"Surely Cos will take note of these changes in Ar," I said.

"I have heard that there are fights among youths in Ar," he said, "that the gangs of youths called «Cosians» are now set upon by others, who speak of themselves in eccentric names, such as "The Ubars," "The Larls," and such."

"I have heard that," I said.

"And, too, interestingly," he said, "it seems that some of those lads who were «Cosians» now wander about under quite different colors, not affecting beards and hair styles reminiscent of those once associated with veterans, hirsute and shabby, returned from the delta."

"I have heard that, too," I said.

I could recall when I had first come to Ar months ago that these veterans had not been welcome in the city. In spite of the hardships they had endured and the risks they had taken on behalf of Ar, both for the Home Stone and city, they had been held in contempt. They had been insulted, spat upon, ridiculed, and despised. Emotions which might better have been spent on the enemy were ventilated on one's own brothers. Some had scorned them as embarrassments and failures, as defeated men and fools, tricked, humiliated and decimated in the north, me who had dared to return to Glorious Ar without the crown of victory. Better, said some, that they should have died in the marshes or remained in the north then return home in defeat and disgrace. But those who said that had perhaps not themselves been in the delta, or even held weapons. Others, adopting the political ruses of Cos, had scorned them as little better than criminals, and as purveyors of imperialism, as though the ambitions of Cos were not the equal of those of Ar. Many of these men were confused and bitter. Was it for this that they had done their duty, was if for this that they had faced the delta, the tracklessness, the tharlarion, the insects, the hunger, the arrows of rencers, the blades of Cos?

"Some of these lads, former, «Cosians» and others," I said, "are apparently little better, still, than vandals, but, others, interestingly, it is rumored, track troop movements, shadow Cosian patrols and record the rounds of watchmen, reporting to the Delta Brigade."

"If so," said he, "that is a dangerous game for boys. I do not think Cos, in spite of their youth, will hesitate to impale them or have them at the ends of ropes."

"Others set themselves to different tasks," I said, "such as the supervision and protection of their own neighborhoods."

"A hopeful sign," said he, "if Ar, if only in her youth, should once again begin to look after herself."

"There is the Delta Brigade," I said.

"We are not of Ar," he said.

"But others, whosoever they may be, must be," I said.

"That cannot long continue."

"No," I said.

"And it she who holds the sword," he said.

"Gross Lurius of Jad, Ubar of Cos, and many of his ministers," I said, "are doubtless in favor of wielding it. Until now they have doubtless been restrained only by the general effectiveness of their political warfare, the policies of spreading guilt, confusion and self-doubt in the enemy, pretending to be not the foe but the concerned friend and ally."

"Let those beware," smiled Marcus, "who are invited to dine with the sleen."

"There is a crowd ahead," I said, "at the public boards."

"They seem angry," he said.

"Let us see what is afoot," I said, and together we hurried forward, toward the boards.

14 In the Vicinity of the Public Boards

Before the boards, rather in a circle before them, there was a crowd. Whereas, there may have been unwelcome information on the boards, the immediate attention of the crowd was not at this moment upon them.

"Here is the insolent slut!" cried a fellow.

We pushed in, toward the center of the circle.

"Make way," I said. "Guardsmen! Guardsmen!"

Men cried out with anger, but drew back.

Marcus and I had our armbands, those of auxiliary guardsman, a band of red beneath one of blue, Ar under the supervision of Cos.

"Cosian sleen," I heard. But the fellow did not make himself prominent.

"One side!" I said.

I glimpsed the face of a girl, white and frightened, in the center of the crowd. She was standing, being held by two fellows, on wrist in the care of each. To one side, quite close, there knelt four other girls, three in tunics of the wool of the bounding hurt, one in silk.

"Guardsmen!" I repeated, angrily, and forced myself forward.

The face of the standing, captive girl manifested sudden relief.

"Would you not know?" said one of the men, disgustedly.

One of the kneeling girls, too, cried out with joy.

"We are saved!" said another.

"What is going on here?" I demanded, not pleasantly.

"First the curfew," grumbled a fellow to another.

"Now this!" exclaimed another.

I resolved I must learn more of what was on the boards. Marcus could read them much more rapidly than I.

"Release me," said the standing girl, angrily. The two fellows who had seized her wrists let them go, and she rubbed her wrists, as though to push away even the memory of their grip.

"Greetings and welcome, noble guardsmen of Cos!" said she, delightedly. "I think you have arrived in time!"

The other four girls made as though to rise, righteously, but a glance from Marcus put them back instantly on their knees. This, I think, was not noticed by the girl who was standing, who was, I take it, a sort of leader amongst them. "What is the difficulty?" I asked.

"We caught her drinking from the top bowl of the fountain," said one, pointing to a nearby fountain.

"You are not kneeling," I said to the girl in the center.

"I am a woman," she said, "why should I kneel?"

This seemed to me a strange response. I would have supposed it an excellent reason to kneel, being in the presence of men, if one were a woman. If she were a free woman, of course, fitting or not, there would be no legal proprieties involved. A free woman, as long as she remains free, can stand to the fullness of her short, graceful height before men.

"What is your status?" I asked.

"Slave," she said, tossing her lovely head, her hair swirling.

To be sure, my question was somewhat rhetorical, as her neck was appropriately banded.

I considered her.

She met my eyes for a moment, and then, angrily, looked away.

She was rather modestly garbed, I thought, her tunic coming to her knees. Too, it was not belted. This was presumably to conceal her figure. On the other hand, I conjectured that beneath that garment, woven of the wool of the bounding hurt, her figure might not be without interest. She wore no makeup. She had been given sandals. I considered her mien. I did not doubt but what she had a weak master. "As you are slave," I asked, "how is it that you are not kneeling?"

"A strange question," she said, "coming from a guardsman of Cos."

"Yes," said a man, angrily.

"Tell me of your master," I said.

"He is liberated," she said, "and of the times! He knows my worth!"

"You would not be insolent in Cos, or Anango, or Venna!" said a man.

"I am in Ar!" she laughed. "Cos' Ar!"

"Hold!" I said angrily to the men, holding them back.

"Let her be punished," said a fellow.

"No!" she laughed. "You do not dare touch me now! There are guardsmen of Cos present! I am safe!"

Inwardly I smiled, wondering what her attitude might be, had she found herself anywhere but where she was, and in the presence of the power of Cos, in the form of Marcus and myself. What if she had found herself, for example, tied with wire in an alcove in Brundisium, almost concealed in ropes on a submission mat in the Tahari, wearing a body cage in Tyros, bound to the wheel in the land of the Wagon Peoples, shackled on a sales platform in Victoria, fearing the auctioneer's whip, or prone and chained on one of the swift ships of the black slavers of Schendi?