We could see a large, flat wagon, drawn by four huge, beautifully groomed black bosk.

On the wagon, under a fringed, silken canopy, on a curule chair, there sat a woman.

The wagon was flanked by perhaps forty warriors, with spears, twenty to a side. We could hear the bosk bells, on the harness of the bosk, quite clearly now. The retinue would pass close by. Targo had gone out, his blue and yellow robe swirling, part way to meet it.

"Kneel," said one of the guards.

We did so, as in the display chain.

A Gorean slave girl in the presence of a free man or woman always kneels, unless excused from doing so. I had even learned to kneel when addressed by the guards and, of course, always, when approached by Targo, my master. A Gorean slave, incidentally, always addresses free men as "Master," and all free women as "Mistress."

I watched the flat wagon rolling closer.

The woman sat regally on the curule chair, wrapped in resplendent, many-colored silks. Her raiment might have cost more than any three or four of us together were worth. She was, moreover, veiled.

"Do you dare look upon a free woman? asked a guard.

I not only dared, but I was eager to do so. But, nudged by his foot, as the wagon approached, I lowered my head to the grass, as did the other girls. The wagon, and the retinue, stopped only a few feet opposite us.

I did not dare to raise my head.

I suddenly then understood that I was not as she. For the first time in my life I suddenly understood, kneeling in the grass in a Gorean field, the thundering, devastating realities of social institutions. I suddenly understood, as I had not before, how on Earth my position and my wealth had created an aura about me, that made lesser people respect me and move aside when I wished to pass, that made them deferential to me, eager to please me, fearful should they fail to do so. How naturally I had carried myself differently then they, better, more arrogantly. I was better! I was their superior! But now I was taken from my world.

"Lift you head, Child," said a woman's voice.

I did so.

She was no older than I, I am sure, but she addressed me as a child. The guard's foot nudged me again. "Buy me, Mistress," I stammered.

"A barbarian," smiled the woman. "How amusing."

"I picked her up in the fields," said Targo. He was anxious that my presence on his chain not be taken as evidence of his poor judgment. He wished to assure the woman that he had had me for nothing, that he would not have purchased such an inferior girl for his chain.

I looked into her eyes. How steadily she regarded me, over her veil, her eyes amused. How beautiful she seemed. How splendid and fine! I could no longer meet her eyes.

"You may lower your head, Girl," she said, not unkindly.

Gratefully I put my head again, swiftly, to the grass.

I was furious with how I acted, how I felt, but I could not help myself. She was so magnificent. I was nothing. The other girls, too, had their heads to the grass, kneeling before the free woman. They, like I, were only slaves, stripped, their ankles chained, their throats in leather coffle, branded girls, nothing before one who was free.

I wept. I was a slave girl.

There was a rustle of bosk bells and a creak of wheels. Targo moved back, bowing deeply, and the wagon slowly moved past us. The feet of the flanking guards passed within a yard or two of us.

When the wagon, and the retinue, had passed us, Targo straightened up. He had a strange expression on his face.

He was pleased about something.

"Into the wagons," said Targo.

"Into the wagons!" called the guards.

"Who was she?" asked the grizzled, one-eyed guard.

"The Lady Rena of Lydius," said Targo, "of the Builders."

Once again I found myself, with the other girls, chained in our wagon, moving slowly across the Gorean fields toward Laura.

That night, at a stream, we stopped early to camp. In the evening, the girls, under guard, attend to various tasks. They tend the bosk, clean the wagons, draw water and gather firewood. Sometimes they are permitted to cook. Ute and I, tied together by the throat, but otherwise unimpeded, wearing our camisks, like the other girls, under a guard, went off with two buckets to gather berries. There were not many berries, and it was not easy to fill our buckets. I stole berries from Ute's bucket, and had mine filled first. We were not supposed to eat the berries, and I do not think Ute did, but I would slip them inside my mouth when the guard was not looking. If one was careful to keep the juices inside there was no telltale sign on the lips and chin. Ute was such a sweet, precious little fool.

When we returned to the camp it was near dark. I was surprised to see, glowing near our wagon, a small, hot fire banked with stones. From the fire there protruded the handles of two irons.

When we had been fed, we were allowed to sit near the wagons. We wore our camisks. Our only fetter was a length of binding fiber, fastening us together, at intervals of about a yard. It was tied about the left ankle of each girl. For some reason the girls did not talk much.

Suddenly the guards leaped to their feet, seizing their spears.

Out of the darkness came two men, warriors. Between them, face-stripped, was a woman, stumbling. Her arms, over her resplendent robes, were bound to her sides with a broad leather strap. She was thrown to the feet of Targo. I, and the other girls, crowded about, but the guards pushed us back with their spears. The woman struggled to her knees, but was not permitted to rise. Her eyes were wild. She shook her head, no. Targo then, piece by piece, from the leather pouch at his belt, handed forty-five pieces of gold to the chief of the two men. The girls cried out in amazement. It was a fantastic price. And he had not even assessed her! We realized then that she had been contracted for in advance. The two men took Targo's gold and withdrew into the darkness.

"You were foolish to hire mercenaries to guard you," said Targo.

"Please!" she cried.

I recognized her then. She was the woman with the retinue. I felt pleasure.

"Please!" wept the woman. I admitted to myself that she was beautiful. "You have an admirer," Targo told her, "a Captain of Tyros, who glimpsed you in Lydius last fall. He has contracted to buy you privately in Ar, to be taken to his pleasure gardens on Tyros. He will pay one hundred pieces of gold." Several of the girls gasped.

"Who? asked the captive, plaintively.

"You will learn when you are sold to him," said Targo. "Curiosity is not becoming in a Kajira," said Targo. "You might be beaten for it."

I remembered that the large man, on the planet Earth, had said to me this thing. I gathered that it was a Gorean saying.

The woman, distraught, shook her head.

"Think!" urged Targo. "Were you cruel to someone? Did you slight someone? Did you not grant someone the courtesy that was his due?"

The woman looked terrified.

"Strip her," said Targo.

"No! No!" she wept.

The strap was removed from her body, and her clothing cut from her. She was bound tightly over the large rear wheel of our wagon. Her right thigh, particularly, was lashed tightly to it, with several straps of binding fiber. I myself wore my brand on the left thigh.

I watched her being branded.

She screamed terribly, her head back. Then she was sobbing, her cheek pressed against the rim.

We girls crowded about her.

Her head was down on the rim.

"Lift your head, Child," I told her.

She lifted her head and gazed at me, her eyes glazed. She was naked. I wore a camisk! In fury, I struck her face. "Slave!" I screamed. "Slave!" I struck her again. A guard pulled me away. Ute went to the girl and put her arms about her shoulders. Comforting her. I was furious.