“Kavars supreme!” I heard. I rushed to the window and my scimitar thrust through and the figure, in burnoose, screamed, clutched at the side of the window, and fell back, bloodied, into the darkness. I reached to close the shutters. Two arrows struck the wood, splintering needles of wood into my cheek: then the shutters were pulled closed, fastened: another arrow burst half through one, hanging on our side. The inn boy stood by the sand clock, looking wildly about.

We heard the paws of kaiila, their squeals and snorts, and hisses. I beard a man cry out. Somewhere I beard a door splintering, though not, I thought, of the inn. “Kavars supreme!” I heard.

“Upstairs!” cried Hassan. “To the roof!”

I took the stairs four at a time, climbing to the second floor. The inn boy, terrified, fled through a door to the kitchen.

Alyena, white faced, stood, her arm held in the grip of one of Hassan’s men.

“Follow me,” said Hassan. Other guests at the inn fled downstairs. A woman screamed.

We climbed a narrow ladder, pushing up a trap door to the roof. We stood under the three moons of Gor. The desert looked white. Beneath us, in the streets, people were running, some carrying belongings. “To the kasbah!” cried a man.

“Seek safety in the kasbah!” Among the running people rode warriors, slashing about themselves, slaying and freeing for themselves a path for their mounts.

“Kavars supreme!” they cried.

“Kavars!” I cried.

Hassan looked at me, wildly, angrily. “To the stable yard,” he said. We ran across the roof to the walled stable yard. He cried orders, swiftly. Saddles were fetched, two men leaped down from the roof to the ground below, then leaped up, running to the stables. I saw a fire arrow loop in the sky over palms. I heard the sounds of axes. There was, on the other side of the wall, much screaming. We heard the door of the inn splintering. Below us, in the stable yard, holding the reins of kaiila, came Hassan’s men. “Guard the trap door,” said Hassan to one of his men. Almost at that moment the trap door thrust up and a man’s face appeared; Hassan’s man thrust his scimitar through the jaw and wrenched it free, loose with blood and teeth and kicked shut the door.

“To the kasbah!” cried a man below in the street, terrified.

“Into the desert!” cried a woman. “The kasbah is bolted against raiders! People die at the gate, cut down, pounding to enter!”

“Fire!” I cried. An arrow had fallen within the stable yard, striking through the straw in the storage stall at the right. We saw a man climbing over the gate to the stable yard. He fell back, thrust from the gate by a lance in the hands of one of Hassan’s men. The interior of the stable yard was now well lit, by the blazing straw. The kaiila squealed in fright. Hassan’s men threw their burnooses over the heads of the animals. Two were saddled.

“Look there!” I cried. Two raiders had climbed to the roof, leaping from their kaiila. Hassan and I met them, fiercely, forcing them back over the edge, into the crowded, dark, screaming throng below. I saw a palm tree falling. Four buildings were afire.

A woman screamed below.

More riders, slashing, pressed by, below us. “Their garments, their saddles,” said Hassan, “are Kavar!”

From the roof we could see men and women, and children, running through the palm groves and gardens.

Another building, this time to our left, caught fire. I smelled smoke.

“The inn is afire,” I said.

“Tarna!” we heard. “Tarna!”

Hassan went to the edge of the wall looking down into the now blazing stable yard. “Follow them!” cried Hassan, indicating his two men below, to the rest of his men, even to he who guarded the trap door. They vaulted the edge of the roof, striking below in the stable yard. Hastily they saddled their kaiila. I could now see fire, in a bright, geometrical, right-angled line, glowing from below, about the trap door’s edge.

Hassan tore off his own burnoose and, putting it under Alyena’s arms, lowered her from the roof to the arms of one of his men, mounted on his kaiila. Alyena looked upward at Hassan, wildly. “Master!” she cried. But he had gone.

We ran again to the other edge of the roof. We could see more raiders coming There were flights of them, paced out, perhaps hundreds altogether.

“On my signal,” said Hassan, “have them throw open the gate to the stable yard, and ride!”

I went to the edge of the roof overlooking the burning yard. I saw the man to whom Alyena had been lowered. She was now on her own kaiila. It was wedged in, among the others.

“I relay the signal of Hassan,” said I. “Upon this signal, take flight!”

“Two kaiila are saddled for you,” said he, indicating two mounts.

“Upon the signal,” said I, “take flight.”

“What of you,” he cried “and Hassan!”

“Upon the signal.” I said, “take flight.”

“Prepare to open the gate.” said-the man to two of his fellows, who, mounted, waited near it. Each would draw back one of the bars.

“Hassan!” screamed Alyena. “Hassan!”

One must watch, to see when the escape might best emerge, from the yard, another must convey the signal.

“Hassan!” screamed Alyena, from below.

I smiled to myself. She had dared to soil the name of her master by putting it on her lips which, though beautiful, were only those of a slave. Girls are not, commonly, permitted to speak the name of their master. He is addressed as, or responded to, as “Master” or “my Master.” If Hassan survived, he would. I suspected, well beat her for this lapse. Some masters, it might be noted.

However, permit the girl to speak their name, if it is accompanied by an acknowledgement of title, as in, say, “Hassan, Master,” or “Hassan, my Master.”

Hassan, however, was not so lenient: he had, as yet, not permitted his pretty Alyena this liberty. I had little doubt, should he survive, the lovely, little wench would be well whipped for her oversight, her agonized outburst, bordering on insolence.

His hand was lifted. His bead was low, looking over the ledge. I heard a flight of riders thunder by. His hand fell.

“Go!” I said.

The bars were withdrawn; the gates swung wide; the burnooses were thrown from the heads of the animals, and the kaiila bolted from the blazing stable yard into the suddenly illuminated street.

We heard men shouting.

In moments the kaiila and their riders had vanished down the street.

“There are two kaiila remaining, saddled,” I called to Hassan. “Hurry!”

“Take one!” he cried. “Be off! There is time! Be off!”

Instead I joined him at the edge of the roof.

Now another flight of the kaiila riders sped by beneath the roof. We kept our heads low.

“Are you not coming?” I asked.

“Be off!” he whispered. “Wait!” he said.

Then, below, through the streets, in swirling purple and yellow burnooses, came eleven riders.

“Tarna!” we heard. “Tarna!”

They reined in, almost below the edge of the roof. Several other riders, raiders, were with them, behind.

“Tarna!” we heard.

The leader of the riders, in blue and purple burnoose, stood in the stirrups, surveying the carnage.

Reports were made by lieutenants to this leader. Orders were issued to these men and they, on their kaiila, sped away. The leader, graceful, slight, vital, stood in the stirrups, scimitar in hand.

“The wells?” asked a man.

“Destroy them,” she said.

He sped away, followed by a cloud of riders. The leader sat back in the saddle, burnoose swelling in the wind, light, wickedly curved scimitar across the pommel.

“Destroy the palms, burn the buildings,” she said.

“Yes, Tarna said lieutenants, and they wheeled their mounts, going to their men.

The girl looked about and then, rapidly, with a scattering of dust, she moved her kaiila in the direction of the kasbah. She was followed, swiftly, by the ten riders who had accompanied her, and several others of the raiders.