Hunters of Gor

3 I Buy a Thief

A girl bumped into me, black haired, briefly skirted in brown, bare armed, barefoot, tanned, a small, sensuous wench, free.

We were jostling through crowds near the docks of Lydius.

Rim was with me, and Thurnock.

I looked after the girl, disappearing in the crowd. She had been free. She was safe from enslavement in her own city. She had perhaps grown up along the docks, and in the alleys behind the paga taverns.

I had noticed something about her, the side of her head, beneath her hair, as she had slipped swiftly past, but, at the moment, I could not place it. Some free girls, with family, I knew, kept themselves, as best they could, in certain port cities.

I glanced about myself, in the crowds, as we worked out way through them. I say a blond giant from Torvaldsland, with braided hair, in shaggy jacket; a merchant from Tyros, hurrying, perfumed and sleek; seamen from Cos, and Port Kar, mortal enemies, yet passing one another without thought in the streets of Lydius; a black woman, veiled in yellow, borne in a palanquin by eight black warriors, perhaps from as far south as Anango or Ianda; two hunters, perhaps from Ar, cowled in the heads of forest panthers; a wood cutter from one of the villages north of Lydius, his sticks bound on his back; a peasant, from south of Laurius, with a basket of suls; an intent, preoccupied scribe lean and clad in the scribe’s blue, with a scroll, perhaps come north for high fees to tutor the sons of rich men; a brown-clad, hearty fellow from Laura, some two hundred pasangs upriver; a slaver, with the medallion of Ar over his robes; two blond slave girls, clad in brief white, bells on their left ankles, walking together and laughing, speaking in the accents of Thentis; I saw even a warrior of the Tuchuks, from the distant, treeless plains of the south, thought I did not know him; it was not by the epicanthic fold that I recognized him; it was by the courage scars, high on his angular cheekbones.

I overheard an argument, between a seller of vegetables and two low-caste women, in simple robes of concealment.

Elsewhere I heard a vendor of pastries crying his wares. From within a nearby paga tavern I heard the sounds of musicians.

A physician, in his green robes, hurried past.

And I could smell the sea, Thassa, and the intermingling of the Laurius, with its fresh water, feeding into gleaming Thassa. I could smell tharlarion, and fish.

We had taken the Tesephone to mooring at a public dock. I wished to spend some days in Lydius, to lay in adequate supplies for the hunt.

I knew I was some days behind Marlenus of Ar, who now, I supposed, might be in Laura, upriver.

He sought Verna, for vengeance, because his honor had been challenged. I sought Talena, who had once been my free companion, now said to be slave of the outlaw girl, Verna.

I recalled Telima, who, prior to my departure for the north, had returned to her beloved marshes. I was angry.

I must seek Talena!

Thurnock, at my command, had this morning sold the two panther girls, Tana and Ela, at the slave market. It is quite near the wharves in Lydius.

I did not think it would be easy to find Talena, but I was confident that I could do so.

A leather worker passed me.

I did not, on nearing Lydius, fly the flag of Bosk, that bearing the head of a bosk, black, across a field of vertical green bars, the famous flag of Bosk, from the Marshes.

I did not wish to be recognized. I, and Rim and Thurnock, wore the simple tunics of seamen.

I would call myself Bosk, of Tabor. Tabor is an exchange island in Thassa, south of Teletus. It is named for the drum, which, rearing out of the sea, it resembles. My business was to go to Laura, and there bargain for a hold of sleen fur, which might be taken south for much profit. Some eight to ten bales of sleen fur, highly prized, is a plausible cargo for a light galley. That the Tesephone, a ram-ship, was engaging in commerce was unusual, but not particularly so, especially considering the cargo we were putatively interested in carrying. Most commercial voyages, needless to say, are carried out in deeper-keeled, broader-beamed ships, the famed round ships of Thassa. The representative of the Merchants, to whom I reported my business, and to whom I paid wharfage, asked no questions. He did not even demand the proof of registration of the Tesephone of Tabor. The Merchants, who control Lydius, under merchant law, for it is a free port, like Helmutsport, and Schendi and Bazi, are more interested in having their port heavily trafficked than strictly policed. Indeed, at the wharves I had even seen two green ships. Green is the color common to pirates. I supposed, did they pay their wharfage and declare some sort of business, the captains of those ships were as little interrogated as i. The governance of Lydius, under the merchants, incidentally, is identical to that of the exchange islands, or free islands, in Thassa. Three with which I was familiar, from various voyages, were Tabor, Teletus and, to the north, offshore from Torvaldsland, Scagnar. Of these, to be honest, and to give the merchants their due, I will admit that Tabor and Teletus are rather strictly controlled. It is said, however, by some of the merchants there, that this manner of caution and restriction, has to some extent diminished their position in the spheres of trade. Be that as it may, Lydius, though not what you would call an open port, was indulgent, and permissive. Most ports and islands on Thassa, of course, are not managed by the Merchants, but, commonly, by magistrates appointed by the city councils. In Port Kar, my city, the utilization of the facilities of the port is regulated by a board of four magistrates, the Port Consortium, which reports directly to the Council of Captains, which, since the downfall of the warring Ubars, is sovereign in the city. I suppose the magistrate, who, with his papers, met us at the dock, did not believe my story.

