The Chieftan

CHAPTER 9

“Thank you, my dear,” said Pulendius, the delicate, shallow, transparent bowl cupped in the palm of his right hand.

He watched the fluid, ruby kana, in its narrow stream, no wider than a nail, descend to the bottom of the bowl, puddle there, and then rise up, smoothly, slowly, ascending the side of the bowl.

“Enough,” he said.

Not raising her head she ceased pouring and backed away.

“The captain is putting her up,” said Pulendius to the table.

“‘Putting her up’?” said a young man, somewhat askance, across from Pulendius, somewhat down the table.

“Tomorrow evening,” said Pulendius.

“Of course,” said the young man, in some confusion.

“I think it is generous of him,” said Pulendius. He lifted his glass to the captain, who sat at the head of the table, who acknowledged this salute with a dismissive smile.

“The line is,” said a man.

“We are paying enough for the voyage,” grumbled a fellow a few seats to the left of Pulendius.

“I do not understand,” said a young, dark-haired woman, sitting almost directly across from Pulendius.

“As the prize, for the winner in the contest tomorrow evening,” said Pulendius.

“She is a human being,” said the young woman, angrily.

“They make the best prizes,” said Pulendius.

“Where humans are involved,” qualified a man.

“Of course,” said Pulendius, graciously accepting this qualification.

Behind Pulendius, who was an extremely rich man, and a lord of estates on Terennia, there stood two bodyguards, both huge men, half-naked, clad in leather, their arms folded across their chests. Their eyes roved about, to the door of the lounge, to other tables, to the table before them. These two men, his bodyguards, were both from his own school, on Terennia. They were gladiators, you see. This was not unusual. It was common, in spite of occasional prohibitions to the contrary, for rich men to retain such. Pulendius had originally been of the humiliori, and of the family of a shoemaker, but, an intelligent and ambitious man, he had managed to become rich, in the beginning in a variety of trading ventures, mostly having to do with the import and sale of sorbian leather. Putatively in recognition of numerous philanthropies, the repair of walls and aqueducts, the construction of bridges at dangerous crossings, and such, and in virtue of various donations and services, lavished on various towns in which he held important franchises from the governor, he had been raised to the honestore class. It was rumored that this was in particular a consequence of his friendship with the civil governor of Terennia, with whom he frequently exchanged invitations. It was hinted, too, that certain gifts, or antecedent remunerations, one might say, had preceded the honor of being raised to the honestori, not that he was not universally recognized as being fully deserving of that honor. Soon Pulendius had begun to accumulate land. His lands now constituted, in effect, a small state on the planet. Some four thousand coloni tilled his fields.

He had a private army, as had many rich men in the empire, his consisting of some five hundred men. It was his men, of course, who had intervened in the arena, at the time with which the reader has hitherto been acquainted, when the peasant had fallen to the sand, stunned by the weapons of the guards, or police. It should be mentioned that the men of Pulendius, even those with him at that time and at that place, several times outnumbered the entire local police force. Such men had things much their own way with local communities and local administrations. They had little to fear except from imperial troops. One might think of such men, I suppose, if the analogies are not too misleading, as local “strong men,” or “bosses,” perhaps something along those lines. There were, throughout the empire, thousands of such. Indeed, some imperial officials feared them, and thought they were becoming too powerful. More than once there had been confrontations between such private forces and imperial troops themselves. To be sure, Pulendius tended to be a quite law-abiding individual, but then, one supposes, most are who can pretty much have the laws arranged, drafted, interpreted, and applied or not applied, at one’s convenience. It might be mentioned that the tax farmers did not “farm” the estates of Pulendius, which may, indeed, be one reason that many coloni flocked to his lands. The reasons for this seeming oversight on the part of the tax farmers may not be altogether clear, but, whatever they were, they were not unique with Pulendius. The estates of such men, for whatever reason, were often exempt from such attentions. Indeed, it would be a bold collector, one supposes, who would attempt, without an army behind him, to enforce a collection on such a man. More than one, on more than one world, had disappeared. It was not clear what had become of them. Some, it was rumored, had been used as training objects in the various schools. Others, it seems, had been simply hung or thrown into eel ponds. It might also be mentioned, in this brief biographical account, that Pulendius, from his earliest youth, had been a zealot of the arena. He maintained one of the finest gladiatorial schools on Terennia. His men had fought on many worlds, sometimes even on the Telnarian worlds themselves.

“Disgusting,” said the young, dark-haired woman.

