'The letters, three of them,' I said.
'You cannot rob me here,' he said. 'There are too many about!'
To be sure, some of the refugees had gathered about us.
'Do not interfere,' I warned them.
'Where are the letters?' I demanded.
'What letters?' he asked.
I again thrust his face into the dirt. He coughed and spit, and twisted his head to the side, gasping.
'Where are they?' I demanded.
'I know nothing of letters,' he gasped.
'Do not interfere,' I warned those about. More than one of them carried heavy clubs.
I then with a length of binding fiber, extracted from my pouch, tied his ankles together, and then fastened his hands to his ankles. He turned to his side. I then, methodically, began to go through his belongings.
'What are you doing?' he asked. 'Stop him,' he called to those about. A man or two took a step forward, but none challenged me.
'He is armed,' said one of the fellows to the trussed captive.
'I do not find them here,' I said to the crowd. 'What is he looking for?' asked a fellow, just come up to the group. 'Letters of some sort,' said a fellow to the newcomer.
'Where are they?' I asked the captive, again.
'I know nothing of your letters, or whatever they are,' he said. 'Let me go!' 'Let him go,' suggested a fellow in the crowd. To be sure he did not step boldly forth.
'What do you think you are doing?' asked another fellow.
'Let him go,' said another man. That one I saw.
'This fellow,' I said to the crowd, 'is a thief. He stole three letters from me. I mean to have them back.'
'I am not a thief,' said the man.
'Did you see him steal the letters?' asked a fellow.
'No,' I said.
'Did someone else, then?' said the fellow.
'No,' I said, irritably.
'How do you know he took them then?' asked a fellow. It seemed a fair question. 'You have not recovered the letters from him,' said another. 'Does that not suggest that you might be mistaken? I opened the fellow's pouch. It contained coins, but there were no letters within it.
I poured the coins back into the pouch, and pulled shut its drawstrings.
'Where have you hidden the letters? I asked the fellow. My voice was not pleasant.
'I do not know anything about your letters,' he whispered. I think he had little doubt that I was in earnest. He was frightened.
'Have you sold them already?' I asked.
'I do not know anything bout them,' he said. 'Are you not a thief?' 'No,' I said.
'Release him,' said a man.
'You have no proof,' said another.
'He has a sword,' said a man. 'He does not need proof.'
'Let the fellow go,' said another man.
'He is a thief,' I said, angrily. 'I am not a thief,' said the fellow.
'He is not a thief,' said another man.
'He is a well-known thief from Torcadino,' I said.
'Nonsense,' said a man.
'Who do you think he is?' asked another fellow.
'Ephialtes, of Torcadino,' I said.
'I am not Ephialtes,' said the man.
'He is not Ephialtes,' said another fellow.
'He has been so identified for me, days ago.' I said.
'And who made this identification?' asked a fellow.
'I do not now see him about,' I said.
'That is not Ephialtes,' said a man.
'Even if it were,' said another fellow, 'you apparently did not see the theft, and do not have clear evidence, even of a circumstantial nature, that he is the culprit.' The fellow who had said this wore the blue of the scribes. He may even have been a scribe of the law.
'Release him,' suggested another fellow.
'I am Philebus, a vintner, of Torcadino, said the man.
'He is lying,' I said.
'That is Philebus,' said a man. 'I have dealt with him.'
'Release him,' said a man.
I untied the fellow. 'Put your things back in your pack,' I said. I watched him do this. The pack might have had a false lining. Still I had not felt the resistance of letters, nor heard the sound of paper from it, when I had tested it.
'Cart Seventeen is ready to leave!' I heard called.
'That is my cart,' said the fellow, thrusting the last of his various articles, strewn about, into the pack.
'It is mine, too, as well you know,' I said. 'Do not fear. I shall accompany you to the cart and see that you board safely.' I had no intention of letting him out of my sight. Although I had no proof of the sort which might convince a praetor I was confident that it was Ephialtes of Torcadino who had stolen the letters. It was ironic. I had ridden in the very cart with him.
'We are ready to go,' said Boabissia coming up to me.
'The cart is going to leave.' 'I know,' I said. 'I heard. Go along, you.' I thrust the fellow before me, toward the carts.
I stood near the front railing of the cart. I did look back to make sure the fellow was still on the bench where I had placed him. 'That is the checkpoint ahead?' I asked the driver, as I leaned over the railing.
'Yes,' he said, lifting his head and speaking back over his shoulder. 'You will all get out here, and those who pass will board again, on the other side. There are no refunds, if you do not pass. Such failures are not the responsibility of the company.'
'We are only a day from Ar,' said a fellow.
'There is the barrier,' said another, coming to stand beside me at the railing. 'Look,' said another, joining us. 'Look at that poor sleen.' He indicated a small figure near the checkpoint, impaled on a high pole, lifted some twenty feet above the heads of the refugees.
'Among the crowds there,' I said, suddenly, pointing, 'there are soldiers with purple cloaks and helmets.' I had not seen such things in years, since the time of the usurper, Cernus, in Ar, dethroned long ago in the restoration of Marlenus, ubar of ubars.
'Those are Taurentians, members of the elite palace guard,' said a man. 'The Taurentians were disbanded in 10,119,' I said.
'They have been restored to favor,' said a man.
'Had you not heard?' asked another.
'No,' I said. The sight of Taurentians made me uneasy. Such men, with their internal esprit de corps, their identification with their own units, their allegiance to their personal commanders, their status, privileges and skills, their proximity to the delicate fulcrums of power, hold in their hands the power to enthrone and dethrone ubars.
'It was done only this year,' said a man.
'They are fine soldiers,' said another.
'I know,' I said. I had met them in combat, as long ago as the sands of the Stadium of Blades. There is a common myth, given their post in the city, that Taurentians are spoiled, and soft. This myth is false. They are elite troops, highly trained and devoted to their commanders. One does not gain admittance to their coveted ranks in
