An order. And the soldier who had rescued it put it on his shoulder, holding it by the stalk. He gave a cry, and dropped the trap. Mara took it up and put it in her sack.

"If you say so," said the commander and his look at Mara was — but she could not read it. He was not angry now. She thought him sympathetic.

The company of soldiers and captives stood waiting, while the commander looked them over. The young men were sullen, the girls softly crying. They were standing with the canal behind them, where the boat was creeping slowly along between the banks, and from where now came angry voices, laments, and people wailing the names of the young people who had been kidnapped. Around them was the same savannah they had been travelling through, day after day: the dry, dull grasses of the end of the rainy season, low aromatic bushes, the occasional thorny tree.

An order. The soldiers divided into two groups, one with the men, one with the women captives. Mara was watching, when the commander said to her, "You too." And Mara fell in with the women.

They were walking westwards. Soon some ruins appeared, of stone. Then, later, more ruins, recent ones, of wooden houses where fire had left blackened beams and posts. They walked for about two hours, at an easy pace, the commander coming along behind. When Mara turned to look, she caught him looking at her. They came to a group of low brick buildings, and beyond, more ruins. On a great expanse of red dust some soldiers were marching. The commander gave an order. The soldiers with the young men went off, with Dann, who turned to give Mara such a wild, despairing look that she took a step forward, on her way to joining him, but the soldiers restrained her. Another order. Mara was pushed out of the group of young women, who were marched off by their escort. She was left standing by herself, still staring after Dann.

"Don't worry about him," said the Commander. "Now, come with me." He led the way into one of the brick houses, if it was a house. She was in a room that had brick walls, a brick floor, a low ceiling, of reeds. There was a trestle table, and some wooden chairs.

"Sit down," he said, and sat down himself behind the trestle. "I am General Shabis. What is your name?" He was looking intently at her, and she said carefully, "My name is Mara."

"Good. Now. I know a good deal about you, but not enough. You are from the family in Rustam. You were with the Kin in Chelops. You were in trouble with the Goidels, but they let you go. I shall need to hear about Chelops."

"How do you know I was there?"

"I have an efficient spy service." Then, at her look, "But you would be amazed at the different versions I've heard of you in Chelops." "No, perhaps I wouldn't be."

"No. I am going to have to hear your whole story." "That will take some time."

"We have plenty of time. Meanwhile, you would probably like to ask a few questions yourself?"

"Yes. Were you expecting me and Dann to come on that boat?"

"We were expecting you round about now, yes. We always keep an eye on the boats. Well, there aren't many of them, only one every week or so." "And you always kidnap the girls for breeding and the boys for soldiers?" "Both for soldiers. And believe me, they are better off with us than they would be with the Hennes. At least we educate ours."

At this she leaned forward and said, breathless, "And me? You'll teach me?"

At this he smiled, and then he laughed, and said, "Well Mara, you'd think I'd promised you a fine marriage." "I want to learn," she said. "What do you want to learn?" "Everything," she said, and he laughed again.

"Very well. But meanwhile, I'm going to tell you about what you'll find here. You do know, I suppose, that you are in Charad — the country of Charad — and that there are two people here, different from each other — very different: one the Hennes, and the other, the Agre — us. We fight each other. The war has been going on for years. It is a stalemate. I and my opposite number, General Izrak, are trying to make a truce. But they are very difficult people. When you think you've agreed on something then — nothing."

"They've probably forgotten," said Mara.

"Ah, I see you know them. But first of all — what was that thing you were making such a fuss about on the boat?"

Mara told him. Then she said, "Don't all the boats have them?" "No. It's the first I've seen."

"That boat that is stuck on the sandbank. The one that was attacked. It had one. It's the one we've got."

"The Hennes did that. And you don't know how it works?"

"The old woman knew — Han. At least she knew how to make it work. But it looked to me as if she is going to die. She said it was very old. There are hardly any left. One less, now." And her eyes filled with tears because she was thinking of the senselessness of it. If Han died then there was a bit of knowledge — gone.

"These things happen," he said.

"Yes, they do. And then something is gone for ever."

He was affected by her reproach to the extent that he got up, walked about, then made himself sit down.

"I'm sorry. But my soldiers weren't expecting resistance. There never is. I don't remember anyone being hurt — badly hurt — before. And it was Dann who began it."

"Yes."

"You mustn't worry about him."

"I know enough about people who fight — the soldiers will punish Dann because he fought them."

"No they won't, because I've given orders. And now, begin your story."

Mara began at the beginning, with what she remembered of her childhood, her father and mother, her lessons, told him what she knew of the feuds and changes of power, and then how she and Dann were saved. Shabis sat listening, watching her face. She had reached how Dann had come back for her to the Rock Village, when her voice seemed to her to be floating away, and Shabis said, "Enough. You must eat."

A servant brought food. It was good food. Shabis watched her, while pretending not to, working at something on the trestle — what was it? He was writing, on pieces of fine, soft, white leather. She had not seen anything like that since she was a little girl — and she could not stop looking.

"What's the matter, don't you like the food?"

"Oh yes, I'm not used to eating so well." For this was better and finer than even the Chelops food.

"In the army we get the best of everything."

She was thinking that he did not like what he was saying. And did not mind her knowing it. This captor of hers, was he going to be a friend? Was she safe? She did like him. He was what she had been happiest with in her life. He was a fine man, and now that it was not angry, his face was kind and, she was pretty sure, to be trusted. Probably Dann would look something like Shabis, when he was older.

When she had eaten, the servant took her into a room where she washed and used a lavatory unlike any she had seen. It had a lever which sent water rushing through channels below. She thought, Well, first of all you have to have water.

On an impulse she took off the old slave's robe she had been wearing day after day for weeks, and put on the top and trousers Meryx had given her. It smelled of him, and she had to fight down homesickness. When she went back Shabis said, "You look like a soldier."

She told him this is what the men of Chelops wore.

"Do you have a dress?"

"It didn't seem the right thing, a dress."

"No. You're right."

He studied her. "Do you always wear your hair like that?"

Her hair was now long enough to be held behind her head in a leather clasp. Like his: his hair was the length of hers and in a clasp. And like poor Dann's. Black, straight, shining hair, all three of them. Long-fingered hands. Long, quick feet. And the deep, dark Mahondi eyes.

She began her tale again. When she reached the Kin in Chelops he kept stopping her, wanting more detail, about how they lived; how they managed to keep some kind of independence, although slaves, about the Hadrons, and then, the drought. She knew he had got the essential point when he asked, "And you think they can't see their situation because they've lived too comfortably for too long?"