"I understand," I said.

"If a Ubar does not respect the law of the Home Stone, what man shall?"

"None," said I. "It is hard to be Ubar."

"It is less than an hour to sundown," said Hup.

I held Elizabeth to me.

"I have brought you papers," said Hup. "They have been endorsed to you. The slave is yours."

Elizabeth looked at Hup. He was Gorean. To him she was that, simply, a slave.

To me she seemed the world.

"Write on the papers," said I, "that on this first day of the restoration of Marlenus of Ar, the slave Vella was by her master, Tarl of Ko-ro-ba, granted her freedom."

Hup shrugged, and so endorsed the papers. I signed them, my name in Gorean script, followed by the sign of the city of Ko-ro-ba.

Hup gave me the key to Elizabeth's collar and anklet and I freed her of the steel that marked her slave.

"I will file the papers in the cylinder of documents," said Hup.

I took the free woman, Vella of Gor, Elizabeth Cardwell of Earth, in my arms.

Together we ascended the stairs to the roof of Ar's central cylinder and looked across the many towers of the city, at the bright clouds, the blue sky, the ridges of the scarlet Voltai in the distance.

The saddle packs of the tarn had been provisioned. But only I could saddle the sable monster.

I lifted Elizabeth to the saddle and, with binding fiber, tired her to its high pommel.

Hup stood there on the roof of the cylinder, the wind blowing his hair, his eyes, of uneven size and color, looking up at us.

Then we saw Relius and Virginia and, to my surprise, Ho-Sorl, followed by Phyllis, emerging to the roof.

Virginia was clad in garments cut from the beautiful, many colored robes of concealment of the free woman. But, proud of her beauty and glorious in her joy, she had boldly shortened the garments almost to the length of slave livery, and a light, diaphanous orange veil loosely held her hair and lay about her throat. She wore the robes of concealment in such a way as not to conceal but enhance her great loveliness. She had discovered herself and her beauty on this harsh world, and was as proud of her body as the most brazen of slave girls, and would not permit its being shut away from the wind and the sunlight.

The garments suggested the slave girl and yet insisted, almost demurely, on the reserve, the pride and dignity of the free woman. The combination was devastating, tormentingly attractive, an achievement so tantalizing and astoundingly exciting that I would not be surprised if it were adopted throughout Ar by the city's free women, rebellious, proud of their bodies, at last determined to throw off centuries of restriction, of confinement and sequestration, at last determined to stand forth as individuals, female individuals, sensuous as slave girls but yet rich in their own persons, intelligent, bold, beautiful, free. I mused to myself that slave raids on Ar might grow more frequent.

Elizabeth and I wished Relius and his Companion, Virginia Kent, well.

Phyllis, standing a bit behind Ho-Sorl and to his left, looked at us, tears in her eyes.

"Greetings, Slave," said Elizabeth.

Phyllis smiled. "Greetings, Mistress," she said.

Ho-Sorl permitted Phyllis to hold his left arm, and she did so, standing close to him, her cheek against his left sleeve.

She wore dancing silk. It was scarlet.

I looked boldly upon her, for a Warrior does not avert his eyes from the beauty of a woman, particularly that of a mere slave.

"Your slave is beautiful," said I, "Ho-Sorl."

"She will do," said Ho-Sorl.

"Your master is a beast, slave," Virginia informed Phyllis.

"I know," smiled Phyllis, "Mistress." She took the cloth of Ho-Sorl's sleeve between her teeth, delicately, pulling at it.

"I wish you well," said Ho-Sorl.

"We, too," said Elizabeth, "wish you all well."

"I wish you well," said Hup, raising his hand.

"I wish you well, Small Friend," said I. I raised my hand to the others. "I wish you all well."

I drew on the one-strap and the tarn, wings beating, lifted itself beautifully from the cylinder. We circled the cylinder once.

"Look!" cried Elizabeth.

I looked down and saw now that another figure stood on the roof of the central cylinder of Ar, a giant figure, one who wore the purple of the Ubar.

Marlenus lifted his hand in farewell.

I, too, lifted my hand, saluting him, and turned the tarn from Ar.

The sun was sinking behind the great gate of Ar as the tarn streaked over the walls, departing from the city.