One of the two bodyguards behind Pulendius, his arms folded, looked upon the young, dark-haired woman. She was well sheathed in a sleek, off-the-shoulder gown of white lim, quite other than would have been appropriate on Terennia, but then they were not now on Terennia. She was quite fairly complexioned. Her bosom, which was very white, was not without its suggestions of delights. Indeed, her figure, though one must hazard something of an estimate at this juncture, gave the suggestion that it would prove of interest, perhaps considerably so. To be sure, she was perhaps somewhat slender for the tastes of some, but there was, on the whole, little doubt that almost any man, even one of quite moderate virility, and she had known few of even that level, would have found it both stimulating and inviting. She had dared to wear both a closely fitting golden necklace, and clipped-on golden earrings. A golden bracelet on her left wrist completed this ensemble. The entire effect, of course, was elegant, and tasteful, or so I would think, but, on her own world, which was that of Terennia, it would have counted as being outrageously scandalous. How many men on her own world, looking upon her, as she was, even fully clothed, not even stripped to the hips, or ankles, could have looked upon her with normal pupils? Surely only the “truest of men,” as her world defined such feeble creatures, could have looked upon her without dilated pupils. How cruel of her to torment men so, how insensitive, and unfeeling of her, to subject them to such temptation. How difficult it would be for any male to be a “true man” in the presence of such a creature, even tastefully and fully clothed as she was. Her hair, as I have mentioned was dark, even quite dark, and one might, had it not been bound so closely behind her head, had it been loosened, undone, have remarked its gloss and length. It might also be remarked that this woman was extremely intelligent, as this feature, in the view of some, adds considerably to the appeal of a woman. She was also, incidentally, of high birth, or reasonably high birth, and of secure social station. Had she not been, she might not have had the courage to appear at the table so scandalously attired, not that her attire was much different from that of other human females at the table. It was only that she was from Terennia. It was, however, substantially a cruise ship, a pleasure ship, and so a certain latitude in such matters seemed acceptable. The ship, the Alaria, which occasionally served on imperial business, the transport of ambassadors, and such, was registered on Tranos. She was now far out of the normal pleasure and commercial lanes. There was a reason for that. The bodyguard behind, and to the right, of Pulendius continued to regard the young, dark-haired woman. She was not entirely unaware of this, one supposes. More than once she had glanced toward him, and then, angrily, away. Even though such men were bodyguards, it seemed they might at least have worn pleasure robes, like the other men. But then, perhaps, those would have impeded motion had some emergency arisen. But was it necessary for them to be there, she wondered, such large, brutish fellows, half-naked, girded in leather? She glanced again at the one guard, to Pulendius’s right. Then she looked down, flushing. When she looked up his eyes were elsewhere, looking about the room. Perhaps he had been regarding her, merely as he had others. But she did not think so. Perhaps she had been mistaken about his attention. But she did not think so. What an arrogant, bold fellow. Perhaps she should call his audacity to the attention of his employer. But what if it were her imagination? Would it not then be suggested that it had been she, and not he, who had been looking, who had been concerned with such matters? Would that not be embarrassing? Would she not then seem the fool? An additional note might be offered here. There was a tiny bit of trim, purple trim, on the off-the-shoulder gown, it bordering the sheath, both at the bosom and the ankles, and, also, down

the left side. From one point of view this bit of trim, like a small, folded ribbon, was quite inconspicuous, though it doubtless had some subtle role to play in accenting the gown. From another point of view, however, for those who could read such things, it indicated that she was, however far removed, of the blood itself. That color, you see, was legally worn only by those who were not merely of the honestori but of the patricians. She was, you see, a minor patrician. Indeed, her nobility, as tenuous, as small, as remote as it was, had much to do with her presence on the ship. Had she not been of that class, she would not have been where she was. She glanced again at the bodyguard to the right of Pulendius. Yes! He was looking at her! She looked to the captain of the ship, who glanced at her, not understanding her agitation. Then she dabbed at the dessert on her plate. She was frustrated on her own world. In her, like tides, like movements of the earth itself, there was a very strong sexuality, muchly starved, of course, given the world on which she lived. And so she sat at the table, uncomfortably, looking down at her plate. The bodyguard looked once more upon her. She flushed, seemingly aware of his glance. Was this, we wonder, from the unease, the heat or discomfort, of her own thoughts, or was it because she suspected that she might once more be the subject of his regard? Perhaps it was both. This minor patrician, who so subtly with the tiny purple stripe, that little bit of trim, called attention to her claims and her birth, far above, always, that of a lout like Pulendius, who could buy his way into the honestori, was, as we have suggested, white-skinned, dark-haired and well figured. She was young, beautiful and intelligent. She was, all in all, the sort of woman who, on many worlds, would have brought an excellent price. Too, on many worlds, the bit of trim on the gown, the purple, would not have saved her. On barbarian worlds, it would doubtless have improved her price, and perhaps so, too, in certain other markets, sometimes secret markets, on many of the allied and imperial worlds. Such women were prized, as they made excellent slaves.

“What do you think of her?” asked Pulendius.

The bodyguard, he on the right of Pulendius, to whom the question was apparently addressed, seemed startled.

Pulendius nodded toward the girl who had been serving the table, she who had, but a moment ago, poured kana into the delicate, transparent, shallow bowl.

The bodyguard turned his attention to the servant, as we shall, for the moment, think of her.

She did not lift her eyes, or turn about, to look at him.

Rather she was attentively, even as though she might not know herself now the center of the group’s attention, pouring kana for a ship’s officer, he to the captain’s left.

She was brownish-skinned, and exceedingly exquisite.

The darkness of her skin was set off by the sleeveless, sparkling white serving gown.

She was shorter than the young dark-haired woman from Terennia, whose height was closer to the average for a human female, she of patrician blood, however far removed, but both would have been tiny compared to, say, the bodyguard, he behind Pulendius, and to his right, he who had been addressed.

“Of course,” said Pulendius, “you will see her differently when she is on her knees, in a keb, cuffed, and chained to the stake.”

“Yes, milord,” said the guard.

“I do not understand,” said the young woman from Terennia, irritably.

Pulendius smiled, and looked to the captain.

The young woman serving kana went to the next officer, who declined the refilling of the delicate bowl.

She then went to the next, and, receiving permission, granted by an almost imperceptible movement of the head, accompanied by the proffering of the bowl, head down, poured.

A comment or two may be in order with respect to the appearance of the current subject of the group’s attention. The white gown was her single garment. Too, surprisingly, she was barefoot, her tiny feet almost lost in the luxurious nap of the carpeting of the lounge. On her left ankle, ringing it closely, was a golden band, an anklet of sorts, it would seem. One might take this, it would seem, as her single piece of jewelry.

“Perhaps I may be permitted to explain,” said the captain, a bit apologetically, responding to the encouragement of Pulendius, addressing himself to the young dark-haired woman a few seats down the table, to his left.

“Please, do,” she said, icily.

“Do you truly not understand?” asked one of the ship’s officers.

The young dark-haired woman did not take her eyes from the captain.

There were several differences between the two women with whom we are now concerned, in background, in education, in appearance, and such. But one difference, one which is of importance here, is that the pourer of kana had learned to obey men, instantly, and unquestioningly, which the young dark-haired woman, she from Terennia, had not yet learned to do.

“This is not Terennia,” began the captain.

“Yes?” said the young woman, coolly.

“The line,” said the captain, “here and there, acquires such, on certain worlds, for various purposes.”

“‘Acquires’?” said the young dark-haired woman.

“‘Buys,’ “suggested Pulendius.

She looked at him, with horror.

