The guards who came for Margaret looked startled at their orders. "Not the slave pens, Highness?" one of them asked. "This woman will perhaps become Of the Faith," Sin snapped. "Treat her accordingly." Margaret looked up, but Sin offered no explanation. The suite of rooms to which she was taken were all she could have desired, but the windows looked out on a sheer drop and the guards bolted the door behind her. She had just time to glance around when the door opened again. "Your first slave," a single guard announced. "A gift to you from Highness Sin." The slave was a girl in her teens, scrawny and underfed and completely nude. Her face wore the same blank, uncomprehending look Margaret had noticed on the naked people in the audience chamber. Across her rigidly outstretched arms lay several rich dresses. "One of the Rebels," the guard satisfied Margaret's curiosity. "They make good durable slaves when their brains have been treated and they have received the slave-mark of Sin, though of course you must think your orders in detail. Perhaps you had better speak your orders at first, until you grow used to giving thought-commands. In the Vat these Rebels are excellent. So vital. "Highness Sin also sends you some of her own clothing." He withdrew, and this time did not lock the door. "Put those dresses down," Margaret told her slave. The girl complied. "Where is the bath?" The slave girl pointed. She seemed to have no power of speech and her face was dull and emotionless. "Get it ready for me." At first Margaret felt faintly uncomfortable under the girl's mindless stare, but soon grew accustomed to it. The girl obeyed perfectly, like a machine. Sin's gowns clung as though made for Margaret alone, and there was a table loaded with cosmetics. When she was finished Margaret felt more herself. Fresh clothes did wonders for her morale. Later the guard came again, bowed respectfully, and escorted her to the audience hall. He led her directly to Sin's throne. "You will want a man, of course," Sin began abruptly. "Which shall it be, Wor or your Victor from Earth? Or does some other catch your fancy?" Margaret noticed for the first time that Victor was in the room, well back from Sin's dais. He looked worried and a soldier stood just behind him. Perhaps a guard. On Earth he had been an excellent catch, but here he had nothing except a certain sly venomousness to recommend him. And already she had sensed complex undercurrents of intrigue and hinted mysteries within the fortress. She must pick the one who could best help her, no longer by Earth standards but by those of Varda. "I choose Wor," she announced. Victor's head jerked in an angry gesture. A gleam of anticipation entered Wor's eyes as he stepped forward. Sin's smile was definitely feline. "So be it. I believe you are a suitable candidate for the Faith, and tonight Wor will initiate you into the service of Great Sasso. Your Earth mind, my dear, has a certain potential value."