"Who is your Master?" I asked. "Miles of Vonda," she said. "I thought he might be," I said."He purchsed me at a secret auction." she said, "held in the camp of Tenalion the Slaver." "What did he bid?" I asked. "A hundred pieces of gold," she said smiling, not lifting her head.
"Vain little she-sleen," I laughed."It is true," she smiled."Marvelous," I said, "I myself received only ten silver tarsks for you when I told you to Tenalion." "The gold was doubtless much more than I was worth," she said. "Not to Miles of Vonda," I smiled. «No» she said smiling."Are you happy?" I asked. She lifted her head happily, "Oh yes," she said, "yes, yes! I am so happy, Master!"
"Wonderful," I said. "He stripped me and put me under his whip and taught me instantly that I was his slave, his total slave."
"I am very happy for you," I said. "I have never dreamed, when I was free, that he could be such a man. Had I even suspected it, I would have torn away my clothes and thrown myself to his feet, beggin ghis collar." "Had you been free," I said, "he could not have been such a man." "That is true," she said. "Had I been free he could not have handled me and treated me as he wished, and as I wished, as his lovely beast to be ravished and trained and taught her duties."
I nodded, Enmeshed in legalities, negativities and socialized expectations, it was difficult to relate as biological human beings. But the slave girl, standing outside the protections of such devices, stands before her master as an exposed, raw human female, without rights, his to do with as he pleases. Similarly the master, owing the slave nothing, and knowing that she is completely his, his very property, may relate to her freely in the order of nature. In his treatment of her, he is untrammeled by either conscience or law, and this she knows, and loves, and accordingly hastens to obey and be pleasing. She knows that she is owned, and that he is her unqualified maaster. The order of nature and the obdurate and thematic equations of dominance and submission, denided through they might be, and even if hysterically repudiated, will continue to lurk in the microstructures of every cell in the human body. The master/slave relationship is the institutionalization of dominance and submission. It is, under the enhancements of civilization, the institutionalization of the primitive biological relationship of the human male and female, he the master, she the slave. How lonely is the woman who has not yet found her master.
"I am pleased that you are so happy," I said. "But he is strict with me," she said. "I must obey him in all things."Of course," I said.
"I fear only that he will tire of me or sell me," she said. "I try so hard to please him."You do not wish to be whipped," I said. "I love him," she said. "I love Miles of Vonda!" With the love of a free companion?" I asked."No," she said, "with the helpless and total love of an owned slave girl for her master." "He is a fortunate man," I said.
"I am his fully," she said. She smiled shyly. "The auburn-haired beauty was radiant. I looked at her. How marvelous is the transformation which slavery works in a woman. "What are you called now?" I asked. "Florence," she said."He put your old name on you as a slave name," I said. "Was it not appropriate?" she asked. "Yes," I said.
"Yes," she laughed, delightedly, "it was fully appropriate. I was a slave before, when I was free. I knew it in my heart, even then, that I was a slave. It is thus fully appropriate that I now wear my old name openly, and with full explicitness, as a slave name."That pleases you doesn't it?" I asked. "Yes, Master," she said happily. "It pleases me very much."
"Florence, the slave," I said. "Yes, Florence, the slave," she said.
"How is Miles of Vonda?" I asked. Her eyes clouded. "He has fallen on hard times," she said. "Warriors of Ar made hostel in his holdings int heir withdrawal to the south. He in anger spoke ill of Ar in their presence. Accordingly, the burtned his holdings and scattered his hurt and tharlarion."
"What is he doing in Victoria?" I asked. "He is on his way west on the river," she said, "to Turmus, where he has friends that he may negotiate a loan to rebuld and replenish his holdings."
"It is now danberous to travel on the river," I said. "River pirates are now bold and active." "We must take our chances," she said. "How large is his retinue?" I asked. This could make a difference with respect to the security of his venture.
"Only myself," she said, "and Krondar, a fighting slave."Only two?" I asked."Yes," she said. "He sold his other slves to obtain money for the journey." "But he did not sell you," I said. "He kept me," she smiles, moving in the chains. "And Krondar," I said."Yes," she said, "He is fond of Krondar, and a fighting slve may be useful upon the river." "That is true," I said.
I remembered Krondar. Indeed I had once fought him in the pit of leather and blood, when I too had been a fighting slave. Krondar was a veteran of the fighting pits of Ar. He had fought even with the spiked cestae and the knife gauntlets. He was a short, stout, thick-bodied, powerful man. His face and upper body were disfigured with masses of scar tissue, lingering records of a bloody history in the pits.
"You should not leave Victoria," I said, "until several ships in convey are prepared to move westward." "My Master is impatient," she said. "It has been wonderful to see you," I said, adding, "Female slave." I stood up."It has been wonderful for me to see you too Master," she said. I turned away.
"Master," she said. I turned back to regard her. "Thank you," she said "for long ago having captured and sold me. It was you who first taught me my womanhood. It was you who first taught me, incontrovertibly, that I belonged to me."I shurgged."If it were not for you," she said, "I might never have come into the possession of my Master, Miles of Vonda."
"I wish you well, Slave Girl," I smiled. "And, I, too wish you well, Master," she said.
I then left the tavern. Outside looking about, I saw a burly crouched figure, one crouching near some bundles by the tavern wall. I grinned. I approached the figure, and it lifted its head. It growled, and opened its hands, warning me not to approach more closely."Krondar!" I said.
The heavy head, scared, whiteishly streaked in the moonlight by the wall, looked at me puzzled. On its throat was a heavy metal collar. "Master?" it asked.
"Do not call me Master," I said. "I am Jason, now free, Once near Vonda we fought. "Free?" asked the brute. Then it knelt. I drew him to his feet. "I am Jason," I said. "Can you remember Jason?" I asked.
It looked at me in the moonlight. Then there was a heavy chuckle in its throat. "It was a good fight," he said. In the moonlight then we embraced. We had shared the fellowship of the pit of leather and blood."It is good to see you, Krondar," I said."It is good to see you — Jason," said he.
I turned suddenly for I heard steel slipping from a sheath behind me. Miles of Vondak angry, stood there his sword drawn.
Behind him, frightened, in her breif gray slave tunic, stood his lovely slave, Florence.
I stepped away from Krondar, and backed up a step. Miles of Vonda, sword ready, advanced a step. "In the tavern," said Miles of Vonda, "was it not you who accosted my slave?" "I spoke with her," I said.
"Draw your weapon," said he. "Do you not know me?" I asked. "You are Jason," said he, "who was once a fighting slave."Yes," I said."Draw your weapon," said he.