"Thank you," I said. I pressed a coin into his hand.
"That is not necessary," he said, but took it. He was, after all, a businessman. "You are Tarl of Port Kar?" asked a man.
"Aiii!" moaned Achiates.
"Yes," I said, "Captain."
"May I have your sword, please?" he inquired. There were now some fifteen or twenty fellows behind him. There was not much room in the doorway to draw, let alone to wield the weapon. Yet I was not covered by crossbows. Too, none of the men had lowered their spears or drawn their weapons.
"On what grounds?" I asked. "You are under arrest." He said.
Achiates moaned.
"You may leave, Citizen," the fellow informed Achiates. Achiates then, like an urt, spotting an opening between sleen, darted away, hurrying toward the insula. "Your sword, please," said the captain. Surely he realized men do not lightly surrender their weapons. Too, clearly he must realize that I could force myself from the doorway, and, in an instant, be in the open, the blade free. I wondered if it were his intent to encourage such a movement on my part, in order that this might provide a plausible, legitimizing circumstance for the employment of their own weapons. But I really did not think so. They could always attack, surely now that Achiates was gone, and we were alone, as they wished, and fill out their reports, if necessary, in any way they saw fit. In that way they would have risked very little, if anything. Too, they had permitted Achiates to slip away, in spite of the fact that he must have been engaged in the business of warning me. I did not think he was in league with them. If he were he could simply have let me walk into their midst as I entered the vestibule of the insula. Interestingly enough, I did not think the officer was engaged in making a standard arrest. His generous treatment of Achiates suggested this.
Interestingly enough, I did not think he anticipated any resistance.
"Please," he said.
I handed my blade, in its sheath, the straps wrapped about it, to him.
"Thank you," he said.
"I do not wish to be bound," I said.
"That will not be necessary," he said.
"What is going on here?" asked Hurtha, coming up to us.
"Do not interfere," I said to Hurtha.
"It appears," said Hurtha, unshouldering his ax, "that a battle to the death is in order."
"Who is this?" asked the captain.
"My friend," I said.
"Greetings," said the captain to him.
"Greetings," said Hurtha. Hurtha was a friendly Alar. He was not one of the suspicious, remote, aloof ones. He enjoyed being on good terms with fellows he was preparing to fight to the death.
"Where are we going?" I asked the captain.
"To an arranged place," he said, "one of secrecy."
"There?" said Hurtha.
"Yes," said the captain.
Hurtha, too, I suspected, had not had a great deal of sleep last night.
"And what is to occur there," I asked, "In this place of secrecy?" "One awaits you there," he said.
"Who?" I asked.
"An august personage," he said.
"Who?" I asked.
"His excellency, Gnieus Lelius, regent of Ar," he said.
"I am coming with you," said Hurtha.
"He is to come alone," said the captain.
"Look after Feiqa," I said to Hurtha.
"Do not think you can rid yourself of a tenacious comrade so easily," said Hurtha. "I am an Alar."
"Please," I said, "do not make things harder for me."
"I refuse to be left behind," he said.
"Please," I said. "This is hard enough. You must try to understand." "Consider all we have been through," he said.
"Hurtha," I pleaded. I did not wish to weep. I put the two silver tarsks I had received for the blonde in his hand.
"Where did you get these?" he asked.
"I sold something," I said.
"Was it pretty?" asked Hurtha.
"Yes," I said, "very pretty."
"Not Feiqa?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"But consider another candidate for the collar, one you came across, somewhere, one for whom the collar is fitting, perhaps, as for Feiqa?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "That is true."
"Well, farewell," said Hurtha.
"Farewell?" I said.
"Yes," said Hurtha.
"Shall we go?" asked the captain.
"Yes," I said, somewhat irritated.
I then fell into step within the column of men, marching in their midst. The captain was in the lead, my sword in its sheath, slung on its strap, over his shoulder. I looked back, once. Hurtha, now at the threshold of the insula of Achiates, waved cheerily. I wondered if killing an Alar, Hurtha, in particular, would count, strictly, legally, as an act of murder, or if there were some more sensible, benign category under which it might fall. Then I turned my mind to more pleasant thoughts, such as recollecting the pleasures men may take in slaves. I recollected, in particular, most recently, the former Lady Lydia, that particular slave, how she had looked, the straw about her body, and in her hair, the chain on her neck, her eyes, her cries, her pleading kisses and touches, her utter helplessness, and the joy of doing ownership on her.
"Let us step lively," said the captain.
We moved more quickly.