At the edge of the rence island, where her rence craft was drawn up on the shore, as well as several others, together with some rafts for transporting cut rence, she stopped, and turned, and faced me. She looked up into my eyes. "Kneel," she had said.

I had done so, and she had drawn out a handful of rence paste from the wallet at her side, and she fed me.

"Stand," she had said.

I did so.

"In the cities," she asked, "they have slave collars, do they not?" "Yes," I said.

Then she had taken a length of marsh vine from a packet on her rence craft. The, looking up into my eyes, smiling, close to me, her arms about my neck, she insolently wound the vine five times about my neck, and knotted it in front. "Now," she said, "you have a collar."

"Yes," I said, "I have a collar."

"Say," said she, her arms still about my neck, "I am your collared slave." My fists clenched. She stood within my grasp, her arms on my neck, taunting me with her eyes.

"I am your collared slave," I said.

"Mistress," she taunted.

"Mistress," I said.

She smiled. "I see," said she, tauntingly, "that you find me beautiful." It was true.

The she struck me suddenly, with savagery. I cried out with pain.

"Dare you aspire to me!" she cried. "I am a free woman!" Then she hissed out, "Kiss my feet, Slave!"

In pain, on my knees, I did so, to her laughter.

"Put now the rence craft in the water," she said, "and attach to it a raft for cut rence, Slave. We must cut rence today, and be quick, be quick, My Slave!" I cut another rence stem, lopping away the tufted head, and throwing it onto the rence craft. And then another, and another.

The sun, though it was late afternoon, was still hot, and it was humid in the delta of Vosk, and my hands ached, and were blistered.

"If you do not obey me in all things, and swiftly," had said the girl, "I will have the men bind you and throw you to the tharlarion. And there is no escape in the marches. You will be hunted down by men with marsh spears. You are my slave!"

"Over there," said the girl. "Cut there."

She moved the craft to a new thicket of rence, and I obeyed.

It was true what she had said. Naked, without weapons, alone in the delta, without aid, without food, I could not escape. It would not be hard for the men of the rence islands, in their hundreds, to cut off escape, to find me, if the tharlarion did not manage to do so first.

But most I was miserable in my heart. H had had an image of myself, a proud image, and the loss of this image had crushed me. I had lived a lie with myself and then, in my own eyes, and in those of others, I had been found out. I had chosen ignominious bondage to the freedom of honorable death. I now knew the sort of thing I was, and in my worthless heart it so sickened me tha tI did not much care now whetehr I lived or died. I did not even much care that I might spend the rest of my life as an abject slave, abused on a rence island, the sport of a girl or children, the butt of cruelty and jests of men. Such, doubtless, was deserved. How could I face free men again, when in my own heart I could not even face myself?

It was hot, and the coils of marsh vine around my throat were hot. Beneath the coils my neck was red, and slippery with sweat and dirt. I put my finger in the collar, to pull it a bit from my throat.

"Do not touch your collar," she said.

I removed my hand from the collar.

"There, cut there," said she, and again I cut rence for my mistress. "It is hot," she said.

I turned.

She had loosened the cord that laced the tunic, refastening it more loosely. In the narrow innuendo of the slightly parted tunic I sensed her perfection. She laughed. "Cut rence, Slave."

Again I turned to my work.

"You are pretty in your collar," she said.

I did not turn to face her. It was the sort of remark one would address to a slave girl, a simple, comely wench in bondage. The rence knife flashed through a stem and then I cut the tufted, flowered head, it falling in the water, and threw the stem on the rence craft, with the numerous others.

"If you remove your collar," she said, "you will be destroyed."

I said nothing.

"Do you understand?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Mistress," said she.

"Yes," I said, "I understand, Mistress."

"Good," said she, "Pretty Slave."

The rence knife flashed through another stem, and I cut away the flowered, tufted head, and threw the stem in the piles on the raft.

"Pretty Slave," she repeated.

I shook with fury. "Please," said I, "do not speak to me."

"I shall speak to you as I wish," said she, "Pretty Slave."

I trembled with fury, the rence knife in my hand. I shook with humiliation, with the degradation of her scorn. I considered turning upon her and seizing her. "Cut rence," said she, "Pretty Slave."

I turned again to the rence, trembling with fury, with shame, and again, stem by stem, began to cut.

I heard her laughter behind me.

Stem by steim, and pile by pile, the time was marked in strokes of rence. The sun was low now and insects moved in the sedge. The water glistened in the dusk, moving in small bright circles about the stems of rushes.

Neither of us had spoken for a long time.

"May I speak?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"How is it," I asked, "that so many of the rence islands are now gathered together?" I had wondered abut this.

"It is near the festival of Se'Kara," said she.

Indeed, I knew that tomorrow was festival for the rence islands.

"But so many?" I asked. "Surely that is unusual?"

"You are curious for a slave," she said. "Curiosity is not always becoming in a slave."

I said nothing.

"Ho-Hak," said she, "has called the nearby islands to a council."

"How many are there?" I asked.

"Five," said she, "in the general area. There are others, of course, elsewhere in the delta."

"What is the purpose of the council?" I asked.

She would feel free to speak to me. I was confined by the marsh, and only slave. "He thinks to unite the rence growers," said she, a certain amused skepticism in her voice.

"For purposes of trade?" I asked.

"In a way," she said. "It would be useful to have similar standards for rence paper, to sometimes harvest in common, to sometimes, in times of need, share crops, and, of course, to obtain a better price for our paper than we might if we might if we bargained as isolated islands with the rence merchants." "Those of Port Kar," I said, "would doubtless not be pleased by such news." She laughed. "Doubtless not," said she.

"Perhaps also," I suggested, "in uniting the islands there might be some measure of protection gained from the officials of Port Kar."

"Officials?" she asked. "Ah yes, the collectors of the taxes, in the names of various Ubars, who may or may not have a current ascendency in the city." "And would there not be some measure of protection against," I asked, "the simple slavers of Port Kar?"

"Perhaps," she said. She spoke bitterly. "The difference between the collector of the taxes and the slaver is sometimes less than clear."

"It would doubless be desirable, from the point of view of the rence islands," I suggested, "if they should, in certain matters, act in unanimity."

"We Rencers," she said, "are independent people. We each of us, have our own island."

"You do not think," I asked, "that the plan of Ho-Hak will be successful?" "No," she said, "I do not think it will be successful."

She had now turned the stem of the craft toward the rence island, which lay some pasang or two through the swamp, and, as I cut rence here and there, began to pole homeward.

"May I speak?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"You wear on your left arm," I said, "a golden armlet. How is it that a girl of rence islands has such an armlet?"