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“It is growing late,” said the captain.

Those about the table then rose up, bidding one another the joys of the evening.

“Is there kana left?” called Pulendius to the bearer of the kana flask.

“Yes, milord,” she responded.

He snapped his fingers, and she hurried to his place.

The officer of the court trembled, thrilled to see the woman obeying.

“Are you all right?” asked the young naval officer.

“Yes,” she said.

Pulendius took the flask from the pourer of kana and offered it to the guard on his left.

“No, milord,” said the guard.

Pulendius then offered the flask to the guard on his right.

“Thank you, milord. No, milord,” said that guard.

“Perhaps tomorrow night, after the contest?” said Pulendius.

“Yes, perhaps, milord,” said the guard.

“Your hounds are well trained,” said a man.

Pulendius himself then drank from the flask, and then put it down, a bit unsteadily, on the table.

Two or three of the women came about the table to where the officer of the court had risen and gently kissed her, wishing her much happiness. The officer of the court responded in kind, but stiffly, formally, self-consciously. She was, after all, from Terennia.

The bodyguard to Pulendius’s right, looking upon her, decided that she was not worth a collar.

Another woman wished her well.

How stiff she was, how self-conscious.

On Terennia, you see, physical contact, the touching of one human being by another, was frowned upon, at least by members of her class.

How stiff she was, indeed, how self-conscious.

Yet, as he continued to regard her, he sensed in her, or thought he sensed in her, a significant latent sexuality, a powerful sexuality now almost entirely suppressed, one straining against cruel, grievous constraints, one such that, if it were ever released, could never again be subject to management, one which, if released, she would find uncontrollable, one at the mercy of which she would then find herself, its prisoner and victim.

Another of the women gave the officer of the court a gentle kiss.

Yes, he thought, she might not prove to be entirely without interest.

But then he dismissed such thoughts, for she was of the honestori, and even a minor patrician.

One did not think of such in a collar, at least not on any world with which he was familiar.

Still, he thought he had a score to settle with her, and she might look well in one.

“Good night, my dear,” said Pulendius.

“Sir,” she said.

Pulendius then left, a little unsteadily. She watched him exit the lounge, at one point supported by the guard at his right. She was familiar with Pulendius, of course. Who would not be, in her sector of Terennia?

He was fabulously rich, of course, with his enterprises, his lands, tilled by some four thousand coloni. He had much power. He must have many enemies. Guards were almost always with him, large, alert, agile men, skilled, ruthless men, gladiators, it was said.

She looked back, down at the tablecloth, at crumbs there, at crumpled napkins, at rings of kana there. She saw the napkin which had covered Pulendius’s fist when he had struck down, shattering the delicate bowl.

How vulgar he had been!

Pulendius had his weaknesses, of course. Kana was one, obviously. His zeal for the arena and its sports was doubtless another. She knew he maintained a school for gladiators, a school in which men were trained in the use of weapons, both common and exotic.

The men of Pulendius, as well as Pulendius himself, seemed quite different from most of the men she had known.

How uneasy she felt in their presence. And how disturbing had been certain sensations.

She recalled the guard, he who had been behind Pulendius, and to his right.

Her fingers went uneasily to the golden necklace so closely encircling her throat. The tips of her fingers just touched it, barely, timidly.

She thought again of the guard.

Suddenly, angrily, she snatched up her small white purse and, with both hands, held it closely, tightly, against her.

How the guard had looked upon her!

She had never been looked upon in that fashion before!

How she despised him, how she hated him, that calm, half-naked giant who had dared to look upon her in that fashion.

And he had viewed her with contempt!

“I do not want to be whipped,” she thought, and then again, startled at such a mad thought, she sought to hurry it out of her consciousness.

How dared he to have looked upon her so?

What right had he to do so, he, only an ignorant, illiterate lout, only a beast trained for the arena?

She was of high birth, of the patricians!

“But perhaps he would not regard me as being worthy of being whipped,” she thought, and this thought disturbed her, and frightened her, and then again, such a mad thought, she rejected it, confusedly.

She saw the pourer of kana sorting plates on the table, preparing it for clearing.

“You,” she said.

The pourer of kana looked up, startled.

“Come here,” she said.

The pourer of kana came to where she stood.

“What is your name?” said the officer of the court.

“Janina, milady,” was the response.

“Speak clearly,” snapped the officer of the court.

“Janina, Mistress,” said the girl.

“Are you accustomed to standing in the presence of free persons?” asked the officer of the court.

“Forgive me, Mistress,” said the girl, and swiftly knelt before her.

“Is such a lapse not cause for discipline?” inquired the officer of the court.

“It is the will of the masters, Mistress,” she said. “In deference to the feelings of certain passengers, little attention is to be drawn to my true condition in public.”

“So you pretend to be a servant?”

“I serve, Mistress. But I do not pretend to be a servant. I would not dare to pretend to be so high.”

“I have seen your behavior in the lounge,” said the officer of the court.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.