Suddenly a large, gloved hand had closed, from behind, over the mouth of the officer of the court, holding her head back. She was helpless. Her right upper arm, too, was clasped in a mighty grip. She was drawn back.
A voice whispered in her ear. “Do not straggle, stupid little slave.”
Both were now no longer visible from the main floor of the lounge.
The officer of the court felt giddy, being held with such strength.
As if her straggles might have been availing against it!
But she obediently ceased even to squirm.
Too, she was frightened that she might, somehow, for who knew what strange sorts of things men were, excite it, with who knew what fearful consequences, if she straggled.
She was then drawn backwards through a side door from the lounge, and down a long, dim corridor. She did not understand this. She had not expected to be taken into custody in this fashion. He had not even given her a chance, yet, she, a citizen of the empire, of the honestori, even of the blood, to formally surrender to him.
Then she was drawn into a small, dark, steel room, something like a utility room, it seemed.
The door shut with a heavy sound.
She could feel air in the room.
He removed his gloved hand from her mouth and she sank down, weakly, to the steel floor, she sensed at his feet.
She put out her hands and touched the heavy boots. She knelt before him and put her head down to those boots. “I am a slave,” she said. “I confess myself such, honestly and openly. Please do not kill me.”
Then she pressed her head down upon the boots, and then, drawing back a little, she kissed them, clearly, firmly, that he might well understand, even in the dark, that it was done. She then licked them, on the tops and the sides, making certain, too, that her cheeks rubbed down, now and again, firmly, against them, that there be no mistaking the matter, even in the darkness.
“Yes, you are a slave,” said a voice, which she feared she might recognize, and then the light in the room snapped on.
She looked up from the boots and saw herself surely before the large, armored figure who had, but moments before, been on the main floor of the lounge. The armor, the weapons, the accouterments, the insignia, were the same. The helmet, muchly concealing his features, and its markings, too, were the same.
Startling her, to one side, to her right, on the steel flooring, there lay a woman. She had long, blond hair, which was plaited in two thick braids, which, had she been standing, would have fallen to the soft flesh at the back of her knees. She was naked, and gagged, and bound, hand and foot.
She looked over, in consternation, and rage, at the officer of the court.
The huge figure removed his helmet.
“You!” cried the officer of the court, for it was the gladiator.
“She is poor stuff, Master,” said a voice. “Why do you bother with her?”
The officer of the court, turning, saw the slave girl, Janina.
The officer of the court, in fury, sprang to her feet.
“Kneel!” said the officer of the court to Janina, in fury.
“Be silent, slave girl,” said Janina.
The officer of the court looked immediately to the gladiator, for redress, that he would cruelly punish the errant slave, but he made no motion to do so.
The gladiator grinned.
Would he not adjudicate the matter? Surely he did not think she was merely, too, a slave?
She turned to Janina, angrily.
But Janina stood her ground against her, insolently, it seemed.
The officer of the court turned, then, lightly, to the gladiator.
“Where did you obtain your present garb, and accouterments?” she asked.
“From one who loaned them to me,” he said. “I do not think his neck is broken, but he is likely to remain unconscious for several hours.”
The gladiator crouched beside the blond captive. He loosened her gag, pulling it down about her neck. “You understand what you are to do?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, angrily.
Doubtless her mouth had a foul taste.
The officer of the court looked again at Janina.
Janina was now clad not in the keb, but in garments of barbaric splendor, muchly bedecked with primitive ornaments. This garb, the officer of the court suspected, had once been that of the bound captive, to her right. The captive, for example, did not have locked about her neck, closely encircling it, the chain and disk of a ship slave. That suggested that she was a free woman and, given the raiment on Janina, perhaps one of considerable importance. “Yes, what?” inquired the gladiator.
“Yes, milord,” said the blond woman, bitterly.
“That word costs you much, does it not?” asked the gladiator.
“Yes,” she said, angrily.
He looked at her.
“Yes, milord,” she said.
“Who is she?” asked the officer of the court, looking down on the blond captive.
The gladiator rose to his feet.
“I have been remiss,” he said. “May I introduce Gerune, a princess of the Drisriaks, and one who chose to join the secessionist house of Ortog.”
“A princess!” exclaimed the officer of the court.
“To be sure,” said the gladiator, “she is now indistinguishable from a comely slave.”
The captive squirmed.
“Are you not pleased, milady,” said the gladiator, “that your face and figure might fetch a goodly price in a slave market?”
“Wretch!” hissed the captive.
“May I introduce our new guest?” the gladiator asked the captive, indicating the officer of the court.
“I do not greet commoners,” she said.
“I am of the blood!” said the officer of the court.