"Apparently she wants some sign of our desire for peace," said a fellow, looking up at the posting.
"Tell them to go back to Cos," said a fellow, angrily, "and we shall consider the matter."
"The posting refers to some evidence of our hope for reconciliation," said the first fellow, "some token of our good will."
"Give them our steel in their neck!" said a fellow.
"And with good will!" said another, a fellow of the potters.
"That is a token they will understand," added another.
"But what do they want?" asked another.
"They may want our Talena," said a man.
"That brave and noble woman, we will never surrender her!" said another. "I myself would block the gate," said a fellow, "before I would see her leave the city at the stirrup of a Cosian envoy."
"She has offered so to sacrifice herself," said a man.
"It is here on the public postings," said another, "over here."
"They cannot have our Talena," said a man.
"I do not think it is Talena they want," said a man.
"But what, then?" asked another.
"What could be a suitable token of Ar's desire for peace?" asked another. "Who wants peace?" said a man.
"I do not understand what is going on," said a fellow.
"Those who are high in the city," said a fellow, "will inquire into these matters. They are wiser than we and will do what is best."
At this point there was much shouting in side streets, coming from the west. In moments, too, men were shouting about us.
"Cos!" they cried. "Cos can be seen from the walls!"
I did not think, in these times, that they would let civilians ascend the walls. Otherwise I might have hastened to the ramparts. From them, I gathered, might be viewed the legions of Cos. Such armies appear first like small lines at the horizons. It is often difficult, at first, to mark out the units. Sometimes, on sunny days, there is a flashing along the horizon, from lifted standards. At night one can usually see the fires of the camps, three of four pasangs away. To be sure, what might be visible from the walls now might be only smoke from fired fields or, more likely, dust from tharlarion cavalries.
"Are the Cosians numerous?" asked a man.
"They are like the leaves of trees, like the sands of the sea," said a man. "Look, overhead!" cried a man.
We saw a Cosian tarnsman over the city.
"Ar is doomed," said a man.
"We will fight to the death," said another.
"Perhaps we can treat with the Cosians," said another.
"Never!" said another.
"Way, make way!" we heard. Now, moving south on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder, toward the great gate of Ar, were several riders of tharlarion. "That is the personal banner of Seremides!" said a man.
The riders were muchly cloaked. From the precision of their lines, however, and the ease and discipline of their seat on the tharlarion, I took them to be soldiers. Too, if the fellow was right, that one of the banners in the group was that of Seremides, then presumably he, or his empowered agent, was one of the riders.
"Save us, Seremides!" cried a man.
Then the riders had passed.
"Where is Gnieus Lelius, the regent?" asked a man.
"He has not been seen in public in days," said another.
"Perhaps he has fled the city!" suggested another.
"Tonight," said another, "let our gates be sealed."
"I have heard," said a fellow, "that Cos is our friend, and that it is Gnieus Lelius who is the enemy."
"That is absurd," said a man.
"Last night, Cosian scouts, outside the walls," said a man, "distributed silver tarsks to the homeless, assuring them of the good intentions of the maritime ubarate!"
"That is preposterous," said a man.
"I know a fellow who received one," said the first fellow.
"Unfortunately," said a fellow," I was home in bed."
"You should have been outside the walls," said another.
"I could use a silver tarsk," said a man.
"Do you think that Cos is truly our friend?" asked a man.
"No," said a fellow.
Men looked at him.
"Why do you say that?" asked a man.
"I was in the delta," he said, and turned away.
"Ar's Station," said a man, "has been well treated by Cos."
"Do not respond to that," I said to Marcus, and drew him back a bit from the public boards, to the edge of the crowd.
The young warrior's face was flushed.
"Perhaps Seremides can save us," said a man.
"Or the intercessions of our beloved Talena," said another.
"We must fight to the death," said a man.
"Cos will show us no mercy," said another.
"Perhaps the city will be spared if we confess our wrongs, and make clear our desire for peace."
"What wrongs?" asked a man.
"Surely we must have wrongs," said a man.
"I suppose so," said another.
I myself could think of at least three, the failure to meet Cos at Torcadino, the failure to relieve the siege of Ar's Station, and the unprepared entry into the delta, in putative pursuit of the Cosian expeditionary force in the north. "We can do nothing," said a man.
"We are helpless under the tyranny of Gnieus Lelius," said another.
"Who can free us from the grip of this tyrant?" asked a man.
"Perhaps our friends in Cos," said a fellow.
"Where is he?" asked a man.
"Hiding in the Central Cylinder," said another.
"He had fled the city," said another.
"Ar cannot be indefinitely defended," said a man.
"We must declare ourselves an open city," said another.
"Others wiser than we will know," said another.
"How can we make Cos know we wish to be their friend?" asked another.
"I do not wish to be their friend," said a man, angrily.
"Our military situation is hopeless," said a man. "We must prove our desire for peace to the Cosians."
"How can we do that?" asked a man.
"I do not know," he said.
"They will wish some clear, explicit token," said a man.
"Yes," said another.
"But what?" asked a man.
"I do not know," said the first fellow.
"Come along," I said to Marcus.
In a few minutes we had come to a slave ring where we had left Phoebe.
The ring to which she was attached was set quite close to the ground level, a ring to which it was presumed a slave might be fastened by the ankle. Marcus, however, using a pair of slave bracelets, had fastened her to it by the neck, one bracelet about the ring, the other about her collar, pressing into her neck. She lay on her stomach on the stones, her neck held close to the ring, her eyes closed against the glare. Marcus kicked her, not gently, with the side of his foot. "Master," she said, and rose to her knees, bent over, her head held down to the stones.
"She is Cosian," he said to me.
"No," I said. "She is only a slave."
"Are you hungry?" Marcus asked Phoebe.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Perhaps then," he said, "you will not be fed today."
"I am not permitted to lie to my master," she said.
"A slave, like any other animal," I said, "may grow hungry."
"True," said Marcus.
He then crouched down and removed the bracelets from the ring and collar. "I, too, am hungry," I said.
"Very well," he said.
"There are food shops on Emerald Street," I said.
"Is it far?" he asked.
"No," I said.
Then, in a moment we left, retracing our steps, moving north on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder, past shops, fountains, columns and such, until we would make our left turn, toward Emerald Street, Phoebe heeling him, her hands now fastened behind her in the bracelets.
"Look," I said, while still on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder, pointing upward.
"Another Cosian tarnsman," he said.
"Yes," I said.
"Coppers, coppers for the temple," called an Initiate, rattling some tarsk bits in a tray.