I slipped behind the girl and suddenly seized her, holding my hand tightly over her mouth. the trash she carried spilled. I dragged her backwards. She struggled. She made muffled noises. I threw her down, behind the row of trash containers behind the house of Oneander in Ar. My hand was at her throat, thrusting the light steel collar she wore up under her chin. "Make no sound," I warned her. She was blond. She wore the brief, sleeveless white tunic of a house slave. She was barefoot. I recognized her. She was the woman, once free, who had been last on the coffle of Oneander long ago in Ar, the same coffle in which Miss Henderson had been secured. "Rape me quickly," she said. "I must soon be back."

"Where is Oneander?" I asked my eyes hard. I had had little fortune with the guards at the gate to his holding. I knew little more than that he was not now in the city.

"Gone,” she said. "To the north, business." "Where?" I asked. "Where?" My hand tightened on her throat. "I do not know Master," she whispered. "I do not know! I am only a slave!" Is the slave, Veminia, in the house?" I asked.

"The barbarian, the small dark-haired one, she brought from Vonda, she sold out of the house of Andronicus?"

"It is you!" she said suddenly, recognizing me. "The slave in the street!" "I am now fee," I said. "Where is she?" My grip tightened. "Speak!"

"She was taken north, she with ten others, by Oneander," she whispered. "Where?" I demanded. "I do no know," She whispered. "I am only a lowly slave." "Who would know?" I asked, fiercely.

"Those with him," she said. "Pneander keeps a close counsel" "Who else?" I demanded. "There must be others." "Alison," she said, "the dancing slave at the Belled Collar, she might know. Oneander uses her when it pleased him!"