He was smiling, when he wrote down my putative business. He had looked at my men. They did not appear to be merchant rowers. They looked much like what they were, men of Port Kar.

We tied up next to a medium-class ram-ship of Tyros. Its heavy beams were painted yellow.

The mate of the ship leaned over the rail. He wore a brimless yellow cap, over one ear. “I hear you are of Tabor,” he said.

“Yes,” said I.

“We,” he said, “are of Turia.”

I smiled. Turia is a city of the far south, below the equator. It lies in the lands of the Wagon Peoples. There is little water closer to it than a thousand pasangs. He might as well have used Tor, which is an oasis city in the deserts far below Ar, and to its east.

He laughed.

I lifted my hand to him, and turned about my business.

Rim, Thurnock and I continued to make our ways through the crowds at the waterfront.

We passed great piles of rough goods, which, later, would be loaded on barges, for transport upriver to Laura, tools, metals, woolens. We passed, too, through goods which had been brought downriver from Laura, and would pass through Lydius, bales of sleen fur, and bundles of panther hides and tabuk pelts. There would be better prices on sleen fur, of course, in Laura itself. Too, from Laura, much in evidence, were great barrels of salt, stacks of lumber, and sleds of stones, on wooden runners, from the quarries to her east. We also saw cages filled with the blond village girls, taken on raids to the north, they too, in their cages brought on the barges downriver from Laura. They would not be sold in Lydius, but, the cages emptied, would be taken by sea, chained in the holds of slave ships, to southern markets. We also passed a chain of male slaves, brought downriver from Laura, shaven-headed wretches, taken somewhere in the forests by fierce panther girls. They had probably been sold near Laura, or along the river.

The two male slaves I had purchased from Sheera and her band, I had freed. I gave them clothing, and two silver tarsks apiece. They had wished to remain with me, in my service. I had permitted it.

“What price did you obtain for the panther girls you sold?” I asked Thurnock. I had not been much interested in them. It only now occurred to me to inquire what they had gained me.

“Four pieces of gold,” said Thurnock.

“Excellent,” I said. That was a high price for a raw girl in the north. They, of course, had been beauties. They had been panther women. In the hold of the Tesephone, they had learned that they were female. Tana and Ela, I expected, would make exquisite slaves.

We continued along the docks of Lydius, satisfying our curiosity as to the port. We passed some fortified warehouse, in which space is available to merchants. In such places, there would be gems, and gold, silks, and wines and perfumes, jewelries and spices, richer goods not to be left exposed on the docks. In such houses, too, sometimes among the other merchandise, there are pleasure slaves, trained girls, imported perhaps from Ar. Their sales will either be public or private. They are kept in lamplit, low-ceillinged, ornately barred cells. Such girls are commonly rare in the north. They bring high prices.

We passed another paga tavern. I licked my lips.

Lydius is one of the few cities of the north which has public baths, as in Ar and Turia, though smaller and less opulent.

It is a port of paradoxes, where one finds, strangely mingled, luxuries and gentilities of the south with the simplicities and rudenesses of the less civilized north. It is not unusual to encounter a fellow with a jacket of sleen fur, falling to his knees, sewn in the circle stitch of Scagnar, who wears upon his forehead a silken headband of Ar. He might carry a double-headed ax, but at his belt may hang a Turian dagger. He might speak in the accents of Tyros, but startle you with his knowledge of the habits of wild tarns, knowledge one would expect to only find in one of Thentis. Those of Lydius pretend to much civilization, and are fond of decorating their houses, commonly of wood, with high pointed roofs, in manners they think typical of Ar, of Ko-ro-ba, of Tharna and Turia, but to settle points of honor they commonly repair to a skerry in Thassa, little more than forty feet wide, there to meet opponents with axes, in the manner of those of Torvaldsland.

