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."
"You are mad!" she said.
"But now I must water you," I said. I lifted up the decanter of water. "There is a good deal of water here," I said, "But I want you to drink it, as you will not have another drink until sometime tomorrow. Put your head back."
I set the opening of the bottle to her mouth, but scarcely had she dampened her lips than she drew back her head.
"What is wrong?" I asked.
"This water has been drawn for days," she said. "Surely it is not fresh!"
"Drink it," I said. "All of it."
She looked at me.
"Your head can be held back by the hair," I said, "and your nostrils can be pinched shut."
"That will not be necessary," she said.
I then gave her of the water.
"Please," she protested.
But I did not see fit to permit her to dally in the downing of it.
I then set the decanter to the side, empty.
"That is a nicely rounded slave belly," said Marcus.
I patted it twice. It sounded not unlike a filled wineskin. Too it bulged out, and reacted not dissimilarly.
She drew back.
"If you were to be sold in a Tahari market," I told her, "you might find yourself forced to drink a large amount of water, like this, shortly before your sale."
She crept back, on her knees, apprehensively, putting a little more distance between us.
"Do not fear," I said. "I have no intention at present of testing you for vitality."
I then picked up the makings of the gag which were to her left, the wadding and the binding.
She eyed them, apprehensively.
"This is not the first time you have been a slave," I said. "Once, I knew, you were owned by Rask of Treve."
She looked up at me.
"Did you serve him well?" I asked.
"He put me often in slave silk, and jewelry, to show me off," she said, "as it amused him, he, of Treve, to have the daughter of Marlenus of Ar for a slave, but he did not make much use of me. Indeed, I served him, by his will, almost entirely in domestic labors, keeping his tent, and such. This he seemed to feel was appropriate, such demeaning, servile labors, for the daughter of Marlenus of Ar. But, too, I do not think he much cared for me. Then, when he got his hands on a meaningless little blond chit, a true slave in ever hort of her body, named El-in-or, he gave me away, to a panther girl named Verna, to be taken to the northern forests. I served panther girls, too, as domestic slave, and was later sold, at the coast, where I came into the collar of Samos, of Port Kar."
"It is difficult to believe that Rask of Treve did not put you to slave use," I said.
"He did, of course," she said.
"And how were you?" I asked.
"He told guests that I was superb," she said.
"And were you?" I asked.
"I had better have been," she said.
"True," I said. I had twice met Rask of Treve, both times in Port Kar. He was the sort of fellow whom women strove to serve unquestioningly to the best of their abilities.
"Surely you learned much of the arts of the slave in his tent," I said.
"No," she said. "I was more of a prize, or a political prisoner. I was more like a free woman in slave silk than a slave, in his camp."
"Then, in effect," I said, "aside from having worn the collar and such, you have never experienced what one might call a full slavery?"
"Like a common slave slut?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"No!" she said, angrily.
"That would seem to have been an oversight on the part of Rask of Treve," I said.
"Perhaps," she said, angrily.
"Perhaps other masters can remedy that oversight," I said.
"I am the Ubara of Ar!" she said.
"No," I said. "You are a slave girl." I then gagged her.
I then stood up, and looked down at her. "Tomorrow," I said, "guardsmen will come to free you of your bonds, and return you to the Central Cylinder. You must not forget, of course, even in the Central Cylinder, that you are my slave girl. Too, you must remember that I will come for you. When will it be? You will not know. Will you fear to enter a room alone, or a corridor unescorted, for fear someone may be there, waiting? Will you fear dark places, or shadows? Will you fear high bridges, and roofs, and promenades, because you fear that loop of a tarnsman tightening on your body, dragging you into the sky, his capture? Will you fear even your own chambers, perhaps even to open the portals of your own wardrobe, for fear someone might be waiting? Will you fear to remove your clothing, for fear someone, somehow, somewhere, might see? Will you fear to enter the bath, for fear you might be surprised there? Will you fear to sleep, I wonder, knowing that someone might come to you in the night, that you might waken suddenly to the gag, and helplessness?"
I looked down at her. There were tears in her eyes, over the gag. She looked well in bonds. She was a pretty slave.
"Let us go," I said to Marcus.
We then left the room.
28 The Room
I lay on a blanket, in the small room, in the insula of Torbon, on Demetrios Street, in the Metellan district.
Outside, the city was generally quiet.