Once more I saw it rise up among bodies. I heard men weep, and continue to strike at it. How it prided itself on its refinements, one its sense of gentility. How vain it had been! How irritated I had even been with it, with its confounded supercilious arrogance. How jealous it was of being a gentleman. It went down again. "We can't kill it!" screamed a man. "We can't kill it!" It even cooked its meat. Once more it thrust its way up through bodies, now waist-deep about it. An arm hung from its jaws. Spears and swords struck at it, again and again. "They will learn," it had said, "that even a gentleman know how to fight." Twice more it tore its way up among bodies, and then, at last, men stepped wearily back from it. Bodies were pulled away. It lay alone on the sand, dead. I could not even pronounce its name.

"Wait," said one of the officer. "Where is the other fellow, Bosk of Port Kar?"

I then stepped behind the ubar's box and lifted the partly opened trap and lowered myself into the passage below. I then closed and locked the trap, from the bottom. As it was designed, it was almost impossible to distinguish, from the surface, from the arrangements of tiling behind the box.

I, below, heard men walking about on the tiling, and on the wooden tiers.

"Where is Bosk of Port Kar?" I heard.

"He is gone," said another.

"He has disappeared," said another.

21 What Occurred in the Apartments of Belnar; Leather Gloves

I spun about.

"I thought you might come here," said Flaminius. "No, do not draw."

My hand hesitated. He had not drawn his own weapon. Behind him, in a rag of silk, was female slave.

"You may kneel, Yanina," he said.

"Yes, Master," she said, swiftly falling to her knees.

"You must forgive her," he said. "she is new to the collar. Only an Ahn or so ago was she branded."

She who had been the Lady Yanina looked at me, frightened. Then she put down her head, swiftly. I had seen in her eyes, in that brief moment that she had looked at me, that already she had learned that she was slave. This does not take long in the vicinity of Gorean men.

"Do not draw," he said.

"Is she yours?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"A pretty slave," I said.

"Yes," he said.

She trembled, scrutinized.

"I brought her along," he said. "She was with another search party. Almost anyone who could recognize you was with one party or another."

"I gathered that that might be the case," I said.

"She was given to me by Belnar," he said.

"Belnar is now dead," I said.

"So I understand," he said.

"The slave seems frightened," I said.

"You have reason to be frightened, don't you, my dear?" asked Flaminius.

"Perhaps, Master," she whispered. "I do not know, Master."

"Put your head down to the floor," he said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"She was put in a state collar," said Flaminius, "with no specifications or restrictions. Accordingly, even if she had not been given to me, I could have obtained her for myself, sending a silver tarsk to the exchequer. Who would gainsay me in that?" He looked down at the girl. "So in either case you would have come into my chains, wouldn't you, Yanina?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," she said, her head to the floor.

"Are you here for the same reason that I am?" I asked.

"Perhaps," he said.

I had returned by way of the passage behind the ubar's box in the baiting pit. Once here, I had begun my search, in various rooms, for obvious, unconcealed paraphernalia, of a sort that might be germane to kaissa, such things as boards and pieces, books, sheafs of papers, and records. I had, of course, in my return, lifted the dropped iron gate separating the private room, giving access to the passage, from the rest of the area. This was not difficult from the passage side. It had taken only a moment to locate the appropriate apparatus. I had then freed the lock bolts, which keep the gate in place once it has dropped, and, by means of a wheel, associated with chains and counterweights, raised the gate. The gate is freed, incidentally, by a small lever. Its fall is gravity controlled. The fall, though swift, is not destructive. The speed of its descent is controlled largely by the counterweights.

I had found what I had been looking for in a room apparently devoted to kaissa, in the midst of what were apparently merely the records of games, jotted on scraps of paper. Among those records, fitted in with them, were other papers. There was little doubt these were what I had sought. On one paper was a numbered list of names, names of well-known kaissa players. That, even, of Scormus was among them. On another paper there was what purported to be a list of tournament cities, and on another list of names, of individuals supposedly noted for their craftsmanship in the skill and design of kaissa boards and pieces. There were also, on other papers, numbered, too, the representations of boards.

Arranged in various ways on these boards were letters, sometimes beginning from a word, sometimes from a random, or seemingly random alignment of letters. These were all, I took it, keys to kaissa ciphers of one level of complexity or another. In a very simple case, for example, a given word, say, "Cibron," the name of a wood worker of Tabor, might occur. This key, then, in a simple case, without variations, would presumably be used in the following manner: the deciphering individual would write «C–I-B-R-O-N» in the first six spaces at the top of a kaissa board, moving from left to right, then following with the other, unused letters of the alphabet, moving from right to left on the second line, and so in, as "the ox plows," as standard Gorean is written. In this fashion each square of the board, with its name, such as "Ubar Five," and so on, would correspond to a letter, and some spaces, of course, would correspond to the same letter, thus providing cipher multiples. When one comes to the end of the originally unused letters, one begins anew, of course, starting then with the first letter of the alphabet, writing the full alphabet in order, and then continuing in this fashion.

Some of the lists had small marks after some of the words, seemingly casual, meaningless marks. These, however, depending on the slants and hooks, indicating direction, would indicate variations in letter alignments, for example. "Begin diagonally in the upper-left-hand corner," and such. Those keys on which the entire board appeared usually possessed complex, or even random, alignments, of letters, and several nulls, as well as the expected multiples. A Gorean «zero» was apparently used to indicate nulls.

I had thrust these papers in my pouch. The hastily opened coffer, which had seemed so momentous, and inaccessible, before, of course, had been only a diversion. The true concealment of the papers, one assuredly calculated to deceive those individuals who might have some just notion of their value, one worth of Belnar's brilliance, was to have them lying about, almost casually, mixed in, and seemingly belonging with, papers of no great importance. This subterfuge, was, so to speak, the disguise of unexpected obviousness. In this manner, too, of course, they would tend to be safe from common thieves, whose investigations presumably would be directed more toward the breaking open of strong boxes and the search for secret hiding places.

Given their relative accessibility and their apparent lack of value common thieves would not be likely to find them of interest.

If Belnar had erred here, I think it was in a very subtle matter. The pieces in the kaissa room, and the boards there, did not indicate frequent usage. The wood was not worn smooth and stained with the oil of fingers; the surface of the boards showed little sign of wear, or use, such as tiny scratches or even the subtle indications, the small rubbing marks, of polishings. Belnar, like most Goreans, was doubtless familiar with kaissa. On the other hand, it did not seem he often played. That being the case the abundance of hand-written notes and records about, seemingly related to the game, must, at least to some observers, appear something of an anomaly. It was at this point that I heard a subtle noise behind me. I had spun about.