“These slaves are with you?” asked the subaltern.
“Yes,” said the officer.
“It is early.”
“It will be light soon,” said the officer.
“Is all well?” asked the subaltern.
“Yes,” said the officer. “All is well.”
The watch then continued on its way.
The pit master reached down to pick up his cloak and hood which he had discarded on the stones, near the wall.
“Master,” said Fina, “I am cold.”
The pit master held the cloak and hood. “But I may be seen in the city,” he said.
“I am freezing,” smiled Fina.
He then had her stand and put the cloak and hood about her.
He would not cover his features now. He would return to the depths, thought the streets of the early morning, as he was. He would not hide his face.
“Come, walk beside me,” he said to Fina.
“I will heel Master,” she said.
The pit master and the officer of Treve then embraced. The pit master was weeping. Then, shaken, he left the surface of the tower. He was followed by Fina, on his left, three paces behind.
“Are we to keep him under surveillance any longer?” Demetrion inquired of the officer.
“No,” said the officer. “It will not be necessary.”
Demetrion and Andar then, Andar bearing the lantern, left the surface of the tower, as had the pit master and Fina.
“Master,” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“What is special about the tenth Ahn?”
He looked at me.
“Oh, I know, Master,” I said, “that curiosity is not becoming in a kajira, but I would know. I would know.”
“Your life is going to change, Janice,” he said. “You will have to leave Treve.”
“Master?” I said.
“You, and the other pit slaves who were in the depths recently. The pit master has made arrangements for you all, and I have mad them, unbeknownst to himself, for him. I will see to it that he will be able to take Fina with him.”
“What of you?”
“I, too, and certain other men, will be leaving.”
I suddenly began to understand what might be the nature of the arrangements, the dispositions, which the pit master had been concerned with recently.
“You cannot leave the city of your Home Stone!” I said.
“We have received word,” he said, “that a delegation from Cos will arrive in Treve shortly.”
“What will be done with me, and with Fecha, Tira, and the others?” I asked.
“Other than Fina?”
“Yes,” I said.
“You are going to be sold,” he said.
“Sold?”
“Of course, my pretty little property,” he said.
“I do not understand,” I said.
“Surely it is not so difficult to grasp,” he said. “You were sold before, you know.”
“Of course, Master,” I said, falteringly.
“It is not just you, Janice,” he said. “All the pit slaves who were recently in the depths will be sold, as well. Even Fina, in a sense, will be sold, purchased from the state, but I will see that she comes within the keeping of the depth warden. She will make a lovely gift for him. I would think.”
“And the rest of us?” I said.
“To be sold in different cities,” he said. “You will be scattered, papers will be changed. You will disappear to the eight winds. It will not be possible to trace you.”
“I understand,” I said. We had seen too much, or knew too much, and I doubtless, most of all. Had the black-tunicked men been successful in the depths I suspected we might all have had our throats cut, even the other girls, whose understanding of these things must be even less than mine, which was negligible. The black-tunicked men are trained to kill for a purpose, and to think as little of it as others might of the cutting of wood.
“None of you will be sold publicly, of course,” said the officer of Treve. “We will not risk that. The sales will be discreet, and private. They will be purple-booth sales.”
“That is a great honor, Master,” I said.
“You are all excellent-quality merchandise,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“See that you, in your performance in the booth, do not disappoint the buyer’s agent.”
“Yes, Master,” I whispered.
“You may rise,” he said.
I rose to my feet. I held my arms folded about myself, for the air was chilly here, on the surface of the tower, in the early morning. He had gone to stand near the wall, looking out toward the mountains.
“This all has to do with the prisoner, the peasant, does it not, Master?” I asked.
“He died out there, in the mountains,” said the officer.
“But you do not know that,” I said.
“No man could survive alone out there,” he said.
“Perhaps some men, Master,” I said.
“Yes,” said he, “perhaps some men. And yes, my lovely Earth woman slave, my lovely Gorean slave girl, it does have to do with the peasant, all of it has to do with the peasant.”
“Are we to return to your compartments?” I asked. “Am I to warm wine for you?”
“Yes,” he said.
“It will be light soon,” I said.
“I shall miss you,” he said.
“And I shall miss you, Master,” I said.
“There is nothing more to be done here,” he said. He then turned about, and I followed him.
We heard the call of the watch, that all was well in Treve. I did not know, however, if it were true or not. I did know that the surface of this tower, in the coldness of the morning, had, as the tops of certain peaks in the distance by light, been touched by honor.
41
I lay on my stomach, on my may, in the house of my new master. My eyes were filled with tears. Aynur had laid the switch to me well. This evening she had had Tima and Tana tie me to the whipping post in the garden. The other women, the flowers of the garden, had been summoned forth to watch. My crime, as it had been announced to the flowers, was that of having approached the wall. The roughness on the bottoms of my feet, no longer bleeding then, had been shown to the other girls.
“The barbarian is stupid,” had said one of the girls.
“They all are,” said another.
“Why would she go to the wall?” asked another. “She cannot climb it.”
That was true.
But I wanted to press my hands against its solidity, knowing there was a world on the other side of the garden, and that I was then a little closer to it. One could hear the noises, the cries, from outside. One knew there was a world there, teeming, busy, with its sights, and sounds, and smells, a turbulent, active world, one different from that of the garden. I wanted to be on the other side of the wall. I wanted to be there, where I might run through the streets in a tunic and collar, where I might drink water from the lower basins, where I might press through crowds, carrying package or vessel upon my head, unable to defend myself against the touches of men, who might touch me as easily as one might pet a dog. I did not object to such things, for I was less than a dog. I was a slave. Too, such things are flattering. They bespeak one’s appeal. They say, you are attractive, you excite them. You are not without interest to masters. They would not mind using you, perhaps even owning you. I wanted to be seen by men, and found desirable. I wanted to see the desire in their eyes, and sense their heat. I wanted them to turn their heads to look after me, as I made my way down the street. I wanted them to wonder what I would look like, naked, in their own collar, or their own furs, at their feet, their property, one who must serve them to the best of her abilities in whatever manner they might please. I wanted to be on the other side of the wall, even if it meant being forced to labor long hours for a harsh master. I did not fear rising before dawn, and taking up a basket, and hurrying though the gray streets to the market. I did not fear the public washing places, the shallow cement tanks where one might launder. I did not fear the needle, the broom, the kettles, the yards, the sheds, the kitchen. I would be grateful at night even for a rush mat. Better to be chained in a hovel, subject to the whip of the least in the city, than a flower in the garden!