I gave my attention again to the central block. By now the red-haired beauty hadbeen put through several slave paces, such as were feasible for her, her handsbound with the cord behind her back. She now, trembling, lay on her belly,licking and kissing at the auctioneer's kaiila boots.

"Is she vital?" called a man.

The auctioneer pulled her to her feet by the hair and turned her about, facingthe crowd.

I heard some men shouting outside in the street. The two girls inched moreclosely to me.

The auctioneer, his quirt now hooked on his belt, stood behind the red-hairedgirt. He put his left hand in her hair, and pulled her head back, and placed hisright hand on her right hip. She suddenly screamed and writhed, squirming. Butshe could not free herself from his grip. "No, please!" she screamed. "No!" shesobbed. Then she cried out, "No! Oh, no!" Then she sobbed. "No! No! No! Yes!

Yes! No. No. No!" Then he released her, and she fell to her knees on the block,sobbing, crimson with shame.

"Good," said the fellow near me, he in the broad-brimmed hat.

I smiled. The lovely new slave, even freshly branded, had, in the hands of theauctioneer, betrayed herself.

"She will make a hot slut," said Ginger.

"She will not be able to help herself, no more than we," said Evelyn.

I was inclined to agree with the tavern girls. Clearly the red-haired girl hadstrong slave latencies.

"Six!" called a man.

"Six five!" called another.

"Six seven!" called another.

"Six eight!" called another.

"Six nine!" called another.

There was now a commotion at the door. We heard shouting behind us. Theauctioneer looked to the back of the room, angrily. Seven or eight men, in theboots and garb of drovers, thrust in the door. Two or three of them carriedhalf-emptied bottles of paga. Two of them had drawn swords in their hands. Thetavern girls seized my arms, trying to make themselves small, behind me. Themen, I gathered, were drovers, members probably of the same crew that I had seenarrive earlier, those who had driven their kaiila, crying out and shouting,through the streets.

"Gentlemen!" cried the auctioneer. "Do not break the peace! Sheathe your steel!

There is a sale in progress."

"There they are! ' cried a fellow, one of the drovers, pointing towards us. Hewas a young, dark-haired, rough-looking fellow. The tavern girls cried out withmisery. I shook them loose from my arms. The fellow slammed his steel into hissheath and strode towards us. Another fellow, one who looked much like him, wasbut a foot behind him. They were, I assumed, brothers.

"The Hobarts," said a man, "from the Bar Ina."

The fellow in advance seized Evelyn by the arms and shook her viciously. I wasafraid he might break her little, collared neck. "I sought you at the tavern," he said to her, angrily. "You knew we would bring stock to town this night."

"And you, little slut," snarled the other, "what of you?" He seized Ginger bythe hair with both hands and threw her cruelly to his feet. I was pleased to seethat he knew how to handle a slave. She looked up at him, her head held up toface him, her small hands futilely on his wrists, tears in her eyes. "Why wereyou not in the tavern of Randolph, awaiting me?" he demanded.

I deemed now that I better understood why the two girls had not been at theirrespective taverns, why they, it seemed, in effect, under the pretense ofsoliciting business for the establishments of their masters, had been hiding inthe sales barn of Ram Seibar. What I did not understand was why the personnel ofthe sales barn had not driven them away. The presence of two such luscioustavern girls at the sale might surely distract the attention of at least some ofthe buyers. This was the more puzzling as, in the past, I had gathered, they hadbeen, in similar situations, driven from the premises, being lashed across thecalves. This, then, was apparently not their first offense in such matters.

The first young fellow then spun Evelyn about and hurled her a few feet fromhim, toward the door. "Precede me to the tavern, Slave," he said.

"Yes, Master," she wept.

"And you," said the other, throwing Ginger to her belly toward the door, "getyour ass to the tavern of Randolph."

"Yes, Master," she said.

I saw two attendants, at the door, look at one another, tensely, uneasily. I didnot understand this reaction. What was it to them if these two women were to beconducted back to their respective taverns, there to be returned to theirintimate labors?

The first of the young fellows turned about, and glared at me. I observed thesheath. It was at his left hip. He was apparently right-handed. I observed theright hand. It did not tense to move toward the blade's hilt.

He was obviously angry. I met his gaze, dispassionately.

The girls had now sought me out, I realized, hoping that I might provide themwith some sort of shelter, or protection. I presumably seemed large, and strong.

I carried a blade. Too, I was a stranger in town and would know nothing of theHobarts, or the crew of the Bar Ina, or whoever it might be, that might beinterested in them. In their way, given my lack of knowledge in these matters,they had been trying to take advantage of me. I found this irritating. They had,of course, seriously miscalculated in this matter. As I was not intending totake them to an alcove myself I would not have afforded them, no more than anyother Gorean male, the least protection. They belonged totally to their mastersand, more generally, to men. They were slave girls. Still, it would not havepleased me if this fellow, or fellows, these drovers, thought they were takingthem away from me.

The fellow lashed out. What occurred then was done rapidly. I am not certainthat all present clearly understood what was done. I caught his wrist and,twisting it, jerked him forward and off balance, at the same time kickingforcibly upwards. I then, bending his wrist back, thrust him to the side. Theother fellow was caught with a backwards kick, his steel no more then halfwayfrom its sheath. As I had not been facing him he had apparently been taken bysurprise by this blow, by its direction, its nature and force. Untrained menoften expect assaults to occur frontally. Various options in the martial arts,of course, are available to the practiced combatant. My blade was free from mysheath before his knees began to sag. I faced the drovers then, my blade drawn.

He crumpled to the floor. Men quickly cleared space about us.

"Well done!" said the fellow in the broad-brimmed hat.

I faced five drovers, their steel drawn. Bottles were cast aside.

"The first man who attacks," said the auctioneer, from the height of the centralplatform, "is a dead man."

The drovers looked about. Attendants in the sales barn held leveled crossbowstrained on them. The short, heavy quarrels lay in their guides. The cables weretaut. Fingers rested on the triggers.

Angrily the drovers sheathed their steel. They gathered up their two fallencomrades and, supporting them, with dark looks, withdrew from the sales barn.

"The two leading fellows there," said the man with the broad-brimmed hat, "wereMax and Kyle Hobart, from the Bar Ina. They will not make pleasant enemies."

I shrugged. I resheathed my steel.

The two tavern girls, auburn-haired Ginger and dark-haired Evelyn, frightened,began to move unobtrusively toward the door.

"One moment, young ladies," called the auctioneer, pleasantly.

"We are going, Masters," said Ginger, plaintively.

"Perhaps not," said the auctioneer.

"Masters?" asked Ginger, frightened. Behind her there was the heavy ropish soundof heavy cordage being dropped. She spun about. The exit was blocked by thereticulated structure of a stout, hempen slave net. She caught with her fingersat the net, and then, frightened, looked back over her shoulder. "Masters?" sheasked.