“On Terennia,” said the captain, “it is my understanding that certain forms of relationship have been declared illegal.”

“Forms of relationship?” she asked.

“Yes,” said the captain.

“Matters having to do with property, certain forms of ownership,” volunteered Pulendius, helpfully.

“Certain things on Terennia may be owned, but not others,” said the captain.

“Land, articles of clothing, such things may be owned, yes,” said the young woman.

“One thinks nothing of the ownership of animals on Terennia,” said Pulendius.

“Certainly,” said the young woman. “One has a full and perfect right to own such.”

“But only certain sorts of animals,” said the captain.

“No,” she said. “One can own any sort of animal.”

“Any sort of animal?” asked the captain, smiling.

“Yes,” she said.

“Are you sure of that?” asked Pulendius.

“Certainly,” she said.

“Are we not all animals?” asked the captain.

“No,” she said.

“Biology, as I understand it, begs to differ with you,” said Pulendius.

“Very well,” she said. “Certain forms of animals may be owned. Certain other forms of animals may not be owned.”

“Surely you recognize the arbitrariness, if not the literal inconsistency, of that view,” said one of the ship’s officers.

She looked at him, with fury.

“You must know,” said the captain, “that slavery is quite legal in the empire.”

“Yes,” she said.

“And on many of the barbarous worlds, as well?”

“Yes,” she said.

“And on many of the most civilized, as well,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, reddening.

“On many worlds there is a body of property law, of considerable complexity and antiquity, pertinent to the matter,” said the captain.

“You are aware of the social utility of the institution, surely,” said one of the ship’s officers, “with respect to such matters as social stability, conservation of resources, population control, and such.”

“On Terennia,” she said, icily, “slavery is illegal.”

“That is true,” said the captain. “On Terennia slavery is illegal.”

“On Terennia,” said a young officer in the imperial navy, one on leave, it seemed, who had not spoken before, some seats down, near Pulendius, to the captain’s right, “it is the men who are slaves.”

“None are slaves on Terennia,” she said, angrily. Then she flushed, aware, perhaps, of the gaze of the bodyguard upon her, he behind Pulendius, to his right. “Let us not spoil the evening by dispute on such matters,” said the captain.

“You know the law, of course,” said Pulendius, “that if one should bring his property to another world within the empire, it does not cease to remain his property.”

“Of course I am familiar with the law,” she said, angrily. “The principle is a simple one, familiar from basic jurisprudence.”

“Let us suppose,” said Pulendius, “to take a purely hypothetical example, that you yourself were to become a slave, and were then to be brought to Terennia.”

“Yes?” she said, her body stiffening.

“You would then still be a slave, would you not?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“‘Yes’?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, rigid on her chair, “I would still be a slave.”

“Within the full rights of your master?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, angrily.

“And are you so sure,” he asked, “that there are no slaves on Terennia?”

“Certainly,” she said.

“Are you so sure?” he asked.

“Perhaps in the wilderness,” she said, “in rural areas, away from the cities.”

“And perhaps in the schools?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” she said, reddening. She looked at the bodyguards, particularly at he who was behind Pulendius, to his right, and then looked away, quickly. Such men, she suspected, though she was only from Terennia, might not only relish and desire women, but might actually need them, even crave them, desperately, like food and drink, quite otherwise than the “true men” with whom she was, to her boredom, more than familiar.

“Who knows?” said Pulendius, pleasantly, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“Are you telling me that this girl is a slave?” asked the young, dark-haired woman, indicating the pourer of kana.

“We have not said that,” said the captain.

“Kana, milady?” asked the pourer of kana, pausing at the side of the young, dark-haired woman.

“No!” exclaimed the young, dark-haired woman, drawing back.

At a gesture from Pulendius the pourer of kana returned to her usual serving station, somewhat behind the captain, and to his left.

“Who owns her?” demanded the young woman.

“The line,” said the captain, “at least until tomorrow evening.”

“After the contest,” said Pulendius.

“I do not believe she is a slave,” said the young, dark-haired woman.

“Surely such matters need not be made obvious,” said the captain.

“She is not a slave,” said the young, dark-haired woman.

“This is not a barbarian ship,” said the captain.

“Are you skeptical because she is not slave clad, and not collared?” asked Pulendius.

The young, dark-haired woman tossed her head, angrily.

“The collar is a lovely adornment, and it has its purposes, identificatory, mnemonic, and such,” said Pulendius, “but it is bondage which makes the slave, not the collar. Too, how do you know she is not slave clad?”

The young, dark-haired woman looked down, in consternation. “Is she slave clad?” she asked. The young dark-haired woman seemed agitated, enflamed.

“Yes,” said Pulendius.

There was silence at the table.

“She is not a slave,” whispered the young, dark-haired woman, desperately.

“Kana,” said the captain, irritably, holding forth his delicate glass.

“Yes, milord,” said the pourer, hurrying forward to replenish the beverage.

“Speak clearly,” said the captain.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

Then she raised her eyes to the young, dark-haired woman, and in that glance there was more than a hint of anger, of defiance, but then, swiftly, as though frightened, she put down her head and returned to her station.

Such women, you see, are not free, but owned. They may not always do what they please. They are subject to authority, to punishment.

Pulendius regarded the young, dark-haired woman, she from Terennia, she who was the minor patrician, considering her, and then his eyes rested, as though amused, on the golden necklace, about a half of an inch in height, with which she had so closely encircled her throat. Selfconsciously she raised her fingers to her throat, and then, hastily, returned them to the glistening cloth of the table. The necklace reminded him of a slave collar, of the interwoven-chain variety. To be sure, it was not as sturdy, and it did not have a lock.

“Shall I send her away?” asked the captain, concerned. As the captain of a cruise ship he had not only the care of his vessel to consider, but his obligations to look after the comfort and pleasures of his passengers.

The young, dark-haired woman did not answer.

“More kana,” said the young naval officer, he of the imperial navy, he of one of the imperial fleets, he on leave, it seemed. And so the pourer of kana remained present.

