They made a brief march before dark, apparently just until the other slaves were out of sight, then stopped for the night. Jason settled himself into the lee of a mound that broke the force of the wind a bit and unwrapped a piece of scorched meat he had salvaged from the earlier feast. It was tough and oily but far superior to the barely edible _krenoj_ that made up the greater part of the native diet. He chewed noisily on the bone and watched while one of the other slaves sidled over towards him. "Give me some your meat?" the slave asked in a whining voice, and only when she talked did Jason realize that this was a girl; all the slaves were alike in their matted hair and skin wrappings. He ripped off a chunk of meat. "Here. Sit down and eat it. What's your name?" In exchange for his generosity he intended to get some information from his captive audience. "Ijale." She tore at the meat, held tightly in one fist, while the index finger of her free hand scratched for enemies in her tangled hair. "Where do you come from? Did you always live here--like this?" How do you ask a slave if she has always been a slave? "Not here. I come from Bul'wajo first, then Fasimba, now I belong to Ch'aka." "What or who is Bul'wajo? Someone like our boss Ch'aka?" She nodded, gnawing at the meat. "And the D'zertanoj that Fasimba gets his arrows from--who are they?" "You don't know much," she said, finishing the meat and licking the grease from her fingers. "I know enough to have meat when you don't have any--so don't abuse my hospitality. Who are the D'zertanoj?" "Everyone knows who they are." She shrugged with incomprehension and looked for a soft spot in the sand to sit down. "They live in the desert. They go around in _caroj_. They stink. They have many nice things. One of them gave me my best thing. If I show it to you, you won't take it?" "No, I won't touch it. But I would like to see anything they have made. Here, here's some more meat. Now let me see your best thing." Ijale rooted in her skins for a hidden pocket and dragged out something that she concealed in her clenched fist. She held it out proudly and opened it and there was enough light left for Jason to make out the rough form of a red glass bead. "Isn't this so very nice?" she asked. "Very nice," Jason agreed, and for an instant felt a touch of real sorrow when he looked at the pathetic bauble. This girl's ancestors had come to this planet in spaceships with a knowledge of the most advanced sciences. Cut off, their children had degenerated into this, barely conscious slaves, who could pride a worthless piece of glass above all things. "I like you. I'll show you my best thing again." "I like you, too. Good night." V