It may help to understand certain impending developments if one contrasts the restless populations of unhappy worlds, hitherto referred to, strangers to one another, united by little but a nominal citizenship in a vast, scarcely understood hierarchy of power, with a quite different societal arrangement, that of tribality. Those referred to by the civilized as “barbarians” tended, almost universally, to belong to sociological groups which might be, for lack of a better word, called tribes. This is what men were, a Drisriak, an Otung, or such. In the earlier days of the empire these tribes had been robbed of worlds; where they had resisted, they had been, in large part, exterminated, or banished and relocated, permitted to live here and there on the peripheries of civilization, perhaps to supply raw materials to the civilized worlds, such as produce, timber, hides, fur, and animals for arena sports. Indeed, some of these individuals were recruited for the games themselves, or for bodyguards to men who could afford them. While the men of the empire tended to grow weak and soft, the barbarians, in their isolation, in their harsh climes and dangerous wildernesses, continued to wax hard and strong. In times, some of these tribes were recruited as federates and permitted to settle within the empire, largely to supply soldiers for the imperial military. In this fashion, several of these tribes, and collections of tribes, gained a foothold within the empire itself, and access to the training and discipline formerly reserved to regulars in the Telnarian armed forces. It was rather as though one might invite vi-cats or arn bears into one’s home, that they might serve as guard beasts.
One looks into the night sky.
The passage of light, as is well known, is very swift, but its velocity, as is also well known, is finite.
One sees, in many instances, the consequence of a journey begun thousands of years ago.
The star, even the galaxy, may no longer exist.
Several of the passes, and the thresholds, in space have been charted. Some are guarded by imperial forces.
What if a pass should be breached, a threshold forced and its garrison overcome?
It is not impossible that strange ships might ply such a river.
But there may be other geodesics in the gravitational mountains of space, as well, and even, as in the case of the passes, and the thresholds, other passes, other thresholds, undisclosed gaps, crevices, in space.
Might not such things be scouted? Might not probe vessels seek them out? Might not some small ship, poised, look upon such a sea, and some account of its adventure, later, be heard in some tavern, or hall?
It must be understood that borders shift, expanding and contracting, and may be crossed. Certainly several worlds, at the periphery of the empire, and not always at the periphery, have known raids. And some of these worlds, we fear, have been settled by invaders, who have mixed with the indigenous population, absorbing their culture, industry, and technology. Some such worlds remain, officially, imperial worlds. Other worlds, it is rumored, in order to escape the burdens of the empire, surrendered to the fleets of armed, barbarian kings, exchanging one lord for another. Yet other worlds, to further consolidate the fruits of their own rebellions, supplied barbarians with training, ships, and weaponry, that they might discomfit the empire.
And so we have a beleaguered empire, with far-flung, brittle walls, defended by a diminishing military, with ever-diminishing resources, and a soft, vulnerable center, the inner worlds, muchly defenseless if those far walls should be breached, and foreign ships should pour through, darkening the sky.
At the edges of the empire wolves prowled, their fierce, gleaming eyes alit with hatred, envy, and greed.
One of these wolves we have met before, Abrogastes, the Far-Grasper, lord of the Drisriaks.
5
It was warm, and soft, lying within the furs on the great couch.
Filene’s heart was beating rapidly.
With delicate care, and circumspection, she had felt beneath the covers for the implement. Her fingers, ever so lightly, had touched the smooth, yellow, oval handle, locating it. It would not do to touch the blade, lest the tiniest bit of its transparent coating, invisibly painted on that razor-sharp edge, might open her skin, even slightly. She had found it muchly where she had anticipated it might lie, beneath the furs, toward the head of the couch, where it might be convenient to her right hand.
Even during the supper, she had heard the warming of the motors of the two hoverers and the two treaded, armored, motorized vehicles. She doubted that more than one hoverer would be utilized in her escape, extracting her from the camp, hurrying her through the cold, clouded night to Venitzia, where she would be taken aboard the lighter, and carried to the Narcona, in orbit, to be returned to Lisle, to wealth, dignity, honor, and power. The other three devices, or, at least, the two motorized vehicles, would have been warmed merely that the barbarian, who seemed a clever, cunning fellow, might not note the peculiarity of but one, or two, of the devices being readied for departure. She recalled that Corelius, who had doubtless placed the knife, had piloted one of the hoverers. That, most likely, would be utilized in her escape. It now seemed clear to her, as well, that Phidias, captain of the Narcona, must be privy to the plot. Otherwise, one of a comparable, or higher, rank, and one with similar skills, would have to be involved, one whom the staff and crew of the freighter would accept, and obey, a second in command possibly, or a hitherto obscure figure, who would then disclose his credentials and take command. That was possible, surely, but unlikely. Phidias must be one of us, she thought, as Corelius, and perhaps others.
“Hold, Cornhair,” had said Nissimi, the brunette first-girl, intercepting Filene on her way to the barbarian’s quarters.
“Mistress?” had said Filene, apprehensive, immediately kneeling, having been addressed by her superior.
“You are on your way to the bed chamber of Master Ottonius, are you not?” asked Nissimi.
“Yes, Mistress,” said Filene.
“You are rather heavily garmented, are you not?” asked Nissimi.
“Mistress?” said Filene.
“Get it off,” snapped Nissimi.
Filene slipped the tavern tunic over her head, and handed it to Nissimi. She felt Nissimi’s switch under her chin, lifting her head.
“Hold still, straighten your back, hands palms down on your thighs,” said Nissimi, who then, slowly, walked about Filene, and then stood again before her.
“You are a pretty thing,” said Nissimi. “Men will like you. You might go for as much as fifteen or twenty darins.”
Filene gasped, furious.
To be sure, given the chaotic economies of the worlds, even several of the inner worlds, the value of a darin was problematical, ranging from less than its metal value on many worlds to the equivalent, or better, of a workman’s daily wage on others. We may suppose that on the worlds with which Nissimi was likely to be familiar fifteen to twenty darins was a plausible price for a comely slave. The rhythms of markets, of course, also fluctuate, as would be expected, even with a stable currency, given the time of year, and the exigencies of supply and demand. As a consequence, independent of market conditions, it is idle to speculate on what a given slave might bring on the block, as is the case, obviously, with other forms of merchandise, as well. Other factors may also exert their influence, such as the prestige of the vending house, the care and quality with which a given sale is organized, advertised, and conducted, the skills of the auctioneer, some of whom command high salaries or commissions, and so on.