Pulendius, nursing his kana, moving it about in the delicate, shallow bowl, looked upon the young, dark-haired woman. Pulendius was still a strong man, but he had, in these past years, grown somewhat corpulent, doubtless from the rich food, the softness of his life, the luxuries. He looked at the young, dark-haired woman. She seemed to him a fine, vital, healthy young animal. He wondered what sort of slave she would make. The bodyguard, too, one of the gladiators, he who was behind and to the right of Pulendius, also regarded her. He, too, wondered what sort of slave she would make.

A junior officer approached the table. Shortly thereafter, the captain rose and, wiping his lips, and making excuses, took his leave from the table.

Pulendius, and the bodyguards, watched him leave. So, too, did the ship’s first officer. The naval officer, too, he on leave, as it seemed, seemed to note the captain’s departure.

“There seems an anklet of some sort on her ankle, a band of some sort,” said the young, dark-haired woman, offhandedly.

“Why, yes,” said Pulendius. “So there does.”

“That is enough!” suddenly cried the young, dark-haired woman flinging down her napkin, and rising to her feet. The entire table regarded her.

She pointed to the bodyguard, he whose presence, if not regard, seems to have made her uneasy throughout the evening.

“He keeps looking at me!” she said, angrily.

“Ah, my dear, but who would not?” said Pulendius, soothingly. “Or,” he added, tactfully, “at our other charming companions, as well?”

This addition clearly met with the approval of the other women at the table, who, to be sure, for the most part were not at all unlikely recipients of just such attentions.

Reddening, the young, dark-haired woman once more took her seat.

“It is not as though you were in a haik, my dear,” said one of the women. This remark was greeted with laughter. The young, dark-haired woman again reddened, and looked down. The haik was a dark, cumbrous garment which would cover a woman from head to toe. Through a narrow aperture in the garment, that aperture itself covered with black lace, or black gauze, a woman might peer out. It was sometimes worn by the women of certain desert worlds, who would kneel behind their men, who spoke with other men of the things of men. One did not always know if the wearers of the haik were free women, fully clad within the haik, or collared, naked slave girls, waiting for the guests to leave. How embarrassed the young, dark-haired woman was. How like a fool she felt!

“Kana, all about!” called Pulendius.

The pourer of kana hastened to fill the transparent, shallow bowls.

Even that of the young, dark-haired woman was filled. The pourer of kana did not meet her eyes, but then she did not meet the eyes of the other guests, either.

“What is the nature of the contest of the morrow’s evening?” inquired one of the men at the table of Pulendius.

Pulendius grinned at the first officer, still at the table. “It is something of a surprise,” he said.

“Has it to do with the prisoner, who was brought on board at Tinos?” asked the young naval officer, sitting somewhat to the left of Pulendius.

He himself, it might be mentioned, came aboard from the shuttle, from Tinos station. Tinos, as the reader may have suspected, given an earlier remark, was far outside the normal lanes of imperial shipping, let alone those of a cruise ship. It may be of interest to note, for what it is worth, if anything, that communication with Tinos station had been lost some four days ago. Such disruptions, however, were not unprecedented. Indeed, communication between certain remote, diverse parts of the empire had tended, in the last few years, to become uncertain, even precarious. Certain imperial outposts had not been in contact for more than a dozen years.

“You must wait and see,” chuckled Pulendius.

The young, dark-haired woman was looking at the gladiator, the bodyguard, to whom she had but shortly before, later to her embarrassment, called attention. He stood there, his mighty arms folded across his chest, at his station. He returned her gaze. He did so quite openly. There was nothing furtive, or even subtle, in it, as one might have expected, given her earlier outburst. Perhaps he felt himself secure in the favor of his lord, Pulendius. Or, perhaps it was merely that he did not fear the displeasure of any man. That is possible. That is sometimes the case with those who have lived at the edge of life, where it is coldest and brightest, where it is most close to death. And so he returned her gaze. But it seemed to her now that he did so not with the simple, candid forthrightness of his earlier regard, with its rather straightforward expression of keen interest, even of a strong man’s lustful appraisiveness, but now with a subtle, almost imperceptible contempt. The mad thought crossed her mind that it would now be appropriate for her to be punished. Of course, as she understood now, she should not have risen up, and spoken out as she had. That had been a mistake. She had embarrassed herself. She felt a fool about that. But surely she had not been mistaken, not about his gaze, about its possible meaning, insofar as she could understand such things, or dared to understand them. And how he was looking on her now! Surely only a woman in a slave market should be looked upon in that fashion! And how dare he regard her, too, with that subtle contempt? Did he not know she was of the blood, of the original high families of Telnaria itself, that she was of the senatorial class, of the patricians, however far removed, that class from which the senate was to be taken, the senate, which must still, even after these eons of time, if only as a token of tradition, confirm the emperor?

But what could such a lout, he, or Pulendius, that parvenu, that upstart, or the other guard, know of such things? But he saw her only as a woman, and perhaps, worse, as a certain sort of woman, and one for which he now seemed to feel contempt. The thought crossed her mind of a woman, not herself, surely, who, stripped at his feet, in the shadow of his whip, would hasten to do whatever he might want. Indeed, what choice would such a woman, not herself, of course, have? The mad thought crossed her mind, instantly rejected, with confusion, that she would envy such a woman. She looked up, again, at him. How he looked at her! How angry she was! “I am not naked, on a chain, turning before you in a slave market,” she thought. And then she thought how she might, in an obscure part of her, in the deepest and most secret part of her, beg to be such a woman, thrill to be such a woman. She looked down at her plate. She felt feelings she had never felt before, at least not in this fashion, not to this extremity, not to this degree. She felt warm, uncomfortably so, confused, vulnerable, weak, suddenly, embarrassingly, extremely feminine. She decided she hated him. Then she saw that Pulendius, amused, was regarding her.

It was at this point, to her relief, that the captain returned.

“Is anything wrong?” inquired the naval officer of the captain.

“No,” said the captain. “It was nothing.”

“You are just in time, Captain,” said Pulendius, lifting his bowl. “I am preparing to offer a toast.”

