"They are harmless, not like the gitches whose bites are rather painful. Some of them are big fellows, too. But there aren't many of them around. The frevets see to it. Achiates prides himself on a clean house.

"Ai!" said Feiqa, suddenly, startled, moving.

"Kneel, slave girl," said a young, imperious voice.

Swiftly Feiqa knelt.

"Kiss my feet, female slave," said the voice.

Feiqa was kneeling before a boy, perhaps some eleven or twelve years of age. His face was dirty. He was barefoot, and in rags. I assumed he must live in the rooms somewhere. Feiqa a full-grown and beautiful female, but a slave, put down her head and, doing him obeisance, kissed his feet, and fearfully, and humbly He was a free person, and a male.

"Go away, you disgusting child," said Boabissia.

"Be silent, woman," he said.

"I have a good mind to strike you," said Boabissia.

"Lift your head, slut," said the lad to Feiqa.

She obeyed.

He regarded her. "You are a pretty one," he said. "What do you say? he demanded.

"Thank you, Master," she said.

He then stood close to her and ran his hands through her hair. He then took her collar by the sides in his small fingers and jerked it forward, towards him, against the back of her neck. He then, by the pressure on the collar, forced her head rudely from side to side. He then pressed it up, cruelly, under her chin, forcing her head up. He was exerting his force on her through her slave collar. She would have no doubt it was on her. He did these things, incidentally, with the typical awareness of men who know how to handle women in collars, in such a way as not to injure or threaten the windpipe. Such a thing is never done, unless it is intentional. "A good, solid collar," he said.

"I am pleased that master is pleased," whispered Feiqa, frightened.

"It is on you well, isn't it?" he said.

"Yes, Master," she said. "What does it mean?" he asked.

"That I am a slave," she said.

"Go away," said Boabissia.

"Oh," said Feiqa.

The lad had put his hands rudely within her tunic and caressed her. Tears sprang to Feiqa's eyes.

"Go away," said Boabissia.

"Are you not grateful, slave?" asked the lad.

"Yes, Master," said Feiqa.

"You may kiss my feet in gratitude, slave," said the lad.

"Yes, Master. Thank you Master," said Feiqa, and put her head down, kissing his feet.

"More lingeringly," he said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

The lad then turned about. "It is pleasant to master slaves," he said. "Perhaps when I am older, and rich. I shall buy myself one, much like this one, though perhaps younger, nearer my own age."

He then left.

"He lives in the building," said the proprietor. "He, and some of the others, sometimes in gangs, enjoy playing "Capture the Slave Girl."

"I see," I said.

Feiqa, still kneeling, somewhat shaken, adjusted her tunic.

I smiled. I now had an excellent idea what had happened to the lovely, light-haired slave we had seen earlier on a lower landing, she whose tunic was opened and whose hair had been in such disorder. She had been «captured earlier.

"It is an excellent game," said the proprietor. "It helps them to become men." Many Gorean games, incidentally, have features which encourage the development of properties regarded as desirable in Gorean youth, such as courage, discipline, and honor. Similarly, some of the games tend to encourage the development of audacity and leadership. Others, like the one referred to by the proprietor, encourage the young man to see the female in terms of her most basic and radical meaning, in the terms of her deepest and true nature, that nature which is most biologically fundamental to her, that nature which is that on the inestimable prize, that of the most desirable prey, the most luscious quarry, that of she who is to be captured and mastered, absolutely, she to whose owning and domination all of nature inclines, and without which the ancient sexual equations of humanity cannot be resolved. Such games, in short, thus, encourage the lad, almost from infancy on, to reality and nature, to manhood and mastery.

"What a disgusting child," said Boabissia.

The lad had now disappeared.

She looked at Feiqa. "You, too, are disgusting," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," whispered Feiqa.

"It would be the same with you Boabissia," I said, "if you were a slave. You, too, then, as much as Feiqa, would be at the mercy of free persons. You, too, then, would have to obey, and anyone, as much as she. You, too, as then a mere slave, would have to cringe, and perform, and kiss, even if it were only at the command of a child. You, too, then, as much as she, would have to obey, responding swiftly, hoping desperately to please, while being put through your paces."

"It is this way," said the proprietor. "Up this ladder, now."

"It is stifling," said Boabissia.

"Up the ladder," I said.

She went up the ladder, carefully. She held her skirt together, with one hand, as she could, about her legs. That, I thought, was a note of charming reserve, appropriate in a free woman. I followed her, into the dark opening above. Then I turned about and, on my hands and knees, looked down. Feiqa looked frightened. I do not think she wished to ascent into that darkness. To be sure, it did not seem a pleasant prospect. "Hand up the pack," I said to Hurtha. I was not sure Feiqa could manage it on the ladder. Hurtha removed it from her back, and stood on the lower rungs, lifting it up to me. I glanced at Feiqa. She had backed away. She was near the stairs. She was frightened. She did not wish to ascend the ladder. It frightened her, and that to which it might lead. Certainly it was not much of a ladder. It was narrow, and moved with one's eight. The rungs, of different sizes and unevenly spaced, were roped in place. Too, it would be dark, and hot, in the loft. What would await her there? She was a slave. Feiqa backed away another step. Her hand was before her mouth. I was afraid she might bolt.

"Slave," I said, sternly.

"Yes, Master," she said, and hurried up the ladder.

"Keep both your hands on the uprights," I told her.

"Yes, Master," she said.

Below, Hurtha laughed.

"Disgusting," said Boabissia.

I reached down and helped Feiqa to the loft.

"Here is the lamp," said the proprietor, handing it to Hurtha. He then, the lamp in hand, climbed up to join us.

"Be careful of the lamp," said the proprietor.

I took the lamp from Hurtha and lifted it up. There was a narrow corridor there, with some rooms on the left and right.

"It is the last room on the right," called the proprietor.

"Wait," I said to him. I then, bending down, carrying the lamp, led the way to the room.

I pushed open the door. It was small and low, but it was stout. It could doubtless be well secured from the inside. It would doubtless prove to be an effective barrier. The folks in insulae take their doors seriously. Such a door, plus his own dagger, is the poor man's best insurance against theft.

"Frightful," said Boabissia.

"It is furnished, as you can see," called the proprietor from below.

"It is too small, it is too dirty, I can hardly breathe up here," said Boabissia.

"It is my last vacancy," called the proprietor.

"I cannot stay here," said Boabissia.

"Go inside, and wait for me." I told my party. They bent down and entered the room.

"Is there no light?" asked Boabissia.

"There is a small shuttered aperture on the left," I said, holding up the lamp. "Some light will come through that in daylight hours."

"It is dirty here, and hot," said Boabissia. "I will not stay here." "It is a copper tarsk a night," called Achiates. "Take it or leave it. It is my last vacancy."

"I will not stay here," said Boabissia, firmly. I saw that Feiqa, too, regarded the room with horror.