"I will decide how well you have done, Ueln, when we have counted the wollies. As for this pair, I am not entirely displeased." She rose and walked across the dais to look down on them. Following her glance, Yorgh saw that the blue dress which had looked so well on Vaneen two nights ago was much the worse for rough treatment. Jayn stared contemptuously at the rents in it. "Well, girl," she asked, "what can you do to make yourself useful?" Vaneen gave her back stare for stare, saying nothing. Jayn tapped a small foot impatiently. Then she said something to make the men behind her grin. "Come, come!" she snapped. "Where would you earn your keep--in my kitchen, or in one of the buildings housing our young men?" Right there, Yorgh decided, was where he would have reached up and struck her, had she been a man and speaking to him. Women, it seemed, were wiser, especially in judging each other. "Your kitchen," said Vaneen evenly, but Yorgh knew that the day might come when Jayn would regret the affair. So did the Raydower woman, apparently, for there was a hard look in her eye as she watched the girl led away. Then it softened as she turned to Yorgh. "Untie him and clean him up, Ueln," she directed. "And get him something to wear in place of that awful rag. You had no need to be so rough with him." Ueln bit his lip, glaring at the remnants of Yorgh's crimson tunic. He turned on his heel and stalked toward the stairs flanking the entrance. One of the riders touched Yorgh's elbow, and he followed, seething undecidedly between the twin stings of being called ragged and of having it implied that a man the size of Ueln could have been rough with him. He was led up one of the two flights of stone stairs which to him were a wonder, and to a small room with a straw-covered wooden bed. Ueln drew his knife and cut the cord on Yorgh's wrist. "There's a pool along the trail a way," he said. "Tomorrow, you can swim and clean up in the morning with the other riders. I'll see if I can find a tunic big enough." "I have nothing to give you for it," said Yorgh, unable to avoid feeling sorry for the man at being received so casually after his hard ride. "Unless you want to keep the knife you took from me as payment." "Never mind," said Ueln. "You'll earn it before long, if I know Jayn." "What do you mean?" asked Yorgh warily. "She isn't a bad wench, in her way," Ueln muttered. "It's just that she tries so hard to keep us all under her thumb because so many have been at her to marry. She would rather continue to be chief." "I should think," suggested Yorgh, recalling the black hair and flashing eyes, "that one might be found who would wink at letting her keep the power." "Well, yes ... but she could never be sure," said Ueln. "Of course, if she married a man of another tribe--like you, for instance--it would make no difference. She would still rule, for he would be just a slave, with less rights than even the kitchen flunkies."