Five days out of Ko-ro-ba, we had stopped at one of these Merchant Fortresses. Inside the interior wall, girls are sometimes permitted to run free. They cannot escape, and it pleases them.

One wagon at a time, for a given interval, Targo permitted his girls, in wagon sets, to enjoy freedom of movement. How I ran inside the large fortress. Then I cried out, "Lana! Lana!"

"What?" she asked.

"Look!" I cried.

Over against one long wall of the stockade was the camp of the huntsmen of Marlenus. They had left Ko-ro-ba after us, but they had traveled more swiftly. Lana and I, and some of the other girls, ran to look at the cages of sleen and panthers, and the trophies. Lana laughed at the cages of male slaves. She and I went to them, with others, too, to taunt them.

We would come close to the cages, and when they would reach for us, we would jump back.

"Buy me!" I laughed.

"Buy me! Buy me!" laughed the others.

One of the men reached his hand for Lana. "let me touch you," he begged. She looked at him, contemptuously. "I do not permit myself to be touched by slaves," she said. She laughed scornfully. "I will belong to a free man, not a slave."

Then she walked away from him, as a slave girl, taunting him.

He shook the bars in anger.

"I, too," I informed him, "will belong to a free man, not a slave." Then I, too, walked away from him, showing him the contempt of a slave girl. I heard him cry out with rage, and I laughed. We looked, too, at the sleen and the panthers, and the skins, and the great, captive hith.

Verna's girls, the fifteen of them, stripped, were housed, crouching and kneeling, in small, metal cages. We threw dirt on them, and spat at them. I was particularly pleased to abuse the blond-haired girl, who had held my leash in the forest. I found a stick and poked her through the bars.

She snapped and snarled at me, like an animal, and reached, clawing, through the bars for me, but I was too quick for her.

I poked her again and again, and threw dirt on her, and laughed.

"Look!" said Lana.

I left the blond-haired girl.

We stopped before Verna's cage.

There were some of the huntsmen about, but neither Lana nor I feared them. They were not, we noted, much interested in what we did.

That gave us courage.

"Greetings, Verna," said I, boldly.

She was no longer manacles, but she was, I noted, securely confined in the cage. The cage itself was now hung from a pole, rather like a high trophy pole. Its floor was about six inches off the ground.

I looked up at her.

She looked down at me.

I would have preferred to have looked down upon her, but she was a taller woman than I, and, of course, the cage was suspended somewhat off the ground. "Perhaps you remember me?" I asked.

She looked at me, saying nothing.

"It was I, incidentally," I informed her, "who, in Ko-ro-ba, first cried out to the slave girls to strike you. It was I who instigated their attack." She said nothing.

"It is to me," I informed her, "that you owe that beating." Her face was expressionless.

I still held the stick with which I had poked the blond-haired girl, she who had held my leash in the forest.

I struck out with it, upsetting the pan of water in her cage, emptying it. The water ran over the small, circular floor of the cage, and some of it dripped out, falling to the ground.

Still Verna made no move.

I walked about the cage. Verna could not watch both myself and Lana. She did not turn to follow me. Behind the cage I reached in and stole the food she had in the cage, two larma fruit lying, split, on its metal floor. I bit into one and tossed the other to Lana, who, too, ate it.

When we had finished the fruit, Lana and I discarded the skin and seeds. Verna still watched us, not moving.

I was angry.

Suddenly I struck at her with the stick, and she flinched, but did not cry out. Lana threw dirt on her.

Then I seized the cage and, on its chain, spun it about. The chain twisted, and then the cage turned. Lana and I, laughing, spun the cage back and forth, and when I could I struck Verna through the bars. We struck her, and spat on her, and threw dirt on her.

There were huntsmen nearby but they did not restrain us. We had much sport. Then we let the cage hang still. Verna had her eyes closed. She held the bars. She swallowed.

After a time she opened her eyes.

We, for some minutes more, continued to abuse her, with sticks and dirt, and our spittle and our insults. She made no response.

I was not afraid of her. I had never been afraid of her.

Then we heard one of Targo's guards calling us. It was time for us to be returned to our wagon, and for another set of girls to be freed, to enjoy the liberty of the compound. I gave Verna another blow with the stick.

"Can't you say anything?" I screamed. I was infuriated that she had not cried out, that she had not groveled, that she had not wept for mercy.

We heard the guard call again.

"Hurry," said Lana, "or we will be beaten!"

I gave Verna one last blow, a stinging stripe across the shoulder, with the stick.

"Can't you say anything?" I screamed at her.

"You have pierced ears," she said.

I cried out in anger, and turned, throwing away the stick, and ran back to the wagon.

I threw another berry into the bucket.

"Ute," I said.

Ute turned again, to regard me.

"Speak to Inge," I said to her. "Tell her not to be cruel to me." I did not wish to address the girls of the chain as Mistress.

"Why do you not speak to her yourself?" asked Ute.

"She doesn't like me," I said. "She would beat me."

Ute shrugged.

"She likes you, Ute," I pressed. "Speak to her for me. Ask her not to make me call the other girls Mistress. I do not wish to do so. They are only slaves!" "We are all slaves," said Ute.

"Please, Ute," I begged.

"All right," said Ute. "I will ask her."

Ute then turned away, and continued to pick berries. It was now late in the afternoon. We were perhaps a pasang and a half from the distant wagons. From the hill on which we now picked berries I could see them. It would be time for the evening meal soon.

I looked about to see if the guard was watching. He was not.

My bucket was no more than half full.

Ute had put her bucket behind her and was picking berries about a yard ahead of it. Her back was to me. Ute was such a stupid little thing. I put my finger under the wide strap knotted about my throat, which tethered me to her. Then I crept close and took two handfuls of berries from her bucket and put them in mine.

I kept some to put in my mouth.

Then, as I put the berries in my mouth, I thought I heard something. I looked up, and back. Ute, too, and the guard, at the same time, heard it. He cried out and, angrily, began to run back toward the wagon.

Ute saw them before I did, in the distance. I had heard only sound, vague, from far off, like a myriad snappings, and shrill, wind-borne screams.

"Look!" cried Ute. "Tarns!"

In the distance, in a set of four, long, narrow, extended "V's", there came a flight of tarnsmen. The first «V» was lowest in altitude, and in advance of the other three; the second was second lowest, and in advance of the other two, and similarly for the third and fourth. There were no tarn drums beating. This was not a military formation.

"Raiders!" cried Ute.

I was stunned. What seemed most clear to me, and most incomprehensible, was that our guard left us. He had run back toward the wagons. We were alone! "There must be more than a hundred of them!" cried Ute.

I looked up.

"Down!" she cried, and dragged me by the arms to a kneeling position on the grass.

We watched them strike the caravan, in waves, and turn and wheel again, discharging their bolts.