toward the road. I was suddenly frightened. The incline was steeper than I had anticipated. I slipped back, into the water. I tried again, inching myself upward. Grass pulled out of the slope, clutched in my hands. I slipped back. I was weak and miserable. I waded at the bottom of the ditch and, in two or three places, again tried to climb out of it. I was not successful. The storm, meanwhile, had subsided. I could now see the moons. In the moonlight I found an ascent which I, though with difficulty, could manage. Gasping, holding at the grass, inching my way upward, I drew my body from the grass to the road. I looked at the road, from my belly. I felt out with my hands. It seemed constructed of large, square stones. It was not an ordinary road, I thought. Like most Gorean roads, however, a single pair of ruts marked its center. Gorean vehicles, commonly slow moving, tend to keep to the center of a road, except in passing.
In the distance I heard the sound of bells, harness bells. It might be a wagon, or a set of wagons, which had pulled to the side of the road during the storm and now, with the passing of the storm, had resumed its journey. It must be near morning, I thought, that they are on the road. Gorean roads are seldom traveled at night. The bells were coming closer. I moaned and slid back from the road, again into the ditch. I slipped back a yard or so down the grassy slope, and then, clinging to grass, held my position. I could not see the surface of the road. I would wait here until the wagons had passed. They would not, I was sure, at night, in the moonlight and shadows, detect my presence. I clung there until the first wagon had passed. I could hear others approaching, too. I let myself slip down further in the ditch. I must not be discovered. I put my cheek against the wet grass. I was very tired.
It was a good hiding place, the ditch. In the darkness, in the moonlight and shadows, I would not be detected. I was safe.
I dreaded the climb again to the surface of the 'road. The ditch was so steep. I did not understand the need for such a ditch at the side of the road. But I was safe now. There were other wagons, too, coming. There must be many wagons. I must wait. I would rest, just a little bit. It would not hurt to close my eyes, only for a moment. I was so hungry. I was so tired. I was so miserable. I would rest, just for a little bit. I would close my eyes, only for a moment.
'What are you doing here?' asked a voice.
'I am a free woman,' I said.
I lay on the incline, the grass under my belly. It was warm now. The sun felt hot on my back. Muddy water was about my feet. A man was behind me. At least one other, I could hear him moving about, was above and in front of me, up on the surface of the road.
'I was attacked by bandits,' I said. 'They took my clothes.'
'Hold still,' said the voice behind me. a I heard the clink of a chain.
My body stiffened, my fingers clutched at the grass.
A chain was looped twice about my neck and padlocked shut.
'What are you doing?' I whispered.
'Hold still,' said the voice.
The chain was then taken under my body and down to my ankles. My ankles were crossed and the chain was looped thrice about them, holding them closely together. Another padlock then, its tongue passing through links of the chain, was snapped shut. My ankles were now chained tightly together. I could not even uncross them. It is common to run a neck chain to the ankles in front of a woman's body, rather than behind it. In this fashion any stress on the chain is borne by the back of her neck rather than her throat. It is also reguarded as a more aesthetic chaining arrangement than its opposite, the neck chain, for example, with its linearity, and its sturdy, inflexible links, affording a striking contrast with the softnesses, the beauties, of her lovely bosom. This arrangement is also favored for its psychological effect on the woman. As she feels the chain more often on her body in this arrangement, brushing her, for example, or lying upon her, she is less likely to forget that she is wearing it. It helps her to keep clearly in mind that she is chained. It reminds her, rainatically and frequently, of that fact.
'What are you doing?' I asked. 'I am a free woman!'
'How is it, did you say,' asked the man behind me, 'that on are unclothed?' 'Bandits took my clothes!' I said.
'And left you?' he asked.
'Yes,' I said.
'If it had been up to me,' said the fellow behind me, 'I think I would have taken you along and left the clothes.'
I was silent.
'I suppose,' he said, pleasantly enough, 'they might have had poor of eyesight, or perhaps it was just very dark.'
I did not speak.
'What is your Home Stone?' he asked.
I thought quickly. I did not want to identify myself with Corcyrus, of course, or any cities or towns in that area, even Argentum. Too, I knew we had flown northwest. I then took, most out of the air, a city far to the north, one I had heard of but one, unfortunately, that I knew little about. The name had been mentioned, I did recall, on the tarn platform, in the imp of Miles of Argentum. Perhaps that is what suggested it My mind.
'That of Lydius,' I said.
'What is the location of Lydius?' he asked.
'North,' I said. 'North.'
'And where in the north?' he asked.
I was silent.
'On what lake does Lydius lie?' he asked.' 'I do not know,' I said.
'It does not lie on a lake,' he said.
'Of course not,' I said.
'On what river does it lie?' he asked.
'It doesn't lie on a river,' I said.
'It is on the Laurius,' he said.
I was silent.
'What is the first major town east of Lydius?' he asked.
'I don't remember,' I said.
'Vonda,' he said.
'Yes,' I said.
'No,' he said. 'Vonda is on the Olvi. It is Laura.'
'Yes,' I said, sick and hungry, chained.
'You are certain that you are a free woman?' asked the man.
'Yes,' I said.
'Where is your escort, your guards?' be asked.
'I was traveling alone,' I said.
'That is unusual for a free woman,' he said.
I was silent.
'What were you doing on this road?' he asked.
'Traveling,' I said. 'Visiting.'
'And where did you think you were going?' asked the man.
'I don't know,' I sobbed. I did not even know what towns lay along this road. I did not even know where I was.
'Look here,' said the fellow. He turned me about. I saw he was a brawny, blond youth. He did not seem angry or cruel. He crouched down and, with one finger, near the bottom of the ditch, made a precise marking, or drawing, in the mud. 'What letter is that?' he asked.
'I do not know,' I said.
'Al-ka,' he said.
'I cannot read,' I said.
'Most free women can read,' he said.
'I was not taught,' I said.
