"Yes, Master," she said, smiling, putting her head down.
Hurtha threw his things into the wagon. Among them was the heavy, single bladed Alar war ax. In the dialect of the Alars, if it is of interest, this particular type of ax is called the francisca. Among those, too, who have learned to fear it, it is often referred to by that name.
I decided that I would walk beside the wagon for a time. There did not seem room for both Hurtha and myself on the wagon box, beside Mincon.
"Ho!" called Mincon to his beast, shaking the reins with his left hand and cracking the tharlarion whip over its back with his right. Tula cried out, inadvertently, at the sharp crack of the whip, and Feiqa winced. Both were slaves and had some comprehension of the whip. To be sure, only Tula had felt the tharlarion whip, and I did not envy her her knowledge. Feiqa, on the other hand, had felt the five-bladed Gorean slave whip, used for the punishment and the correction of the behavior of females. Both, thus, were aware of what a whip could mean, from the slave' point of view. The wagon lurched and, moving unevenly, the wheels going over rocks and traversing ruts left from the traversing ruts left from the passage of other wagons, began its climb to the road.
"Hold!" I said, suddenly, to Mincon, as we came to the edge of the road. He pulled back on the reins.
The free woman hurried forward. I did not know where to find you," she said. "I knew you would come this way. I have been waiting by the side of the road." "Do you know this woman?" inquired Mincon.
"Yes," I said.
Mincon was eager to be on his way. His hand had tightened on the tharlarion whip. If this woman were merely another beggar he was ready, clearly, to strike her from his path.
"You are wearing a dress," said Hurtha.
"Yes," she said.
"Did you manage to free yourself?" he asked. "No," she said, reddening. "I could not free myself. I was absolutely helpless."
Hurtha regarded her.
"I was cut loose by Genserix this morning," she said.
"A free woman is present," I said to Feiqa. Immediately she knelt. "Head to the ground," I whispered to her. Immediately she complied, Behind the wagon Tula, frightened, immediately followed her example. Both, in a sense, particularly Tula, were new to the collar. Both must learn that they were nothing in the sight of free persons.
"You are wearing a dress," said Hurtha.
"Yes," she said.
He continued to regard her.
"What are you staring at?" she asked.
"You," he said.
"I?" she asked.
"I have never seen you in a dress before," he said.
"So?" she asked.
"It is nothing," he said. "It is only that I am surprised to see you thusly." Boabissia was not in furs and leather. She now wore one of the simple, corded, belted, woolen, plain, widely sleeved, ankle-length dresses of the Alar women. It was brown. She had belted it snugly, and had, too, drawn its adjustment cording snugly from its loop about the back of her neck down to her breasts where she had crossed it and then taken it back, both cords, between and under her breasts, again to her belt, tying it closely at the sides of her body. This is not uncommon among Alar women. Even though they are free they are apparently not above reminding their men that they are females. It is a simple arrangement, but not unattractive. It covers almost everything, with seeming modesty, but in such a way, that it is likely to lead a man to think in terms of removing it. Boabissia, however, was presumably unaware of these things. From her point of view, she had probably done nothing more than to garb herself in the accustomed manner of the Alar woman. Even so, however, putting herself in a dress, in itself, seemed to represent some sort of considerable change in her. She wore, too, as she had last night, her dagger in her belt. "I am entitled to dress in this fashion," she said defensively. "Then you are a woman," he said.
She did not deign to respond.
"Are you a woman?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, angrily. "I am a woman!"
"Then it is appropriate that you should wear a dress," he said.
"Perhaps!" she said. She looked at him angrily.
"When did you discover that you were a woman?" he asked. "Last night?" She did not deign to answer.
"Yes," he speculated, "it was doubtless last night."
Her small fists clenched.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"I want to come with you," she said. She put down her head.
"We must be on our way," said Mincon. Other wagons were emerging from the camp, coming up the small slope, and trundling onto the stones of the Genesian Road. The two slaves still knelt in their places, their heads down to the dirt. They had not yet been given permission to change their position.
"You had best remain within the safety of the wagons," said Hurtha. "This is the great outside world. You do not know what might become of you out here." "I am not afraid," she said.
"You might be killed," said Hurtha.
"I am not afraid," she said.
"You might be caught, and put in chains," said Hurtha. He did not even mention, explicitly, the horrifying word "bondage," In this he was tactful. She was a free woman.
"That I fear most," she said. "That would be a fate a thousand times worse than death."
Feiqa, kneeling near my feet, her head down to the dirt, stifled a sound of amusement. I kicked her, gently with the side of my foot, to silence her.
"Remain with the wagons," said Hurtha.
"No," said Boabissia.
"You are rather pretty," he said. (pg.73) "Do not insult me," she said.
"I wonder what you would look like, stripped, and branded and collared, as a slave," he said.
"Please, Hurtha," she said.
"Do you think you could please a man?" he asked.
"I have no interest in pleasing men," she said.
"But do you think you could do so?" he asked.
"I am sure I do not know." She said.
"In a collar," he said, "subject to the whip, you would doubtless attempt desperately to learn to do so, and quickly and well."
"Perhaps," she said angrily.
"Remain with the wagons," he said.
She looked at Hurtha, and then at me, and then again at Hurtha. She fingered the small copper disk, on its thong, tied about her throat, that disk which had been found on her in infancy, when she had been found by Alars in the wreckage of a burned, raided caravan, that disk on which a «Tau and a number had been inscribed. "No," she said.
Another wagon climbed to the road, and rolled by.
Hurtha looked at me. I shrugged. She was pretty, and she was free. I supposed she could do much what she wished. It was not as though she were naught but a banded chattel, like Feiqa and Tula.
"Do you have any money?" asked Hurtha.
"No," she said.
"Are you wearing that dress in the manner of the Alar woman?" he asked. "Yes," she said, reddening.
It was not winter now, but only Se'Kara. Accordingly all she now wore would be the dress. Beneath it she would be naked.
He then went to her and untied the strings which held the dagger sheath, with its small, narrow, sheathed weapon, with its ornamented, enameled handle, at her belt.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I am taking the dagger," he said. "I am going to throw it away, here, along the side of the road. Have no fear. It will not go unused. Someone will surely find it. "But then I will be defenseless!" she protested.
"Such a woman," he said, "might get you killed. It is better that you do not have it."
"But I will be defenseless without it," she insisted.
"You were defenseless with it," he said, "only you did not know it. Do you truly think that anyone who intended to take you, or harm you, would be dissuaded from doing so by that tiny weapon? Do not deceive yourself. Indeed, if he were not amused, he might even find it irritating, and see fit to turn it into your own heart. At the least, you would be likely to be punished severely for the pretensions of carrying it."