“Splendid,” smiled the captain. He tapped the table once, next to the shallow bowl there, which had not been filled when the others had been filled, he then being absent, and the pourer of kana hurried forward, returning forthwith, almost unnoticed, so suitably unobstrusive she was, to her station.

“I offer this toast to our lovely fellow passenger,” said Pulendius, lifting his bowl a little toward the young, dark-haired woman, who seemed startled.

“Certain charming, revealing anomalies in your behavior this evening, my dear,” he said, “have not gone unnoticed by your friends and fellow passengers.”

There was laughter about the table.

“What shall we say,” he asked, “a certain nervousness, or distractedness, an occasional jitteriness, perhaps even an outburst, perhaps even an occasional uncharacteristic tartness, quite out of order?”

She flushed, angrily.

“And yes,” he said, triumphantly, “just such surprising, delightful, quite broadcast, changes in complexion.”

The portions of her body not covered by clothing, her face, her throat, her arms, her shoulders, all such, suddenly blushed red.

“Yes!” he said.

There was laughter.

“With your permission,” he said, “I shall clarify matters for those at the table who may not be aware of the cause of these occasional, delightful manifestations.”

She regarded him, angrily.

“You do not mind?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“It is no secret, I trust?”

“No,” she said. “Of course not!”

“Our lovely fellow passenger,” said Pulendius, rising to his feet, lifting his bowl, “is betrothed, and, even now, on the Alaria, an eager bride-to-be, she hastens to the arms of her groom!”

“Yes, yes!” said those about the table.

“No wonder then,” said Pulendius, “under such circumstances, that our charming fellow passenger, though an officer of a Terennian court, seems sometimes as nervous, as frightened, as confused, as a lass from a rural village, being led to the rope ring.”

There was laughter.

The bodyguard found this a somewhat unlikely figure of speech. He was himself, you see, from a rural village, a festung village on another world, and he did not think many a rural lass would be particularly nervous or frightened, or confused, being led to the rope ring. Many would be the time they had tossed in the hay or in the rushes, by the lake, before getting to the rope ring. To be sure, he thought that certain urban daughters might be nervous, or frightened, at such times, not that rope rings were used in the urban communities, for such girls often knew little, particularly the middle-class girls, about sex, that by the intent of their parents, and the community. Some of them, on the bridal night itself, made discoveries which, for them, were quite startling. For those it might interest, as I have mentioned it, the ceremony of the rope ring was a rude form of marriage, in which the couple made their pledges, exchanging their oaths, within the circle of a rope, spread on the ground. At the end of the ceremony the lad would fasten one end of the rope about the lass’s neck and then lead her thusly, publicly on his tether, about the village, and thence to his hut. It was understood in the village then that the lass was his. The ceremony was not regarded as completed until he had thrust her before him, the rope on her neck, he holding it, into the hut. The point of the display, leading her publicly about the village, is to give any who might object to the union a last opportunity to voice their protest. Various rude peoples in the empire had such ceremonies. This choice of a figure of speech may be excused on the part of Pulendius, I think, who was from an urban area, and on the whole, accordingly, unfamiliar with the ways of small, isolated rural communities. On the other hand, the figure of speech, with due respect for Pulendius, who was a highly intelligent man, may not have been as unlikely as the bodyguard surmised. It is, after all, one thing to roll with a fellow in the hay, or near the lake, and another to be thrust into his hut, before him, a rope on your neck, knowing that you are then his, and that the entire village accepts this and will enforce it. It is natural that a bride should be apprehensive. After all, who is the man, truly, to whom she is married? It is a bit like a slave, who has been purchased. She does not yet know the nature of her master, only that she is wholly his, in all ways.

“For what world are you bound?” asked Pulendius.

“Miton,” she said. “It is within the first provincial quadrant,” she added.

Miton was not one of the original Telnarian worlds.

The young woman, who was, of course, the officer of the court, she whom we have already met, had not been eager to volunteer the name of the world.

It was not one of the original Telnarian worlds, you see.

“And who is the lucky man?” asked Pulendius.

“Tuvo Ausonius,” she said. She looked about. “Tuvo Ausonius,” she repeated.

“Of course,” said Pulendius.

“He is an executive in the finance division of the first provincial quadrant,” she said.

“Wonderful,” said Pulendius.

“He is of the blood,” she said, suddenly, irritably.

“Wonderful,” said Pulendius. To be sure, the young, dark-haired woman was, to the knowledge of most at the table, the only person there of such birth. We may make an exception, however, given our privileges in these matters, for the young naval officer. He, too, was of the blood, and, if it must be known, literally of the ancient senatorial class itself, and by direct line. To be sure, none knew this at the time. We might mention two points about this officer. First, it was quite unusual that one of his high birth, which was quite as high as that of the emperor himself, in these days, would have undertaken the arduous and often unrewarding tasks of military service. Second, although he was putatively on leave, he had boarded the Alaria when she was in orbit at Tinos, and Tinos, in its remoteness, might seem, if one paused to give the matter thought, an unlikely venue for an officer’s leave. To be sure, perhaps he was returning from leave, and his home was on Tinos. It is not likely that he was stationed on Tinos because on Tinos there was no naval base, or large-scale base, only a small outpost.

“And can we hope,” asked Pulendius, “that his blood is as high and noble as yours?”

“It is higher,” she said.

This information was greeted with polite enthusiasm by the table.

That Tuvo Ausonius was of the blood was not at all a matter of indifference or accident, incidentally, to the projected union. Indeed, it was the essence of the entire matter.

If it must be known, many in the empire, particularly urbanites, often viewed with coolness, if not resentment, certain distinctions which seemed to them unnecessary, if not arbitrary, not significant distinctions, of course, like that between the humiliori and the honestori, or that between the citizen and the noncitizen, both of which were quite important for many reasons, or even, really, that between themselves and the high aristocracy, which was still regarded with a certain awe, partly as a matter of tradition, and partly, doubtless, because of its ancient, historic contributions to the republic, and then the empire, but between themselves and the minor aristocracy, the minor patricians, the members of local senatorial classes, and such, which they often resented as being officious, pretentious and of dubious value to anyone, including themselves. Such distinctions, as we have suggested, were not like those between the humiliori and the honestori, or, one supposes, even more importantly, between the citizen and the noncitizen.

