Ute and I, to our astonishment, had escaped. Separated as we had been from the wagons, and doubtless, too, in virtue of the confusion, it had been our fortune not to have been noticed in our flight.
I had shaken my head. I had been afraid. What could we do? Where would we go? "You will come with me, or I will kill you! had screamed Ute.
"I'll come, Ute!" I had cried. "I'll come!"
Dismayed, terrified, bound to her by the throat strap, I had stumbled after her. We had run for perhaps an Ahn, when, gasping, exhausted, scarcely able to move, we had reached the edge of a large Ka-la-na thicket.
In this thicket, still tethered one to the other, we had thrown ourselves down on the grass.
"Ute, I am afraid," I had whispered to her. "I am afraid!"
"Do you not understand," she whispered, her eyes filled with joy, "we are free! We are free!"
"But what will we do?" I asked.
Ute crawled over to me, and began to work, with her small strong fingers, at the knot that bound the collar on my throat. "We will need this binding fiber," she said.
After a time, she managed to undo the knot. "Now," she said, "unbind me." "I cannot," I told her. I had tried before, and could not do it.
"Do it," said Ute, her eyes hard.
I again tried. I could not, with my small fingers, loosen it.
"Bring me a tiny stick," said Ute.
I did so.
She then chewed at the end of the tiny stick, sharpening it, putting a point on it.
She handed it to me.
With this tool, wedging it between the strands, I managed, after a time, to loosed them, and removed Ute's throat strap.
"Good," she said.
"What will we do, Ute?" I begged.
She coiled the heavy strap and put it about her shoulder. The two smaller pieces of binding fiber she thrust in the belt of her camisk, itself of binding fiber.
She then stood up.
"Come along," she said. "We must go deeper into the thicket."
"I cannot move," I told her. "I am too tired."
Ute looked at me.
"If you wish to leave now," I told her, "you must go on without me." "All right," said Ute. "Farewell, El-in-or," said she. She then turned and began to move away.
"Ute!" I had cried.
She did not turn.
I had leaped to my feet, running after her. "Ute!" I had wept. "Ute, take me with you!"
My hands now poised themselves over the silverish body in the water before me. I clutched again. This time I caught the thing, squirming, horned, scaly. It thrashed about. I could not hold it. It was too terrible to feel! With a slap of its tail it slithered free and darted away, downstream, but then, halted by the barrier of wands, turned and, under the water, motionless, faced me. I backed away, toward the open end of the «V», which pointed downstream. I could keep the thing in the trap. Ute would be back soon.
We had been free for five days. We had stayed in Ka-la-na thickets by day, and had moved across the fields at night. Ute was heading south and westward. The tiny village, Rarir, in which she had been born, lay south of the Vosk, and near the shores of Thassa.
"Why do you wish to go there?" I had asked Ute.
She had stolen from that village as a little girl. Her parents, the year before, had been slain by roving larls. Ute was of the leather workers. Her father had been of that caste.
"I do not much wish to go there," said Ute. "But where is one to go?" She smiled. "In my own village," she said, "they will not make me a slave." Sometimes, at night, Ute would moan the name of Barus, whom she had once loved. At the age of twelve, Ute had been purchased by a leather worker, who dwelt on the exchange island, administered by the Merchants, of Teletus. He, and his companion, had cared for her, and had freed her. They had adopted her as their daughter, and had seen that she was trained well in the work of the leather workers, that caste, which, under any circumstances, had been hers by right of birth.
On her nineteenth birthday, members of the Caste of Initiates had appeared at the door of the leather worker's hut.
It had been decided that she should now undertake the journey to the Sardar, which, according to the teachings of the Caste of Initiates, is enjoined on every Gorean by the Priest-Kings, an obligation which is to be fulfilled prior to their attaining their twenty-fifth year.
If a city does not see that her youth undertake this journey then, according to the teachings of the Initiates, misfortunes may befall the city.
It is one of the tasks of the Initiates to keep rolls, and determine that each youth, if capable, discharge this putative obligation to the mysterious Priest-Kings.
"I will go," had said Ute.
"Do you wish the piece of gold?" asked the chief of the delegation of Initiates, of the Leather Workers and his Companion.
"No," they had said.
"Yes," said Ute. "We will take it."
It is a custom of the Initiates of Teletus, and of certain other islands and cities, it the youth agrees to go to the Sardar when they request it, then his, or her, family or guardians, if they wish it, will receive one tarn disk of gold.
Ute knew that the leather worker, and his companion, could well use this piece of gold. Besides, she knew will that, some year, prior to her twenty-fifth year, such a journey must be undertaken by her. The Merchants of Teletus, controlling the city, would demand it of her, fearing the effects of the possible displeasure of the Priest-Kings on their trade. If she did not undertake the journey then, she would be simply, prior to her twenty-fifth birthday, removed from the domain of their authority, placed alone outside their jurisdiction, beyond the protection of their soldiers. Such an exile, commonly for a Gorean, is equivalent to enslavement or death. For a girl as beautiful as Ute it would doubtless have meant prompt reduction to shameful bondage, chains and the collar. Further, on other years, there would be no piece of gold to encourage her to undertake this admittedly dangerous journey.
"I will go," she had said.
She agreed to participate in the group then being organized by the Initiates. The leather worker and his companion, reluctantly, yielding to her entreaties, accepted the piece of gold.
Ute did indeed get to see the Sardar.
But she saw it in the chains of a naked slave girl.
Her ship fell to those of the black slaves of Schendi. She, and the others, were sold to merchants, who met the slaves at a secret cove, buying from them their catch. They were then transported overland in slave wagons to the Sardar, where they were sold at he great spring fair of En'Kara. When she was sold, from the block, over the palisade, she could see the peaks of the Sardar.
For four years, Ute, then a beauty, passed from one master to another, taken from city to city.
The she was taken by a master, with others of his slaves, again to the Sardar, again to be sold, to defray business debts resulting from the loss of a caravan of salt wagons.
It was there that she had been purchased by Barus, of the Leather Workers. She had had many masters, but it was only the name of Barus, which she moaned in her sleep.
She had much fallen in love with him, but she had, as she had told me, once attempted to bend him to her will.
To her horror, he had sold her.
She would never speak of him to me, but in her sleep, as I have said, she would cry his name.
"Why do you not go back to Teletus?" I asked Ute.
I did not much favor the idea of living in a village. And it was in Teletus that she had been freed, and adopted. Her foster parents might still be on the island.
"Oh," had said Ute, casually, "I cannot swim Thassa. I do not think I could very well purchase passage, either. And might not the Captain enslave me?" There seemed sense in what Ute had said.