It was said, even, that the four Ubars, Chung, Eteocles, Nigel and Sullius Maximus, sat now, or would soom sit, upon their thrones.

The man on the rack near me screamed in agony.

He was one of those who had been captured.

"We have the reports on the damage to the wharves of Chung," said a scribe, pressing into my hands the documents. I knew that the fiers on the wharves of Chung still blazed, and that they had spread northward to the free wharves south of the arsenal. The reports, accordingly, would be incomplete.

I looked at the scribe.

"We will bring you further reports as soon as they arrive," he said. I nodded, and he sped away.

The fires were now substantially out in the properties of Eteocles, Nigel and Sullius Maximus, though a warehouse of the latter, in which was stored tharlarion oil, still blazed. The city was heavy with the smell and smoke of it. As nearly as I could gather, Chung had been the most afflicted by the fire, losing perhaps thirty ships. The Ubars, it seemed, had not had their power halved, but it had been considerably reduced. The damage to the arsenal, which I had seen with my own eyes, and had taken statistical reports on from the scribes, had not been particularly serious. It amounted to the destruction of one roofed area where Ka-la-na wood was stored, and the partial destruction of another; one small warehouse for the storage pitch, one of several, had been destroyed; two dry docks had been lost, and the shop of the oarmakers, near the warehouse for oars, had been damaged; the warehouse itself, as it turned out, had escaped the fire.

Some of those who had started these fires, who had been apprehended, now, under the torches, screamed on the racks beneath the chamber of the council of Captains. Most, however, their retreat covered by crossbowmen, had excaped and fled to the holding of Henrius Sevarius.

The two slaves near me bent to the rack windlass. There was a creak of wood, the sound of the pawl, locking, dropping into a new notch on the ratchet, a hideous scream.

"Have the patrols been doubled?" I asked a captain nearby.

"Yes," he said, "and their perimeters extended by fifty pasangs."

The man on the rack screamed again.

"What," I asked a captain, "is the military situation?"

"The men of Henrius Sevarius," said he, "have withdrawn into his holdings. His ships and wharves are well defended. Men of the captains maintain their watch. Others are in reserve. Should the forces of Sevarius emerge from his holdings we shall meet them with steel."

"What of the city?" I asked.

"It has not rallied to Sevarius," said the captain. "In the streets men cry "Power to the Council! "

"Excellent," I commented.

A scribe came to my side. "An envoy from the House of Sevarius demands to speak before the council," he said.

"Is he a captain?" I asked.

"Yes," said the scribe. "Lysias."

I smiled. "Very well," I said, "send a page, and a man with a torch, to conduct him hither, and give him guard, that he may not be torn to death on the streets."

The scribe grinned. "Yes Captain," said he.

A captain near me shook his head. "But Sevarius is a Ubar," he said. "The council," I said, "will adjudicate his claims."

The captain looked at me, and smiled. "Good," he said, "Good."

I gestured for the two slaves at the rack windlass to again rotate the heavy wooden wheels, moving the heavy wooden pawl another notch in the beam ratchet. Again there was a creak of wood and the sound of the pawl, locking, dropping into its new notch. The thing fastened on the rack threw back its head on the cords, screaming only with his eyes. Another notch and the bones of its arms and legs would be torn from their sockets.

"What have you learned?" I asked the scibe, who stood with his tablet and stylus beside the rack.

"It is the same as the others," he said. "They were hired by the men of Henrius Sevarius, some to slay captains, smoe to fire the wharves and arsenal." The scribe looked up at me. "Tonight," he said, "Sevarius was to be Ubar of Port Kar, and each was to have a stone of gold."

"What of Cos and Tyros?" I asked.

The scribe looked at me, puzzled. "None have spoken of Cos and Tyros," he said. This angered me, for I felt that there must be more in the coup than the work of one Port Kar's five Ubars. I had expected, that very day, or this night, to receive word that the fleets of Cos and Tyros were approaching. Could it be, I asked myself, that Cos and Tyros were not implicated in the attempted coup? "What of Cos and Tyros!" I demanded of the wretch fastened on the rack. He had been one who had, with his crossbow, fired on the captains as they had run from the council. His eyes had moved from his head; a large vein was livid on his forehead' his feet and hands were white; his wrists and ankles were bleeding; his body was little more than drawn suet; he was stained with his own excrement. "Sevarius!" he whispered. "Sevarius!"

"Are not Cos and Tyros to attack?" I demanded.

"Yes! Yes!" he cried. "Yes!"

"And," I said, "what of Ar, and Ko-ra-ba, and Treve, and Thentis, and Turia, and Tharna and Tor!"

"Yes, yes, yes!" he whimpered.

"And," I said, "Teletus, Tabor, Scagnar!"

"Yes, yes!" he cried.

"And," I said, "Farnacium, and Hulneth and Aperiche! And Anango and Ianda, and Hunjer and Skjern and Torvaldsland! And Lydius and Helmutsport, and Schendi and Bazi!"

"Yes," he cried. "All are going to attack."

"And Port Kar!" I cried.

"Yes," he raved, "Port Kar, too! Port Kar, too!"

With disgust I guestured for the slaves to pull the pins releasing the windlasses.

With a ratle of cork and chain the wheels spun back and the thing on the rack began to jabber and whimper and laugh.

By the time the slaves had unfastened him he had lost consciousness. "There was little more to be learned from that one," said a voice near me. It might have been a larl that had spoken.

I turned.

There, facing me, his face expressionless, was one who was well known in Port Kar.

"You were not at the meeting of the council this afternoon," I said to him. "No," he said.

The somnolent beat of a man regarded me.

He was a large man. About his left shoulder there were the two ropes of Port Kar. These are commonly worn only outside the city. His garment was closely woven, and had a hood, now thrown back. His face was wide, and heavy, and much lined; it, like many of those of Port kar, showed the marks of Thassa, burned into it by wind and salt; he had gray eyes; his hair was white, and shortcropped; in his ears there were two small golden rings.

If a larl might have been transformed into a man, and yet retain its instincts, its heart and its cunning, I think it might look much like Samos, First Slaver of Port Kar.

"Greetings, noble Samos," I said.

"Greetings," said he.

It then occured to me that this man could not serve Priest-Kings. It occured to me then, with a shudder which I did not betray, that such a man could serve only the Others, not Priest-Kings, those Others, in the distant steel worlds, wh osurreptitiusly and cruelly fought to gain this world and Earth for their own ends.

Samos looked about, gazing on the various racks, to many of which there were still fastened prisoners.

The torches lit the room with unusal shadows.

"Have Cos and Tyros been inplicated?" he asked.

"These men will confess whatever we wish," I said dryly.

"But there seems nothing genuine?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"I suspect Cos and Tyros," he said, gazing at me, evenly.

"I, too," I said.

"But these minions," he said, "they will know nothing."

"It appears so," I said.

"Would you," asked Samos, "reveal your plans to such as these?"

"No," I said.

He nodded, and then turned, but stopped, and spoke over his shoulder. "You are the one who calls himself Bosk, are you not?"