“In any event,” said Pulendius, chuckling, tactfully shifting the group’s attention to less sensitive matters, “now becomes clear the meaning of many of your delightful manifestations this evening, your unease, your unsettledness, your agitation, your confusion, your charming changes of hue, all such are merely consequences of your trepidation, yet eagerness, to fly to the arms of your beloved.”

There was laughter about the table.

The young, dark-haired woman looked down, angrily.

She had never seen Tuvo Ausonius, incidentally, nor he her, except in transmitted pictorials. The union had been arranged by the judge, her mother, in consultation with the mayor, also a minor patrician, she of the Terennian town in which the small arena was located, that in which certain events, hitherto recounted, as the reader may recall, had earlier taken place, the name of which town we shall learn later, when it will be more germane to our account. Although it is difficult to establish such matters with exactness it was thought that Tuvo Ausonius was related in the 103rd degree to the original Ausonii. The officer of the court, the young, dark-haired woman, was related, it was thought, to a comparable family, but only in the 105th degree. The projected union, thusly, was much to the woman’s advantage, though obviously less so to that of Tuvo Ausonius. In this respect we can see that she was indeed fortunate, and that the heart of her mother and that of the mayor had every right to rejoice over the success of their arrangements. Who knew, perhaps the mother, and even her friend, the mayor, were she not left behind, not repudiated, might as a consequence of this union eventually rise to heights on other worlds, heights higher than might be afforded on humble Terennia. If the officer of the court did not seem sufficiently appreciative of the efforts put forth on her behalf by her mother and the mayor, we may perhaps attribute that, at least in part, to a certain skepticism on her part as to the selflessness of their motivations. We might note, too, that she seemed insufficiently grateful to Tuvo Ausonius for the honor which he had seen fit to bestow upon her, in spite of the deficiency of her rank. Indeed, perhaps that was close to the nub of matters. In spite of her protestation, at the table, under that duress, she speaking almost without thinking, that the blood of her intended was higher than hers, which was doubtless correct, in the genealogies, she was not truly prepared to admit that. Who was to say that the 105th degree, of her own family, was not superior to that of the 103rd, of the Ausonii? Too, for whatever defects, or waywardness, in her nature, she had hoped, first, for a higher match, regarding herself as quite worthy of it, and, secondly, to make matters far worse, had not been at all that enthralled with the pictorials of Tuvo Ausonius, who seemed to her to be a callow mediocrity. Too, she was decidedly not pleased, as she should doubtless have been, that his credentials, his test results, and such, had allayed any apprehensions on the part of her mother and the mayor that he might not be a “true man,” as defined on Terennia. How furious she had been. How she had struggled to control her misery, her disappointment! Still were her deepest needs, her most hidden cravings, to be refused recognition? Already she held Tuvo Ausonius in an unreasoning, frustrated contempt. Already she despised him. Already she planned to make his life miserable, to dominate him, mercilessly. Who would wish to be the wife of such a one, spending her life as the spoiled, bored wife of a minor bureaucrat on a provincial world, spending, shopping, entertaining, one scarcely superior to Terennia, save that it was far closer to the Telnarian worlds? Oh, she would make him pay, subjecting him to her whims and demands, however exorbitant or unreasoning they might be, lavishly expending his resources, of whatever extent they might be, bringing him to the brink of ruin, and, if she wished, beyond it, demeaning him in public, ranting at him in private! Oh, yes, she would make him pay!

“And so,” said Pulendius, “a toast to our charming fellow passenger! All happiness and delight to her! May she soon be joined in joy with her betrothed!” The toast was then drunk.

The officer of the court blushed once more, angrily. “Drink, drink!” called the men.

She lifted the delicate, shallow, transparent bowl to her lips, find took a sip. She looked at Pulendius, over the rim of the bowl.

“A joyous union,” said the captain, lifting his glass.

“And a fecund one,” said the naval officer, lifting his.

She looked at him, angrily.

“How excited you must be,” said one of the women at the table.

“How eager you must be for his kisses,” said another.

“Joy to you,” said another.

“Happiness!” said another.

“May you leap in his arms like a slave,” said another.

“Yes, yes,” said several of the men.

She blushed, hotly.

How different these people were, how different from those of her home world, how different from those of Terennia!

“See her!” laughed Pulendius, once more taking his seat.

“Please,” she protested.

Pulendius threw back his head, draining his bowl of kana. He had had perhaps too much to drink.

“We bring a virgin to Miton!” said Pulendius, who was a vulgar fellow.

He turned his bowl upside down on the tablecloth and seized up a napkin. “But soon!” he cried.

To be sure, she, a member of a high class, even a minor patrician, was indeed, at that time, a virgin.

She looked up, embarrassed, at the gladiator, the bodyguard, he still at his post behind, and to the right, of Pulendius.

Yes, he was regarding her, and as though she might be in a slaver’s house, and with that same subtle contempt as before.

How she hated him!

And then she was afraid, and a mad thought, meaningless, and absurd, coursed through her mind. “I do not want to be whipped,” she thought. Then, swiftly, confusedly, she dismissed this thought, so mad, so absurd.

Many women of Terennia were virgins, or “superiors,” as the phrase was on Terennia, particularly those of the educated, upper classes, sexuality being regarded as demeaning to women. Too, of course, marriage, and childbearing, and such things, were also frowned upon on that world, at least, again, among the women of the upper classes. What rational creature would wish to burden itself with such matters? The union between the officer of the court and the official, Tuvo Ausonius, we might note, had, accordingly, been arranged without a great deal of publicity, indeed, one might even say it had been arranged somewhat surreptitiously. But there could be a point in such things, you see, as embarrassing or regrettable as they might be, if they resulted in one’s, or someone’s, social, economic or professional advancement.

“But then!” had cried Pulendius.

