"Sul paga!" shouted Thurnus.
"Silence!" cried a brawny fellow, some two tables away.
"Please, Master," said Busebius, "we do not have Sul paga here."
Thurnus rose to his feet, his face a maze of conflicting emotions, disbelief and incredulity chief among them.
"Sit down!" cried one critic.
"Eject him," cried another.
"No Sul paga?" said Thurnus.
"No, Master," said Busebius.
"Then I shall sing," said Thurnus.
I thought this a splendid threat.
Thurnus, as good as his word, broke into wondrous song. At this point, unable to help himself, one of the fellows at another table leaped bodily upon Thurnus and began. to pummel him. He was joined shortly in this endeavor by several others. Clitus Vitellius, to my surprise, slipped to one side. I crawled between the legs of fighting men. I saw some two men fly off their feet, held up toward the ceiling by Thurnus. Their heads made a dull sound as they were struck together. A slave girl screamed. Then I saw Thurnus go down under a pile of attackers A blur, brown and huge, leaped past me. I covered my head and backed away. I saw Bran Loort seize a man by the collar and loft him into the air, the fellow flying backward, then falling, crashing, skidding across two tables. "I am done for," cried Thurnus, from somewhere under the pile. But I saw his hand reach out and seize a paga cup which he drained while men fought over him, struggling to pound upon him, largely striking one another. "Do not fear, Caste Leader!" cried Bran Loort. He hurled another fellow away, headfirst into a wall. He seized two by the collars, pounding their heads together. I winced at the sound. He spun another man about and the fellow had little time to register the large hamlike fist which rearranged his features. I saw two teeth fly out of the mouth of the next man struck. Bran Loort fought like a madman. "Do not fear, Caste Leader!" he cried. "I am here!" Thurnus, by this time, had extricated himself from beneath the pile of bodies and stood to one side, a goblet of paga in his hand. "He fights well," said Thurnus to Clitus Vitellius. "Yes," said Clitus Vitellius, moving his head to one side to avoid a flying bottle. Then we saw Bran Loort backed against the wall, with what must have been twenty angry men of Ar encircling him. He looked wildly about himself. He saw Thurnus. "There are only twenty!" called Thurnus. "And you are of the peasants!" He flung his staff to Bran Loort, who caught it. Out stabbed the staff. A man screamed. About swung the staff and men tried to struggle backward. The staff whirled about, almost invisible, a branch lashed in a hurricane. I saw teeth flying, and blood, and a jaw broken. One man howled with misery, a shin shattered. More than one, I think, must have received a broken leg. The staff punched out, thrusting into another man's stomach. It lashed to the side and I heard ribs crack. Men crept to the side to outflank the young peasant. Thurnus broke a table over the head of one. Busebius was weeping. "Stop, stop, Masters!" he cried. Then Thurnus and Bran Loort were fighting back to back, the goblet of Thurnus left in the hands of Clitus Vitellius. Bran Loort held the staff and, behind him, using half of the broken table, Thurnus protected him, fending blows and thrusting out, now and again, with the shattered table. At last he split the remainder of the table over the head of a brute who staggered back. Then Thurnus and Bran Loort, the wall at their back, stood side by side.
I heard a sword leave its sheath. Then I heard six swords more leap from the sheaths. I was frightened.
"No," said Thandar of Ti, standing on a table. He had drawn his own blade. Then, so, too, one after the other, did the four men with him. All were of the warriors.
The men of Ar looked angrily at Thandar of Ti and his men.
"No," said Thandar of Ti, again.
The sword, too, of Clitus Vitellius, my master, the captain of Ar, had left its sheath. He had placed Thurnus's paga on a nearby table. He stood between Thumus and Bran Loort, and the men threatening them.
"I must agree with my fellow of the warriors," said Clitus Vitellius. "It is not proper that you should attack with. steel those who defend themselves with wood."
"What he says is true," said a man. "We are of Ar!" He resheathed his blade.
"Free paga for all!" cried Thandar of Ti.
"And I," called Clitus Vitellius, "will fee the second round of cups!"
"Cheers for the peasants!" cried a man, with bloody face.
