I pressed another tarsk bit into the fellow's hand. "Thank you, Sir," said he. He had tried to be helpful, though to be sure, I had learned little that I had not known before. I had gathered, however, that the siege at Ar's Station might be approaching a critical point. I then picked up the pack and went out again, pulling my cloak over my head, to cross the court, in the cold rain. I heard the door shut behind me, and the interior bolt thrown. I hurried across the court to the side of the nearest part of the two-part structure. I had seen something there that interested me. I looked at them, exposed as they were, and in the downpour, and then circled about the building. I would consider them in greater detail later. I thought it well to reconnoiter a little I suppose it is the training of the warrior.

I examined various of the smaller buildings and sheds, their location and what vantages or cover they might provide. There were stables for tharlarion and covered shedlike structures beneath which wagons were drawn up. There was a place for a tarn beacon, on a platform under a high shed, but it was now not lit. There was a tarn gate, too, but it was now closed, wire strung between its posts. Tarn wire, too, I was sure, would be strung about, most of it presumably from the roof of the inn to the height of the palisade. There was a tarncot, too, but now, within it, there was only one tarn. From the condition of the bird, and its nature, its apparent ferocity and alertness, I speculated that it might be a warrior's mount. Aside from the bird itself, however, there was no indication of this, no emblazoned saddlecloths, no insignia, no particular style of harness. As nearly as I could determine there was no barrack here nor garrison. This place, for most practical purposes, lacked guardsmen, though doubtless it kept a burly fellow or two on hand to deal with possible emergencies. I then made my way back to the main building. It had narrow openings in it here and there through which it might be defended. The number of available defenders, I supposed, might dictate the decision in such a case. Both sections, I speculated, would be joined by a narrow, easily blocked underground passage cut in stone, one presumably taking its way beneath the covered way between them. Contrary to what one might think, incidentally, it is not easy to set fire to such structures. This has to do primarily with the verticality of the surfaces. The situation is very similar with a palisade. The common fire arrow, for example, usually burns itself out in place.

I was now on the left side of the front of the two-part main building, as one would face the building. It was there I had seen something which had seemed worthy of some interest.

"Redeem me!" cried one of the women. "I beg you!" "No, me!" cried another.

"Me! Me!" wept another.

There were five of them, naked, and lashed by the rain. Their hands were shackled high over their heads, this lifting their bodies nicely. The shackles were attached to short chains, the latter depending from stout rings. The chains were hitched to different heights, depending on the height of the woman. "Perhaps you are uncomfortable?" I asked the first woman.

"Yes," she said, "yes!"

"That is not surprising, considering how you are secured," I said.

"Please!" she said.

She jerked at the shackles and squirmed against the wall. She was covered with rain, which had blown back under the roof's overhang. Her hair was sopped, and dark and much about her, adhering to her shoulders and body.

"Avert your eyes!" she demanded.

I took her hair and put it back, behind her shoulders. In that way it was out of the way. Shackled as she was she would find it difficult to get it back again before her body. If necessary, of course, it could be bundled and knotted at the back of her neck.

"Please!" she wept.

In a flash of lightning the entire wall and court was illuminated. There were only five positions there for securing women, and they were all occupied. "Redeem me!" she begged.

"Buy me?" I inquired.

"Never!" wept the woman. "I am a free woman!"

"We are free women!" cried the woman next to her.

"We are all free women!" cried she beyond that one.

I had supposed this, of course, for I had seen that none were collared. "Oh," said the first woman, as I checked her flanks.

"Do not carry on," I said. "You had probably been out here at least since this afternoon, and have probably been touched by several men."

I detected no brands on her, at least in the two most favored Gorean brand sites. They were probably, as they claimed, free women.

"Redeem me," she begged. I saw that above and behind the head of each, thrust over nails driven into the logs, were small rectangles of oilcloth.

I turned one over and, in the next flash of lightning, read the numbers on its back.

"What is your name?" I asked the first woman.

"I am the Lady Amina of Venna," she said. "I was visiting in the north, and forced to flee at the approach of Cosians."

"You redemption fee," I said, "is forty copper tarsks, a considerable amount." I had read this amount on the back of the oilcloth rectangle.

"Pay it!" she begged. "Rescue a noble free woman from jeopardy. I will be forever grateful."

"Few men," I said, "would be content with gratitude."

She shrank back, frightened, against the rough surface.

"My bill is only thirty tarsks," said the second woman, a blonde. "Redeem me!" "Mine is thirty-five!" said the third woman.

"Mine is only twenty-seven!" cried the fourth woman.

"Mine is fifty," wept the last of the five women, "but I will make it well worth your while!"

"In what way?" I asked.

"In the way of the woman!" she said, brazenly.

There were cries of protest, and anger, from the others.

"Do not sound too righteous," I said to the first four prisoners at the wall. "We are free women!" said the first woman.

"You are all debtor sluts," I said.

The first woman gasped, startled, so referred to, and the second and third woman cried out in anger. The fourth whimpered, knowing what I had said was true. The fifth was silent.

I recalled that the porter, when I had come to the outer gate, at the height of the bridge over the moat, seeing that I was not a female, had made me show money, and a considerable amount of it, before he had admitted me. This was probably because of the crowding at the inn, and perhaps inflated prices, in these unusual, perilous times. Women, I had gathered, on the other hand, would not be required to show such money. This, of course, was presumably not so much because such a challenge might be thought to be demeaning to a free woman, as, perhaps, that women on Gor, in a sense, are themselves money. They are, or can be, a medium of exchange, like currency. This is particularly true of the slave, of course, who, like other goods, or domestic animals, has an ascertainable, finite value, whatever free persons are willing to pay for her. Women such as these, those at the wall, would be surrendered by the management of the inn for the equivalent of their unpaid bills. T hey would then be in the power of their "redeemers," any who might make good their debts. Lacking such a «redemption» they might then themselves, sooner or later, sold as slaves. In this way the inn usually recovers its money and, not unoften, turns a profit. Particularly beautiful specimens of impecunious guests are sometimes kept by the inn itself, as inn slaves.

"Please do not refer to us in such a fashion," said the first woman. "In what fashion?" I asked.

"As you did," she said.

"Surely the prices at the inn are posted. Or are available upon inquiry," I said.

She was silent.

"Did you not know that you had not enough money?" I asked.

They were silent.

I tightened my grip on the first woman, thrusting her back more tightly against the logs.