavery does agree with you," I said, looking into her eyes. "Oh, yes, Master," she whispered. "Yes, yes!"

"Way! Make way!" called the driver. He sat on the wagon box, some yard or so below, and separated from, the high railed wagon bed, serving, with its benches, as the passenger area. The wheels of the cart were narrow, and some seven feet in height. There were two of them. They were treaded with strips of metal. The cart was drawn by a bipedalian tharlarion, a slighter breed than, but related to, and swifter than, the common shock tharlarion used generally by the lancers of the Gorean heavy cavalry.

"Rich tarsks," snarled a fellow on the road, moving to the side.

"Make way!" called the driver, cracking his whip. The arrival of the cart was announced as well by the jangling of two bells, affixed to projections on its sides, before the wheels. Then we were through the group of refugees, and moving swiftly again.

"I think little treasure moves these days upon this road," said Hurtha. "You are doubtless right," I said, "and the traffic, it seems, flows toward Ar." "Will the Cosians take this route?" asked Hurtha.

"Probably," I said. "It is the most direct route between Torcadino and Ar." I glanced at Boabissia. She was standing at the front of the cart, grasping the front rail, looking forward. Her hair and dress were blown backward in the wind. "Look," I said to Hurtha. "See the soldier by the road, there?"

"Yes," he said, turning about to get a better look. "That is another uniform of Ar," I said.

"That is comforting news," said the fellow to my right. We had seen few such uniforms lately.

"Are you going to Ar?" asked the small fellow sitting across from me. It was he who had the thin mustache.

"Yes," I said.

"Do you have papers?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Oh," he said, smiling.

"Why?" I asked.

"I assume Ar will not accommodate all the refugees who may seek asylum there," he said. "It is hard to see how she could. Doubtless papers, or letters, might be needed."

"Perhaps," I said.

"Such might be worth their weight in gold," he speculated.

"Perhaps," I said.

He leaned forward, confidentially. "Are you carrying valuables?" he whispered. "No," I said. My left hand, I fear, moved, as though to touch the sheath beside me. Then I checked the movement.

"It is just as well," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Do you see the fellow at the end of your bench?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "Why?"

He covered the right side of his mouth with his open hand. "That is Ephialtes," he whispered, "the notorious thief of Torcadino. Beware of him."

"My thanks," I said. It is always good to have such warnings.

The fellow nodded, and sat back on the bench, leaning back against the railing. I resolved that I must watch out for the fellow at the end of the bench, Ephialtes. I was grateful to the fellow across the way for pointing this out to me.

In the back of the cart there was a place for baggage. It was there, in that section, behind that railing, that I had put Feiqa. This was appropriate, as she was property. She was in chains. I did not fear that she would attempt to escape. But it is good, from time to time, to so secure your girls. Just as they are subject to the whip, so, too, are they subject to chains. I rose to my feet and went to stand beside Boabissia.

"Greetings," she said.

"Greetings," I said to her.

"I cannot wait to see Ar," she said.

"If you are standing here, hoping for a first glimpse of Ar," I said, "you are a few days to early."

"I cannot wait to get to Ar," she said.

"Look," I said, gesturing to the side of the road with my head.

"Female slaves," she said, noting them, as we sped past. They were off the road, on the grass, in various attitudes of rest.

"They could give them clothing," she said.

"The day is warm," I said. "Too, such women are often marched naked to save their tunics, that they may not be soiled with dirt and sweat."

The girls were chained together by the neck. Some of them watched us as we passed. Then they were behind us.

"Normally, many more slaves are transported on this road," I said. "We have actually seen very few."

"What will I find in Ar?" asked Boabissia. She fingered the copper disk at her neck.

"I do not know," I said.

"I think I may have a great inheritance," she said. "Perhaps I shall find that I own vast estates, that funds in trust have been left for me, that I am of noble family, that I am one of the richest and most powerful women of Ar!"

"Why should you think such things? I asked.

"Do you think them impossible," she asked, turning to me.

"No," I said. "I do not think they would be impossible."

"I was traveling, though only a baby, with a great caravan," she said. "Does that not bespeak station and wealth?"

I shrugged. "I do not know," I said.

"I think it possible," she said.

"Yes," I said. "It is possible, surely." "Look at those poor women," said Boabissia. We were now passing, they had been coming towards us, three sturdy lasses under the herd stick of a brawny male. They were bent almost double under towering burdens of branches and sticks, bound together in fagots. They were moving in single file. They were tied together, a rope on their necks. They looked up as the fee cart passed them. The male waved to our driver, who returned the salute.

"Such a fate might have been yours," I said, "had we attempted to reach Ar across country."

"They are slaves?" she asked.

"Of course," I said.

"Oh," she said, "then it does not matter."