"Excellent!" said another.
I felt the rope jerked on my neck.
I felt hands on my arms.
"They fired upon me! You saw it! I said.
"But they did not hit you," said a fellow.
"Would you rather that they had?" I asked.
"It might have been better for you, had they done so," said another, grimly. I was pulled to my feet.
"The rope is secure," said a voice.
"I came under a flag of truce," I said. "Is this how those of Ar's Station respect the conventions of war?"
The hands of the men were tight upon my arms. I could feel a breeze through the crenel to my left. Through the whiteness of the hood I could make out the opening.
"Hold," said a voice.
I heard the rope being unfastened. It was now, again, a tether.
"We had almost forgotten our honor," said the voice. "We are grateful to you for having recalled it to us. To be sure, it shames us that this should have been done by a sleen of Cos. Yet it does not matter. That it should be remembered is what is most important."
"I had not realized until now," said a man, "that we had suffered so much. I had not realized until now that we had been so deeply hurt, that our wounds were so grievous."
"Behind the trenches I think the Cosians are forming," said a fellow. "It is the morning assault," said another fellow, wearily.
"Stranger," said the voice which had first spoken of honor to me, "know that you have been spared now, in your entry into the city, because of the flag you bore. And tragically, I confess, nearly it was not so. But, now, beneath its aegis, beneath its shelter, guarded within its folds, you are as safe as through ringed by walls of iron. The honor of Ar's Station has it so. I give you thus the option, if you wish it, to return to those of Cos."
"Take me to Aemilianus," I said.
"I think you are a spy," he said. "I am not a spy," I said.
"You understand that if you go now to Aemilianus," he said, "that you forfeit the protection of the flag you bore."
"I understand," I said.
"Take him to Aemilianus," he said.
"Give me something," I said, as I was turned to the side, "if even a shred of my tunic, to cover myself."
"There are many Cosians forming," said a fellow, near the wall.
"You came as a spy," said the voice. "It is to Aemilianus as a caught spy that you will go."
Hands closed tightly on my arms.
"Take him away," said the voice.
11 Aemilianus
"There," said a voice.
I was forced down, on a hard surface, tiles, I thought, on my knees.
The white cloth I had used as the truce flag was removed from my head. I blinked, looking about myself.
I knelt, on tiles, to be sure, before a curule chair, on a stepped dais. To one side of the curule chair, kneeling below it, on one of the broad steps, collared and briefly tunicked, was a pale, blond slave.
"You may leave us, Shirley," said the man on the chair.
"Yes, Master," she said. Her head had been turned to the side, and her eyes had been averted. I was a free man and, had she looked upon me, without permission, she might have been punished. Slave girls do, upon the streets, occasionally look upon stripped free prisoners, sometimes even taunting them, and such, but they are not likely to do so, without permission, beneath the very eyes of their masters.
The name "Shirley' is an Earth-girl name but I suspected that she was not an Earth girl. Her accent, at any rate, did not suggest it. She might have been of Earth, of course. After a few months on Gor it often becomes very difficult to distinguish Earth girls from Gorean girls, at least without a careful examination of their bodies, for example, for fillings in the teeth, or an inquiry, they kneeling before you, into their specific antecedents. Goreans sometimes give Earth-girl names to Gorean girls, as they think of them as excellent slave names. To a Gorean ear names such as "Jean' or "Joan' have an exotic flavor, and are regarded as fit names for slaves brought in from such far-off, mysterious places as «Tennessee» or "Oregon." Such girls, too, coming to understand the sensuous connotations of their names on Gor come to regard them then no longer as common, or plain, names, but, like the Goreans, as thrilling, beautiful names, and come to revel in them, and try to live up to them, as superb slaves. To be sure, they know they wear them now only as slave names, theirs only by the will of a master.
It is true that Earth girls are regarded as slave stock by Goreans, but I think, at least these days, that there is nothing special about this, really. As the girl left I watched her. She was quite thin. Once, I through, she would probably have been much more fully bodied in her beauty. Once she might have been luscious, perhaps even voluptuous. By such signs I conjectured the paucity of rations in Ar's Station. I suppose, however, that she, and others like her, might be quickly enough returned to a former condition of desirability by so simple a means as the restoration of a proper diet, both with respect to quantity and quality. By such means do dealers prepare women, grateful for food, to bring higher prices upon the slave block. Her blond hair, too, had been cropped. In these times, I suspected there would be few unsheared free women. In the case of the slave girls, of course, their hair would simply be taken from them. The hair of the free women, on the other hand, would presumably have been donated, as a contribution to the defense of the city.
"Yes," said the fellow sitting on the curule chair, a strongly built man, through one now seemingly weary, one with a bloodied bandage about his head," she was once quite beautiful."
I turned my attention to the man. He had, with him, on his lap, the diplomatic pouch, opened, and the letter cylinder taken from my pouch. It had been sealed with wax and ribbon, the wax bearing the seal of Gnieus Lelius, regent of Ar. "Are you Aemilianus," I asked, "commander in Ar's Station?" "I am," he said, looking at me.
I glanced toward the retreated slave, who had turned to regard me.
The fellow on the curule chair smiled. "She has dared to look upon you?" "No," I said.
"They are so curious," he said.
I did not respond.
"Shirley!" he called, without turning to look at her.
"Master?" she answered, from near a side door in the back.
"Remind me, tonight," he said, "to whip you."
"Yes, Master!" she sobbed. She turned, then, and fled from the room. "They are women," I said. "They cannot help themselves."
"I do not object that she did what she did," he said. "It is only that, as she has done it, she is to be whipped."
"I see," I said.
"Even in hard times," he said, "it is good to maintain discipline." "Doubtless," I said.
"Do you know where you are?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"You are in the citadel," he said.
"I thought I might be," I said. It seemed a likely place to house the headquarters of the city.
"You are Tarl, a fellow of Port Kar," he asked, "as you told my men upon the wall?"
"I am Tarl," I said, "of Port Kar."
"And you claim to be the regent's courier?" he asked.
"I am the regent's courier," I said. "Why am I still stripped and chained?" "Does it not seem odd to you that the regent should employ as a courier one from Port Kar?"
"Perhaps," I said. "I had delivered letters to him from Dietrich of Tarnburg. Perhaps it then seemed plausible to him that I might similarly serve Ar." "Dietrich, the tarn of Tarnburg?" he asked.
"Perhaps some call him that," I said. "I have never heard him use that expression of himself, nor have I heard it used by those most close to him. I do not even think he would care for it."
"And how does he think of himself?" asked Aemilianus.
"As Dietrich," I said, "Dietrich, of Tarnburg, a soldier, a captain." "Dietrich, of the Silver Tarn?" he asked.