"Revile the Home Stone of Ar's Station while you may," said the guard to a tradesman.  We do not know what the future may hold."

"No," said the tradesman, looking about.  He knew not who, might be in that crowd, nor what their sympathies might be.  He did not enter between the velvet ropes, forming their corridor to the roped enclosure within which rested the stone.

"I do not fear to do so, even now," said a brawny fellow of the caste of metal workers.

"Steady," I said to Marcus, beside me.

"Nor do I fear," said the brawny fellow, "the legions of Cos, nor her adherents or spies!  I am of Ar!"  He then strode between the ropes to the stone, which rested upon a plank, itself resting on two huge terracotta vats, of the sort into which slop pots in insulae are dumped.  Such vats are usually removed once or twice a week, emptied in one carnarium or another, outside the walls, rinsed out and returned to the insula.  Companies have been organized for this purpose.  "Curses upon Ar's Station," he cried, "city faithless and without honor, suborned ally, taker of bribes, refuge of scoundrels, home of cowards, betrayer of the mother city!  Down with Ar's Station.  Curses upon her!"  He then spat vigorously upon the stone.

"Steady," I whispered to Marcus.  "Steady."

The fwllow then, not looking about, exited between the velvet ropes on the other side.

Only yesterday there had been lines, though smaller than when we had first come to Ar, to revile the stone.  Today, almost no one approached it.  The enclosure was within sight of the Central Cylinder, on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder.

I put my hand on Marcus' wrist, not permitting him to draw , his sword.  "Remember," I said.  "They think that Ar's Station opened her gates to Cos."

"Cursed lie!" said he.

"Yes, indeed," I said, rather loudly, for I saw some fellows look about at Marcus, "it is a cursed lie for any to suggest that the men of Ar might lack courage.  Surely they are among the bravest on all Gor!"

"True, true," said more than one fellow, returning his attention to his own business.

"Come away from here," I said to Marcus.

Phoebe was not with us.  We had stopped at one of the depots for fee carts on Wagon Street, in southeast Ar.  There we had backed her into a slave locker, reached by a catwalk, on all fours, inserted the coin, a tarsk bit, turned and removed the key.  It is a simple device, not unlike the slave boxes used in certain storage areas.  Unlike the slave boxes they do not require the immediate services of an attendant.  The lockers open outward, as opposed to the slave boxes, which open upward.  The lockers, thus, like slave cages, may be tiered.  The gate of the locker, like the lid of the slave box, is perforated for the passage of air, usually, like the slave box, with a design in the form of a cursive 'Kef', the first letter of 'Kajira', the most common Gorean expression, among several, for a female slave.  The usual, and almost universal, temporary holding arrangement is a simple slave ring, mounted in the wall.  These are conveniently available in most public places.  The slave is usually chained to them.  Marcus had decided to keep Phoebe today in a box or locker, rather than at an open ring.  "Down on all fours, crawl within, backward!" Marcus had ordered the slim beauty.  She had obeyed, instantly.  Gorean slave girls swiftly learn not to demur at the orders of masters.  I recalled her face, looking up at Marcus.  "Let et this help you to keep in mind that you are a slave," said Marcus.  "Yes, Master," she had said.  He had then closed the door, turning the key, removing it, placing it in his pouch.  I did not object to this incarceration of his beauteous slave as such things are excellent for their discipline.  Also, it seemed to me, aside from the value of its effect of Phoebe, an excellent idea.  If he were successful in his mad attempt to obtain the Home Stone of his city he doubtless be a recognized wanted man.  Some might recall that Phoebe was his slave, and thus attempt to trace him through her.  In the locker she would not be as easily recognized, surely not as easily as if she were kneeling at a wall, braceleted to a ring.  The keeping her in a box or locker seemed to me superior, too, incidentally, to renting a tenement room, even though these were now cheaper and more available than when I had been last in Ar, because of the new egress of refugees, now from Ar herself.  We might be remembered by the proprietor or other tenants in such a place.  Had we used such a room we could have left her there, chained to a slave ring.  In such a room, assuming slaves are allowed in the building, there are usually two of these, one at the wall and one at the foot of a straw-filled pallet.  The depot, incidentally, had been muchly crowded, though not with fee carts.  Most of the wagons, coaches, fee carts, and such were gone.  No longer were the schedules, within and outside of the city, being kept.  Tharlarion, and such transportation, were now said to be worth their weight in gold.  I had heard that certain rich men had exchanged as many as fifteen high slaves, choice "flowers" from their pleasure gardens, trained even to Curulean quality, for a single tharlarion and wagon.  But I did not know, even then, how far they might get, what with the need of such conveyances, brigands on the road, advance scouts of Cos, and such.  Some, I had had heard, had been turned back even by guardsmen of Ar, outside the city.  That seemed hard to understand.  In any event, most of those in the city, surely the largest part, by far, of its population, had no practical way to leave the city, lest it be on foot.  Even then they would have surely, most of them, nowhere to go, or stay.  Who knew what dangers might lie outside the walls?  Too, they could always be overtaken by tharlarion cavalry or Cosian tarnsmen.  The citizenry of Ar, for the most part, was trapped in the city.  Indeed, there were even rumors circulating that the gates of the city would soon be closed, and even sealed, reinforced against siege weapons.  There was talk, too, of course, about defending the city.  Indeed, it was with this in mind, that I had come this morning to the city, to lend my sword, a modicum of mercenary iron, to her defense.  On the other hand, this cause, I suspected, was doomed.  It was not that I doubted that those of Ar, suitably rallied and led, might effect a stout and fierce resistance, but that I had some concept, as many did not, Marcus, for example, of the arithmetic of war.  In any normalcy of combat, assuming the equivalence of the units, the comparability of weaponry, the competence of the commanders, and such, Ar would be doomed.  The army of Cos was the largest ever brought to the field on Gor, and it was now, after the fall of Ar's Station, abetted by numerous reinforcements from the north.  Furthermore, it had had the winter to restore its siege train, the original train burned in Torcadino, fired by Dietrich of Tarnburg, and, because of its recent success in the field, west of Ar, it could draw on thousands of square pasangs for its logistical support.  Further, its lines of communication, from the palace at Telnus, in Cos, to the tent of Myron, the polemarkos, were swift and reliable.  I doubted that Ar, even if rallied by a Marlenus of Ar, could hold out for more than a few weeks.  And, once one added to the reckoning of these dismal tables the skewing factor of treachery in Ar, and that her high general, Seremides, of Tyros, was traitorous to his oaths, as I had learned at Holmesk, in the north, Ar.  I was sure, was doomed.