“I did not keep the oath,” said the pit master.

“Then the oath, my friend,” said Terence, “kept you.”

“I do not understand,” said the pit master.

“We are sometimes moved by forces and understandings deeper than we can understand. You acted in such a way as to fulfill your office more grandly than could have been possible in any other course of conduct.”

The pit master held Fina to him. He looked at the officer, puzzled.

“In thinking you betrayed your oath, you were mistaken. Rather you were bringing about the very ends which it envisaged. Do you think that the meaning of an oath is the words it wears? It is rather what it celebrates and intends, the meaning behind the meanings of words. Repudiated in words, it was revered in deeds. Denied, it was fulfilled. Forsworn, it was kept. Honor rejected was honor transformed, honor restored. How often do we seek to do one thing and discover we have done another? How often we achieve ends which we do not intend. You have not betrayed the Home Stone of Treve. Rather you have kept her from the stains upon her which a venal administration would authorize.”

“I would return to the depths,” said the pit master.

“Hold!” said a voice.

Instantly Fina and I knelt.

It was the watch, four men and a subaltern. Two held lanterns.

“Ah, Captain, it is you,” said the subaltern. He looked through the darkness, studying the visage of the pit master, in the light of a lantern. “And you, sir,” he added. Fina na di were then illuminated in the light of the lantern. Demetrion and Andar stood to one side.

“These slaves are with you?” asked the subaltern.

“Yes,” said the officer.

“It is early.”

“It will be light soon,” said the officer.

“Is all well?” asked the subaltern.

“Yes,” said the officer. “All is well.”

The watch then continued on its way.

The pit master reached down to pick up his cloak and hood which he had discarded on the stones, near the wall.

“Master,” said Fina, “I am cold.”

The pit master held the cloak and hood. “But I may be seen in the city,” he said.

“I am freezing,” smiled Fina.

He then had her stand and put the cloak and hood about her.

He would not cover his features now. He would return to the depths, thought the streets of the early morning, as he was. He would not hide his face.

“Come, walk beside me,” he said to Fina.

“I will heel Master,” she said.

The pit master and the officer of Treve then embraced. The pit master was weeping. Then, shaken, he left the surface of the tower. He was followed by Fina, on his left, three paces behind.

“Are we to keep him under surveillance any longer?” Demetrion inquired of the officer.

“No,” said the officer. “It will not be necessary.”

Demetrion and Andar then, Andar bearing the lantern, left the surface of the tower, as had the pit master and Fina.

“Master,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“What is special about the tenth Ahn?”

He looked at me.

“Oh, I know, Master,” I said, “that curiosity is not becoming in a kajira, but I would know. I would know.”

“Your life is going to change, Janice,” he said. “You will have to leave Treve.”

“Master?” I said.

“You, and the other pit slaves who were in the depths recently. The pit master has made arrangements for you all, and I have mad them, unbeknownst to himself, for him. I will see to it that he will be able to take Fina with him.”

“What of you?”

“I, too, and certain other men, will be leaving.”

I suddenly began to understand what might be the nature of the arrangements, the dispositions, which the pit master had been concerned with recently.

“You cannot leave the city of your Home Stone!” I said.

“We have received word,” he said, “that a delegation from Cos will arrive in Treve shortly.”

“What will be done with me, and with Fecha, Tira, and the others?” I asked.

“Other than Fina?”

“Yes,” I said.

“You are going to be sold,” he said.

“Sold?”

“Of course, my pretty little property,” he said.

“I do not understand,” I said.

“Surely it is not so difficult to grasp,” he said. “You were sold before, you know.”

“Of course, Master,” I said, falteringly.

“It is not just you, Janice,” he said. “All the pit slaves who were recently in the depths will be sold, as well. Even Fina, in a sense, will be sold, purchased from the state, but I will see that she comes within the keeping of the depth warden. She will make a lovely gift for him. I would think.”

“And the rest of us?” I said.

“To be sold in different cities,” he said. “You will be scattered, papers will be changed. You will disappear to the eight winds. It will not be possible to trace you.”

“I understand,” I said. We had seen too much, or knew too much, and I doubtless, most of all. Had the black-tunicked men been successful in the depths I suspected we might all have had our throats cut, even the other girls, whose understanding of these things must be even less than mine, which was negligible. The black-tunicked men are trained to kill for a purpose, and to think as little of it as others might of the cutting of wood.

“None of you will be sold publicly, of course,” said the officer of Treve. “We will not risk that. The sales will be discreet, and private. They will be purple-booth sales.”

“That is a great honor, Master,” I said.

“You are all excellent-quality merchandise,” he said.

“Thank you, Master,” I said.

“See that you, in your performance in the booth, do not disappoint the buyer’s agent.”

“Yes, Master,” I whispered.

“You may rise,” he said.

I rose to my feet. I held my arms folded about myself, for the air was chilly here, on the surface of the tower, in the early morning. He had gone to stand near the wall, looking out toward the mountains.

“This all has to do with the prisoner, the peasant, does it not, Master?” I asked.

“He died out there, in the mountains,” said the officer.

“But you do not know that,” I said.

“No man could survive alone out there,” he said.

“Perhaps some men, Master,” I said.

“Yes,” said he, “perhaps some men. And yes, my lovely Earth woman slave, my lovely Gorean slave girl, it does have to do with the peasant, all of it has to do with the peasant.”

“Are we to return to your compartments?” I asked. “Am I to warm wine for you?”

“Yes,” he said.

“It will be light soon,” I said.

“I shall miss you,” he said.

“And I shall miss you, Master,” I said.

“There is nothing more to be done here,” he said. He then turned about, and I followed him.

We heard the call of the watch, that all was well in Treve. I did not know, however, if it were true or not. I did know that the surface of this tower, in the coldness of the morning, had, as the tops of certain peaks in the distance by light, been touched by honor.