“But as you know,” laughed the young woman in the white, off-the-shoulder gown, “I never joined you as a mercenary. I am not the sort of person who would work for mere pay. On Earth, I am quite amply provided for, independently. Your riches, marvelous as they may be, were not the lure that brought me to your endeavors.”
“We understand,” said her companion, “that it was not mere gain, worthless pelf, which brought you into our service.”
“Into your endeavors,” she smiled. “No,” she said, “it was for the adventure of the thing. Life was so boring for me. I had everything, and so it held so little. But here I found excitement, intrigue. I require stimulation. I thrive on danger.”
“Oh?” said her companion.
“Yes,” she said. “It was to escape boredom that I joined your cause, that I became a secret, unsuspected agent in your cause.”
“Your contacts were useful,” said her companion. “They were of great value to us.”
“I also appreciated your attention to some small details,” she said.
“The women, the debutantes, certain women who had dared to be critical of your life and behavior, certain gossips, certain rivals you disapproved of, those you called to our attention?”
“Yes,” she said. “You did not hurt them, I trust.”
“They would not be hurt by us,” he said.
“Not by you?” she asked.
“At least in no way that was not in their new long-term interest.”
“What did you do with them?” she asked.
“Guess,” he suggested.
She then caught sight of Ellen, standing to the side, unobtrusively awaiting the command to clear. Ellen looked down, immediately. Something in her belly, which she did not entirely understand, made her apprehensive in the presence of a free woman. A free woman, in her status, in her loftiness and power, in her glory and might, was another form of being altogether, quite different from herself.
“No!” exclaimed the woman, delightedly.
“Yes,” smiled her companion, “we made them slaves. Some changes had to be made in some of them, as you would suppose, recourse had to certain serums, and such, to make them acceptable for the markets, but it was all taken care of, in good order.”
“What of Annette?” she asked.
“She wears her collar on the island of Cos.”
“Annette in a collar!” she said. “How delightful!”
“She is fetching in it, as other desirable slaves.”
“And Marjorie?”
“Sold south to Schendi, where she now serves a black master.”
“Allison?”
“To the Barrens, for two hides.”
“Michelle?”
“To Torvaldsland, as a bondmaid, for a keg of salted parsit fish.”
“And Gillian?”
“The columnist?”
“Yes.”
“The serums worked well for her. She became quite comely.”
“Do you know her disposition?”
“She was sold south to Turia, but the caravan was ambushed by Tuchuks, a fierce nomadic people. I would not worry about her. She will doubtless show up, eventually, in one of the southern markets.”
“Perhaps one of Turia’s markets itself,” said Mirus.
“I would not doubt it,” said the woman’s companion. “And have no fear but what the others were judiciously distributed, as well.”
“Did you let them know my role in this, that it was I who designated them for their fates?”
“Certainly,” he said, “and you may well conjecture their dismay, their wild cries, and tears, their helpless rage, how they pulled at their chains, trying to rise, or seized and shook, in futile fury, the bars of their tiny cages.”
“Wonderful! Wonderful!” said the woman. “Jeffrey, you are such a dear!” She then gave him a quick, affectionate kiss on the left cheek. “You are a darling!” she said.
This was the first time Ellen had heard the name of her companion.
“I will arrange to have the gold delivered to your chamber,” said Mirus, “where you will spend the night.”
“I must thank you for your hospitality,” she said to Mirus, warmly. “It was a lovely supper. It is a beautiful room. I am so pleased to make your acquaintance.” She turned to Tutina. “You have been terribly quiet all evening, my dear,” she said. “I feel so terribly guilty. But the men and I had so much to talk about. You understand. But still you should not have allowed us to monopolize the conversation.”
Tutina smiled.
“I hope your ankle improves quickly,” said the woman.
“Thank you,” said Tutina.
“You may clear, Ellen,” said Mirus.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” she said. She set about clearing the table, putting the various utensils, vessels and plates on the serving cart. She would later clear the coffee table.
“Good-bye, Ellen,” called the woman in the off-the-shoulder gown, sweetly.
“Good-bye, Ma’am. Thank you, Ma’am,” said Ellen.
Happily, the woman’s pleasant, dismissive tone of voice had been absolutely clear. Else Ellen might have been terribly frightened. But the utterance had clearly involved no suggested recognition of Ellen as a person, suggesting that she might be a human being in her own right, instead of the animal she was, for that would have been improper, and would have frightened Ellen, particularly as she was in the presence of her master. But, happily, the utterance had been no more than a casually generous, almost thoughtless, unbegrudged gift from a superior to an inferior. And surely it was. For Ellen knew herself as her absolute inferior, as the woman was free, and she, Ellen, was bond. Ellen cast a quick, frightened glance at her master but his gaze reassured her that her response had been apt. Indeed, she saw, with mixed feelings, that he regarded her as a quick, bright slave. She feared that that might put him more on his guard against her. But surely he must understand that the intelligence of a woman did not disappear in the searing moment her flesh took the iron, or the instant that her small neck felt clasped upon it a steel band.
Ellen, head down, continued to clear. She made as little noise as possible.
“It has all been so exciting,” said the woman. “I have been so stimulated. I used to be so bored, but now I am not bored, at all!”
“Excellent,” said her companion.
“I have enjoyed the intrigue, being a secret agent!” she laughed.
“And you have done well,” said her companion. “Because of you the politics of two worlds are now subtly different from before. The Kurii are grateful to you. In their wars with Priest-Kings you have served them well.”
“Served?” she smiled.
“Let us say then that you have proved yourself a useful, valuable agent.”
“That is better,” said the woman.
This puzzled Ellen.
She had heard of Priest-Kings, but did not believe they existed. Supposedly they were strange men of some sort, and lived in a remote area called the Sardar Mountains. She understood them to be a part of the mythology of this strange world, nonexistent, like sleen, tarns, and such. Kurii she had never heard of, at all. Perhaps they were another sort of strange men, who lived somewhere else. Since they were mentioned in connection with Priest-Kings, she thought that perhaps they did not exist either. Such expressions, she surmised, might be code names for competitive organizations or factions. That hypothesis pleased her, though she was not clear why free persons should have recourse to code names before a mere slave.
“Alas, now,” smiled the woman, “I fear I must return to my daily, boring round of parties, and such.”