"Of course," she smiled.

The handsome slave regarded her, puzzled.

"But I eluded the guards," she said. "It was not really too difficult. They are men, and stupid."

"How did Mistress outwit them?" asked the slave.

"As you will note," she said, "I wore a common street cloak and hood, secured for the occasion. A departure was arranged for a putative maid, supposedly one of my retinue, on personal business, and it was as such a one that I was passed through the guards."

"Mistress is to be praised for her discretion and cleverness," he said.

"Who will remove the veil of a free woman?" she laughed.

"Who, indeed?" inquired the slave, awed.

"And few," she laughed, "are even aware of the features of the Ubara!"

"True, wonderous Mistress," he said.

She laughed.

"How grateful and humbled I am," said he, "that I, only a slave, at three suppers, was permitted to look upon them."

"You dared to look upon me?" she asked.

"Forgive me, Mistress," he cried. "I had thought that perhaps it was for that reason that Mistress had lowered her veil."

"It was warm, those evenings," she said.

"Of course, Mistress!" he said.

"But, to be sure," she said, "I did fear that looking upon me, you might fall under my spell."

She then, gracefully, reached to the pins at the left side of the veil and unpinned it. A moment later she had lowered it, gracefully.

"Aii!" said he, softly. "What man could not fall under the spell of such a beauty?"

"Think you so?" she laughed, delighted.

"Yes!" he said. "Surely Mistress is the most beautiful woman on all Gor!" I glanced down at Lavinia. She was kneeling on the floor, to my left. I thought her lip trembled, and a tear formed in her eye.

"I feel like a slave girl," said the free woman, "running about, sneaking here and there, to keep a rendezvous."

Milo gasped. I conjecture he had just considered how exciting the female might be, if she were truly a slave, slave clad, slave collared, and such.

The Ubara looked at herself, in the mirror at the far end of the room.

"Sometimes I envy the meaningless property tarts," she said, "running about much as they please, here and there, in all their freedom, in their short skirts and collars. Sometimes I think that they have more freedom than I, that I, a free woman, indeed, one who is Ubara of Ar, am more slave than slave."

"Do not even think so!" said Milo.

"It is true," she said, dismally.

The male slave was silent.

The Ubara continued to regard herself in the mirror. I wondered how she saw herself, really, in that reflection. Did she see herself in the mirror as she now seemed, moody, and attired as befitted a woman of high caste, or did she see herself there otherwise, perhaps in a ta-teera or tunic, as men might choose to keep her.

"If I were a slave," she said, "and I were here, what do you think would be done with me?"

"Mistress is not a slave!" cried Milo, aghast.

"But, if I were?" she asked.

"And you were caught?" he asked.

"Of course," she said.

"Mistress would be severely punished," he said.

"Even though I am so beautiful?" she asked, skeptically.

"Especially so!" said he.

"Oh?" she said.

"Yes, Mistress," he assured her.

"Interesting," she said.

"But Mistress is not a slave!" he said.

"Lashed?" she asked.

"The least that might be done to Mistress," he said, "would surely be that she would be stripped, and tied, and lashed. Too, she might be bound, and subjected to the bastinado."

The free woman shuddered.

"And I do not think that Mistress would err in such a fashion again," he said. "Perhaps not," she said.

I glanced over at Tolnar, at the other observation portal. He looked over at me, and I returned my attention to the portal.

The Ubara, moving very little, was still regarding herself in the mirror. She seemed moody.

"Mistress?" asked the male slave.

"You do find me attractive, do you not?" she asked.

"Of course, Mistress!" he said.

"And do you not think other men might do so likewise?" she asked.

"Certainly, Mistress!" he said.

"Some think me the most beautiful woman in all Ar," she said.

"You are surely," said he, "the most beautiful woman on all Gor!"

Near me Lavinia put down her head. A tear fell to the floor.

"And I am Ubara!" said the free woman.

"Yes, Mistress," said the slave.

"A Ubara, too," she said, "is a woman, and I have a woman's needs."

"Yes, Mistress," said the slave.

The Ubara then, bit by bit, piece by piece, looking at herself from time to time in the mirror, the slave standing back, removed her outer garments. When she had stepped forth from her slippers, she stood before the mirror, barefoot, in a one-piece white, silken wraparound sliplike garment. It came slightly above her knees. She then unpinned the dark wealth of her hair, and shook her head, and then, with both hands, lifted it, and then swept it back, behind her shoulders. She regarded herself in the mirror. It was all I could do not to rush forth into the other room and seize her. About her neck, on a leather thong, there was a small, capped leather cylinder. I was confident I knew what it contained. Milo, on the other hand, would not. Milo had not had with him, I had determined, the note which had putatively come to him from the Ubara, that which had been written by Lavinia. I supposed he had destroyed it, as it might prove dangerously compromising. Neither the Ubara nor Milo, of course, knew of the notes which they themselves had supposedly written. All communications between then other than these had been effected by Lavinia, to the Ubara in the guise of a slave of the house of Appanius, to Milo in the guise of a state slave, with the exception of their rendezvous this morning. With Lavinia as go-between, under my instructions, matters had proceeded expeditiously, culminating apace, save for some delays on the part of the Ubara, presumably, to increase the anxieties of, and torment, the poor slave, in the arrangements for this assignation.

"I wonder if I am truly the most beautiful woman on all Gor," said the Ubara, looking into the mirror.

"Certainly," said Milo.

Near me, Lavinia had her head down, and in her hands.

"How could one doubt it?" asked Milo.

Near me Lavinia wept, silently. Tears had trickled down her wrists, and to the floor. I noted that her knees were in proper position, spread, given the sort of slave she was.

"And you, Milo," said the Ubara, "are a handsome brute."

"I am pleased if Mistress should find me not displeasing," he said.

"And surely," she said, "you are the most handsome man in all Ar."

"Mistress," he said, softly, coming close to her.

"Serve me wine!" she snapped.

"Mistress?" he asked.

"It that not wine, and assorted dainties," she asked, "on the table by the couch, that which I see behind me, in the mirror?"

"Yes, Mistress," he said.

"And certainly female slaves humbly and beautifully serve their masters in such a way," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," he said.

"Must a command be repeated?" she inquired.

"I am a male slave," he said. "I am not a female slave."

Surely you are aware that male silk slaves are trained in such things as the serving of wine to their mistresses," she said.

"I am not a silk slave," he said.

"I see that a command must be repeated," she said.

"No, Mistress!" he said. He hurried to the small table and put a tiny bit of wine into one of the small glasses. He then returned, and knelt before her. He then, holding the tiny glass in both hands, his head down between his extended arms, proffered her the beverage. But she did not receive it as yet at his hands. "Look up," she said. He did so. She fingered the small, capped cylinder at her neck. "Surely you know what is contained in this capsule," she said. He did not respond.