Suddenly one of these small vehicles swerved toward Cornhair.
“Take her!” she heard.
The small vehicle, tearing up turf, ground to a stop beside her.
“Masters!” cried Cornhair.
She had no time to kneel, for a hand reached out, seized her by the bound arm, and drew her into the vehicle.
“I have her,” said the fellow in whose grasp, tied as she was, Cornhair was helpless.
The vehicle then continued on its way.
Cornhair was thrust to her knees on the steel flooring, at the feet of two or three men, who stood behind a raised, slitted, shieldlike projection, through which they could peer.
A hand thrust her head down, almost to the floor.
“What are you doing out here, tied like a pig?” asked a man.
“I am as a pig, Master,” she said. “I am a slave!” Cornhair wished it to be immediately clear, if it were not already clear enough, that she was not a free woman, and was thus, hopefully, immune from the hazards which might accompany that state.
“These are unlikely lakes in which to go swimming,” said a man.
“Yes, Master,” said Cornhair.
“What were you doing here?” asked the first man.
“I do not know,” said Cornhair.
“She was brought here to be disposed of,” said one of the men.
“I fear so,” said Cornhair.
“Doubtless deservedly,” said another.
“No, Master!” said Cornhair, her head down, her eyes on the steel flooring.
“She’s a pretty one,” said one of the men.
“You are not wearing much,” said a man.
“I am a slave,” she said.
“At least we need not rip silks from her body,” said a man.
“Still, it is pleasant to do that,” said another.
“Are there more like you, in Telnar?” asked a man.
“Yes, Master,” said Cornhair. “Thousands, and free women, too!”
“Are the free women good looking?” asked a man.
“I do not know,” said Cornhair.
“It is easy enough to find out,” said a man.
There was laughter.
“Spoils,” said a man.
“Booty,” said another.
“Loot!” said another.
“What do you think, little slave?” asked one of the men.
“We are women,” said Cornhair. “We belong to those strong enough to take us and make us slaves.”
“That is a slave’s answer,” said a man.
“I am a slave,” said Cornhair.
“You have no collar,” said a man.
“It was taken away,” said Cornhair. “I assure you I am a slave. Examine my thigh! You will discover that I am well and clearly marked, nicely marked.”
“Every slave should be in a collar,” said a man.
“Yes, Master,” said Cornhair.
“Collars are lovely on a woman,” said a man.
“Yes, Master,” said Cornhair. There was little doubt in her mind but what a collar muchly enhanced a woman’s attractiveness, and not merely aesthetically. Much had to do with its meaning. It said much about the woman who wore it.
Cornhair, looking up, as the vehicle rumbled on, saw above her the arch of a gate. They were now in the city.
“May I speak, Masters?” asked Cornhair.
“Yes,” said a fellow, considering windows and rooftops. The street seemed deserted. Doubtless the main attacking force had plied this street, and perhaps others, like it.
“Telnar is large,” said Cornhair. “It is the capital. Millions reside here. Surely you cannot reduce Telnar with the forces at your disposal.”
“We have briefer business here,” said a man.
“We shall not be long,” said another.
“The assault will have gathered by now,” said a man. “The strike is imminent.”
“Within the hour,” said another of the men.
“What is our destination, Masters?” asked Cornhair.
“The palace, the imperial palace,” said a man.
“No!” cried Cornhair, and sprang to her feet, only to have her hair seized and held, and she was then cuffed, back and forth, four blows, left cheek, right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, and then, subdued, miserable, lips bleeding, she sank again to her knees.
“What is wrong, little slave?” asked a man.
“Let me go!” she begged. “You need not untie me. Just let me go! Put me from the vehicle! Cast me to the pavement, but do not take me to the palace!”
“You fear the palace?” said a man.
“Yes, yes,” she said. “Please do not take me there! Please, Masters!”
“It is our destination,” said the fellow at the controls of the vehicle.
39
“Ah,” said Iaachus, “my noble friend, Julian! How wonderful to see you again, dear fellow, and, too, cousin to our beloved emperor! How often I have thought of you!”
“My dear friend, sweet Arbiter, prop of the empire, defender of the throne,” said Julian, “I, too, have often thought of you.”
“You will forgive me, I trust,” said Iaachus, “if I do not rise to greet you. There is a certain tightness in my knee, a fall.”
“Certainly,” said Julian.
“And, if I am not mistaken,” said Iaachus, “you are accompanied by the noble Ottonius, captain in our esteemed Auxiliaries.”
Otto did not speak, but looked about the room.
“And king of Otungs,” said Julian.
“I trust not a tribe of the Aatii,” said Iaachus.
“No, of the Vandal peoples,” said Julian, “a confederation commonly hostile to the Aatii.”
“There are so many of these barbarian nations,” said Iaachus. “It is very confusing.”
“The chamber, outside, is heavily guarded,” said Julian.
“Yes,” said Iaachus. “Times are trying.”
“Doubtless,” said Julian.
“It is my understanding,” said Iaachus, “that you wished to see me, privately.”
“Yes, dear friend,” said Julian, “privately.”
“I see,” said the Arbiter.
“We are not alone,” said Otto.
“I left my pistol outside,” said Julian. “You may close your center desk drawer.”
“Tyrus, Arsus,” said the Arbiter, “you might go and see if our friend’s pistol is safe.”
Two men stepped from behind drapes and went, briefly, to the chamber portal. “It is secure, Lord,” said one of the men.
“Excellent,” said Iaachus. “You may now leave, both of you.”
“Yes, Lord,” said one of the men, and they both exited.
“The drawer,” suggested Julian.
“Of course,” said Iaachus. He then slid shut the drawer.
“Perhaps you are surprised to see my friend, Captain Ottonius,” said Julian.
“Pleasantly, of course,” said Iaachus. “I had thought him engaged on Tangara, recruiting allies.”
“And I?” asked Julian.
“At your villa, I supposed, on Vellmer.”
“I, too, was on Tangara,” said Julian.
“Interesting,” said Iaachus.
“Abrogastes, king of the Drisriaks, of the Alemanni, the Aatii, blockades Telnaria,” said Julian.
“Briefly,” said Iaachus. “Even now imperial cruisers rush nigh, from a hundred worlds.”
“And leave a hundred borders undefended,” said Julian. “Through abandoned gates stream unwelcome guests.”
“Telnaria comes first,” said Iaachus. “It is the seat of the senate and empire.”
“Surely,” said Julian, “you do not think these developments unrelated.”
“How do barbarians think?” asked Iaachus. “Perhaps we should ask one, our friend, noble Ottonius.”
“Noble Lord,” said Otto, “let us conjecture that Abrogastes, called the Far-Grasper, though a barbarian, is not a fool. Clearly his blockade cannot win him an empire, even bring a world to its knees. Therefore, it has another purpose, or other purposes. It is not a blockade, truly, or at least not a blockade for its own sake, even something as negligible as demonstrating the possibility of intrusion or the performing of a trivial, superficial act of annoyance, but rather a tactic, one already successfully executed. The empire is like the egg of a varda, a hard shell, and, within, a soft center. Now the shell is shattered and the center at risk.”