I recalled the girl who jostled me earlier. She had been a sensuous little thing. Again, through my memory, flashed the vague image of the side of her head, as she slipped past, and her hair, moving aside. I could not place what I was trying to recall, if anything.

It was now near noon.

“Let us return to some paga tavern near the ship,” I suggested.

“Good,” said Thurnock.

This very afternoon I wished to begin to purchase supplies.

We, with Rim, turned about. I was anxious to be on my way.

Two warriors passed, proud of their red.

They were probably mercenaries. Their speech reminded me of that of Ar. They did not wear, in silver, the medallion of the Ubar. They were not of the retinue of Marlenus, whom I now believed to be in Laura, or in the vicinity of Laura.

Yes, I was anxious to be on my way. I wished to reach Verna before Marlenus of Ar.

I expected that I would be successful. I had information, specific information, thanks to Tana and Ela, which Marlenus, presumably, lacked.

“I am hungry now,” remarked Rim.

We were just passing a paga tavern. Within it, dancing in the sand, chained, was a short-bodied, marvelous female slave.

I laughed. So, too, did Thurnock.

“The taverns nearer the ship,” I suggested, “are doubtless more crowded.” We laughed again, and entered the tavern.

I was in a good mood. I was sure that I would regain Talenus, and Tana and Ela had gone for a good price. We would use part of the proceeds from their sale to purchase our lunch.

We took a table, an inconspicuous one, near the rear of the paga tavern, yet one with an unimpeded view. The short-bodied girl was indeed superb. Aside from her chains, confining her wrists and ankles, she wore only her collar.

There was a flash of slave bells at my side, and a dark-haired, yellow-silked girl, a paga girl, knelt beside us, where we sat cross-legged behind the small table. “Paga, Masters?” “For three,” said I, expansively. “And bring bread and bosk, and grapes.” “Yes, Master.” I felt rather jubilant. Talena would soon again be mine. I had made a good profit on Tana and Ela.

The music of the musicians was quite good. I reached to my pouch, to take from it a golden tarn and throw it to them.

“What is wrong?” asked Thurnock.

I lifted the strings of the cut pouch. I looked at Rim and Thurnock. We looked at one another, and together we laughed.

“It was the girl,” I said, “the black-haired girl, she who jostled me in the crowd.” Rim nodded.

I was quite amazed. It had been done so swiftly, so deftly. She had been quite good.

I had not, until now, realized I had been robbed.

“I trust,” I said to Thurnock, “that your purse is intact.”

Thurnock looked down, swiftly. He grinned. “It is,” he said.

“I too, have some money,” volunteered Rim, “though I am not as rich as two such wealthy ones as you.” ‘I have the four gold pieces from the selling of the panther wenches,” said Thurnock.

“Good,” I said, “Let us feast.”

We did so.

In the midst of the meal I looked up. “That’s is it!” I said and laughed. I now recalled clearly what had been only a vague flash of memory, the recollection of something seen so swiftly it had, before, scarcely been noticed. I laughed.

“What is the matter?” asked Thurnock, his mouth filled with bosk.

“I now recall what it was about the girl who robbed me,” I said. “I saw it, but did not really see it. It troubled me. Only now do I recall it clearly.” “What?” asked Thurnock.

Rim looked at me.

“Behind her hair, as she brushed past,” I said.

“What?” said Thurnock.

“Her ear,” I said. “Her ear was notched.”

Rim and Thurnock laughed. “A thief,” said Thurnock, swallowing a mouthful of bosk and reaching for the paga goblet.

“A very skillful one,” I said. “A very skillful one.”

She had indeed been skillful. I am an admirer of skills, of efficiencies of various sorts. I admire the skill of the leather worker with his needle, that of the potter’s strong hands, that of the vintner with his wines, that of warriors with their weapons.

