"If my captain will permit," said Tab, "it is late, and I shall withdraw." "Withdraw," I said.

He bowed his head and took his leave, and Midice slipped to her feet and accompanied him.

"I do not think it wise for Rencers," said Ho-Hak, "to be over long in Port Kar. Under the cover of darkness we shall depart."

"My thanks to you and your people," said I.

"The rence islands, now confederated," said Ho-Hak, "are yours."

"I thank you," I said, "Ho-Hak."

"We can never repay you," he said, "for having once saved many of us from those of Port Kar, and for having taught us the lesson of the great bow." "I am already more than paid," I said.

"Then no longer," said Ho-Hak, "are we in one another's debt."

"No longer," said I.

"Then," said Ho-Hak, putting out his hand, "let us be friends."

We clasped hands.

"In the marshes," he said, "you have friends."

"Good," I said.

Ho-Hak turned and I saw the board back of the exgalley-slave move through the door. Outside I heard him summoning his men. They would return to their rence craft tied at the foot of the delta wall.

"With your permission, Captain," said Thurnock, with a look at Thura, "it is late."

I nodded, and lifted my hand, and Thurnock and Clitus, with Thura and Ula, left the table.

"Good-night," said I, "my friends."

"Good-night," said they.

Now only Telima, and I and Samos, remained at the table, alone in the great hall.

"It must be nearly morning," said Samos.

"Perhaps an Ahn till dawn," I said.

"Bring cloaks," said Samos, "and let us climb to the height of the keep." We found cloaks, I that of the admiral, and we followed Samos from the room, across the tiled yard behind the great hall, and into the now-opened keep, and climbed behind him to its height.

From the height of the keep we could see the men of Tab, from the Venna and the Tela, here and there on guard. The great sea gate, leading out into the city, had been closed. The rencers, one by one, were climbing down ropes over the delta wall, returning to their small craft below.

We saw Ho-Hak the last to climb over the wall, and we raised our hands to him. He waved, and then disappeared over the wall.

In the light of the three moons the marshes flickered.

Telima looked at Samos, "Then," she said, "I was permitted to escape your house."

"Yes," said Samos, "and you were permitted to take the golden armlet, that Ho-Hak, with his men, would recognize you in the marshes."

"They found me within hours," she said.

"They were waiting for you," said Samos.

"I do not understand," said Telima.

"I bought you when you were a girl," said Samos, "with these things in mind." "You raised me as your daughter," she said, "and then, when I became seventeen-"

"Yes," said Samos, "you were treated with great cruelty as a slave girl, and then, years later, permitted to escape."

"But why!" she demanded. "Why!"

"Samos," said I, "was it from you that the message came, months ago, which I received in the Council of Captains, seeking to speak with me?"

"Yes," said Samos.

"But you denied it," I said.

"The dungeon of the hall of captains scarcely seemed the place to discuss the business of Priest-Kings."

"Priest-Kings?" breathed Telima.

I smiled. "No," I said, "I suppose not." I looked at him. "But when the message was delivered," I said, "you were not even in the city."

"True," said Samos. "I hoped by that ruse to make it easier to deny any connection between myself and the message, should denial seem in order." "You never again attempted to contact me," I said.

"You were not ready," said Samos. "And Port Kar needed you."

"You serve Priest-Kings," I said.

"Yes," said Samos.

"And it was for this reason, to protect me, one who once had served them as well, that you came to my holding?"

"Yes," said Samos, "but also because you had done much for my city, Port Kar. It was because of you that she now has a Home Stone."

"Does that mean so much to you?" I asked. Samos was the predator, the cruel, insensitive larl of a man, the hunter, the killer.

"Of course," he said.

We looked out. Disappearing now in the rence of the marshes, under the three moons, were the many small crafts of the rencers.

Samos, on the height of the keep, regarded me. "Return to the service of the Priest-Kings," he said.

I looked away. "I cannot," I said. "I am unworthy.

"All men," said Samos, "and all women, have within themselves despicable elements, cruel things and cowardly things, things vicious, and greedy and selfish, things ugly that we hide from others, and most of all from ourselves." Telima and I regarded him.

Samos put, not without tenderness, a hand on the shoulder of Telima, and another on my own shoulder.

"The human being," he said, "is a chaos of cruelties and nobilites, of hatreds and of loves, of resentments and respects, of envies and admirations. He contains within himself, in his ferments, much that is base and much that is worthy. These are old truths, but few men truly understand them."

I looked out over the marshes. "It was no accident," I said, "that I was intercepted in the marshes."

"No," said Samos.

"Does Ho-Hak serve Priest-Kings?" I asked.

"Not to my knowledge," said Samos. "But long ago, when was running from the galleys, and hunted, I concealed him in my house. I later helped him get to the marshes. From time to tome he has aided me."

"What did you tell Ho-Hak?" I asked.

"That I knew of one from Port Kar who would soon be traversing the marshes." "Nothing else?" I asked.

"Only," said he, looking at the girl, "that the girl Telima be used as the bait to snare you."

"The Rencers hate those of Port Kar," I said.

"Yes," said Samos.

"They might have killed me," I said.

"It was a risk I took," said Samos.

"You are free with the lives of others," I said.

"Worlds are at stake," said he, "Captain."

I nodded.

"Did Misk," I asked, "the Priest-King, know of any of this?"

"No," said Samos, "He would surely not have permitted it. But Priest-Kings, for all their wisdom, know little of men." He, too, looked out over the marshes. "There are men also who, coordinating with Priest-Kings, oppose the Others." "Who are the Others?" asked Telima.

"Don not speak now, Collared Female," said Samos.

Telima stiffened.

"I will speak to you sometime," I said, "of these things."

Samos has spoken gently, but he was a slaver.

"We anticipated," said Samos, "that your humanity would assert itself, that faced with a meaningless, ignominious death in the marshes, you would grovel and whine for your life."

In my heart I wept. "I did," I said.

"You chose," said Samos, "as warriors have it, ignominious bondage over the freedom of honorable death."

There were tears in my eyes. "I dishonored my sword, my city. I betrayed my codes."

"You found your humanity," said Samos.

"I betrayed my codes!" I cried.

"IT is only in such moments," said Samos, "that a man sometimes learns that all truth and all reality is not written in one's own codes."

I looked at him.

"We knew that, if you were not killed, you would be enslaved. Accordingly, we had, for years, nursing in her hatreds and frustrations, well prepared one who would be eager to teach you, a warrior, a man, one bound for Port Kar, the cruelties, the miseries and degradations of the most abject of slaveries." Telima dropped her head. "You prepared me well, Samos," she said.

I shook my head. "no," I said, "Samos, I cannot again serve Priest-Kings. You did your work too well. As a man I have been destroyed. i have lost myself, all that I was."

Telima put her head to my shoulder. It was cold on the height of the keep. "Do you think," asked Samos of Telima, "that this man has been destroyed? That he has lost himself?"