“She is a proud, and noble woman,” said Samos.

“I love her — “ I said.

“Then go to the marshes and search her out,” said Samos.

“I–I must go to the northern forests,” I stammered.

“Builder of Ubara’s Scribe Six,” said Samos, moving a tall wooden piece toward me on the board.

I looked down. I must defend my Home Stone.

“You must choose,” said Samos, “between them.”

How furious I was! I strode in the torchlit hall, my robes swirling. I pounded on the stones of the wall. Could Talena not understand? Could she not understand what I must do? I had labored in Port Kar to build the house of Bosk. I stood high in this city. The curule chair at my high table was among the most honored and envied of Gor! What honor it was to be the woman of Bosk, merchant, admiral! And yet she had turned her back on this! She had displeased me! She had dared to displease me! Bosk! The marshes had nothing to offer her. Would she refuse the gold, the gems, the silks and silvers, and spilling coins, the choice of wines, the servants and slaves, the security of the house of Bosk for the lonely freedoms and silences of the salt marshes of the Vosk’s vast delta? Did she expect me to hasten after her, piteously begging her return, while Talena, once my companion, lay chained slave in the cruel green forests of the north! Her trick would not work!

Let her stay in the marshes until she had had her pretty fill, and then let her crawl whimpering back to the portals of the house of Bosk, whining and scratching like a tiny domestic sleen for admittance, to be taken back! But I knew Telima would not come back.

I wept.

“What are you going to do?” asked Samos. He did not lift his eyes from the board.

“In the morning,” I said, “I leave for the northern forests.”

“Tersites,” said Samos, not looking up, “builds a ship, fit to sail beyond the world’s end.” “I no longer serve Priest-Kings,” I said.