And then he brought down his fist, wrapped in the napkin, heavily on the delicate, brittle, transparent bowl, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

The officer of the court shuddered, and blushed, and, doubtless heated by the kana, her senses reeling, almost swooned. This reaction may seem regrettably feminine, but one must consider the entirety of the circumstances, the power of Pulendius, the might of the men behind him, the laughter of those at the table, the heating of the kana, the fearful uneasiness in her own body, the sudden awareness, not for the first time, of its smallness and slightness, its softness and vulnerability, its great difference from that of men, and then the force of that massive fist striking down, shattering the bowl. In that moment much was conveyed to her on both a physical and a symbolic level. But I do not think we need to think of this reaction on her part, that she was then almost overcome, that she was then so shaken, that she almost swooned, as being regrettably feminine. That would be, after all, to adopt the values of Terennia, or of certain of its classes, and we wish to retain a neutrality in such matters, merely recounting what occurred, allowing the reader, should he feel the desire to do so, and should he feel entitled to do so, to form his own judgments on such matters. So we shall merely think of her reaction as being feminine, simply feminine, which it was, deeply, genuinely, authentically. Its explanation, moreover, most simply, was that she was a woman, and thus, for better or for worse, subject to such feelings and reactions. For such as she they were quite natural. Indeed, it would have been their denial, hitherto insisted upon in her culture, or in her class, which would have been unnatural, ‘unnatural’ in no pejorative sense, necessarily, but merely, even, in the quite neutral sense of being simply contrary to nature, for better or for worse. Among women, many of whom were less feminine than she, she had often felt an outcast, distrusting and fearing certain feelings in herself. She had never had the courage to be herself, what she truly was, a woman, something marvelous, and quite different from a man. She had always tried to deny and hide her womanhood, but it was there, and profoundly so, always. Certain changes would occur in her life which would have a considerable effect on such matters, which would, indeed, reverse, for better or for worse, these postures or policies. She would find herself eventually in situations, and in a condition, in which her womanhood could be, and, indeed, would have to be, fully expressed, a condition in which it was not only totally liberated, but in which it must be honestly and openly, and, indeed, fully, expressed, totally expressed, in which it was literally forbidden to her to deny it, in the least or most trivial fashion. Indeed, to her dismay, and joy, she would eventually find herself in situations, and in a condition, in which she must be herself, even choicelessly so, totally, whatever might be the consequences, for better or for worse.

“It is growing late,” said the captain.

Those about the table then rose up, bidding one another the joys of the evening.

“Is there kana left?” called Pulendius to the bearer of the kana flask.

“Yes, milord,” she responded.

He snapped his fingers, and she hurried to his place.

The officer of the court trembled, thrilled to see the woman obeying.

“Are you all right?” asked the young naval officer.

“Yes,” she said.

Pulendius took the flask from the pourer of kana and offered it to the guard on his left.

“No, milord,” said the guard.

Pulendius then offered the flask to the guard on his right.

“Thank you, milord. No, milord,” said that guard.

“Perhaps tomorrow night, after the contest?” said Pulendius.

“Yes, perhaps, milord,” said the guard.

“Your hounds are well trained,” said a man.

Pulendius himself then drank from the flask, and then put it down, a bit unsteadily, on the table.

Two or three of the women came about the table to where the officer of the court had risen and gently kissed her, wishing her much happiness. The officer of the court responded in kind, but stiffly, formally, self-consciously. She was, after all, from Terennia.

The bodyguard to Pulendius’s right, looking upon her, decided that she was not worth a collar.

Another woman wished her well.

How stiff she was, how self-conscious.

On Terennia, you see, physical contact, the touching of one human being by another, was frowned upon, at least by members of her class.

How stiff she was, indeed, how self-conscious.

Yet, as he continued to regard her, he sensed in her, or thought he sensed in her, a significant latent sexuality, a powerful sexuality now almost entirely suppressed, one straining against cruel, grievous constraints, one such that, if it were ever released, could never again be subject to management, one which, if released, she would find uncontrollable, one at the mercy of which she would then find herself, its prisoner and victim.

Another of the women gave the officer of the court a gentle kiss.

Yes, he thought, she might not prove to be entirely without interest.

But then he dismissed such thoughts, for she was of the honestori, and even a minor patrician.

One did not think of such in a collar, at least not on any world with which he was familiar.

Still, he thought he had a score to settle with her, and she might look well in one.

“Good night, my dear,” said Pulendius.

“Sir,” she said.

Pulendius then left, a little unsteadily. She watched him exit the lounge, at one point supported by the guard at his right. She was familiar with Pulendius, of course. Who would not be, in her sector of Terennia?

He was fabulously rich, of course, with his enterprises, his lands, tilled by some four thousand coloni. He had much power. He must have many enemies. Guards were almost always with him, large, alert, agile men, skilled, ruthless men, gladiators, it was said.

She looked back, down at the tablecloth, at crumbs there, at crumpled napkins, at rings of kana there. She saw the napkin which had covered Pulendius’s fist when he had struck down, shattering the delicate bowl.

How vulgar he had been!

Pulendius had his weaknesses, of course. Kana was one, obviously. His zeal for the arena and its sports was doubtless another. She knew he maintained a school for gladiators, a school in which men were trained in the use of weapons, both common and exotic.

The men of Pulendius, as well as Pulendius himself, seemed quite different from most of the men she had known.

How uneasy she felt in their presence. And how disturbing had been certain sensations.

She recalled the guard, he who had been behind Pulendius, and to his right.

Her fingers went uneasily to the golden necklace so closely encircling her throat. The tips of her fingers just touched it, barely, timidly.

She thought again of the guard.

Suddenly, angrily, she snatched up her small white purse and, with both hands, held it closely, tightly, against her.

How the guard had looked upon her!

She had never been looked upon in that fashion before!

How she despised him, how she hated him, that calm, half-naked giant who had dared to look upon her in that fashion.

And he had viewed her with contempt!

“I do not want to be whipped,” she thought, and then again, startled at such a mad thought, she sought to hurry it out of her consciousness.

How dared he to have looked upon her so?