"Cheers for the peasants!" they cried. Then they surrounded Thurnus and Bran Loort, pounding them on the back.
"I shall not sing," promised Thurnus.
"Bring paga!" cried Busebius to the girls, who had drawn back, frightened. With a scurrying flight of bells they hurried to their work.
"And what are you doing here, miserable Bran Loort?" demanded Thurnus.
Bran Loort put down his head. "I have taken service here," he said. "I am shamed that you should find me here."
"Rightfully so," roared Thurnus. He had retrieved his goblet now, handed to him by Clitus Vitellius, and, throwing his head back, splashed its contents down his throat.
"What are you doing here?" asked Bran Loort. "Is it not time to harvest the Sa-Tarna?"
"I thought you might have forgotten," said Thurnus.
"No," said Bran Loort.
Thurnus regarded the young man. "It is certainly a great surprise to me," he said, "to find you here. But, as it turned out, it was fortunate."
"I am pleased," said Bran Loort, "if I could be of service."
"An amazing coincidence," marveled Thurnus. Clitus Vitellius smiled.
"Yes," admitted Bran Loort, puzzled.
"More paga!" called Thurnus. A girl filled his cup. Swiftly again the contents vanished.
"But what are you doing here?" asked Bran Loort, suddenly, shrewdly. "It is time to harvest the Sa-Tarna."
"I am looking for men," he said, "to aid in the harvest."
"I am strong," said Bran Loort. There were tears in his eyes.
"Good," said Thurnus. Bran Loort embraced him, weeping. "Drink a cup of paga," said Thurnus. "Then we must go. The Sa-Tarna grows impatient."
Bran Loort cried out with joy and whirled about, arms uplifted, like a child running and turning in the sun. He seized a cup and tore a vessel of paga from a startled girl and filled it himself. He threw his head back and drained the cup and flung it away.
"He has much to learn," said Thurnus, "but someday he will be a caste leader. He will have, too, his own Home Stone."
"I am pleased," said Clitus Vitellius, "to have been of service."
Thurnus grasped his hand. "My thanks, Warrior!" said he.
Bran Loort looked at me. "I am so happy!" he cried. "You are so beautiful, Dina! So beautiful!"
"I am pleased if Master is pleased," I said. I was very happy for Bran Loort.
Bran Loort looked to Clitus Vitellius and the warrior smiled, and lifted his hand.
"Oh," I cried. Bran Loort seized me by the hair, which was now long enough to permit a master to grasp it.
"Come, Slave Beauty!" he cried and, bending me over, my hands trying to grasp his wrist, ran me, stumbling, to the nearest alcove. He did not even draw the curtain. I turned. I shrank back, my back against the rear wall of the alcove. I drew up my legs.
"How beautiful you are, Dina!" he cried. "How beautiful you are! I nm so happy, and you are so beautiful! You are so beautiful!"
"Remove quickly your garment," he said, happily, "or I will tear it from your body!"
I undid the five buttons, red, which ran from the throat of the garment to the waist. Buttons, interestingly, were a relatively recent innovation in some Gorean slavewear. They are not used on the garments of free persons. Most Gorean garments do not have buttons, but are slipped on, or held with brooches or pins. Hooks, however, are used with some frequency. Buttons, interestingly, are regarded as rather sensuous on Gor. Buttons, obviously, may be unbuttoned, or cut away with a knife, thus revealing the slave. Many masters do not permit a girl to button her tunic in the privacy of their compartments. When a slave opens the door of the master's compartment and kneels, head down, say, to admit a visitor, her garment may have been closed only an instant before. This is also true of a hooked slave garment. Slaves, too, may be kept nude in the compartments. These, before answering the door, will usually don a light tunic, slipping it over their heads or wrapping it about their shoulders. When one sees the slave one does not know if, a moment before, she has been beautifully naked in her slavery or if, when the door closes, she has again, behind the door, stripped herself for her master's pleasure. I undid, too, the red, rep-cloth sash of the tunic. The buttons and sash on the tunic were red. The tunic itself, sleeveless, was white. I slipped the tunic over my head and, hastily, cast it aside. I now faced Bran Loort clad only in the collar of my master and my brand.