I looked to one side. There, lost to the bustle in the tavern, oblivious to the music, sat two men across a board of one hundred red and yellow squares, playing Kaissa, the game. One was a Player, a master who makes his living, though commonly poorly, from the game, playing for a cup of paga perhaps and the right to sleep in the taverns for the night. The other, sitting cross-legged with him, was the broad-shouldered, blond giant from Torvaldsland whom I had seen earlier. He wore a shaggy jacket. His hair was braided. His feet and legs were bound in skins and cords. The large, curved, double-bladed, long-handled ax lay beside him. On his large brown leather belt, confining the long shaggy jacket he wore, which would have fallen to his knees, were carved the luck signs of the north. Kaissa is popular in Torvaldsland as well as elsewhere on Gor. In halls, it is often played far into the night, by fires, by the northern giants. Sometimes disputes, which otherwise might be settled only by ax or sword, are willingly surrendered to a game of Kaissa, if only for the joy of engaging in the game. The big fellow was of Torvaldsland. The master might have been from as far away as Ar, or Tor, or Turia. But they had between them the game, its fascination and its beauty, reconciling whatever differences, in dialect, custom or way of light might divide them.

The game was beautiful.

The girl who served us was also beautiful. We had finished with our meal. And we were now finishing second cups of paga.

She again knelt beside us. “Do masters wish more?” she asked.

“What is your name?” asked Rim, his hand in her hair. He turned her head slightly to the side.

She looked at him, for the side of her eyes. “Tendite,” she said, “if it pleases Master.” It was a Turian name. I had once known a girl by that name.

“Do masters wish more?” she asked.

Rim grinned.

There was, outside, the shouting of men in the street. We looked to one another. Thurnock threw down a silver tarsk on the table.

I, too, was curious. So, too, was Rim. He regarded Tendite.

She moved to dart away. Quickly, he took her by the hair and pulled her quickly, bent over, to a low, sloping side of the room. “Key” he called to the proprietor, pointing toward the side of the room. The proprietor hurried over, in his apron, and handed Rim a key. It was number six. Rim, taking the key in his mouth, put the girl down rudely on her knees, her back to the low wall, took her hands back and over her head and snapped them into slave bracelets, dangling on a chain, passing through a heavy ring set in the wall. He then took the key, which could open the bracelets, and dropped it in his pouch. She looked up at him, in fury. It is a way of reserving, for a time, a girl for yourself. “I shall return shortly,” he said.

She knelt there, in the darkness of the side of the room, in her yellow silk, her hands locked above and behind her head.

“Do not run away,” Rim cautioned her.

He then turned to join us and, together, we left the tavern, to see what the commotion might be outside. Many others, too, had left the tavern.

The girl had left the dancing sand. Even the musicians poured out of the tavern. We walked along the front of the street, until we came to a side street, leading down to the wharves. It was not more than a hundred yards from the tavern. Men, and women and children, were lining the side street, and others were pouring in from the street before the tavern.

We heard the beating of a drum and the playing of flutes.

“What is going on?” I asked a fellow, of the metal workers.

“It is a judicial enslavement,” he said.

With Rim and Thurnock, moving in the crowd, I craned for a look.

I saw first the girl, stumbling. She was already stripped. Her hands were tied behind her back. Something, pushing her from behind, had been fastened on her neck. Behind her came a flat-topped wagon, of some four feet in height. It was moved by eight tunicked, collared slave girls, two to each wheel, pushing at the wheels. It was guided by a man walking behind it, by means of a lever extending back, under the wagon, from the front axle. Flanking the wagon, on both sides, were musicians, with their drums and flutes. Behind the wagon, in the white robes, trimmed with gold and purple, of merchant magistrates, came five men. I recognized them as judges.

A pole extended from the front of the wagon, some eight or nine feet. There was, at its termination, a semicircular leather cushion, with a short chain. The girl’s neck had been forced back against the cushion, and then the chain had been fastened, securing her, standing, in place. As the wagon moved forward, she was, thus, forced to walk before it. The pole, projecting out from the wagon, isolated her, keeping her from other human beings.

The music became louder.

I suddenly recognized the girl. It was she who had cut my purse earlier in the day, the sensuous little wench, whose ear had been notched. I gather that she had not had such good fortune later in the day. I well knew what the punishment was for a Gorean female, following her second conviction for theft. On the flat-topped wagon, fastened to one side on a metal plate, already white with heat, was a brazier, from which protruded the handles of two irons. Also mounted on the wagon was a branding rack, of the sort popular in Tyros. It was, I conjectured, another instance of the cultural minglings which characterized the port of Lydius.

