This irritated me, but I had never much cared to interfere with the entertainments which were presented before me.

"It is truly a singer," said Telima, behind me.

It irritated me that she had spoken.

"Fetch Ta grapes from the kitchen," I told her.

"Please, my Ubar," said she, "let me stay."

"I am not your Ubar," I said. "I am your master."

"Please, Master," she begged, "let Telima stay."

"Very well," I said.

The tables grew quiet.

The man had been blinded, it was said, by Sullius Maximus, who believed taht blinding improved the quality of a singer's songs. Sullius Maximus, who himself dabbled in poetry, and poisons, was a man of high culture, and his opinions in such matters were greatly respected. At any rate, whatever be the truth in these matters, the singer, in his darkness, was now alone with his songs. He had only them.

I looked upon him.

He wore the robes of his caste, the singers, and it was not known what city was his own. Many of the singers wander from place to place, selling their songs for bread and love. I had known, long ago, a singer, whose name was Andreas of Tor. We could hear the torches crackle now, and the singer touched him lyre.

I did not care to hear his song. I looked down into the paga goblet. The singer continued.

I did not wish to hear this song. It infuriated me to see that the others in that room sat rapt, bestowing on the singer such attention for such trifles, the meaningless noises of a blind man's mouth.

I glanced to Telima, who stood beside my great chair. Her eyes were moist, drinking in the song.

She was only a rence girl, I reminded myself. Doubtless never before had she heard a singer. I thought of sending her to the kitchens, but did not do so. I felt her hand on my shoulder. I did not indicate that i was aware of it. And, as the torches burned lower in the wall racks, the singer continued to sing, and sang of graey Pa-Kyr, Master of the Aassassins, leader of the hordes that fell on Ar after the theft of her Home Stone; and he sang, too, of banners and black helmets, of upraised standards, of the sun flashing on the lifted blades of spears, of high siege towers and deeds, of catapults of Ka-la-na and tem-wood, of the thunder of war tharlarion and the beating of drums and the roars of trumpets, the clash of arms and the cries of men; and he sang, too, of the love of men for their city, and, foolishly, knowing so little of men, he sang, too, the bravery of men, and their loyalties and their courage; and he sang then, too, of duels; of duels fought even on the walls of Ar herself, even at the great gate; and of tarnsmen locked in duels to the death over the spires of Ar; and of yet another duel, one fought on the height of Ar's cylinder of justice, between Pa-Kur, and he, in the song, called Tarl of Bristol. "Why does my Ubar weep?" asked Telima.

"Be silent, Slave," said I. Angrily I brushed her hand from my shoulder. She drew back her hand swiftly, as though she had not known it had lain there. The singer had now finished his song.

"Singer," called I to him, "is there truly a man such as Tarl of Bristol?" The singer turned his head to me, puzzled. "I do not know," he said. "Perhaps it is only a song."

I laughed.

I extended the paga goblet to Telima and, again, she filled it.

I rose to my feet, lifting the goblet, and my retainers, as well, rose to their feet, lifting their goblets.

"There is gold and steel!" I said.

"Gold and steel!" cried my retainers.

We drank.

"And song," said the blind singer.

The room was quiet.

I looked upon the singer. "Yes," I said, lifting my goblet to him, "and songs." There was a cry of pleasure from my retainers, and again we drank.

When again I sat down I said to the serving slaves, "Feast the singer well," and then I turned to Luma, slave and accountant of my house, braceleted and chained at the end of the long table, and said to her, "Tomorrow, the singer, before he is sent on his way, is to be given a cap of gold."

"Yes Master," said the girl.

"Thank you, Captain!" cried the singer.

My retainers cried out with pleasure at my generosity, many of them striking their left shoulders with their right fists in Gorean applause.

Two slave girls helped the singer from the stool on which he had sat and conducted him to a table in a far corner of the room.

I drank more paga.

I was furious.

Tarl of Bristol lived only in songs. There was on such man. There were, in the end, only gold and steel, and perhaps the bodies of women, and perhaps songs, the meaningless noises that might sometimes be heard in the mouths of the blind. Again I was Bosk, from the marshes, Pirate, Admiral of Port Kar.

I fingered the golden medallion with the lateen-rigged tarn ship, and the initials of the Council of Captains of Port Kar in its half-curve beneath it. "Sandra!" I called. "Send for Sandra!"

There were cheers from the tables.

I looked about. It was indeed a feast of victory. I was only angered that Midice was not present with me. She had felt ill, and had begged to remain in my quarters, which leave I had given her. Tab, too, was not present.

Then there was a rustle of slave bells and Sandra, the dancing girl of Port Kar, whom I had first seen in a Paga tavern, and had purchased, primarily for my men, stood before me, her master.

I looked on her with amusement.

How desperate she was to please me.

She wanted to be first girl, but I had kept her primarily with my men. Beautiful, dark-haired, slender, marvelously-legged Midice was, in my house, first girl, and my favored slave. As Tab was my first Captain.

But yet Sandra was of interest.

She had high cheekbones, and flashing black eyes, and coal-black hair, now worn high, pinned, over her head. She stood wrapped in an opaque sheet of shimmering yellow silk. As she had approached me I had heard the bells which had been locked on her ankles and wrists, and hung pendant from her collar.

It would not hurt, I thought, for Midice to have a bit of competion. And so I smiled upon Sandra.

She looked at me, eagerness and pleasure transfusing her features.

"You may dance, Slave," I told her.

It was to be the dance of the six thongs.

She slipped the silk from her and knelt before the great table and chair, between the other tables, dropping her head. She wore five pieces of metal, her collar and locked rings on her wrists and ankles. Slave bells were attached to the collar and the rings. She lifted her head, and regarded me. The musicians, to one side, began to play. Six of my men, each with a length of binding fiber, approached her. She held her arms down, and a bit to the sides. The ends of six lengths of binding fiber, like slave snares, were fastened on her, one for each wrist and ankle, and two about her waist; the men, then, each holding the free end of a length of fiber, stood about her, some six or eight feet from her, three on a side. She was thus imprisoned among them, each holding a thong that bound her.