"Let us go," said Boabissia.
"Tonight," I said, "we will have to get you cleaned up. Your body is sweaty. Your feet are dirty."
"Yes, Master," she said, pressing herself softly, purring, like the small, sweet owned beast she was, against my hands. I put down my head and let her lift her lips to mine, where they briefly met. "Ah," she said, softly. Then I lifted my head away from her. I removed my hands from her. I drew then the sides of her tunic back to their original position. I held her then by the upper arms. My grip was tight. She could not think of freeing herself. "You are a slave, are you not?" I asked.
"Yes, Master, she said, "totally, and yours, completely!"
I turned her about, facing the camp, with Torcadino in the distance.
"Do you think you have the favor of your master?" I asked.
"It is my fervent hope that I do," she said.
"Do you see that area?" I asked, pointing.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Speak," I said.
"It is the enclosure of camp girls," she said.
"Yes," I said. "Do you recall a girl there," I asked, "one who had not been fully pleasing last night to a rent master?"
"Yes, Master," she said.
"What was done to her?" I asked.
"She was whipped, mercilessly," she said.
"Tonight," I said, "you will serve me."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"What will be done to you, if you are not fully pleasing?" I asked.
"I will be whipped, mercilessly," she said. "Do you object?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said. "I would have it no other way,"
I then stepped away from her, and rejoined the others.
"That is the Treasure Road," I said, indicating a narrow road in the distance. "At its end lies Ar."
"Let us be on our way," said Boabissia. "I am eager to reach Ar."
I glanced back once at Feiqa. She smiled. She was very beautiful. I would look forward to having her tonight. I was confident she would prove to be fully pleasing. If she were not, of course, I would whip her, and well. One cannot compromise with female slaves, They are women.
We began to descend from the crest of the slope, making our way slowly toward the road. Most of the refugees were already there, or in its vicinity. In my sheath were the letters of safety, and, below them, thrust down beneath them, the letters given to me by the officer, he who was now the master of Torcadino. These letters, all, bore his signature. The signature was written in an ascendant, bold script. It was not difficult to read. It was "Dietrich of Tarnburg." I noticed the small fellow with narrow eyes, he with the mustache like string, nearby. He had apparently lagged behind. I did not give this much thought at the time.
17 Slavery Agrees with Feiqa
"Papers, papers?" inquired the soldier. "Have you papers?" "No," I said. I did not think it would be wise to advertise my possession of letters of safety until it should prove impossible to proceed further without them.
He then went to others, making the same inquiry. None of the refugees, of course, carried such papers.
We were in a roadside camp, eleven days from Torcadino. It was not a bad camp. There was shade, and a spring nearby. Peasants came there to sell produce. In a few Ehn Boabissia, Hurtha and I, and Feiqa, would be again on our way. I had purchased passage on a fee cart.
"It is good to see a uniform of Ar," said a man.
"Yes," I said.
"Does one need papers?" the small fellow with the mustache like string was asking a soldier.
The soldier did not respond to him.
"Can one enter Ar without them?" he asked.
But the soldier had then continued on his way.
Boabissia came up to see me. "I have spoken to the driver," she said. "He is ready to leave." Many of the refugees, afoot, had already left the camp. I nodded.
"You are looking pretty, Feiqa," observed Boabissia, somewhat critically. Feiqa looked up smiling from where she knelt, packing my things. "Thank you, beautiful Mistress," she said, and then put down her head.
"Slavery apparently agrees with you, slut," said Boabissia. "Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress," said Feiqa, smiling, looking down.
"Cart Seventeen will leave in two Ehn!" called a fellow.
"That is our car," said Boabissia.
"We had better get Hurtha," I said.
"He is still asleep," she said.
"Awaken him," I said. "He can sleep in the cart."
"Finish that packing, slut," said Boabissia to Feiqa.
"Yes, Mistress!" she said.
Boabissia then went to waken Hurtha. I did not envy her this task. It was not always easy to awaken the Alar giant.
"I am ready, Master," said Feiqa, smiling, shouldering my pack.
I went to Feiqa and put my hands on the collar on her throat. She looked up at me, eagerly.
"Apparently slavery does agree with you," I said, looking into her eyes. "Oh, yes, Master," she whispered. "Yes, yes!"
18 The Treasure Road
"Way! Make way!" called the driver. He sat on the wagon box, some yard or so below, and separated from, the high railed wagon bed, serving, with its benches, as the passenger area. The wheels of the cart were narrow, and some seven feet in height. There were two of them. They were treaded with strips of metal. The cart was drawn by a bipedalian tharlarion, a slighter breed than, but related to, and swifter than, the common shock tharlarion used generally by the lancers of the Gorean heavy cavalry.
"Rich tarsks," snarled a fellow on the road, moving to the side.
"Make way!" called the driver, cracking his whip. The arrival of the cart was announced as well by the jangling of two bells, affixed to projections on its sides, before the wheels. Then we were through the group of refugees, and moving swiftly again.
"I think little treasure moves these days upon this road," said Hurtha. "You are doubtless right," I said, "and the traffic, it seems, flows toward Ar." "Will the Cosians take this route?" asked Hurtha.
"Probably," I said. "It is the most direct route between Torcadino and Ar." I glanced at Boabissia. She was standing at the front of the cart, grasping the front rail, looking forward. Her hair and dress were blown backward in the wind. "Look," I said to Hurtha. "See the soldier by the road, there?"
"Yes," he said, turning about to get a better look. "That is another uniform of Ar," I said.
"That is comforting news," said the fellow to my right. We had seen few such uniforms lately.
"Are you going to Ar?" asked the small fellow sitting across from me. It was he who had the thin mustache.
"Yes," I said.
"Do you have papers?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"Oh," he said, smiling.
"Why?" I asked.
"I assume Ar will not accommodate all the refugees who may seek asylum there," he said. "It is hard to see how she could. Doubtless papers, or letters, might be needed."
"Perhaps," I said.
"Such might be worth their weight in gold," he speculated.
"Perhaps," I said.
He leaned forward, confidentially. "Are you carrying valuables?" he whispered. "No," I said. My left hand, I fear, moved, as though to touch the sheath beside me. Then I checked the movement.