"Where is Sasi?" I called.

"Silence!" said one of the askaris near me, lifting his stabbing spear in my direction.

"She was sold to a tavern keeper in Schendi," called the girl, "one called Filimbi."

One of the askaris wading beside the raft climbed angrily to its surface. The girl then stood very straight, frightened, looking straight ahead. But he, holding his shield and stabbing spear with his left hand, struck her twice, snapping her head back and forth, with his right hand. Blood was at her mouth. She had spoken without permission. The askari near to me, one supervising the chain, thrust me back with his shield and I fell in the water, and he hit me four times with the handle of the stabbing spear. I then regained my feet, angrily. He threatened me with the blade of the spear. I twisted my head, angrily, in my collar. Other askaris, too, stood about. I stood still in the water. On the surface of the raft the askari who had administered slave discipline to the blond-haired barbarian for her outburst thrust a slave whip, crosswise, in her mouth, thrusting it back between her teeth. This would keep her quiet. If she dropped it, of course, she would be beaten with it.

I saw the raft, slowly, being pulled beyond our chain. The blond-haired barbarian did not now dare look back. She looked straight ahead, the whip between her teeth. The other girl, also blond-haired and blue-eyed, did look back, once. I think she was puzzled to see one on the rogues' chain who wore a necklace of gold. I supposed she, too, was a barbarian, for they were a matched set, possibly also from Earth, though doubtless brought to the shores of Gor, like most, as a simple girl for the markets.

"Dig," said the askari who had struck me.

I would have thought that Sasi might have been able to elude capture longer than she had, but I had been mistaken. Apparently both girls had been taken again almost immediately as slaves. Soon thereafter, apparently, they had been put up for sale. They had been good merchandise, it seemed. Certainly both had been promptly vended, Sasi to Filimbi, whom I had heard of, the owner of a paga tavern, and the blond-haired barbarian directly or indirectly to an agent of Bila Huruma, quite possibly with the immediate object in mind of being used as a component in a matched set of girls, white, serving slaves, gifts for Tende, another projected political companion for the inland Ubar.

"Dig," said the askari, menacingly.

Naturally there had been on the raft, besides the girls, a chest of riches for Tende, riches which, according to the askaris, with whom Ayari took pains to be on good terms, would include such things as bolts of cloth, jewelries, cosmetics, coins and perfumes. This made good sense, of course, and made clear the generosity of the Ubar, Bila Huruma. His gifts to her would surely have been demeaning had they been limited to the presentation of two half-naked, white slaves.

The handle of the short stabbing spear struck down, viciously, across my shoulder.

"Dig!" said the askari.

"Very well," I said, and thrust the shovel again into the mud at my feet.

"You, too!" cried the askari to a man further down the line. "Dig! Dig!"

The fellow on the chain, tall, regal, regarded him contemptuously. Then he turned again, to look after the raft, bearing the gifts for Tende. The askari struck him about the shoulders and chest, repeatedly. Then, without deigning to look upon the askari, he began again to dig.

That man was Kisu, who had been the leader of the Ukungu rebels.

After a time, when the askaris had withdrawn a few yards, I said to Ayari, "Convey my greetings to Kisu." I had seen him look after the raft, and had read the cold rage, the fury like iron, in his body.

We waded, dragging the chain on our necks, toward Kisu. The men behind us, at our sign, moved with us.

Ayari spoke to Kisu, and he lifted his head, regarding me disdainfully.

"I have conveyed your greetings to Kisu," said Ayari, speaking to me in Gorean.

"He did not respond," I said.

"Of course not," said Ayari. "He is Mfalme of Ukungu. He does not speak to commoners."

"Tell him he is no longer the Mfalme of Ukungu," I said. "Tell him he was deposed. If there is any longer a Mfalme of Ukungu it is Aibu, the wise and noble."

Actually Aibu would become a district administrator, as high chieftain of Ukungu, under the sovereignty of Bila Huruma.

"Have your shovel ready," said Ayari to me, in Gorean.

"I will," I said.

But Kisu did not, upon receipt of my message, attack. He stiffened, and regarded me with fury, but he did not move to strike me with the shovel. For a proud man, and one both high-strung and powerful, he restrained himself creditably.

'Tell him I wish to talk with him," I said. "If necessary, he may, as Mfalme of Ukungu, elevate me to the nobility."

Ayari conveyed this cheerfully to Kisu.

Again Kisu restrained himself. Then he turned away. He began to dig.

"Tell him," said I, "that Bila Huruma, his own Ubar, speaks to commoners. Tell him that a true Mfalme listens to, and speaks with, all men."

Kisu straightened up, and turned to face me. His knuckles were white on the shovel.

"I have told him what you said," said Ayari. The speech of Kisu was closely related to the inland speech, and Ayari had no difficulty in communicating with him. It was harder for me, of course, for I was not that familiar with the inland speech. The inland and Ukungu speech, I suppose, would have been regarded linguistically as two dialects of the same mother tongue. The distinction between a dialect and a language is, at times, a conceptual one. In a series of villages, each village may be able to understand those proximate to it, but perhaps those in the first village cannot understand at all the speech of the tenth village. Thus one would think that the first village and the tenth speak different languages. Yet where shall the lines be drawn between them?

"Tell him," I said, "that he would do well to take lessons in leadership from a truly great leader, Bila Huruma."

This was conveyed to Kisu.

With a cry of rage Kisu leaped toward me, the shovel swinging toward my head. I blocked the blow and, bringing about the long handle of my own shovel, struck him a heavy blow alongside of the face. It would have staggered a kailiauk. To my amazement he did not go down. I then, smartly, began to deflect and parry blows. One slash or blow of the shovel would have finished me. I thrust him back twice with the handle of the shovel, the second time plunging the handle into his solar plexus. He stopped, paralyzed by the latter blow. But he did not fall. He could not then defend himself. I was breathing heavily. I did not, of course, strike him. That precise point of the body is one of the target areas taught to warriors. Such a blow is usually given with a thrust of the butt of a spear, generally in the crowding of close combat when you cannot bring the weapon about.

Kisu was, I had little doubt, quite similar in strength to myself. He was not, however, a trained warrior. It was little wonder that he and his forces had been defeated by the askaris of Bila Huruma.

He lifted his head, looking at me in amazement. He did not understand how such a blow could have stopped one of his strength. Then he threw up in the marsh.

The askaris waded to us, shouting angrily. They struck both of us with the handles of their stabbing spears.

We were separated and each thrust back to our own places, the chain line being then again strung out.

After a time Kisu turned about and called to Ayari. Ayari then spoke to me. "He wants to know why you did not kill him," he asked.

"I did not want to kill him," I said. "I only wanted to talk with him."

This was conveyed to Kisu. He then, again, said something.