"I know," I said.

"You saw?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

She looked down.

"Do not be afraid," I said.

"I could not help myself," she whispered.

"I effect nothing critical," I said.

She looked at me.

"You are a female slave," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said, wonderingly. "That is it. I am a female slave. I have now become a female slave."

"Do you object?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said. "I love it!"

"You did your work well, excellently," I said. "I am very pleased."

"Thank you, Master!" she said.

I then looked out from the doorway. The guardsman was nowhere in sight. Indeed, the street was deserted.

"We will now return to the insula," I said.

"Shall I heel my master?" she asked.

"No," I said. "Precede me."

"Yes, Master," she smiled.

23 A Message is to be Delivered

"The dung of tharlarion be smeared upon the Home Stone of Ar's Station!" cried the portly fellow. "Let it be spattered with the spew of urts!" He seized up the Home Stone from the plank on which it sat, the plank resting on two inverted wastes vats, of the sort used in insulae, in the park of the Center Cylinder, within which likes the Central Cylinder. "Not even jards of stone would pick the bones of this loathesome rock!" cried the fellow. There was laughter at this by the guards about, and several other folks, too, outside the roped-off enclosure, within which was the Home Stone on its mock pedestal. Indeed, several fellows, expecting some sort of show, had hurried to stand outside the rope, to watch. The guards, too, it seemed, remembered this fellow, and egged him on with their cries. There was a line, as well, behind the fellow, awaiting its turn to enter the roped-off circle, and, one by one, express their contempt for the "Traitress of the North" as Ar's Station was now referred to on the boards. "Surely I should kill him!" hissed Marcus to me.

"You are under no obligation to do so," I assured him, irritatedly.

"Honor deems it necessary," said Marcus, grimly, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

"Nonsense!" I said.

"Yes!" he hissed.

"Not at all!" I insisted.

I was now alarmed. When Goreans get the idea that honor is involved they suddenly become quite difficult to deal with. Moreover, Marcus, an agile fellow, could make it over the rope and get to the vicinity of the Home Stone in something like one or two jumps.

"Certainly!" he said.

"Shhh!" a fellow, turning about. "I wish to hear this!"

I hooked my right hand in the back of Marcus' knife belt. This made it difficult for him to move forward, let along get the elevation necessary for leaping over the rope.

"That was a nice blow," said a fellow nearby, turning to me, "the concept of a stone jard and likening the Home Stone to unfit mineral carrion."

"Yes," I agreed. "Deft." The jard is a small scavenging bird. It commonly moves in flocks.

"Even brilliant," said the fellow.

"I agree," I said. Boots Tarsk-Bit was also, quite unwitting of the fact, playing with his life.

"That is you holding the back of my knife belt, I trust," said Marcus, not looking about.

"Yes," I said, "it is I."

He did not remove his eyes from Boots and the Home Stone. His gaze was intense, fixed and fierce.

"Would you mind unhanding it?" he asked.

"Not at all," I said, "but not just now."

"Not even the slime slugs of Anango would take shelter beneath this rock!" cried Boots Tarsk-Bit, waving the stone about in his two hands.

"Well done!" cried a fellow, congratulating Boots on this sally.

I felt Marcus tugging at the belt.

"I told you not to come," I said to Marcus. "Then I told you to stay back." "But then I would not have been cognizant of these insults!" said Marcus.

"That is true," I admitted.

"Seremides," cried Boots, "tried to throw this miserable rock into a wastes vat. Do you know what happened? The wastes vat threw it back!"

There was laughter.

Marcus made a strange noise. Hitherto I had heard such sounds emanating only from larls and sleen.

I tightened my grip on his knife belt.

"Note these waste vats," cried Boots, indicating the two inverted vats on which the plank rested, on which the Home Stone was kept. "They are taking no chances!"

There was more laughter, even applause, at this.

"That is enough," said Marcus, grimly.

I restrained him from lunging forward.

Boots turned his head to one side and sneezed.

"At least he missed the Home Stone," said Marcus.

"Do not be too sure," I said.

"There is a line," said the officer of the guard, his eyes filled with tears, so amused had he been. "I do think another should now have his turn."

There were some cries of protest, even of dismay, about the outside of the roped-off circle.

"No, no!" cried Boots to the crowd, cheerfully, pacifying it. "It is true. The general is quite right! Let others have their chance, as well. Let me not monopolize time better distributed amongst the needs of my fellow citizens of free and glorious Ar! Let not this loathsome particle of disgusting gravel, fitting Home Stone for knaves and traitors, receive the impression that it might be I alone to whom the perfidy of its city is evident!"

He then moved about, bowing graciously, to one side or another, acknowledging applause and comments, smiling, waving, touching people here and there, and then took his way from the roped-off circle.

I removed my hand from Marcus' knife belt.

Marcus stood there. Now he seemed not angry, but shattered.

"Come away," I said.

"He failed," said Marcus to me.

"Come away," I said. I literally drew Marcus away from the rope. We then walked away, across the park and thence across the Avenue of the Central Cylinder. Another fellow was not within the circle. He was spitting, and crying out insults.

"We must go back, and try with blades," said Marcus, suddenly.

"No," I said. "We have been through that. That is not practical."

"Then he must try again, tomorrow!" said Marcus. "He must make a new attempt!" "No," I said.

"No?" asked Marcus.

"No," I said.

"We must have the stone!" said Marcus. "I shall not leave Ar without it!" "Concern yourself with the matter no longer," I said.

"I should have let him use magic," moaned Marcus.

"What?" I asked.

"In recommending that this be done by mere trickery," said Marcus, "we have lost the stone!"

"Oh?" I said.

"He could have done it by magic," said Marcus, angrily. "And it was I who discouraged him from doing so!"

"Do not be too hard on yourself," I said.

"Surely you remember his recounting of his powers? Surely you remember him asking if I wished the Central Cylinder moved, if I wished the walls of Ar rebuilt overnight, if I wished a thousand tarns tamed in one afternoon!" "Yes," I said. "I think I recall that."

"Yes," he said, miserably.

"Perhaps you should have asked for the Central Cylinder to be moved, instead," I said.

"Purloining the Home Stone would be child's play," he said, "compared to moving the Central Cylinder."

"Probably," I admitted.

"I would think it very likely," he said.

"You are probably right," I said. "But I am not an expert on such matters." "It is all my fault," he said.

"Recall clearly now," I said. "he only asked you if you wished the Central Cylinder moved, and such things. Certainly it would have been easy enough for you to have wished for that, and such things."

"What? asked Marcus.

"It is obviously one thing for him to find out if you wished to have the Central Cylinder moved, and quite another for him to move it."

"I do not understand," he said.

"It is not important," I said.