between two tharlarion. The chair and soldiers were making their way north on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder, toward the Central Cylinder. The soldiers were Taurentians.
'It is a woman's chair, is it not?' asked Boabissia.
'Yes,' I said.
'Those are palace guardsmen, aren't they?' asked Hurtha.
'Probably,' I said. 'They are, at least, of the same sort as the palace guardsmen.'
'Taurentians, they are called,' he said.
'Yes,' I said.
'They look like capable fellows,' he said.
'I am sure they are,' I said. The eyes of the soldiers were mostly on the crowd. There seemed little doubt such men formed an efficient guard. The chair, I noted, was not borne by male draft slaves, but was supported by tharlarion. There might be various reasons for this. One might be ostentation, a simple display of wealth, for good tharlarion are generally more expensive than male slaves, particularly draft slaves. But perhaps, even more, the cargo might be regarded as too precious to be risked in the vicinity of male slaves. After all, they are men. Too, perhaps it was felt appropriate, if the cargo was deemed of sufficient beauty, that it even be borne by male slaves. After all, might there not be some danger, as the fair occupant entered into, or descended gracefully from, the sedan chair, that there might be the careless movement of a veil, revealing a bit of throat, or the inadvertent lifting of a robe of concealment, giving them the glimpse of a briefly exposed ankle? 'Drink,' I said to Feiqa.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
'Whose chair is that?' I asked a fellow near us, as the chair moved past. 'Do you not know?' he asked.
'No,' I said. 'We are but newly come to Ar.'
'From Torcadino?' he asked.
'Yes,' I said.
'That,' he said, 'is the chair of she who may become the Ubara of Ar.' 'Talena,' said another fellow.
'What is wrong?' asked Boabissia.
'Nothing,' I said. I watched the chair move down the street, toward the Central Cylinder.
I looked at Feiqa. She knelt on all fours before the lower bowl of the fountain, her head down, drinking.
'How could this Talena become Ubara of Ar?' I asked. 'I thought she was sworn from the line of Marlenus.'
'She can be given legal entitlement to the succession,' said a fellow. 'I have heard it discussed.'
'Not as of the line of Marlenus,' I said.
'No,' he said. 'But one need not be of the line of Marlenus, surely, to rule in Ar.'
'Minius Tentius Hinrabius and Cernus, both, ruled in Ar,' said a man. 'Neither was of his line.'
'That is true,' I said.
'She is a free citizen,' said a man. 'Accordingly, she could be given such entitlement.'
'Why not Gnieus Lelius or Seremides?' I asked.
'Neither is ambitious, happily,' said a fellow.
'But why her?' I asked. 'Why not any one of thousands of others?'
'She was of royal family,' said a man. 'She was once the daughter of Marlenus.' 'I see,' I said. I looked down at Feiqa. 'Are you watered?' I asked her. 'Yes, Master,' she said.
She looked lovely, on all fours, at the lower bowl of the fountain, where, drinking, as a collared, briefly tunicked beast, she belonged. 'Rise,' I said.
'Yes, Master,' she said.
I looked after the chair. But I could not now see it for the folks following it. 'Which way are we going?' asked Hurtha.
'This way,' I said. We could go south on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder, some four or five pasangs, and then make a left on Wagon Street, taking it over to the Avenue of Turia. Somewhere in that vicinity, probably in the lower end of the avenue, somewhere in the Street of Brands district, was the Alley of the Slave Brothels of Ludmilla. I would have to ask directions once we were on the Avenue of Turia. I did not doubt but what we could quickly find such an area. It sounded as though it would not be unknown.
'What is the name of the place?' asked Boabissia.
'The Alley of the Slave Brothels of Ludmilla,' I said.
'I do not like the sound of that,' said Boabissia.
'I do not think it sounds bad,' I said.
'No,' said Hurtha.
I looked back at Feiqa. She put down her head. She had been careless. She had been thoughtless. Tonight she would be whipped. (pg 272)
22 The Insula of Achiates
'The stench is terrible,' said Boabissia.
'Do not throw up,' I told her. 'You will get used to it.'
'I have told them, time and time again,' said the proprietor, testily, carrying the small lamp, 'that they should keep the lid on. It is heavy, of course, and so it is too often left awry.' With a grating sound, he shoved the heavy terracotta lid back in place, on the huge vat. It was at the foot of the stairs, where the slop pots could be emptied into it. Such vats are changed once or twice weekly, the old vats loaded in wagons and taken outside the city, where their contents are disposed of at one of the carnarii, or places of refuse pits. They are then rinsed out and ready to be delivered again, in their turn, to customers. This is done by one of several companies organized for the purpose. The work is commonly done by male slaves, supervised by free men.
'Follow me,' said the proprietor, beginning to ascend the stairs.
I followed him. Behind me came Boabissia. Then came Hurtha. Feiqa came last. The staircase was narrow. It would be difficult for two people to pass on it. That would make it easy to defend, I thought. It was also steep. That was good. It did not have an open side but was set between two walls. That conserved space. It made possible extra rooms. Space is precious in a crowded insula. The stairwell boards were narrow. That was not so good, unless one were on the landing. That would be the place to make a stand. One could not get one's entire foot on them. They were old. Some were split. Several were loose. For a bit we could make our way in the light from the shallow vestibule below, where it filtered in through the shutters of the entrance gate, but in a moment or two, we became substantially dependent on the proprietor's tiny lamp. It cast odd shadows.
'I cannot stand the smell,' said Boabissia.
'The room is a tarsk bit a night,' said the proprietor. 'You may take it or leave it. You are lucky we have one left. These are busy days in Ar.'
'We could have had a better place were it not for something,' said Boabissia, irritably.
That might have been true. I did not know. It was hard to say. Several of the insulae we had investigated did not allow animals, which meant, of course, that we could not keep Feiqa with us. Some of them did, however, have some provision for slaves, such as basement kennels or chaining posts in the yard. I preferred, however, to keep Feiqa with us. She was lovely. I did not wish to have her stolen.
'The insula of Achiates,' said the proprietor, 'is still the finest insula in all Ar.'
'It is dark,' said Boabissia.
'How far is it now?' I asked.
'Not far,' said the proprietor.
As we climbed, the landings were frequent. The ceilings on the various levels of insulae are generally very low. In most of the rooms a man cannot stand upright. This makes additional floors possible.
I put out my hands and touched the walls on the sides of the staircase. They were very close. They were chipped. In places there were long diagonal cracks in them, marking stress points in the structure where the plaster has broken. The insula of Achiates might be the finest insula in Ar, but I thought that it stood somewhat in a condition of at least minor disrepair. A bit of renovation might not have been entirely out of order. The walls,
