red fully with
details of the past of one Rossa, a Beaker merchant. Yes, he was from
the south. His father was Gurdi, who had a trading post in the warm
lands along the big river. This was Rossa's first trip to open new
territory. He had come with his father's blood brother, Assha, who was a
noted far voyager, and it was an honor to be chosen as donkey-leader for
such a one as Assha. With Assha had been Macna, one who was also a far
trader, though not as noted as Assha.

Of a certainty, Assha was of his own race! Ross blinked at that
question. One need only to look upon him to know that he was of trader
blood and no uncivilized woodsrunner. How long had he known Assha? Ross
shrugged. Assha had come to his father's post the winter before and had
stayed with them through the cold season. Gurdi and Assha had mingled
blood after he pulled Gurdi free from the river in flood. Assha had
lost his boat and trade goods in that rescue, so Gurdi had made good his
loss this year. Detail by detail he gave the story. In spite of the fact
that he provided these details glibly, sure that they were true, Ross
continued to be haunted by an odd feeling that he was indeed reciting a
tale of adventure which had happened long ago and to someone else.
Perhaps that pain in his head made him think of these events as very
colorless and far away.

"It would seem"--the quiet man turned to the one behind the table--"that
this is indeed one Rossa, a Beaker trader."

But the man looked impatient, angry. He made a sign to the other guard,
who turned Ross around roughly and sent him toward the door with a
shove. Once again the leader gave an order in his own language, adding a
few words more with a stinging snap that might have been a threat or a
warning.

Ross was thrust into a small room with a hard floor and not even a skin
rug to serve as a bed. Since the quiet man had ordered the removal of
the ropes from Ross's arms, he leaned against the wall, rubbing the pain
of returning circulation away from his wrists and trying to understand
what had happened to him and where he was. Having spied upon it from the
heights, he knew it wasn't an ordinary trading station, and he wanted to
know what they did here. Also, somewhere in this village he hoped to
find Assha and Macna.

At the end of the day his captors opened the door only long enough to
push inside a bowl and a small jug. He felt for those in the dusk,
dipping his fingers into a lukewarm mush of