empty. I hoped so, for I might have need of them. On the other hand many of the alcoves which were in total darkness were not empty. From within many I could hear, as I moved past, the small sounds of chains, sometimes pathetic sounds, responding doubtless to the restricted, helpless movements of small, fair limbs on which they were locked, and the soft love moans of used slaves. Many of these women were doubtless forbidden to speak. They found themselves responding in the darkness to unseen masters merely as helpless, anonymous love objects. In some of the other alcoves, of course, those not empty, there were presumably slaves, girls waiting alone in the darkness, in their chains, knowing that they would be at the mercy of whoever might enter the alcove. In the Delta Tunnel, in Alcove Twenty-One, the girl, Lale, I supposed, she now reduced to the modality of the she-quadruped, might be so waiting. Too, in at least one of these alcoves, I recalled, though I did not know which one, in this very tunnel, there was a chained, gagged free woman. I was suddenly very quiet. I could hear something approaching me down the tunnel. I expected of course, that anyone interested in me would be behind me. I unsheathed my quiva. I smelled paga. Then a fellow crawled past me in the tunnel.
I continued on my way.
'More! More! I beg more! I beg more!' I heard a girl's voice coming from one of the alcoves to my right. 'Please, Master, do not stop! No! Do not stop! Please! I beg more! I beg more!' I heard the movement of chains, jerking helplessly against rings. 'Please, Master!' she wept. 'Please! Please! I am helpless! I am at your mercy! Please, Master, I beg it of you! Oh, yes, Master! Yes, Master! Yes! Yes! Yes! Aiiiiii! Oh, thank you, Master, kind master! Ohhhh. Ohhhh. Oh. I am yours! You have made me yours! Buy me, I beg you. I want to love and serve you! Buy me, take me home with you! Own me! You have made me yours!' I then heard her breathing, and gasping, and a small movement of chains. 'Master?' she asked, with a small movement of the chain. 'Master?' Oh, Master! You are going to do it to me again? No, sweet Master, I cannot prevent you. I must endure whatever you choose to impose upon me. You choose to make me again such a helpless, squirming, screaming thing, so much outside of myself, so helplessly at your pleasure? Do so, then, for I am a slave! I sense it! I sense it! Do so, then. I cannot stop you. Nor do I wish to do so. I am a slave. I am yours. Do with me as you will. Begin, I beg you. Oh, yes, yes, Master!'
I then continued again on my way.
The tunnel became more winding. It did not, however, become roomier. One can tell the alcove numbers by feel, if one does not have a lamp. I now felt the number to my right. It was Twenty-Six. The next alcove would be Twenty-Seven. It would be ahead and to the left. The alcoves are staggered. I suppose this is primarily for the sake of privacy. This arrangement also, of course, tends to reduce the number of unexpected face-to-face encounters in the hall. Goreans are sometimes nervous about such things. I conjectured I must be quite deep in the tunnel. The rear entrance, or the entrance into a rear corridor, I did not think, should be too far beyond this point. Perhaps I could simply leave by the rear exit, without difficulty. That might be very nice. I stopped. I listened. I was patient. Then I heard it. It was not a loud sound at all, but it was unmistakable, the sound of the movement of a piece of metal on the stones. For such a sound I supposed there might be many explanations. One of them, of course, which I found especially fascinating, would be that of a knife carried in the hand of a fellow crawling in the tunnel.
I continued crawling down the tunnel. 'Cicek,' I she said. 'Where are you? Where are you, little Cicek?'
'Hold,' said a voice.
'Tal,' said I. 'Did Cicek come this way? Did you see a slave come this way?' 'One sees nothing down here,' growled the fellow.
'Perhaps you felt her then?' I said. 'That might have been pleasant,' 'You are drunk,' he said.
'Not at all,' I said.
'What are you doing here?' he asked. 'What does anyone do in the tunnels?' I asked. 'What are you doing here?'
'Speak,' he said, menacingly.
'To be honest, not much,' I said. 'Are you sure that Cicek did not pass you?' 'No one has passed me,' he said, a bit grimly, I thought.
'Perhaps she went the other way?' I said.
'Hold, who are you?' he asked.
'I am called Bosk,' I said.
'Is there anyone else in the tunnel?' he asked.
'I think so,' I said.
'Not in an alcove?'
'No,' I said.
'Where is he?' he asked.
'He is ahead of you,' I said. That was certainly true. I was ahead of him. 'Thank you, Citizen,' said he.
'You are welcome,' I said. I then turned about and began to crawl back down the tunnel. 'Cicek,' I called. 'Where are you?' Fortunately none of the girls in the alcoves were named Cicek. Otherwise it might have been rather embarrassing. If there was no one at the other end of the tunnel, I supposed I might just as well go out through the front door.
'Cicek,' I called.
'Hold,' said another voice. This fellow sounded fully as grim as the last fellow. The voices were not those of fellows that one, or most folks, at any rate, would be likely to look forward to meeting in a dark alley, or, as the case might be, tunnel. I couldn't see him any better than the other one, nor, I assume, could he see me.
'Did a slave pass you in the tunnel?' I asked. 'Cicek? She is not very big, but she is very nicely curved.'
'No,' he said, 'Who are you?'
'Bosk,' I said.
'Have you seen anyone else in the tunnel?' he asked.
'It is pretty hard to see anything in the tunnel,' I said.
'Is there someone in the tunnel who is not in an alcove?' he asked. 'Yes,' I said.
'Where is he?' he asked.
'He is ahead of you,' I said. That is exactly where I was.
'What is he doing?' asked the man.
'He is just staying in one place,' I said. That is what I was doing at the time, of course, just staying in one place.
'I thought so,' said the fellow, decisively. 'Thank you, Citizen.' 'That is all right,' I said. 'You are sure you have not seen Cicek?' 'No,' he said.
'Maybe she is in the other direction,' I said. I turned about and started down the tunnel.
'Enter an alcove,' said the man. 'Keep the tunnel clear.'
'Do you know a good one?' I asked.
'Move,' he said.
'Very well,' I said. I saw no point in being disagreeable. They were all probably nice enough.
I moved back down the tunnel. I was reasonably well pleased. As far as I could tell there were only two of them, one at each end of the tunnel. They were two in number doubtless to spring a trap in a tunnel. The invitation had been to the Tunnels. They might have assumed, thus, that I, sooner or later, from curiosity, or, perhaps growing wary, and attempting to escape, would enter one of them. Too, surely they would not wish to wait until morning to locate their quarry. I no longer found it judicious to speculate that their intent was merely to make polite contact and transmit information. I suspected somewhat more serious things were on their minds. As I had not emerged from the tunnel, or tried to emerge from it, they would assume that I was waiting within it. They would also assume, presumably, and I had encouraged them in this belief, that their quarry might be in the tunnel and not in an alcove. In a tunnel he might swiftly move in whatever direction seemed opposite danger. In an alcove, it might seem he could be too easily trapped. Actually, of course, given the structure of the alcoves, as I had determined it, it could be extremely dangerous to attempt to enter it if it were defended. Indeed, one would only have to stay there until morning, at which time, presumably, they would feel obliged to make away. The fellow I had left behind me was probably the leader. Presumably he would wish to signal his fellow down the corridor in some way.
I heard, in a few Ehn, a soft whistle behind me. It carried well in the tunnel. It was answered, momentarily, by another soft whistle, ahead of me. I moved ahead. I felt the alcove numbers. There was another whistle behind
