“She is quite ignorant then,” said the fellow.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
The Lady Constanzia, I am sure, did not appreciate my concurrence in this matter, but he was a free man, and I a slave, and his conjecture was, after all, obviously true.
“A pity,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
Do you come often to this terrace?’ he asked.
“We have not, in the past,” I said.
“Will you in the future?” he asked.
“I do not know if we will be permitted aboard,” I said.
“And if you are?” he asked.
“Perhaps then, Master,” I said. I had wanted to come to this terrace for a particular reason. It gave access, by means of a bridge, to an area in which I had hoped I might obtain certain information. This was unknown, of course, to the Lady Constanzia. I had come here some times before, but things had not been satisfactory. One must be here, or rather at a place close by, at a certain time to learn what I wanted to know, if one could know it. The information I wanted, of course, like that which had been denied to me about the reason for my being in the pits, had been denied me. It was a simple enough bit of information, but a slave girl must be extremely careful about certain things. For example, asking a question outright, particularly of a stranger, can involve great risks. The stranger will presumably assume that you are supposed to be denied the information or you would have already obtained it from your master or keeper. To be sure, one may, kneeling, innocently request certain sorts of information, such as the directions to a shop or given street, or such, but to ask about something which is either sensitive or presumed to be generally known can be frowned upon. For example, a slave would not request information as to the departure or arrival times of sky caravans and such, and she would not, presumably, ask something of the simplicity of that which I wished to know. It would automatically be assumed that that information, for some reason, had been denied to her. One night, of course, merely be told that curiosity is not becoming in a kajira, which, I had learned, is something of a saying on this world, but, more likely, one might be cuffed or beaten, and then one might have one’s hands bound behind one and one’s question written on, say, the interior of one’s thigh or on a breast, usually the left, as most masters are right handed, where when one returns to one’s keeper or master, it will be clear that one has been disobedient, and attempted to obtain the denied information illicitly.
“Perhaps, then, I shall see you again,” he said.
“Perhaps, Master,” I said.
“You may leave,” he said, suddenly, rather angrily.
“Thank you, Master,” I said. I leaped up and the Lady Constanzia not daring to look at the scarlet-clad stranger, rose, too, to her feet.
We turned about.
“Stop!” said he.
We stopped.
“Do not turn,” said he. “Do not kneel.”
We remained as we were, facing away from him, I with the leash, she with her hands braceleted behind her.
“When is she to be put up for sale?’ he asked. His voice, in all its power, seemed almost to break. It seemed that within him, unaccountably, this question had cost him something. It was as though it had suddenly erupted within him. It seemed to have emerged out of a struggle, some internal conflict.
“I do not know, Master,” I said.
“It does not matter, of course,” he said, suddenly, angrily.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Go!” he ordered.
“Yes, Master,” I said. I swiftly then made my way toward my previous destination, a point on the wall of the terrace, which wall was, across an expanse of terrace, to the right of a bride leading from the terrace, which bridge was, across an expanse of terrace, to the right of the balustrade.
I drew more heavily on the leash. The Lady Constanzia, clearly, was hanging back. I stopped and turned about. She then, too, turned about. We could see the scarlet-clad figure striding fiercely across the terrace, not looking back. He seemed angry. I conjectured that the Lady Constanzia had been trying, earlier, to glimpse his retreating figure over her shoulder.
“Do you think we will see him again?” she asked.
“I do not know,” I said. “The cut of his clothes seems foreign to this city. He is probably here on some business.”
“He will then be gone soon?”
“I would suppose so,” I said.
“He kissed me,” she said.
“Do not be upset,” I said. “He things you are only a slave. He does not know you are a free woman.”
“Do you think he likes me?” she asked.
“It is possible,” I said, “that he might have found you of interest.”
“Of interest?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Of what sort of interest?” she asked.
“Of slave interest,” I said.
“Ohh,” she breathed.
“But half the men who look upon you, clad as you are,” I said, “might not mind having a chain on you.”
“Do you think so?” she asked, eagerly.
“Yes,” I said. “But, too, they would probably all be of the opinion that you are short on whip-training.”
“Do you think I am short on whip-training?” she asked.
“If you were a slave, certainly,” I said. “But do not concern yourself with such matters, as you are a free woman.”