Our speculations in this matter proved correct and we used this break in the chain to move to its western side. Before we had left the vicinity of the encounter between the _Tais_ and the _Tamira_, I had called loudly, as though to Callimachus, "We have made good our immediate escape! Let us hasten now to Tetrapoli, where our safety most securely may be sought!" There had been an answering cheer from the crew of the _Tina_, to which cheer the men, upon our signal, gave vent. This ruse, of course, was for the benefit of survivors of the _Tamira_, still in the water about, clinging to wreckage. When picked up by the vessels of the pirate fleet, turning westward, having discovered the ruse of the _Olivia_, they would report what they had heard.
To be sure, I did not think this small, second ruse was truly necessary. It would be assumed by those of the pirate fleet that we, if we could make it west of the chain, would surely fly to one of the western towns for refuge. Tetrapoli is the first major town west of the chain. It would never occur to them, nor probably even to Reginald, captain of the _Tamira_, if he had survived the clash with the _Tais_, what might be the true nature of our intentions.
At the least we would wish to garner a large force, one sufficient to exploit any possible advantage which might accrue to us in virtue of our possession of the documents stolen from the _Tamira_. By the time such a force might be raised in the river towns, of course, the fleet of the Voskjard would have reached the holding of Policrates, reinforced it, and participated in the development of new security arrangements. Too, I did not think Reginald would be eager to report that the documents had been stolen from his own ship, before its loss to the _Tais_. Now, if he had survived the clash with the _Tais_, he could always maintain that the documents had been lost with the ship, in his bold and ill-fated attempt to prevent our escape. I had little doubt that he would find it preferable to be commended for gallantry than cut to pieces for an inadvertent lapse or negligence.
Miles of Vonda, on the stem castle of the _Tuka_, and Kliomenes, on the walls of the holding, exchanged signals.
We had not, of course, struck out for Tetrapoli, nor any of the other river towns. Instead of proceeding northwest toward Tetrapoli, or toward any other of the western towns, we had, under sail and oars, proceeded directly northward along the chain. By dusk we had come to the northern break in the chain, that produced by the second portion of the Voskjard's fleet. Utilizing this opening, the first produced by the buccaneers' incursions, we turned east by southeast. We had little doubt that we would be pursued first, mistakenly, northwestward toward Tetrapoli. While vessels followed our putative course, and the balance of the pirate fleet, regrouping and repairing injuries, waited upon their return, we sped, in alternating shifts, day and night toward the holding of Policrates. My original plan, I was confident, had it not been for its betrayal, would have gained us admittance into the holding.
I could not hear the discourse which took place between Kliomenes and Miles of Vonda, but I knew, and well, its nature.
"What is it which becomes whole when stones are joined?"
"That ship which sails a topaz sea."
"Where might be found a topaz sea?"
"Within four walls of rock."
"And where might be found these walls of rock?"
"About a topaz sea."
"Who owns the Vosk?"
"Those who own the ship that sails the topaz sea."
There was a cheer from the pirates on the walls. Kliomenes spoke to someone beside him. That man signaled another man, near the west gate tower. He, in turn, called out to another, apparently within the tower. Kliomenes stepped back from the wall. My hair stood up on the back of my neck. I heard the groan and the creak of the great gate. I saw the chains grow taut and then, protesting, dripping water, dark, wet and glistening, I saw the great bars lifting out of the water.
Callimachus, near me, lifted and dropped his blade a bit in his scabbard. It was a warrior's gesture. He may not even have been aware that he did it. It was as natural as the curling of the lip of a sea sleen, anticipatory to the baring of a fang, trembling, preparing to charge.
"Do not do that," whispered Callimachus to me.
"What?" I asked.
"Loosening your sword," he said. "That suggests that you expect to use it."
"I did that?" I asked.
"Yes," said he.
"I am sorry," I said. I smiled to myself.
I wondered how many of the hands of the fellows, mostly of Ar's Station, tensed on their oars in the _Tuka_, anticipating the reach below their benches to where their weapons lay concealed.
The sea gate rose. I was well aware of the force required to lift that weight.
Within the holding I could hear the sound of flutes, drums and kalikas. The melody, however, was slow and decorous.
Miles of Vonda had represented us, of course, as being the advance ships of the Voskjard's fleet.
I looked upward as we moved slowly, rowing, sail down, under the great gate. It was impossible to pass beneath it without a sense of apprehension. I remembered how, the last time, it had plunged downward. It had shattered the ship on which I had ridden in two.
Then, following the _Tuka_, the _Tais_ behind us, we were within the holding's sea yard.
Kliomenes had descended from the wall. He was waiting on the broad walk, near the iron door leading within the holding, for Miles of Vonda. Lines were being cast from the _Tuka_ to willing hands on the walk.
More than fifty slave girls, their hair coiffured high on their heads, clad in sleeveless, classic gowns of white silk, were aligned on the walk nearest the wall containing the iron door, that leading within to the halls of the fortress. To the music of the musicians, near the iron door, they performed a most decorous dance, slowly and gracefully lifting their arms and turning, facing first one side and then the other. In their hands they held baskets of flower petals. The dance was the sort that free maidens of a city might perform to honor and welcome visiting dignitaries, or the ambassador and his entourage, of a foreign city. Had their gowns not been sleeveless, and had they not been barefoot, and had their throats not been locked in collars, one might have mistaken them for free women. I could smell viands, too, cooking, the delicious odors of them emanating from the holding. A feast was being prepared.
I did not see either the slave, Beverly, or the slave, Florence, among them. Doubtless they, like many of the other slaves, were within the holding, preparing, under whips, the feast for their masters. I regarded the slaves. Even in such gowns and in the performance of movements so decorous I found them maddeningly exciting. How excruciatingly beautiful and desirable are women! How difficult it is even to look upon them and not scream with desire.
One could scarcely conceive of what such women would be later at the feast when, stripped or clad in rags, or perhaps insulted with a bit of silk, perhaps tied about their left ankle, they must, in the full exposure of their slavery, present themselves before strong men. I did not think their dances then would be so decorous, but would be such as to manifest the full sexual needs of women, under the command of men. I could conceive of them crawling on their knees, if so commanded, serving. I could conceive of them, as I had seen them at other Gorean feasts, their bodies stained with food and drink, caught by the hair, thrown on the low tables and raped by masters, and then raped again. They were naught but slaves. There was no service, pleasure or intimacy so delicious, so profound, so prosaic or so unexpected, that they must not render, and swiftly, at the merest whim of a master. They were, after all, naught but slaves.