The wagon stopped on the broad street, before the wharves, where the crown could gather about.

A judge climbed, on wooden stairs at the back of the wagon, to its surface. The other judges stood below him, on the street.

The girl pulled at the leather binding fiber fastening her wrists behind her back. She moved her neck and head in the confinement of the chain and leather, at the end of the pole.

“Will the Lady Tina of Lydius deign to face me?” asked the judge, using the courteous tones and terminology with which Gorean free women, often inordinately honored, are addressed.

I looked quickly at Rim ND Thurnock. “Tina!” I said.

They grinned. “It must be she,” said Rim, “who drugged Arn, and took his gold.” Thurnock grinned.

I, too, smiled. It must indeed be she. Arn, I supposed, would have much relished being here.

I suspected that little Tina would cut few purses in the future.

“Will the Lady Tina of Lydius please deign to face me?” asked the judge, with the same courtesy as before.

The girl turned in the chain and leather to face her judge, standing removed from her and above her, in his white robes, trimmed with two borders, one of gold, the other of purple.

“You have been tried, and convicted, of the crime of theft,” intoned the judge. “She stole two gold pieces from me!” cried a man standing in the crowd. “And I had witnesses!” “It took an Ahn to catch her,” said another man, laughing.

The judge paid no attention to these speakings.

“You have been tried and convicted of the crime of theft,” said the judge, “for the second time.” The girl’s eyes were terrified.

“It is now my duty, Lady Tina,” said the judge, “to pass sentence on you.” She looked up at him.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, “my judge.”

“Are you prepared now, Lady Tina of Lydius,” said the judge, “to hear your sentence?” “Yes,” she said, regarding him, “my judge.” “I herewith sentence you, Lady Tina of Lydius,” said the judge, “to slavery.” There was a shout of pleasure from the crowd. The girl’s head was down. She had been sentenced.

“Bring her to the rack,” said the judge.

The man who had guided the wagon from the rear, and had now locked the brake on the front wheel, went to the bound girl. He unfastened the chain that bound her against the curved leather at the end of the pole, and, holding her by the arm, her wrists still tied behind her, led her to the rear of the wagon, and up the steps. She then stood beside her judge, barefoot on the flat-topped, wooden wagon. Her head was down.

“Lady Tina,” requested the judge, “go to the rack.”

Wordlessly, the girl went and stood by the rack, her back to the curved stone. The man who had brought her to the wagon now knelt before her, locking metal clasps on her ankles.

He then went behind her, and unbound her wrists. “Place your hands over your head,” he said. She did so. “Bend your elbows,” he said. She did so. “Lie back,” he then said, supporting her. She did so, and was stretched over the curved iron. He then took her wrists and pulled her arms almost straight. He then locked her wrists in metal clasps, similar to those, though smaller, which confined her ankles. Her head was down. He then bent to metal pieces, heavy, curved and hinged, which were attached to the sides of the rack, and a bit forward. Each piece consisted of two curved, flattish bands, joining at the top. He lifted them, and dropped them into place. Then, with two keys, hanging on tiny chains at the sides, he tightened the bands. They were vises. She might now be branded on either the left or right thigh. There was ample room, I noted, between the bands on either side, to press the iron. She was held perfectly. Her tanned thigh could not protest so much as by the slightest tremor. She would be marked cleanly.

The man, placing heavy gloves on his hands, withdrew from the brazier a slave iron. Its tip was a figure some inch and a half high, the first letter in cursive script, in the Gorean alphabet, of the expression Kajira.

It is a beautiful letter.

The judge looked down upon the Lady Tina of Lydius. She, fastened over the rack, stripped, looked up at him, in his robes, those with two borders, one of gold, the other of purple. Her eyes were wild.

“Brand the Lady Tina of Lydius,” he said. “Brand her slave. Then he turned, and departed from the platform.

The girl gave a terrible scream.

There was a shout from the crowd.

The man now, swiftly, brutally, released the girl, spinning open the vises, and dropping them against the rack, unfastening her wrists and ankles, and dragged her to her feet. Her hair was over her face. She was weeping.

The man’s hand was strong on her arm. “Here is a nameless slave!” he cried. “What am I bid for her?” “Fourteen copper pieces!” cried a man.

“Sixteen!” cried another.

