Explorers of Gor by John Norman

sold to the first buyer for the cost of her branding. If she is not sold in five Ehn then take her to the public market shelves and chain her there, taking the best offer which equals or exceeds the cost of her branding.”
    The girl looked up at the praetor. The strap, in the hand of the guardsman, grew taut at her throat.
    “This tarsk bit,” said the praetor, lifting the coin which had been taken from her mouth earlier, “is now confiscated, and becomes the property of the port.” This was appropriate. Slaves own nothing. It is, rather, they who are owned.
    The girl, the new slave, was then dragged stumbling away from the tribunal.
    I noted that Ulafi, captain of the Palms of Schendi, and his first officer, were now standing near me in the crowd. They were looking at me.
    I made my way toward them.
    “I would book passage on the Palms of Schendi,” I told them.
    “You are not a metal worker,” said Ulafi to me, quietly.
    I shrugged. “I would book passage,” I said.
    “We do not carry passengers,” he said. Then he, and his first officer, turned away. I watched them go.
    The praetor was now conversing with the fellow, Bem Shandar, from Tabor. Papers were being filled in; these had to do with the claims Bem Shandar was making to recover his stolen money.
    “Captain!” I called to Ulafi.
    He turned. The crowd was dispersing.
    “I could pay a silver tarsk for passage,” I told him.
    “You seem desperate to leave Port Kar,” said he.
    “Perhaps,” I told him.
    “We do not carry passengers,” said he. He turned away. His first officer followed him.
    I went to a guardsman, near the praetor station. “What efforts are being mace to recover the lost slave?” I asked.
    “Are you with the Palms of Schendi?” he asked.
    “I hope to book passage on that ship,” I said. “I fear the captain will delay his departure until she is recovered.” I was sure this was the case.
    “We are conducting a search,” said the guardsman.
    “She may be wearing the garment of a she-urt,” I said.
    “That is known to us, Citizen,” said he.
    “I myself,” said a nearby guardsman, “stopped a girl answering the description, one in the torn rag of a she-urt, but when I forced her to reveal her thighs, she was unmarked.”
    “Where did you find such a girl?” I asked.
    “Near the Spice Pier;” he said.
    “My thanks, Guardsman,” said I.
    It seemed to me that the blond girl might well consider various strategies for eluding capture. I did not think she would be likely to flee east along the canal walkways, for these were relatively narrow and, on them, between the buildings and the canal, she might be easily trapped. Also, though this would not figure in her thinking, she could, on the north, east and south, be trapped against the delta walls or at the marsh gates. I did not think it likely she would risk stealing a boat. Even if she could handle a small craft, which I doubted, for she was an Earth girl, probably from an urban area, the risk of discovery would be too great. Also, though she did not know it, a she-urt in a boat would surely provoke instant suspicion. Where would such a girl obtain a boat, if she had not stolen it. Too, it would, given the construction of the buildings of Port Kar, be difficult to attain the roof of one from the outside of the building. I did not think she would try to gain admittance to a building. She would probably then, in my opinion, try to find her way to markets or stay about the wharves. The markets were, for the most part, save the wharf markets, deeper in the city. I did not think she would reach them, or know how to find them. She was then, probably, in the vicinity of the wharves. Here she would, presumably, attempt to conceal herself. She might hide in various ways. Obvious ways of hiding would be to conceal herself among the boxes and bales at the wharves, to creep into a crate, or barrel, or to cover herself with sheets of sail canvas or with heavy coils of mooring