Then she said. "Oh!"

Then she asked, "Are you going to make me yield?"

"Of course not," I said. "You are a free woman/"

"Be done with it!" she said.

But I chose, somewhat perversely perhaps, to take my time with her.

Afterwards she clung tightly to me. "Oh," she sobbed, softly. "Oh, oh." She seemed confused, frightened, bewildered, at what had been done to her, at what she had felt. I thought the keeper's man must be due soon.

"I yielded, did I not?" she asked, frightened. "Did I not yield?" The chain, its loose ends, the padlock, the small metal tarn tag, indicating she was in debt to the Crooked Tarn, clinked on her neck.

"In a manner of speaking," I said. She had actually done very well for a free woman, new to the handling of men who could do what they wished with her. The Lady Temione, though the thought might have horrified her, as she was a free woman, had unusually powerful female latencies. Subject to men and the whip I had little doubt she would become extremely passionate, and eventually, even helplessly so.

"You owe a silver tarsk, five," I mused.

"Are you thinking of redeeming me?" she asked.

"I was thinking about it," I said. I must try to gain admittance to Ar's Station. It was invested by Cosians, and mercenaries. I might have use for such as she.

"I would be afraid to be redeemed by you," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"If you redeemed me," she said, "I would be in your total power. You would, in effect, own me."

"You are aware, of course," I said, "that you have, ultimately, no control over who redeems you, no more than a slave has, ultimately, any choice over who buys her."

"I know," she said.

I lay there, quietly, thinking. Yes, I thought, I might have use for a woman, or women, such as she.

"You took me like a she-tarsk," she said, poutingly. "You responded well to the taking," I said. "Perhaps it is fitting for you."

"You do not respect me," she said.

"You do not want to be respected," I said. "You want to be cherished, treasured, handled, abused, mastered, owned, subdued, forced to serve and love." She was silent.

"Someone is coming," I said. "Do you hear him, on the stairs?"

"No," she said.

"He is on the first landing now," I said. I sat up. "It is a male," I said. "I hear him now," she said, after a moment or two. "Oh!"

I had turned her to her belly, on the blanket, spread over the boards.

"My wrists!" she protested.

They were then thonged. I had drawn them behind her, and held them together there, crossed, with my left hand. With my right I had removed the restraint from her left wrist. A moment later she was bound. Originally, I had assumed it was the keeper's man, but the tread, now, seemed heavier. Lady Temione rose to her right elbow, her hands tied behind her. I thought I must know who it was. I glanced at the space next to me. He had arrived at the inn later than I, I supposed, as he had eaten later. If that was the case it was not at all unlikely that he might have been rented the space after mine. If so, that might make things a great deal easier. I would not even have to search him out, in the darkness. There was a fellow slumbering in space 99, in the corner. He must have come to the inn rather early, I supposed, to obtain one of the four coveted corner spaces. If the fellow coming up the steps was indeed who I expected it was, and had rented the space near me, and if things proceeded as I expected, I thought I might be able to enlist the support of the fellow in the corner. The second portion of my plan required a confederate.

"Ai!" I heard someone cry, a few yards away, near the entrance. The newcomer, it seemed, had had some paga, perhaps a second or third kantharos. I wondered if he had paid for them. I heard another cry of rage. There was then a blow. The newcomer continued on, somewhat unsteadily. Another guest cried out, angrily, and rose up. He backed away a step, however, when he saw that he did not come up to the newcomer's shoulder. Then the newcomer beckoned he should come forward. Frightened, he did so. Then the newcomer suddenly, without warning, doubled him with a blow to the gut, and he sank, groaning to his place. Another fellow half rose up, and another blow was struck, and the fellow fell back, to the side. Another fellow said something to the newcomer and the newcomer's sword half emerged from its sheath, and the other fellow rolled back, away, quickly, feigning sleep. The sword slammed back into the sheath. Two men moved at the noise. I saw the free woman, whom I had gagged and trussed, to whose clothing I had addressed the attentions of her own knife, which I had taken from her, and later destroyed and thrown away, lying very still. She was absolutely helpless, and her clothing, so cut and divided, could be lifted aside to anyone's convenience. It was no wonder she did not dare to move. I wondered what her thoughts might be, so helpless and vulnerable in her femaleness. Doubtless, disarmed and helpless, her beauty at anyone's convenience, her weakness manifested, she now knew herself much better than she had before. Sometimes such experiences help women understand that they are women. In a moment or two the newcomer was at the space, 98, next to mine. He looked down, angrily. I was pleased to see that he still carried the pouch.

He put it down, by the wall, with his helmet.

"Oh!" cried the Lady Temione, pulled half to her feet.

I noted the pouch had a lock. It would not, thus, be easy to open it and examine, or remove, the contents. To be sure, I was less interested in its contents than in something else. It would, of course, as he seemed to be some sort of courier, be a useful adjunct to a disguise.

He held the Lady Temione before him, her head back, his beard but inches from her throat.

"That is a free woman," I said, dryly.

With a noise of disgust he turned and cast her from him, to her side, to the foot of my space, on my blanket.

I did not know if her recognized her from before, from the paga room, or not. He was drunk. It was dark.

He looked about. As I thought, he would prefer the corner space. I did not think it would matter much to him that it was occupied.

"Ai!" cried the fellow from the space, lifted up, and suddenly thrown against the wall.

The newcomer thrust his face against the fellow's face, holding him back to the wall. "Why are you in the wrong space?" he asked him.

"I am not in the wrong space!" gasped the fellow.

He was then flung again against the wall.

"Why!" demanded the newcomer.

"There must be some mistake!" said the fellow. He was the same fellow, incidentally, happily, as I now noted, whom the newcomer had earlier ejected from his bath, and then drafted into service as a bath attendant. He was probably the sort of fellow who was very organized and rational, had come early to the inn, generally conducted his life in a sensible manner, and so on. To be sure, fellows such as the newcomer can be the bane of such fellows. Again he was flung against the wall. This was a bit noisy, but then I was not asleep. "I have the ostrakon for this space!" said the fellow.

"What has that to do with it?" asked the newcomer, again slamming him against the wall.

"Nothing, of course!" said the fellow, trying to get his breath. "I am sorry I am in the wrong space! I apologize! Forgive me! It was stupid of me!" The newcomer let him slip to the floor and the fellow hastily, crawling, fetched his belongings from space 99.

"You would not be thinking of leaving, perhaps to complain to the keeper, would you?" asked the newcomer.

"no, no, of course not," said the put-upon fellow.

He then placed his belongings in space 98, next to mine.

I frankly doubted that the keeper would be keen to mix into such an altercation, particularly one involving an armed mercenary, a fellow of the company of Artemidorus.