Madame walked slowly down the pale plastic corridor. She did not want to reach its end, for she had no way of knowing what awaited her there, in Subtwo's suite. She was prepared for anything; in her years at Stone Palace she had silently witnessed cruelties beyond anything she thought Subtwo could even imagine. Pain did not frighten her; she had endured and survived it when she was a child. At least, when Subtwo caused pain, it did not gratify him; nor did he intentionally cause humiliation. Madame had been prepared to endure either for many years. In Stone Palace both were, sooner or later, inevitable.
She scratched at the door, heard Subtwo's deep voice, and slipped inside as the door swung open. Before she could speak, Subtwo took a single step toward her, holding out his hands as though in supplication. "Were you there? Did you hear? Did you understand?"
"I know you met with the Lord," Madame said, without expression. All her experience warned her to be suspicious, to guard herself, to find some way to stop the progress of Subtwo's desire for her, and her own, gods help her, for him. Free people and slaves had only one kind of relationship, that dictated by their status. The free person ordered, the slave obeyed. And eventually the former would grow bored, or the latter would err. There was no happiness, only satiation for one, destruction for the other.
"Do you know what we talked about?"
"It is my duty to know—"
"Stop it!" he cried. "How can you speak to me this way? I could bear it if you hated me, but you don't feel anything!"
"I feel," she said. He was so beautiful, now assured, now vulnerable, trying to speak with his deep, deep eyes. "I feel. I was born human." She was saying too much: after so many years of protecting herself, she could say one unwise word and throw her life away.
"Do you understand why I tried to. to buy you?"
"It was not necessary." Somehow, this was worse, that Subtwo would place Blaisse between them, that the Lord's permission and urging would erase her degradation from Subtwo's conscience. She was a fool to have hoped someone already possessing freedom might refuse to take advantage of another's slavery.
"No," Subtwo said. "Not necessary, but safer. If he thought I owned you he couldn't hurt you—you'd be safe until we could leave. Now, we'll have to be more careful."
". Careful?"
"I might have been foolish. He might know I. I." Subtwo stopped, shook his head, and started again. "He might try to avenge himself on me by hurting you. We mustn't give him a chance. But it would be dangerous to antagonize him until the ship is ready, so we must act as though everything were normal. When you go back, be careful."
Madame had trained herself to respond as though nothing surprised or confused her; she had no nervous habits. She stood utterly still. "What are you saying?" she whispered.
"Blaisse won't let me give you your freedom, so we must take it from him."
She stared at him. By the rules of Stone Palace, his power over her was total. She wondered if he were trying to make her feel grateful so she would come to him willingly, though he could simply command the appearance of willingness, false or true. But his temperament was at times so ingenuous that Madame could almost believe he was sincere.
"The ship will be ready soon, and we can leave. Then you'll be free—free to. to accept me or reject me of your own will."
"Leave earth?"
The new lines in his face were deep, strained. "You will come? I promise, I give my word. I know captivity. I would not ask demonstrations of gratitude."
"I must not speak of this," Madame said, quenching her wonder in apprehension.
"You. prefer to stay here?"
"No!" She took a deep breath, calming herself, relaxing her hands from clenched fists. "No. But I must not speak of the future with you. If I did, I would hope, and if I hoped, Blaisse would know."
Subtwo's face relaxed; his expression was almost a natural smile. "Then we've said nothing. We'll say nothing until my ship is ready. Soon."
They parted, neither making a move to touch the other. Madame left knowing that of all the difficult days of her bondage, the next few would be hardest.
Chapter 10
Gemmi expanded through Mischa's consciousness, laughing with delight despite having been forced to seek her out. Mischa cringed. "No," she said softly. "Not now. Go away." But she was speaking to herself, not to Gemmi. Gemmi could not understand.
Mischa stilled her mind, stilled her body, hoping Gemmi would lose her, and waited. Gemmi could be reliving old memories; they came sometimes, unbidden, and the child had no way of stopping them. But this was reaclass="underline" screaming, she found Mischa again and whimpered, telling her to come, afraid of being hurt.
Mischa had been expecting the summons, knowing at least one was inevitable before Subtwo was likely to leave Center. She had not worried about it too much; as long as she continued to keep her plans secret, everything should proceed as usual. But the command had come at the worst possible time.
"I can't come now," Mischa yelled into her lonely room. "I'll come later. Tomorrow. Go away." Her voice echoing back and forth in Mischa's mind, Gemmi cried, and screamed again. Mischa knew that no reassurance but her own approach could calm her sister. She got up and pulled her cache from its hiding place, a fissure in the rock wall behind a tapestry. Under her jacket, the leather surface of the box of eyes was smooth against her skin. With the bag of lesser gems nestled in an inside pocket, she left her room.
Going down the hall, she met Jan. Greeting her, he smiled, but sobered
when he noticed her grim expression. "What's wrong?"
"I have to leave."
"What about tomorrow morning?"
"I'll try to be back," she said. She would, but she knew there was no way of getting to the edge of the city and back by the time she was supposed to meet Subtwo. "I can't help it, there's something I have to do." Gemmi felt that she had stopped, and began to scream again. Mischa closed her eyes to concentrate on calming her. "I'm coming," she whispered.
Jan took her arm to steady her. "Are you all right?"
She looked up at him. His pale eyebrows were drawn together with concern; Mischa realized dully around the screaming in her head that she wanted to ask his help. "Yes," she said, in a resigned exhalation of her breath. There was nothing she could ask him for. She started away.
"Mischa?"
She turned back quickly, impatient now.
"If I can help—"
She shook her head. "No. Thanks. There isn't any way."
After the regular tunnels of Center, the caves began to twist downward. Mischa's family, when it had been a family, had lived in the roots of the system, almost in the deep underground. As Mischa walked, Gemmi pecked at her, urging her on faster. Mischa neither sped up nor tried to push her sister away. Gemmi was not being beaten now. Their uncle had stopped that since the time he had made her sick.
Mischa sometimes hoped he would kill her.
Gemmi screamed at the thought of death. The fear swept Mischa like the taste of molten copper. The intensity of emotion shook her, but she recovered herself and soothed her sister until Gemmi only whimpered. Mischa leaned against the rough stone wall. Gemmi did not know what death was, but it frightened her; anyone in her range who died, she felt. Her perception of dying was so unfocused and colored by fear that Mischa could not tell what made her so afraid.
When Mischa stopped shaking, she continued, passing through the wellcell and the cool sound of running water, through a familiar tunnel in which fewer light-tubes burned every time Mischa returned. They wore out, and no one bothered to replace them. Now, at night, they barely glowed.