The slave, for example, and this is commonly included in her training, seldom bends over to retrieve a fallen object. Rather she flexes her knees, lowering the body beautifully, and retrieves the object from a graceful and humble crouch. Sometimes, to be sure, commonly in serving at the parties of young men, certain objects, sometimes as part of a game, objects with prearranged significances among the young men, are thrown to the floor, and she must pick them up in less than graceful fashion. Whatever object she first touches determines to whose lusty abuse she must then submit. This game is sometimes played several times in the evening. I considered Boabissia. Her walk now seemed something between that of a free woman and a slave. It was, if haughty, quite good, and it showed, I thought, definite signs of slave promise. There seemed little doubt that, with some tutelage, and perhaps a collar on her neck, the beauty could be kept in it, and considerably improved, and the sullying haughtiness removed. I glanced again at her. Yes, it seemed to me that Boabissia might even be ready to walk in a slave tunic. I had little doubt but what several of the fellows she had passed, her nose in the air, would, with whips, have been more than willing to give her instruction in the matter, with or without the tunic.
"Are you sure you want to go to Ar?" I asked her. "it might be dangerous." She touched the copper disk at her neck. "Yes," she said. "I will learn who I am."
"And who do you think you are?" I asked.
"I do not know," she said. "But I was found, as I understand it, in the remains of what had apparently been a large and wealthy caravan. Perhaps it was the caravan of my father."
"Perhaps," I said.
"At the least, passage in such a caravan would doubtless have to have been purchased, and that suggests affluence."
"That is true," I said.
"Presumably no drover, or low person, a mere employee, say, would have had a baby with him," she said.
"Probably not," I said.
"It seems likely to me, then," she said, "that I am of wealthy family." "I suppose that is possible," I granted her. Indeed, it seemed to me to be quite possible. I was uneasy, however. The letter «Tau on the disk, for some reason I could not place, seemed vaguely familiar to me. I wondered if, somewhere, someplace, I might have seen that particular "Tau," that is, that particular design of a Tau. "Why is there a number on the disk?" I asked. "I do not know," she said, "but it must be some sort of an identificatory device, perhaps indexed to an address or a passenger list."
"Or a wagon number," I said, "if it was a large caravan, or, more likely, that of a merchant or company with many wagons."
"Yes," she said. "I never thought of that. That is perhaps it."
"Perhaps," I said.
"They would want to have some way of knowing where the baby belonged, I suppose," she said.
"I would suppose so," I said.
"That must be it," she said.
"Perhaps," I said.
"Would you care to hear my latest poem now," asked Hurtha, "that which lightly chides those lazy fellows who choose upon occasion to sleep late?"
"Of course," I said, grimly.
"It is a jolly poem," Hurtha informed me.
"I am certain of it," I said.
" "Awake, abominable sluggards! " quoth Hurtha. "That is a strong first line, isn't it?"
"Catchy," I admitted.
" "Arise, loathsome miscreants! " said Hurtha.
"Already you have revised the first line?" I asked.
"Certainly not," said Hurtha. "One does not tamper with that which is already perfect. That is the second line."
"You are certain that this is a humorous poem?" I asked.
"Definitely," said Hurtha, chuckling.
"I did not know you wrote humorous poems," I said.
"I am versatile," Hurtha reminded me. "I suppose you thought I spent all my time composing tragic odes?"
"I had not given it that much thought," I admitted.
"I have a lighter side," said Hurtha, "though doubtless only those who know me well have detected it. Too, it is not, in my opinion, salutary for poetic growth to be too fixedly despondent.
"I suppose not," I said.
"You may believe me in the matter," said Hurtha.
"Very well," I said.
"A little despair goes a long way," he said.
"I am sure of it," I said.
"I shall begin again," said Hurtha. " "Get up, you odious, foul, stinking, dawdling sleen! " said Hurtha.
"I thought you said you were going to begin again," I said.
"I am beginning with the third line," he said. He then turned to the fellow near him, an innocent fellow, "is dedicated to my friend, Tarl, there. Indeed, it was he who inspired me to compose it."
"I see," said the fellow, looking at me narrowly. He then moved a bit further away.
" "Up, up, I say, inert tarsks, vile, loathsome, somnolent slimy urts! " cried Hurtha.
Several folks were looking at me in a strange way. I quickened my pace, staring ahead.
" "It is noon! " called out Hurtha. Then he stopped, and began to laugh. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
"What is wrong?" I asked.
Some folks passed us.
"I told you it was funny," laughed Hurtha, bent over.
"Yes?" I said.
"Surely the humor is not too subtle for you?" he asked suddenly, startled. "I am not an Alar," I admitted.
Boabissia laughed merrily, but I thought, a bit uneasily, uncertainly.
"You see," explained Hurtha, patiently, "I did not say it was morning. I said it was noon."
"Yes?" I said.
"So you would expect me to say morning, but you see, it is already past morning. I said it was noon.
"Oh, yes," I said, thinking that perhaps I had a glimmer of his point, "excellent, excellent." Many Goreans arise quite early. Perhaps it is well to keep that in mind. It may help somewhat, though perhaps not significantly. Boabissia made a noise, one I think intended to desperately simulate a laugh. She was, I am sure, merely attempting to improve her claim as to being an Alar. Feiqa, happily, laboring under no such onus, looked aghast.
"We are here," I said, happily, "at the gate!"
Certain of the folks passed through the great gate of Torcadino were searched rather thoroughly. Some of the women, probably because the guards were interested in seeing them, were stripped stark naked, standing on the stones before the portal and, to their dismay, examined with Gorean efficiency. Certain coins and rings were found. After such a search a woman is sometimes good for nothing more than being a slave. But they were thrust through the gate, their clothes then clutched in their hands. Boabissia, interestingly, though quite comely, was spared this indignity. Some objects were confiscated from various folks, men and women, but little, really, was taken. I began to suspect that the treatment this group was receiving was, on the whole, little more than pro forma.
I also suspected, after a few Ehn, that Boabissia's immunity from Gorean Strip Search, in spite of the promise of pleasure to the guards of such a search, might be due to her party, that she was with us. The letters of the officer were now within my sheath. This tightened the draw, but the hiding place, considering the few options at my disposal, seemed a sensible one. Papers can be easily detected within a tunic or cloak linings. To be sure, if one has time, the messages can be written on cloth within the linings, and then should elude search, unless the garment is torn open. There are many possible hiding places for messages or valuables, of course. A few that might be mentioned are false heels or divided soles in sandals, tiny secret compartments in rings, brooches, ornate hair pins, hollow combs, fibulae, studs and clasps. The pommels of some swords are made, too, in such a way as to unscrew, revealing such a compartment. Similarly walking sticks and staffs often have one or more such compartments in them, reached by unscrewing various sections of the stick or staff. Needless to say, some of these, too, contain, daggers or thrusting swords. Such concealed compartments and weapons, and sometimes even builder's glasses, sun chronometers, and compasses, and such, are found in such objects. It is cultural for white-clad pilgrims from certain cities to carry such staffs, often entwined with flowers, in pilgrimages to the Sardar. Such folks are not as harmless as they might seem, as various brigands have learned to their sorrow. "You are together, all of you?" asked a guard.