"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too," I said. "I love you, my Telima."

"But sometime," she said, teasingly, "you must love me as a slave girl." "Women!" I cried, in exasperation.

"Ever woman," said Telima, "sometimes wishes to be loved as a Ubara, and sometimes as a slave girl."

"Oh," I said.

For a long time we lay together in one another's arms.

"My Ubar," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"Why, at the feast, when the singer sang," she asked, "did you weep?" "For no reason," I said.

We lay side by side, looking up at the ceiling.

"Years ago," she said, "when I was so much younger, I recall hearing sing of Tarl of Bristol."

"In the marshes?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "sometimes a singer comes to the rence islands. But, too, when I was a slave in Port Kar I heard sing of Tarl of Brstol, in the house of my master."

Telima had never spoken much to me of her slavery in Port Kar. She had hated her master, I had known, and she had escaped. And, as I had sensed, her slavery had scarred her deeply. In the marshes I had been unfortunate enough to taste something of the hatreds and frustrations that had been built up within her. Her wounds had been deep, and having been hurt by a man it had been her desire to hurt one in turn, and cruelly so, that in his suffering her imagined vengeance on another would be the sweeter. Telima was a strange woman. I wondered again how she had come by an armlet of gold. And I recalled, now puzzled again, that she, though a rence girl, had been able to read the lettering on the collar I had placed on her one night long ago.

But I did not speak to her of these things, for she was speaking to me, dreamily, remembering.

"When I was a girl on the rence island," she said, "and later, sometimes at night, when I was a slave, in my cage in my master's house, I would lie awake and think of the songs, and of heroes."

I touched her hand.

"And sometimes," she said, "even often, I would think of the hero Tarl of Bristol."

I said nothing.

"Do you think there is such a man?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Could not such a man exist?" she asked. She had rolled over on her stomach, and was looking at me. I was lying on my back, looking at the ceiling.

"In songs," I said. "Such a man might exist in songs."

She laughed. "Are there no heroes?" she asked.

"No," I told her. "there are no heroes."

She said nothing.

"There are only human beings," I told her.

I lay looking for a long time at the ceiling.

"Human beings," I told her, "are weak. They are capable of cruelty. They are selfish, and greedy, and vain and petty. They can be vicious, and there is much in them that is ugly and worthy only of contempt" I looked at her. "All men," I told her, "are corruptible. There are no heroes, no Tarls of Bristol." She smiled at me. "There is gold and steel," she said.

"And the bodies of women," I said.

"And songs," she said.

"Yes," I said, "and songs."

She laid her head on my shoulder.

Dimly, far off, I heard the ringing of a great bar.

Though it was early i heard noises in the house. Some men, down one or another of the corridors, were shouting.

I sat up on the couch, and drew about myself my robes.

I heard feet running in the corridor, approaching.

"The blade," I said to Telima.

She leaped up, and picked up the sword, which lay near the wall, where I had thrown it some hours before, where I had not slain her.

I put the blade in my scabbard, and wrapped the straps about the scabbard. The steps were close now, and then I heard a pounding at my door.

"Captain!" I heard.

It was Thurnock.

"Enter!" I called.

Thurnock burst in. He stood there, within the room, his eyes wild, his hair wild, holding a torch. "Patrol ships have returned," he cried. "The joint fleets of Cos and Tyros are but hours from us!"

"Outfit my ships," I said.

"There is no time!" he cried. "And captains are fleeing! All who can are leaving Port Kar!"

I looked at him.

"Flee, my Captain!" he said. "Flee!"

"You may go," said I, "Thurnock."

He looked at me, confused, and then turned and stumbled away down the hall. Somewhere I heard a girl screaming in fear.

I dressed, and slung the sword over my left shoulder.

"Take your ships and what men are left to you," said Telima. "Fill your ships with treasure and fly, my Ubar."

I regarded her. How beautiful she was.

"Let Port Kar die!" she cried.

I picked up the broad scarlet ribbon, with its medallion, that with the tarn ship and the initials of the Council of Captains.

I put it in my pouch.

"Let Port Kar burn," said Telima. "Let Port Kar die!"

"You are very beautiful, my love," I told her.

"Let Port Kar die!" she cried.

"It is my city," I said. "I must defend it."

I heard her weeping as I left the room.

Strangely there was little in my mind as I walked to the great hall, where the feast had been held. I walked as though I might be another, no knowing myself. I knew what I would do, and yet I knew not why I would do it.

To my surprise, in the great hall, I found gathered the officers fo my men. I think there was not one that was there.

I looked from face to face, the great Thurnock, now calm, swift, strong Clitus, the shrewd oar-master, the others. Many of these men were cutthroats, killers, pirates. I wondered why they were in this room.

A door at the side opened and Tab strode in, his sword over his left shoulder. "I am sorry, Captain," said he, "I was attending my ship."

We regarded one another evenly. And then I smiled. "I am forunate," I said, "to have one so diligent in my service."

"Captain," said he.

"Thurnock," I said, "I gave orders, did I not, to have my shops outfitted." Thurnock grinned, the tooth missing on his upper right side. "It is being done," he said.

"what are we to do?" asked one of my captains.

What could on say to them? If the joint fleets of Cos and Tyros were indeed almost upon us, there was little to do but flee, or fight. We were truly read to do neither. Even had the fortunes I had brought from the treasure fleet been applied immediately after my return to the city, we could not, in the time, have outfitted a fleet to match that which must be decending upon us.

"What would be your estimate of the size of the fleet of Cos and Tyros," I asked Tab.

He did not hesitate. "Four thousand ships," he said.

"Tarn ships?" I asked.

"All," he said.

His surmise agreed closely with the reports of my spies. The fleet would consist, according to my information, of forty-two hundred ships, twenty-five hundred from Cos and seventeen hundred from Tyros. Of the forty-two hundred, fifteen hundred would be galleys heavy class, two thousand medium-clas galleys, and seven hundred light galleys. A net, a hundred pasangs wide, was closing on Port Kar.

It seemed that only the departure date of the fleet had eluded my spies. I laughed, yet I could not blame them. One scarcely advertises such matters. And ships may be swiftly outfitted and launched, if materials and crews are at hand. The council and I had apparently miscalculated the damage done by the capture of the treasure fleet to the war plans of Cos and Tyros. We had not expected the launching of the fleet ot take places until the spring. Besides, it was now in Se'Kara, late in the season to launch tarn ships. Most sailing, save by round ships, is done in the spring and summer. In Se'Kara, particularly later in the month, there are often high seas on Thassa. We had been taken totally unprepared. It was dangerous to attack us now. In this bold stroke I saw not the hand of Lurius, Ubar of Cos, but of the brilliant Chenbar of Kasra, Ubar of Tyros, the Sea Sleen.

I admired him. He was a good captain.