I was spun about and dragged stumbling from the high throne room of Cos. When, early the next morning, chained and under guard, I was taken from the palace of Lurius of Jad, Ubar of Cos, the streets were mostly deserted. It had rained the night before and, here and there, there were puddles among the stones of the street. The shops were shuttered with wood, and the wood was still stained dark from the night's rain. There were few lights in the windows. I recall seeing, crouched against the wall of a building near the postern gate of the palace of Lurius, a coarse-robed figure, foolishly come too early to sell his vegetables, suls and tur-pah, near the palace. He seemed asleep, and doubtless scarcely noticed us. He was a large man in the rough rain robes of the peasant. Near him, leaning against the wall behind him, wrapped in leather to protect it from the dampness, was a yellow bow, the long bow of the peasants. He had shaggy yellow hair. I smiled as I passed him.

On the slaves' wharf I was, with little ceremony, added to the market chain. By the eighth hour various captains of round ships had arrived and begun to haggle with the slave master over the prices of the oarsmen. The slave master, in my opinion, wanted far too much for his merchandise, considering we were merely fodder for the benches of the round ships. Having no particular interest in being struck to silence I refrained from pointing this out to him. Besides, He doubtless had his instructions to receive as much pay as possible. Apparently Cos was outfitting her fleets and her treasury was currently strained. Every copper tarn disk I told myself, in such a situation doubtless assumes greater importance than it normally would. I was a bit irritated at being slapped and punched, and told to exhibit my teeth, but, in all honesty, these indignities were no worse than those heaped upon my chain mates. Besides, I was not, considering that I was about to be sold to the galleys, in a particularly bad mood.

To one side, leaning against a heavy, roped post, supporting part of the structure of the slaves' wharf, crosslegged, there sat a fisherman. He was working carefully on a net spread across his knees, repairing it. Near him there lay a triden. He had long black hair, and gray eyes.

"Let me test your grip," said one of the captains. "I use only strong men on my ships."

He extended his hand.

In an instant he was screaming for mercy.

"Stop, Slave!" cried the slave master, striking me with the butt of his whip. I released the man's hand, not having chosen to break it.

He stood unsteadily, half crouching over, looking at me with disbelief, his hand thrust into his left armpit.

"Forgive me, Master," asid I, with concern.

Unsteadily he went elsewhere, to examine others farther along the market chain. "Do that again," said the slave master, "amd I will cut your throat." "I doubt," said I, "that Chenbar and Lurius would much approve of that." "Perhaps not," said the slave master, grinning.

"What do you for that slave?" asked a captain, a tall man with a small, carefully trimmed beard.

"Fifty copper tarn disks," said the slave master.

"It is too much," said the captain.

I agreed, but it did not seem up to me to enter into the question.

"That is the price," said the slave master.

"Very well," said the captain gesturing to a scribe near him with a wallet of coins slung over his shoulder, to pay the slave master.

"May I ask," I asked, "the name of my master and his ship?"

"I am Tenrik," said he, "Tenrik of Temos. Your ship will be the Rena of Temos." "And when do we sail?" I asked.

He laughed. "Slave," he said, "you ask questions like a passager."

I smiled.

"With the evening's tide," he said.

I bowed my head. "Thank you, Master," said I.

Tenrik, followed by the scribe, turned and left. I noted that now the fisherman had finished with his net and that he, too, was preparing to depart. He folded the net carefully and dropped it over his left shoulder. He then picked up his trident in his right hand and, not looking back, took his way from the slaves' wharf.

The slave master was again counting the fifty copper tarn disks.

I shook my head. "Too much," I told him.

He shrugged and grinned. "Whatever the market will bear," he said.

"Yes," I said, "I guess you are right."

I was not displeased when I was conducted to the Rena of Temos. She was indeed a round ship. I noted with satisfaction the width of her beam and the depth of her keel. Such a ship would be slow.

I did not much care for the crusts, and the onions and peas, on which we fed, but I did not expect to be eating them long.

"You will not find this an easy ship to row," said the oar-master, chaining my ankles to the heavy footbrace.

"The lot of a slave is miserable," I told him.

"Further," he laughed, "you will not find me an easy master."

"The lot of a slave is indeed miserable," I lamented.

He turned the key in the locks and, laughing, turned about and went to his seat, facing us, in the stern of the rowing hold.

Before him, since this was a large ship, there sat a keleustes, a strong man, a time-beater, with leather-wrapped wrists. He would mark the rowing stroke with blows of wooden, leather-cushioned mallets on the head of a huge copper-covered drum.

"Out oars!" called the oar-master.

I, with the others, slid my oar outboard.

Above us, on the upper deck, I could hear the crieds of the seamen, casting off mooring lines, shoving away from the dock with the traditional three long poles. The sails would not be dropped from the yards until the ship was clear of the harbor.

I heard the creak of the great side-rudders and felt the heavy, sweet, living movement of the caulked timbers of the ship.

We were now free of land.

The eyes of the ship, painted on either side of the bow, would now have turned toward the opening of the harbor of Telnus. Ships of Gor, of whatever class or type, always have eyes painted on them, either in a head surmounting the prow, as in tarn ships, or, as in the Rena, as in round ships, on either side of the bow. It is the last thing that is done for the ship before it is first launched. The painting of the eyes reflects the Gorean seaman's belief that the ship is a living thing. She is accordingly given eyes, that she may see her way. "Ready oars!" called the oar-master.

The oars were poised.

"Stroke!" called the oar-master.

The keleustes struck the great copper drum before him with the leather-cushioned mallet.

As one the oars entered the water, dipping and moving within it. My feet thrust against the footbrace and I drew on the oar.

Slowly the ship, like a sweet, fat bird, heavy and stately, began to move toward the opening between the two high, round towers that guard the entrance to the walled harbor of Telnus, capito city of the island of Cos, seat of its Ubar's throne.

We had now been two days at sea.

I and the others, from our pans, were eating one of our four daily rations of bread, onions and peas. We were passing a water skin about among us. The oars were inboard.

We had not rowed as much as normally we would have. We had had a fair wind for two days, which had slacked off yesterday evening.

The Rena of Temos, like most round ships, had two permanent masts, unlike the removable mast of the war galleys. The main mast was a bit forward of amidships, and foremast was some four or five yards abaft of the ship's yoke. Both were lateen rigged, the yard of the foresail being about half the length of the yard of the mailsail. We had made good time for a heavy ship, but then the wind had slacked.

We had rowed fro several Ahn this morning.

It was now something better than an Ahn past noon.

"I understand," said the oar-master, confronting me, "that you were a Captain in Port Kar."