I spied, in the crowd, two men from my ship. I gestured that they should join us, Rim, Thurnock and myself. They worked their way through the crowd. “Twenty copper pieces!” cried a leather worker.

The judges, I noted, had left. The musicians, those who had played the drums and flutes, escorting the judges and the prisoner, had also left.

The slave girls who had drawn the wagon, stood about, watching the crowd. “Twenty-two copper pieces,” called a metal worker.

The girl, stripped, stood on the platform, her arm in the grip of the man. Her hair, was sill over her face. But her tears were now only stains on her body. Her mouth was slightly parted. She seemed numb. It was as thought she scarcely understood that it was she, who was being bid upon. Her thigh, sill, much have burned with searing pain. Yes, of all her body, it was only her eyes, dull, glazed with pain, that acknowledged that she had been branded within the Ehn. She did not seem, otherwise, fully aware of what was happening to her. Then suddenly she threw back her head and screamed, and tried to twist away from the man. He threw her to her knees on the boards and she knelt there, bent over, her head in her hands, fully and wildly weeping. She understood now, fully, that she was being sold.

“Twenty-five copper pieces,” called a pastry vendor.

“Twenty-seven!” screamed a seaman.

I looked about. I could now see there were more than two hundred men about, and women and children, as well. I saw some four or five more of my crew. And many others, of other crews.

“Let us see her!” called a merchant.

The man reached down and seized her by the hair and pulled her again to her feet, now bending her body back, exposing her the bow of her beauty to the crowd. “Let the men see you, little slave,” he laughed.

She was indeed beautiful.

“One silver tarsk,” I called.

There was a silence in the crowd.

It was not a bad price for such a girl.

Rim and Thurnock looked at me, puzzled.

I waited.

This girl, I knew, was skillful. She had deft hands. Perhaps, I thought, I might find some use for such, a wench. Besides, I knew that she had drugged and robbed Arn, the outlaw. I supposed he might be pleased to have her. He might be of use, should matters turn out that way, in my pursuit of Talena.

“I am bid one silver tarsk,” called the man. “One silver tarsk! Am I bid more? Am I bid more?” I asked myself why I might want her. I told myself I might find use for her skills. I might use her to bargain with Arn for his aid.

“Am I bid more?” cried the man.

Also, of course, she had stolen from me. This did not please me.

“Am I bid more?” called the man again. He still held her, bent cruelly backwards, his hand in her hair.

She was a vital, beautiful, sensuous little wench. She struggled in pain. She tried to reach his hand in her hair.

“Sold to the captain!” called the man.

I owned her.

“Thurnock,” said I, “give him the silver tarsk.”

“Yes, Captain,” he said.

The crowd began to melt away, “Stay,” said to two of my men.

As Thurnock, by her arm, led the girl down the stairs of the wagon, the other slave girls, who had moved the wagon, struck at her, spitting and jeering. “Slave!” they cried. “Slave!” Thurnock led the girl before me. She looked at me, with glazed eyes. I turned to one of the seaman with me. “Take her and chain her in the first hold,” I said.

“Yes, Captain,” he said.

He began to lead her away, by the arm. Suddenly, she stopped, and looked back over her shoulder. “You?” she said. “This morning.” “Yes,” I said. I was pleased that she remembered.

Her head fell forward on her breast, her hair, too, forward. Then she was led away to her chains on the Tesephone.

I thought I would enjoy owning her.

“Now,” said I to Rim and Thurnock. “Shall we return to the tavern and enjoy our paga.

I was much pleased.

Rim lifted his key. It bore the number six.

“Tendite will be waiting for me,” mentioned,” mentioned Rim.

“I”, said Thurnock, “ wonder about that dancer. She is a juicy, fat little tabuk is she not?” “Indeed,” granted Rim.

“What do you think they would charge for her pelt for an hour?”

“Perhaps tow copper pieces,” I suggested. The other girls, the common slaves, like Tendite, went with the price of a cup of paga.

“let us go to the tavern,” said Thurnock, licking his lips.

Together, we went to the tavern. It was not long past noon, and there would be time, later, to begin the purchase of supplies.

I did not wish to deny Rim his lovely Tendite, nor Thurnock his Ahn with the luscious wench, chained, who had writhed before us on the sand.

I myself expected, at that time, to be content with a cup of paga.

But I found more in the tavern, which I did not expect to find.