"He was found in one of the purple booths, in his heart his own knife."

"This 'Bosk' did that?" she asked.

"Presumably," he said.

"Where is this 'Bosk' now?" she asked.

"His whereabouts are now unknown," he said. "It is even suspected that he has fled from Port Kar."

"So the entire matter came to naught?" she asked, scornfully.

"Yes," he said.

"It would have been better for Belnar to have entrusted the entire matter to me," she said. Belnar, I supposed, might be their common superior.

"You?" he asked, skeptically.

"Yes," she said.

"How might you have succeeded where Babinius failed?" he asked. "With a bludgeon? With a quicker dagger?"

"With no means so crude," she said.

"Then, how?" he asked.

"I am a woman," she said, straightening her body, making clear the indications of considerable beauty concealed beneath her silk. "I could present myself to him. I could allure him. I could win his interest. I could win his confidence. I could make him desperately eager for so much as a touch or kiss. Then, when, in effect, I could twine him about my tiny finger, when I could do with him as I wished, I could drug or poison him."

I wondered what she would look like, naked and in a collar, in the shadow of a whip. When a woman is absolutely powerless it is easy to teach her her sex.

"Doubtless it is Belnar's mistake," said the guest, dryly, "not to entrust you with greater matters."

"In Port Kar," she said, "on my own initiative, and by means of my own plan, I took fifteen men!"

"Doubtless you had some help in this," he said.

"I command my subordinates, as you command yours," she said, angrily.

"You are a woman," he said.

"Serve us, Brinlar!" she said, angrily, lifting and holding her goblet, not looking at me.

"Yes, Mistress," I said, rising and approaching with the vessel of Ka-la-na.

"Is this one of the 'men' you captured?" inquired the guest.

I poured the Ka-la-na for them.

"At least fourteen are true men," she said, angrily. "You may withdraw, Brinlar."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, and returned to where I had knelt before.

"Do you know where lies the old in of Ragnar, on the old west road?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "It is now2 abandoned, is it not?"

"It is not now in use," he said, "though it is occasionally reopened when there is an overflow of folks from Torvaldsland, come for the fair."

Some two years ago the merchants and builders had opened the road of Cyprianus, named for the engineer in charge of the project, which led to the fairs rather from the southwest. This had considerably reduced the traffic on the road of Clearchus, now to its north, which had approached the fairs in such a way as to favor the traffic from the northwest, with the result that several of the establishments on the road of Clearchus had been abandoned or relocated. One advantage of the more southern route is that it passes through less rough terrain, terrain which provides less cover for highwaymen. In particular, it does not pass, for several pasangs, though the woods of Clearchus.

As rumor has it, Clearchus was a famous brigand of some two centuries ago who decided to legitimize and regularize his brigandage. He proclaimed his area of operations a ubarate, proclaimed himself its ubar, and then proceeded to impose taxes and levy tolls. Interestingly enough, in time, several cities accorded this ubarate diplomatic recognition, generally in return for concessions on the taxes and tolls. Finally a large force of mercenaries, in the hire of the merchant caste, in a campaign that lasted several months, put an end to the spurious reign of Clearchus, driving him from the forest and scattering his men. It is generally conceded, however, that had Clearchus had more men he might have turned out to be the founder of a state.

It is not altogether clear what happened to Clearchus but some historians identify him with Clearchus of Turia, an immigrant, with followers, to Turia, now chiefly remembered as a patron of the arts and philanthropist. The woods of Clearchus, incidentally, to this day, remain a haunt of brigands.

In the old days the road of Clearchus was often referred to as the "west road." This designation became less useful after the recent opening of the road of Cyprianus. It is not unusual, now, to refer to the road of Clearchus as the "old west road" and that of Cyprianus as the "new west road." Neither of these roads, incidentally, are "great roads," in the sense of being mounted in the earth several feet deep, built of stone like a sunken wall, the sort of roads which are often intended to last a thousand years, the sort of roads which, typically, are found in the vicinity of large cities or are intended to be military roads, speeding directly to traditionally disputed territories or linking strategic points. These roads are both secondary roads, so to speak, generally graveled and rutted; occasionally they are paved with such materials as logs and plated stone; they can be almost impassable in rainy weather and in dry, warm weather, they are often dusty. Tertiary roads, so to speak, are often little more than unfrequented twisting trails. There is often talk of improving the secondary roads, and sometimes something is done, but generally little is accomplished. The major consideration, of course, is money. Too, many roads, for great portions of their length are not clearly within the jurisdiction of given states. Power in Gorean cities tends to vary with the power of the Home Stones, which tends to fluctuate with the military and economic fortunes of the city. The notion of the fixed and absolute border is not a typical Gorean notion.

"I understand," she said.

"Meet me there, with the materials, tomorrow evening," he said.

"Very well," she said.

"At the fifteenth Ahn," he said.

She lifted her veil, delicately, and sipped Ka-la-na behind it.

He regarded her.

"That is rather early," she observed.

"The fifteenth Ahn," he said.

"That time does not seem to me convenient," she said. She set down the goblet.

"I do not understand," he said.

"I must prepare myself, I must arrange the materials," she said. "I have a busy schedule."

"What time would be convenient for you?" he asked, with mock solicitude.

"I am certain I do not know as yet," she said. "I am a busy woman."

"You know where I am staying at the fair," he said.

"Yes," she said.

"Perhaps you will then be good enough to transmit word to me, as to when you might find it appropriate to transact this urgent business."

"Of course," she said.

He rose, angrily. He spoke not further then but turned and, cape swirling, strode to his tharlarion. In moments he and his footmen were taking their leave.

"I showed him, did I not, Brinlar?" she asked, on her feet now, looking after them.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"I shall make him wait upon my convenience," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"I shall make him understand my importance," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said. I gathered that she must indeed be somewhat important. For example, he had not stripped her and led her away, chained by the wrists to his stirrup.

"It is s bit chilly here now, Brinlar," she said. "You may put my wrap upon me."

"Yes, Mistress," I said. I lifted her light cloak about her shoulders and she fastened it beneath her chin, under the veil. I did not throw it over her head and then belt it tightly about her waist, effectively hooding her and confining her arms and hands within it.

"We will return to camp shortly," she said. "You may now pick up the things."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, and knelt down, near her feet, replacing things in the basket.

"May I speak, Mistress," I asked.

"Of course, Brinlar," she said.