There were no other bids, and Duare was knocked down to Kod. I was furious. Duare was to be taken away from me; and, worse still, she was to become the chattel of a heartless tyrant. All my moderate intentions went by the board. I determined to fight it out, killing as many as I could, seize Duare and blast my way to the city gates. With any luck at all I might make it, for the element of surprise in my action would give me a great advantage.
Vomer and the warriors were pressed pretty closely around me. I had not noticed it before; but they had been closing in on me; and now, before I could put my plan into action, they leaped upon me and by weight of numbers bore me to the ground. It was evidently the fruit of Vomer’s whispered conversation with the auctioneer.
Before I could whip out my pistol they bound my hands behind my back, and I was helpless. They did not take my weapon from me, and I knew why. I had said that whoever touched it would die, and they believed me.
While I was down Vomer kicked me in the ribs, and after they had jerked me to my feet he struck me in the face. I don’t know how much further he would have gone had not the auctioneer commanded him to desist.
“Do you want to ruin a valuable piece of property?” he cried. I was smarting under the indignities that Vomer had heaped upon me, but I was more concerned about Duare’s future. The man, Kod, was leading her away; and she was looking back at me with a brave little smile.
“I shall come for you, Duare!” I cried after her. “Somehow, some way I shall come.”
“Silence, slave!” snapped Vomer.
Kandar was standing near me. “Duare is fortunate,” he said.
“Why?” I asked.
“She was bought for Tyros,” he replied.
“And what is fortunate about that?” I demanded. “It seems to me to augur a future worse than death for a woman such as Duare.”
“You are mistaken. She will serve one of the women of the royal family.”
“Not after Tyros has seen her,” I argued.
“Skabra will see her, and Skabra will see that Tyros does not get her.”
“Who is Skabra?” I asked.
“Tyros’ mate, the vadjong of Mypos—a she-tharban and a jealous one. You need have no fear that Duare will fall into the hands of Tyros while Skabra lives; she is too beautiful. Were she ill-favored, Skabra might let Tyros have her.”
Well, that offered a ray of hope; and I was thankful for even the slightest glimmer.
Just then a man came and touched Kandar on the shoulder, and he went to the slave block. A number of Myposans swarmed around him, feeling of his muscles, examining his teeth.
The bidding for Kandar was spirited. He brought three hundred fifty kloovol—three and one half times as much as Duare; but then he was a strong, husky man; and as he was not being bid on by an agent of Tyros, the bidding was open to all.
After Kandar had been purchased, the man who had bought him touched me on the shoulder; and it was my turn to go to the block. I went with my hands bound tightly behind my back.
“Who wishes to buy this fine male slave?” he droned.
No one spoke. There was no bid. The auctioneer waited a moment, looking first at one potential bidder and then at another.
“He is very strong,” he said. “He has fine teeth. I have examined them myself. He could do a great deal of work for many years. I am sure that he is quite as intelligent as any members of the lower orders. Who wishes to buy him?”
Again there was silence. “It is too bad to destroy such a fine slave,” urged the auctioneer. Almost, he had tears in his eyes. And that was understandable, since he received a commission on every slave sold, and every unsold slave was a blot on his escutcheon.
Suddenly he got quite angry. “Why did you touch him?” he almost screamed at the man who had laid a hand on my shoulder.
“I didn’t touch him for purchase,” snapped the fellow; “I only wanted to see if his flesh was firm—just a matter of curiosity.”
“Well, you had no business to do it. Now you will have to bid on him. You know the law of the slave market.”
“Oh, all right,” said the fellow. “I don’t want him, but I’ll pay ten kloovol for him.”
“Anybody else crave this fine male slave?” inquired the auctioneer.
It seemed that no one did. “Very well,” he said, “this fine male slave has been sold to the agent of Yron for ten kloovol. Take him away!”
So I had been sold for five dollars and ninety cents! That was certainly a blow to my ego. It is a good thing that I have a sense of the ridiculous.
VIII
Well, at least I would not be separated from Kandar; and that was something, for he had been in Mypos long enough to become more or less familiar with the city and the manners and customs of its inhabitants. If an opportunity for escape arose, he would be invaluable as an ally.
Yron’s agent motioned us to accompany him; and Kandar started to comply, but I stood still.
“Come, slave!” commanded the agent. “What are you standing there for? Come with me!” He raised a whip he carried, to strike me.
“My wrists are bound,” I said.
“What of it?” he demanded. “Come along!”
“Not until you free my hands,” I told him.
He struck me then with his whip. “Get going, slave!” he cried.
“Not until my hands are freed,” I said, stubbornly; then he struck me again; whereupon I lay down.
The fellow became furious, and struck me again and again, but I would not budge.
“If you want your slave alive,” said Kandar, “you will free his hands. He will never come until you do.”
I knew that it was a hell of a way for a five dollar and ninety cent slave to act, but I felt that by asserting myself at the beginning I might find the going easier later.
The agent hit me a couple of more blows for good luck; then he stooped and freed my hands.
“Get up!” he ordered, and as I rose to my feet he swelled visibly, exhaling wind through his teeth. “I am a great slave driver,” he said; “they always obey me.”
I was glad he was satisfied, and winked at Kandar. Kandar grinned. “Be careful,” he cautioned. “They make short shrift of slaves who are recalcitrant, and don’t forget that you didn’t cost Yron very much. He could easily afford to do away with you.”
Vomer had been standing around evidently enjoying the whipping I had received. “You shouldn’t have freed his hands,” he said to Yron’s agent.
“Why?” demanded the fellow.
“Because now he can kill you with that thing,” he explained, pointing at my pistol.
“Give it to me!” commanded the agent. I slipped it from its holster and proffered it to him, muzzle first.
“Don’t touch it!” cried Vomer. “It will kill you if you touch it.”
The man drew back. He was in a quandary.
“You needn’t be afraid,” I told him, “you would never have touched it, and as long as you treat Kandar and me well I’ll not kill you.” I slipped the weapon back into its holster.
“You’ve bought something for Yron,” said Vomer, venomously. “When he finds out what, he’ll lop off your head.”
I suppose the fellow was unhappy, for his gills fluttered. I couldn’t tell, of course, by the expression on his face; as that never changed. Like all the rest of his kind, he had no facial muscles to reflect his moods.
“Come along, slaves!” he ordered, and led Kandar and me away.
It was not far from the slave market to Yron’s house, and we presently found ourselves in a large patio in the center of which was a pool about fifty feet wide and a hundred long. There were trees and shrubs and flowers and an expanse of lawn, all in the soft pastel shades of Amtorian verdure. Several slaves were pruning and trimming and cultivating, and there were three armed with wooden tridents standing like sentries about the pool. I noticed that these often glanced up at the sky. Naturally, I looked up also; but I saw nothing. Glancing into the pool, I saw a few fishes swimming about; but they did not interest me—then.