"No, Master," she said.
"You are well marked," he said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Ah," he said, brushing back her hair from the sides of her head.
She suddenly burst into tears of shame.
"Ah," said he, "how you have degraded and ruined her!"
"Oh?" I said.
"Pierced-ear girl," he said to her, derisively. She put down her head, sobbing.
"What you have done to me!" she had cried. "What you have done to me!"
"It is not really so bad," I had told her.
But for Ahn she had been unconsolable. Now, in virtue of the observation of the stranger, she had been once again entered into a condition of acute distress, being once again emotionally overwrought at the thought of what had been done to her, the decisively humiliating indignity of it, that her ears had been pierced. This was one of the things I had written on her body, for the attention of the processors, the others being the brand, the brand site and the collar type. Symbols, set on a board, near the initial point of the processing chain, where the girls, back-braceleted, are attached to it, permit the coding of the instructions. As I have mentioned, this data is written on the body, with a grease pencil. It is written on the body in one prominent place, so that the processors will know where to look for it and will not miss it. That place, in accord with a common slavers' convention, having to do with temporary girl markings, lot numbers, and such, is the left breast.
"You disapprove, of course," I said.
"No," he said. "I heartily approve."
She looked up at him, her former subordinate, startled.
"You may now be put in earrings," he said. She looked up at him, with horror.
"But doubtless your superior, or superiors," I said, "would disapprove."
"I do not think it would matter to them," he said.
"Oh," I said.
"It is fitting," he said, "that the ears of female slaves be thusly prepared, that they may accept the affixing of ornaments."
"I see," I said.
"She may now be rehooded," he said.
"You were the chief officer on her barge?" I said.
"Yes," he said.
"How large was the crew?" I asked.
"Nine," said he, "including myself."
That would be, presumably, two relays of four polesmen. Those not at the poles might double as lookouts, guards and such.
"You were ambushed by rencers," I said.
"Yes," he said.
"How many came out of the delta?" I asked.
"Nine," said he. "They were apparently pleased to let us flee."
"I see," I said.
"It was only she whom they wanted," he said.
"I understand," I said.
"You were once important, weren't you, Ina?" he asked.
"Perhaps, Master," she said.
"But you are not important now, are you?" he asked.
"No, Master," she said.
She might not be important as a slave, I thought, but if someone were willing to give a hundred pieces of gold for her, she must have value to someone, in some dimension.
"I think it amused them to let us go," he said. "Certainly they did not attempt to detain us, or pursue us. I think they wanted her to stand on the barge, alone, waiting for the hands of captors on her robes, for their ropes on her body."
"I see," I said.
"Resistance was useless," he said. "There were hundreds of them."
"I understand," I said.
"There was no point in selling one's life for such a slut, in a doomed cause," he said.
"I understand," I said.
"Often I thought of her, in chains, like this," he said, lifting up her chin with his hand.
"Of the nine in the crew," I said, "how many do you think, besides yourself, could recognize her?"
"All of us," he said.
"But surely she was veiled," I said.
"Oh," he smiled, "she would lower her veil now and then, when men were about, as though inadvertently, as perhaps in adjusting it, or lowering it for a moment to cool her face, such things."
"I see," I said.
"She enjoyed showing herself off to us," he said, "tormenting us, exciting us, knowing that she was always safe, always beyond our reach."
"You were a vain slave even then, weren't you, Ina?" I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"But you are now a legal slave," he said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Do you think you are now safe from men," he asked, "or beyond their reach?"
"No, Master," she said, frightened. "I think she may now be rehooded," he said.
I redrew the hood over the slave's head and rebuckled it.
"Of the nine fellows who could recognize her," I said, "how many are about now, in the vicinity?"
"All of them," he said.
"I see," I said.
We then returned to the side of the fire.
"As she is now a slave," I said, "I presume your superior, or superiors, are no longer interested in her."
"On the contrary," he said.
"But she is a pierced-ear girl," I said.
"That should make her even more desirable, should it not?" he asked.
"But as a slave," I said.
"True," he said.
"What is the interest in her?" I asked.
"You would like a hundred pieces of gold, would you not?" he asked.
"I would not mind having a hundred pieces of gold," I said.
"Then you need not inquire so deeply into these matters," he said.
"I am still curious," I said.
"Perhaps a benefactor wishes to rescue her from bondage," he said.
"No one who sees her in a collar is going to consider rescuing her from bondage," I said.
"True," he said.
"What then is the interest in her?" I asked.
"I shall return tomorrow with the money," he said.
"What if I do not choose to sell her?" I asked.
"I will bring with me a hundred men," he said.
"That seems a great many," I said.
"Our resources are considerable."
"Apparently," I said.
"Until tomorrow," he said.
"Would you care to do personal sword contest for her now?" I asked.
"Do not be difficult," he said. "You can give her to us tomorrow, or we will take her from you tomorrow."
"I see," I said.
"In the meantime," he said, "do not attempt to escape. Your camp is under surveillance by several men."
"I understand," I said. He turned to leave.
"To whom do you intend to deliver her?" I asked.
"I expect," he said, turning back, "to deliver only her head."
"I see," I said.
"That should be interesting," he said, "having the head of the head of the former Lady Ina delivered, with pierced ears."
"Doubtless," I said.
He then turned and left.
"Are you going to sell her to him?" asked Marcus. "No," I said.
He looked at me.
"You should leave," I said, "before morning." "What of you?" he asked.
"I will stay," I said.
He regarded me, not speaking.
"You heard our conversation?" I asked. "Of course," he said.
"Leave," I said.
"She is only a slave," he said. "I wish you well," I said.
He rose up, and left the camp.
46 Ina Will Keep Watch
"Where is Marcus?" asked Ina.
It was very cold in the camp this morning. There was not much light yet.
I had slept fitfully.
There were dried leaves about and dried twigs. I had dried them out last night, near the fire. If someone were to approach the camp in the darkness, not looking for them, unaware of their presence, he would presumably step on one or more of these small alarms, crushing it or snapping it, thus alerting me to his presence.
I looked down at her. She was at my feet, sitting up, in a blanket. She was in the slave tunic we had fashioned from her former free-woman's garment. Beneath the blanket her ankles had been crossed and chained. I had not wanted her to try to run off, in the night. I did not think she would have gotten very far.