"My thanks," I said. "We will try it."

"I wish you well," he said.

"I, too, wish you well," I said.

He then went about his business. The woman near us, sitting on a blanket on the stones, her basket of suls before her, looked up. "Do you want suls?" she asked. "No," I said.

"Be gone, then," she said.

"Come along," I said to my party. I led them east on Venaticus, to the Avenue of the Central Cylinder. It was then my intention to go south on that avenue until I came to Wagon Street, taking it east to Turia. There is more than one "wagon Street" in Ar, incidentally, but the one I had in mind, that which led to the Street of Brands, was the one usually called Wagon Street. The "wagon streets" are generally east-west streets. They are called that, I suppose, because they are open to wagon traffic during the day, and wide enough for two wagons to pass on them. On many streets in Ar wagon traffic is discouraged during daylight hours because of their narrowness. There is little difficulty, of course, with the avenues and boulevards. They are generally wider. Many girls, incidentally, have been on Wagon Street, being brought down it on their first trip to Ar, though perhaps they did not see much of it, their ankles chained to the central bar in the blue-and-yellow slave wagons, those delivering them, according, say to the disk numbers on their collars, or the addresses marked on their left breasts, to the various houses on the Street of Brands. "Ah!" said Boabissia.

"The Avenue of the Central Cylinder," I said. "It is indeed beautiful. We will go right here."

"I am thirsty," said Hurtha, going toward a fountain. We followed him. There are many among this avenue.

Hurtha leaned his ax against the fountain and thrust his head half in the water and then pulled it out sputtering. He then splashed water on his face. Then, cupping his hands, he drank. I drank, too. And Boabissia, too, drank, lifting water delicately to her lips. I saw that in our company she had learned something of her femininity. It seemed that she was beginning, timidly and hopefully, to suspect and experience the true nature of her sexuality, that she might now be daring to think of fulfilling her softness and nature, daring to think of what it might to be, fully and truly, what she actually was, a female. She, at any rate, was no longer attempting, grotesquely, and laughably, to emulate the behavior of an Alar warrior.

"May I drink, Master?" asked Feiqa.

"Certainly," I said. Then, suddenly, angry, scandalized, I seized her by the hair. She cried out in pain, twisting.

"Are you not a beast?" I asked.

"Yes, Master!" she wept.

"And only that?" I inquired.

"Yes, Master! she cried.

I then flung her to her knees at my feet, and with my foot spurned her to the stones. She lay there, startled on her side, my pack awry on her back, near the fountain. "Master?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

"You are a best," I said. "You drink from the lower bowl, like other animals, like sleen and tharlarion."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"What a stupid slave," said Boabissia.

"Forgive me, Master," wept Feiqa.

I regarded her. She was quite attractive, and she had good legs. There was little doubt of that the way she lay on the stones. She was terrified, the former Lady Charlotte, once a rich, high citizeness of Samnium, now the mere beast, mine and collared, Feiqa. She looked up at me in terror. She had grievously erred.

"That was good," said Hurtha, wiping his mouth.

"Master?" asked Feiqa.

"Tonight," I told her. "You will be whipped,"

"Yes, Master," she said.

"A chair, with soldiers, is coming," said Boabissia.

We saw some folks gathering about to watch, but leaving a path for the movement of the chair and soldiers. It was an enclosed sedan chair, its silken curtains drawn. It was borne on long poles slung in tandem fashion between two tharlarion. The chair and soldiers were making their way north on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder, toward the Central Cylinder. The soldiers were Taurentians.

"It is a woman's chair, is it not?" asked Boabissia.

"Yes," I said.

"Those are palace guardsmen, aren't they?" asked Hurtha.

"Probably," I said. "They are, at least, of the same sort as the palace guardsmen."

"Taurentians, they are called," he said.

"Yes," I said.

"They look like capable fellows," he said.

"I am sure they are," I said. The eyes of the soldiers were mostly on the crowd. There seemed little doubt such men formed an efficient guard. The chair, I noted, was not borne by male draft slaves, but was supported by tharlarion. There might be various reasons for this. One might be ostentation, a simple display of wealth, for good tharlarion are generally more expensive than male slaves, particularly draft slaves. But perhaps, even more, the cargo might be regarded as too precious to be risked in the vicinity of male slaves. After all, they are men. Too, perhaps it was felt appropriate, if the cargo was deemed of sufficient beauty, that it even be borne by male slaves. After all, might there not be some danger, as the fair occupant entered into, or descended gracefully from, the sedan chair, that there might be the careless movement of a veil, revealing a bit of throat, or the inadvertent lifting of a robe of concealment, giving them the glimpse of a briefly exposed ankle? "Drink," I said to Feiqa.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Whose chair is that?" I asked a fellow near us, as the chair moved past. "Do you not know?" he asked.

"No," I said. "We are but newly come to Ar."

"From Torcadino?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"That," he said, "is the chair of she who may become the Ubara of Ar." "Talena," said another fellow.

"What is wrong?" asked Boabissia.

"Nothing," I said. I watched the chair move down the street, toward the Central Cylinder.

I looked at Feiqa. She knelt on all fours before the lower bowl of the fountain, her head down, drinking.

"How could this Talena become Ubara of Ar?" I asked. "I thought she was sworn from the line of Marlenus."

"She can be given legal entitlement to the succession," said a fellow. "I have heard it discussed."

"Not as of the line of Marlenus," I said.

"No," he said. "But one need not be of the line of Marlenus, surely, to rule in Ar."

"Minius Tentius Hinrabius and Cernus, both, ruled in Ar," said a man. "Neither was of his line."

"That is true," I said.

"She is a free citizen," said a man. "Accordingly, she could be given such entitlement."

"Why not Gnieus Lelius or Seremides?" I asked.

"Neither is ambitious, happily," said a fellow.

"But why her?" I asked. "Why not any one of thousands of others?"

"She was of royal family," said a man. "She was once the daughter of Marlenus." "I see," I said. I looked down at Feiqa. "Are you watered?" I asked her. "Yes, Master," she said.

She looked lovely, on all fours, at the lower bowl of the fountain, where, drinking, as a collared, briefly tunicked beast, she belonged. "Rise," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

I looked after the chair. But I could not now see it for the folks following it. "Which way are we going?" asked Hurtha.

"This way," I said. We could go south on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder, some four or five pasangs, and then make a left on Wagon Street, taking it over to the Avenue of Turia. Somewhere in that vicinity, probably in the lower end of the avenue, somewhere in the Street of Brands district, was the Alley of the Slave Brothels of Ludmilla. I would have to ask directions once we were on the Avenue of Turia. I did not doubt but what we could quickly find such an area. It sounded as though it would not be unknown.

"What is the name of the place?" asked Boabissia.

"The Alley of the Slave Brothels of Ludmilla," I said.