"I do not understand then," she said. "To uphold the law they have jeopardized their careers, they have entered into exile?"
"There are such men," I said.
"I do not understand them," she said.
"That," I said, "is because you do not understand honor."
"Honor," she said, "is for fools."
"I am not surprised that one should hold that view, who is a traitress." She tossed her head, in impatience.
"You betrayed your Home Stone," I said.
"It is only a piece of rock," she said.
"I am sorry that I do not have time now for your training," I said.
"My training?" she asked.
"Your slave training," I said.
She stared at me, disbelievingly.
"But it can wait," I said.
"You amuse me," she said, "you who come from a world of weaklings! You are too weak to train a slave."
"Do you remember our last meeting," I asked.
"Of course," she said.
"It took place in the house of Samos, first slaver of Port Kar," I said. "Yes," she said.
"You were not then on your knees," I said.
"No," she said, squirming a little.
"But you were in a slave collar."
"Perhaps," she said.
"At that time I did not realize how right it was on you," I said.
She looked away, angrily.
"As it is on any woman," I said.
She pulled a bit at the bracelets, angrily.
"I could not then rise from my chair," I said. "I had been cut in the north by the blade of a sword, treated with a poison from the laboratory of Sullius Maximus, once one of the five Ubars of Port Kar."
She did not speak.
"Perhaps you remember how you ridiculed me, how you mocked and scorned me."
"I am now naked, and on my knees before you," she said. "Perhaps that will satisfy you."
"That is only the beginning of my satisfaction," I said.
"Do not pretend to be strong," she said. "I know you are weak, and from a world of weaklings. You come from a world where women may destroy you in a thousand ways, and you are forbidden to so much as touch them."
I looked at her.
"I hold you in contempt," she said, "as I did then."
"Did you think I would walk again?" I asked.
"No," she said.
"Perhaps that explains the license you felt, to abuse me," I speculated. "No," she said. "That you were confined to a chair was amusing, but I knew that you would free me, that I could do whatever I pleased to you, whatever I wished, with impunity. I despise you."
"I do not think it would be so amusing to you," I said, "if it were you in whom the poison had worked, paralyzing you, making it impossible for you to rise from the chair."
She didn't answer.
"Doubtless such toxins still exist," I mused, "and might be procured. Perhaps one could be entered into your fair body, with so small a wound as a pin prick. "No!" she cried, in alarm.
"But anything may be done to a slave," I said.
"Please, no!" she said.
"But then," I said, "I think I would rather have your lovely legs free, that you might hurry to and fro, serving me, or be able to dance before me, for my pleasure."
"Dance!" she wept. "For your pleasure!"
"Of course," I said.
She regarded me, aghast.
"Such practices are surely not unusual among slaves," I said, "such things a dancing before their masters."
"I suppose not," she said.
"For they are owned," I said.
"Yes," she said.
I was silent.
"What are you thinking of?" she demanded.
"I was thinking," I said, "that a special chair might be constructed, a holding chair, a prison chair, so to speak, into which you might be inserted, it then locked shut about you for, say, a few months. More simply, you might be simply chained in a chair for some months. This would give you, I would think, something of the sense of one afflicted with such difficulties. Then again, of course, you might consider how amusing you might find it."
"Do not even speak so!" she said.
"I would speculate," I said, "that after only a few Ahn in such a predicament you would be eager to be freed, that you would soon beg piteously to be permitted to dance, to run and fetch, to serve, such things."
"You can walk now," she murmured.
Much the same effect, of course, can be achieved in many ways, for example, by close chains, by the slave box, by cramped kennels, tiny cages, and such. These devices are excellent for improving the behavior of slaves.
She put her head down. I saw that she was frightened, that she was no longer certain of me.
"I received the antidote in Torvaldsland," I said, "brought to me from far-off Tyros, and, interestingly, as a matter of honor."
She lifted her head.
"Do you understand honor?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"How, then, can you speak of it?" she asked.
"Once or twice I glimpsed it," I said.
"And what is it like?" she asked."It is like a sun, in the morning," I said, "rising over dark mountains."
"Fool!" she cried.
I was silent.
"Weakling!" she said.
I was silent.
"You are a weakling!" she said.
"Perhaps not so much now as I once was," I said.
"Free me!" she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"Before," she said, "you freed me!"
"I am wiser now," I said.
"Cos can never be driven from Ar!" she said.
"The might of Cos on the continent," I said, "as opposed to her naval power is largely dependent on mercenaries."
"So?" she asked.
"Mercenaries, on the while," I said, "saving some companies with unusual allegiance to particular leaders, such as those of Pietro Vacchi and Dietrich of Tarnsburg, are seldom trustworthy, and are almost never more trustworthy then their pay."
"It matters not," she said. "Their pay is assured."
"Is it?" I asked.
"Ten companies could hold Ar," she said.
"Perhaps," I said. "I am not sure of it."
"Is it truly your intention to call my whereabouts to the attention of Seremides?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"He will rescue me," she said.
"No," I said. "In a sense he, or Myron, or others, will merely be keeping you for me, rather like your being boarded at some commercial slave kennels."
"What a beast you are," she said.
"Indeed," I said, "they will be saving me your upkeep."
"I shall be restored to the honors of the Ubara!" she said.
"No," I said. "You are now a slave. A slave cannot be Ubara. You can do no more now than pretend to be the Ubara. In a sense you will be an impostor. And let us hope that no one detects your deception, for, as you know, the penalties for a slave masquerading as a free woman are quite severe."
She looked at me, in fury.
"To be sure," I said, "few, at least at present, are likely to suspect your bondage. Most, seeing you participate in state ceremonies, holding court, opening games, and such, will think you are truly the Ubara. Only a few will know that you are my slave girl. Among these few, of course, will be yourself, and myself."
"It interests me," she said, "that you will not try to smuggle me now out of the city."
"You are only a slave girl," I said. "You are not that important."
"I see," she said.
"It would be rather pointless to take you now, and I do not find it convenient to do so."
"I see," she said.
"Other projects, you must understand, are of much higher priority."
"Naturally," she said.
"You can wait to be collected."
"Of course!" she said.
"Besides," I said, "it amuses me to think of you in the Central Cylinder."
"Oh?" she asked, angrily.
"Waiting for me to come for you," I said.
"Absurd!" she said.
"Particularly as you grow ever more apprehensive, and more frantic, sensing Ar slipping away from you, and your power collapsing about your ears."