“I would be led by the slave,” said the free woman hastily, frightened.
There was laughter.
I thought her request a judicious one, particularly if she did not wish to be visited in a cell at night, and forced to strip, and perform as a slave.
“Forgive me, Mistress,” I said, accepting the leash from the guard.
“Slut,” she said to me.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
“Functionary,” said the woman to the clerk.
“Lady?” he said, politely.
“You will expedite the arrangements from my ransom,” she said. “I will soon be ransomed by my beloved sisters. There should be no difficulties in the matter, as we are one of the richest houses in Venna.”
“It is my hope,” said he, “that these matters may be conducted with the utmost dispatch.”
“And if things do not work out,” said the pit guard, he in whose hands she had been, in effect, assessed, “I am sure we can think of something else for you.”
“Beast!” she said.
“What did you think I had in mind?” he asked.
She turned away, angrily.
“I expect,” she said to the clerk, “to be treated with honor, and with dignity and respect, such as comports with my condition and station.”
“I understand,” he said.
“You may begin,” she said, “by removing these horrid bracelets and this obscene leash!”
“They are the devices,” said he, “of your current keeper, a warden of the city.”
She turned to the pit master.
“Lout,” she said.
The pit master lifted his head a little, his feathers hidden in the folds of the hood. He seldom left the depths, and, when he did so, he apparently exercised certain cautions.
“Removed the bracelets and leash!” she said.
“Remove them yourself,” he said.
She struggled, briefly, pulling at the bracelets behind her back. The chain danced on its collar ring. I trusted she would neither mark nor injure her wrists. Such bracelets are not designed to be slipped by a female. They hold us well.
“I cannot do so,” she said.
“Then they will remain on you, until I see fit to remove them,” said the pit master.
“Tarsk!” she berated him.
The pit master stiffened. He was known as “the Tarsk” to certain scions of the city, I knew. The free woman, of course, would not know this. With her, it was merely a convenient term of abuse, an insult at hand.
The guards present smiled. The two pit guards exchanged glances. With her insult the free woman may have inadvertently placed herself closer to their grasp than she realized.
“I am rich, and of high station,” she said. “I shall expect the finest accommodations.”
“I have in mind a little place for you,” responded the pit master, one near the water.”
“Excellent,” she said.
“Sir!” protested one of the pit guards, he who had for a time held the free woman’s leash.
“No,” said the pit master, his decision having been made.
The free woman, it seemed, would not soon be in a cell, or even an ample-sized low-ceilinged kennel, one which might be on the guard’s rounds, one to which he might hold the key.
The free woman laughed merrily, understanding the pit master’s decision as constituting for her some sort of victory, particularly given the disgruntlement of the guard.
“Perhaps later,” said the pit master to the guard. “We shall see.”
“Our business here is done,” said the clerk, he having signed over the prisoner to the pit master. “I wish you well.”
“I wish you well,” said the pit master.
The clerk with the court guards then withdrew, exiting through the same portal by means of which they had entered the chamber.
The pit master then drew forth from his pouch a slave hood, which I would place on the prisoner. He and the two guards then went toward the door. They conferred there, out of earshot. Perhaps they spoke of the prisoner, perhaps of matters of the pits. I do not know. Too, curiosity is not becoming in a kajira.
I began to open and unfold the hood.
“What is that?” asked the free woman.
“A hood, Mistress,” I said. I needed not tell her it was a slave hood.
“What is it for?” she asked.
“Forgive me, Mistress,” I said. “It is to hood you. You are to know little of your surroundings, even where you are.”
“I am not a slave girl!” she said.
I shook out the hood.
“Wait,” she said. “See that guard.”
“Which?” I asked.
“There, he who so insolently dared to touch me!”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
“He is a handsome fellow, is he not?”
“Yes Mistress,” I said.
“The leash is pretty, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. It was of gleaming chain. The metal collar, with its ring, was also attractive.
“The bracelets, too, are pretty, are they not?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. Most slave hardware, it seems, or at least that intended for women, is not designed solely for custodial purposes, for perfection of security. That function goes without saying. It is also designed, commonly, to display the slave, to show her off, to enhance her beauty. Bondage, as a whole, incidentally, has a tendency to enhance the beauty of women, not so much from the emphasis which it places on diet, exercise, proper rest, cleanliness, physical attractiveness, cosmetics, costuming, and such, as for the way in which it returns woman, in an institutionalized fashion, to her place in nature, rightly relating her to men, reducing her inhibitions and freeing her emotions. No woman can be fully fulfilled and happy until she finds herself at the feet of her master. Many women do not know how beautiful they are until they see themselves, bound and collared, in a mirror.
“What is it like to be touched by a man?”
“They make us serve them well,” I said.
“Do you think they could make me serve them well?” she asked.
“Do not make me speak,” I said.
“Speak,” she said.
“Yes Mistress,” I said.
“Slut!” she said.
“Yes Mistress,” I said.
But she had trembled, thrilled.
“I will not be here long,” she said. “My beloved sisters will ransom me, almost instantly!”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. I lifted the hood.
“Do you think he likes me?” she asked.
“I do not know, Mistress,” I said. “Perhaps he might, if you were concerned to be pleasant-and if you were nude, at his feet.”
“Slut! Slut!” she said.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. I then drew the hood over her features, and buckled it shut, beneath her chin.
In the hood, though she was not gagged within it, she remained silent.
I lifted the chain leash. I looked to the pit master, and the guards.
They still conferred.
I wondered what the free woman might look like, stripped, on a slave block. She had had a trim ankle, a well turned calf.
But she was confident that her sisters would ransom her.
I wondered if the guard would make a bid on her.
I then, at the sign from the pit master, brought the free woman forward and, shortly thereafter, she flanked by the guards, I holding her leash, the pit master leading, we left the court of the commercial praetor. We did not return immediately to the pits, as the pit master had certain matters to attend to in the city, mostly having to do with supplies. Indeed, it was, as it happened, only after sunset that we reached the entrance to the tunnels, some branches of which lead to underground routes and defenses, others to the pits. We did stop for a moment on the terrace, to watch a tarn caravan in flight, one of more than fifty birds, one which had left in the vicinity of sunset. Those not of this city with such a caravan, in the carrying baskets, would be hooded. Among these, I was sure, would be Henry, of the house of William, in Harfax, and certain agents of that house. In the cargo of the caravan, too, I was sure, in one of the cage baskets, there would be a slave, also hooded, a girl who had, only this afternoon, been named ‘Constanzia’.