For a time, he looked at the green atop the cliffs, then he transferred his attention upriver, toward the bend where the Nalen came out of the pass to blow between the iron cliffs of Menstal. The water flowed swiftly in the narrows, throwing off white glints as its ripples caught the sunlight, then deepening to a dark blue where it came into the shadow of the cliffs. A sudden call sounded from the lookout far above, and the officer wheeled about, looking to the great chain which stretched from tower to cliff, to block river traffic. It was in proper position, and Gerda looked back at the bend. As he watched, a long, low barge drifted into sight, picking up speed as it came into the rapid current. Polemen balanced themselves alertly in the bow, their long sticks poised to deflect their course from any threatening rocks. Gerda threw off the almost poetical admiration of beauty that had possessed him a moment before and faced the guard house, from whence came a scuffle of feet and the clank of arms, to tell of the guard's readiness. "Turn out the Guard." Gerda drew himself up into a commanding pose. A group of men-at-arms marched stiffly out, followed by a pair of serfs. The leader saluted Gerda with upraised hand. "The Guard is ready, My Captain," he proclaimed. "May the tax be rich." Gerda returned the salute. "It will be," he stated positively. "These merchants have learned by now that to insult Portal Menstal with poor offerings is unwise in the extreme. And, mark me, they'll not forget!" The barge approached and swung in toward the wharf in obedience to Gerda's imperious gesture. One of the polemen jumped ashore, securing a line to a bollard. The steersman climbed to the dock, to halt a pace in front of Gerda. He folded his hands and bowed his head submissively. "Does Your Honor desire to inspect the cargo?" "Of course." Gerda's haughty glance appraised the man from toe to crown. "Quickly now. I've little time to waste." He glanced back at his clerk, who had a tablet ready. "Your name, Merchant?" "Teron, of Krongert, may it please you, sir. I have been to----" Gerda waved an impatient hand. "Save me your speech, Higgler," he said curtly. "What's your cargo value?" "Six thousand teloa, Your Honor. We have----" "Unload it. I'll look at it." Gerda waved the man to silence. * * * * * As the bales of goods were placed on the wharf, Gerda examined them critically. A few, he ordered set aside after a quick check and a few questions. Others, he ordered opened and spread out. At last, satisfied with his estimate of the cargo's valuation, he turned. "Your choice, Merchant?" "I would pay, Your Honor," said the man, "to the tenth part of my cargo." He extended a leather bag. "Don't haggle with me," snapped Gerda. "The tax is a fifth of your cargo, as you should well know." His hand sought his sword hilt.