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“You are an insolent beast!” she cried and raised her small hand to strike him. But the blow did not fall and she winced for her small wrist was trapped as though in a vise of steel, helpless in the

grip of his great fist.

Once before he recalled, when he had first recovered from his wound in the barrack of the school of Pulendius and had been on his feet, that Pulendius had come to see him. Pulendius, unexpectedly, had struck at him and his wrist, too, had been so caught. “If I were wearing a wrist knife,” had said Pulendius to him, “you would have lost fingers.”

“But, milord,” had said the peasant, “you were not wearing a wrist knife.”

“Excellent,” had said Pulendius. “Release me, now. Your training begins in the morning.”

“Please let me go,” she said. “You’re hurting me.” He released her, instantly. She drew back her hand, rubbing the wrist. She had never guessed before what it might be like, to be the captive, so helplessly, of so mighty a grip.

“Why would I have wasted my time,” he asked, “looking upon one who was a mere slave?”

“I was not the slave!” she said. “There was a slave there, she who cared for the flask of kana!”

“You are both slaves,” he said.

“I am not a slave!” she cried. “I am of the patricians!”

“You are a slave,” he said.

“No,” she cried.

“I have learned in the school,” he said, “how to look upon a woman, and tell if she is a slave or not.”

“And I am one such, a slave?” she said, angrily.

“Yes,” he said.

“Begone!” she wept.

He stepped back, and bowed. “Yes, milady,” said he.

“What is the contest tomorrow evening?” she demanded.

“Its nature, until the moment,” said he, “is to remain confidential.”

“Are you to be involved?” she asked.

“That is my understanding, if it is necessary,” he said.

“I see,” she said.

“Is it milady’s intention to attend?” he asked.

“Certainly not,” she said.

“Good night, milady,” said he, bowing, and withdrawing.

It was shortly thereafter that the captain chanced by, in the very corridor in which was the large observation port, that before which the last recounted events took place. The officer of the court stood by the port, grasping the railing with one hand, with the other holding her small purse tightly against herself. She was looking out, on the silent, lateral, unsounded depths of the night, on the tiny, clustered fires, some suns, some universes themselves. She may have seemed shaken. In any event the captain paused, solicitously.

“I am all right,” she assured the captain.

“I passed in the corridor,” said he, “on my way, one of Pulendius’s brutes. I trust you were not accosted.”

“No,” she said. “No!”

How could she have been accosted? One does not accost slaves. One commands them.

“I think it a mistake that such brutes should be allowed to roam freely,” he said.

“Doubtless,” she laughed.

“They should be kept in cages,” he smiled.

“Perhaps,” she laughed.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

She had heard that female slaves were sometimes kept in cages, sometimes quite small cages.

“I bid you a joyous evening,” said the captain.

“Captain!” she said.

“Yes?”

“There is to be some sort of entertainment tomorrow evening?”

“Entertainment?”

“Games,” she said, “a contest?”

“Yes,” he said.

“A contest?”

“Yes,” he said.

“At what time and place may I inquire?”

“It is nothing in which you would be interested, milady,” he said.

“It is in the lower portions of the ship,” he said.

“In the hold,” said he, “Section Nineteen, an hour after supper.”

“I will see how I feel tomorrow evening,” she said. “If I am bored, I might look in.”

“You should not wish to see it,” he said.

“Oh?” she asked.

“I am not sure you would find it appropriate,” he said.

“Other women will attend, I trust?” she asked.

“Doubtless,” he said.

“I have every right to attend, do I not?” she asked.

“Of course,” said he.

“This is a pleasure ship, a cruise ship,” she said. “Entertainments are afforded. I have paid my passage.”

“You are entirely welcome, of course,” said the captain.

“Is anything wrong?”

“No,” he said. “It is only that you are of Terennia.”

“And what has that to do with it?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said.

“We shall see how I feel tomorrow evening,” she said.

The captain’s offer to escort her to her cabin was declined. She was, after all, of Terennia. Yet, to recount matters accurately we must mention that after his departure, for whatever reason, she began to tremble. She looked out, again, onto the night, and the stars, the worlds, and was afraid. She felt very small, and helpless. The ship itself, with its light, its warmth, its steel, its numerous life-support systems, did little to allay her apprehension. It would not have hurt, she thought, even though she was of Terennia, and who would know, to have had the company of the captain to her cabin. It was a long way there, through several passages, and she was clad in such a way that it was made quite clear, in spite of the teachings of Terennia, that she was not really a “same.” She looked at herself in the mirror of the portal. No, she was clearly other than a “same.” She was something else, quite different from a “same.” She then hurried to her cabin, looking about her, even stopping to peer down adjoining passages, before crossing other corridors, and then, in a little while, frightened, and breathless, for she had at times even run a little, in short, hurrying steps, the most permitted to her by the garment in which she fled, she arrived at her door. In a moment she was within, and stood on the inside of the cabin, her back against the door, the door double-locked. She was frightened, and was breathing heavily. Then she moaned, and turned about, and sank to her knees behind the door, and put her hands out, touching it, touching the steel.

She was not a slave!

She was safe.

CHAPTER 10

“What a dreadful outfit!” laughed one of the women on the tiers.

The officer of the court did not deign to respond.

“Do not be angry!” called the woman. “Come, sit here beside me!” She patted a place on the tier.

The officer of the court smiled, and climbed to sit beside her.

“Have I missed much?” asked the officer of the court, lightly.

“Not at all, you are quite early,” the woman assured her.

The performers, if one may speak of them in that fashion, had not yet entered the wooden-rimmed circle of sand which was ringed by the tiers. The room in the hold, Section 19, was a high one. One could see, above, the lofty girders, and steelwork, which the shipwrights had not been concerned to conceal in this area. In this section, one of a hundred such sections, one might have stored several tons of cargo. There was little in it now but the tiers, and, about the edges, some boxes, some escape capsules, or lifeboats, one might say, and such. Light in the section was from powerful overhead bulbs. They flooded the small ringed area with bright light. They were animated by switches near the door. Elsewhere the area was much in shadow. Presumably the performers were somewhere in the darkness, or, perhaps, in some adjoining area, waiting to enter this section. If there was to be an entertainment, it did not seem to be professionally, carefully staged, like the other entertainments, the shows, the concerts.