"What do you think?" I asked the slave.

"It is true, Master," she said.

"Now that fellow," said the paunchy fellow, gesturing to the hooded fellow, "is different from us. He lives only for kaissa. He does not so much as touch a woman. To be sure, it is probably just as well. They would doubtless faint with terror at the very sight of him."

"Do you wish to play, or not?" asked the hooded fellow, looking up at me.

"Under the conditions you propose," I said, "I would not accept a win from you, if you were Centius of Cos." Centius of Cos was perhaps the finest player on Gor. He had been the champion at the En'Kara tournaments three out of the last five years. IN one of those years, 10,127 C.A., he had chosen not to compete, giving the time to study. In that year the champion had been Terence of Turia. In 10,128 C. A., Centius had returned but was defeated by Ajax of Ti, of the Salerian Confederation, who had overcome Terence in the semifinals. In 10,129 C.A., last En'Kara, Centius had decisively bested Ajax and recovered the championship.

At the metnion of the name Centius of Cos, the hooded player had stiffened angrily. "I assure you I am not Centius of Cos," he said. He then, angrily, thrust the pieces intot he leather bag tied to his belt, put the board under his arm, and, limping, withdrew.

"It is still early!" called the paunchy fellow after the hooded man. "Where are you going?"

But the hooded fellow had disappeared between the booths, going somewhere to the rear.

"I am sorry," I said. "I did not mean to upset him."

"Do not worry about it," said the paunchy fellow. "It is always happening. He is a touchy fellow, impetuous, arrogant and reckless. Doubtless the ground should be grateful that he deigns to tread upon it. His kaissa, on the other hand, seems strong. It is probably too good, really, for what we need."

"Perhaps he should apply for membership in the caste of players," I suggested.

"He does not seem interested in that," he said.

"Oh," I said.

"Besides, he is a grotesque monster," he said. "Even the slaves fear him."

"I understand," I said.

"Too, if he were really any good, honestly speaking, between you and me, he would not be with us."

"I see," I smiled. To be sure, there was more moeny to be made in the kaissa clubs and on the high bridges. It was interesting to me that the fellow had limped. I had once known a kaissa player who had done that. To be sure, it was long ago.

"Have you, yourself, ever played him?" I asked.

"No," said the fellow. "I do not play kaissa."

"I see," I said.

"You are Boots Tarsk-Bit?" asked a voice.

The voice came from behind us. The paunchy fellow with me turned white.

I turned about.

"Greetings, Captain," siad the man.

"Greetings," I said to him. It was the officer of the Master of Revels. Behind him were the two members of the Council Guard.

"Hold," said the officer to the paunchy fellow, who, it seemed, had backed away, turned, and was bout to disappear between the stage and the kaissa booth.

"Did you call?" asked the paunchy fellow, pleasantly, turning.A meaningful gesture from the officer, pointing to a spot in front of him, brought the puanchy fellow alertly back into our presence. "Yes," he inquired, pleasantly.

"I believe you are Boots Tarsk-Bit," siad the officer, "of the company of Boots Tarsk-Bit."

"He must be somewehre about," siad the paunchy fellow. "If you like, I shall attempt to search him out for you."

"Hold," said the officer.

The paunchy fellow returned to the spot in front of the officer.

"That is he," siad one of the guards wiht him.

"No offense meant, good sir," siad that paunchy fellow, "A mere jest!"

"You are Boots Tarsk-Bit," said the officer, consulting an inked handbill, clipped wiht other papers. "Actor, Entrepreneur, and Impresario, of the company of Boots Tarsk-Bit?"

"At your service," said the paunchy fellow, bowing low. "What may I do for you?"

The girl was now kneeling beside me, with her head down. She had assumed this position immediately upon the appearance of the officer and ghe guards.

"We are here in connection with the matter of a license," said the officer.

"Yes," said the paunchy fellow, Boots Tarsk-Bit, pleasantly.

"Do you have one?" asked the officer.

"Would you care to come to my quarters?" asked Boots. "We have some lovely larmas there, and perhaps you and your men would like to try my Bina and Brigella."

"In the license," said the officer, "there is the provision that girls associated with companies such as yours, if slaves, may be commanded to the apartments and service of whomsoever the council, or a delegated officer of the council, directs."

"I scarcely ever read all the provisions of the licenses," said Boots. "Such things are so tedious."

"Do you have a license?" asked the officer.

"Of course!" said Boots, indignantly. "They are required, as is well known. No fellow with the least sense of ethics would think of being without one."

"May I see your license?" inquired the officer.

"Certainly," said Boots, fumbling about in his robes. "It is right here-somewhere." He examined his wallet. "Somewhere," he assured the officer. "Alas," he said, after the second ransacking of his robes, and his third examination of the wallet. "it must be in my quarters, perhaps in the wardrobe trunk. I shall return in a nonce. I trust that I shall not discover that I have been robbed!"

"Hold," said the officer.

"Yes?" said Boots, turning back.

"According to our records," said the officer, "you have no license. You did not petition to perform, and you did not obtain a license."

"I remember distinctly obtaining the license!" said Boots.

The officer glared at him.

"Of course, it might have been last year," said Boots. "Or maybe the year before?"

The officer was silent.

"Could I have neglected such a detail?" asked Boots, horrified. "Could such a thing have slipped my mind? It seems impossible!"

"It is not really so hard to believe," observed the officer. "It has happened three years in a row."

"No!" cried Boots, in horror.

"It is folks like you who give scoundrels and rogues a bad name," said the officer.

"What are you writing?" asked Boots anxiously.

"A disposition order," said the officer.

"To what effect, may I inquire?" pressed Boots.

"Your properties," said the officer, "including your actresses, will be confiscated. They will look well in state chains. You yourself will be publically flogged in the piazza, and the, for five years, banished from Port Kar."

"It is carnival time," I said to the officer.

"Captain?" he asked.

"What is owed?" I asked.

"The licensing fee is a silver tarsk," he said.

"Surely," I said to Boots Tarsk-Bit, "your players have taken in a silver tarsk?"

"No," he said. "We have, so far tonight, taken in only ninety-seven tarsk-bits, not even ten copper tarsks." Coinage on Gor baries considerably from city to city. IN Port Kar, and genreally in the Vosk Basin, there are ten tarsk bits to a copper tarsk and one hundred copper tarsks to a silver tarsk.

Surely you have some money saved," I said.

"Not enough," he said. "We live from day to day. Sometimes there is nothing to eat."

"More than a silver tarsk is actually involved, Captain," said the officer. "There is the matter of the last two years, as well, considerations of interest, and the customary emluments."

"I am runed," said Boots Tarsk-Bit.

"Let us not be hasty, officer," I said. "Boots Tarsk-Bit is an old friend of mine, a friend from long ago."

Boots looked at me, startled. Then he nodded, earnestly. We had known one another for quite some time now, at least ten Ehn.

"If you wish, Captain," smiled the officer, "I shall not pursue the matter further." He knew me. He had been with the fleet on the 25th of Se'Kara.