What right had he to do so, he, only an ignorant, illiterate lout, only a beast trained for the arena?

She was of high birth, of the patricians!

“But perhaps he would not regard me as being worthy of being whipped,” she thought, and this thought disturbed her, and frightened her, and then again, such a mad thought, she rejected it, confusedly.

She saw the pourer of kana sorting plates on the table, preparing it for clearing.

“You,” she said.

The pourer of kana looked up, startled.

“Come here,” she said.

The pourer of kana came to where she stood.

“What is your name?” said the officer of the court.

“Janina, milady,” was the response.

“Speak clearly,” snapped the officer of the court.

“Janina, Mistress,” said the girl.

“Are you accustomed to standing in the presence of free persons?” asked the officer of the court.

“Forgive me, Mistress,” said the girl, and swiftly knelt before her.

“Is such a lapse not cause for discipline?” inquired the officer of the court.

“It is the will of the masters, Mistress,” she said. “In deference to the feelings of certain passengers, little attention is to be drawn to my true condition in public.”

“So you pretend to be a servant?”

“I serve, Mistress. But I do not pretend to be a servant. I would not dare to pretend to be so high.”

“I have seen your behavior in the lounge,” said the officer of the court.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.

“In public.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“It is different in private, I take it,” said the officer of the court.

“Yes, Mistress. In private, the fullness of my slavery is revealed.”

“And what does that mean?”

“That I am a slave, Mistress,” said the girl, trembling.

“And what does a slave do?”

“She strives to please, and obeys,” she said.

“And you can be bought and sold,” said the officer of the court.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You are the sort of animal that can be bought and sold,” said the officer of the court.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.

“You are a pretty animal,” said the officer of the court.

“Thank you, Mistress,” said the girl.

The officer of the court turned about, angrily. Then she turned about, again, to face the pourer of kana. She looked down upon hen angrily.

“You are an exquisite, extraordinarily attractive slave, Janina,” said the officer of the court.

“Thank you, Mistress,” said the girl.

“Such as you,” said the officer of the court, “are suitable for slaves.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.

The officer of the court then, clutching her small, white purse close to her, went to the exit of the lounge.

She turned back at the portal.

The pourer of kana was still on her knees, beside the table.

“You may rise,” said the officer of the court. “Return to your work.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress,” said the girl.

In returning from the lounge to her cabin, unescorted, of course, for she was of Terennia, the officer of the court paused before a giant oval port in the corridor, which looked out on the vastness of the mysterious night, a night in which galaxies drifted, like glowing fragments in a dark sea.

She felt very small and alone in such a night, even with the lit corridor behind her, even with the comfortable, enclosing steel of the ship.

She regarded her image, reflected in the portal.

She moved her hand, brushing back her hair. She was not displeased with what she saw. She did not think she was unattractive. She thought that she would be wasted on Tuvo Ausonius. Yes, she would be wasted on him. But she would make him pay for that. He would suffer. She looked herself over, carefully. Perhaps it had been a mistake to have worn the white, off-the-shoulder sheath, the earrings, the necklace. She had purchased it in a ship’s shop, daringly. On Terennia they did not have such things, or, at least, she had not seen them. There, even a white, belted clingabout was thought to be scandalous. Her mother had been much against that, annoyingly, even fiercely, vociferously so, but she had worn it anyway. She was not accustomed to doing what others wanted. She was accustomed, rather, to doing precisely what she wanted, whatever she wanted, and when she wanted. She regarded her image steadily. Perhaps it had been a mistake to have worn this ensemble this evening. But then she thought not. Had one seen how that oaf, that ignorant, illiterate oaf, that guard, had looked at her? She could not recall ever having been looked at like that by a man before, saving of course by the same fellow, when he, a peasant, had stood in the dock in her mother’s court. She was then well satisfied with her appearance, and the garment. She thought of the poor little creature in the lounge, what was her name, Janina, or some such. She would wear only what men decided, or approved of. The officer of the court continued to regard herself in the mirror of the portal, the stars visible beyond. “How would I be dressed by men,” she wondered, “if I were a slave — or would I be permitted clothing?”

Then, suddenly, she started, gasping, for, behind her, clearly visible in the reflection of the port, was the large form of the guard, he who had been behind Pulendius, and to his right. She spun about and backed against the railing before the port.

The other guard, the other gladiator, was somewhat in the background.

“Forgive us, milady,” said the guard, he so close to her. “We did not mean to startle you. We have been relieved. We are off duty now, and are returning to our quarters.”

The other guard continued on his way, and the guard closest to her, he whose sudden appearance had so startled her, turned to follow him.

“Linger,” she said, suddenly.

“Yes, milady,” said he, turning.

“I had not seen you, until the lounge,” said she, “since the arena.”

“No, milady,” said he, “not since you had me bound.”

“You were spoken for by Pulendius, who was much impressed with your deeds in the arena.”

“Yes, milady,” said he.

“In deference to Pulendius, your sentence was commuted, remanding you into his custody.”

“Into the custody of a keeper of a gladiatorial school,” said he, “in which men are trained to kill.”

She tried to step back, but the railing was behind her.

“I am now a free man,” he said. “I received my freedom after my tenth victory.”

She looked up at him.

“My seventh kill,” he said.

“I see,” she said.

“I am now as free as you,” he said.

“I — I see,” she said.

Need he stand so close to her? Was he still such a rude, ignorant peasant, with no understanding of civilities? Did he think himself still in some primitive, dirty village, with animals running about between the huts? Was he so ignorant of the proprieties, of the distances, on Terennia, suitable to one of her class? She seemed confused, she looked about, she felt enflamed. Not a hand’s breadth separated her from that mighty chest, the shining leather stretched across it.

“Pulendius has high hopes for you,” she said, unsteadily, looking to the side.

The gladiator shrugged.

How dare you stand so close? she thought.

Pulendius had some twenty fighters with him on the ship. He also had a complement of support personnel, trainers, a physician, an accountant, secretaries and such. He was bound for Iris, which, like Miton, was in the first provincial quadrant.

“I am low in the matches,” said the gladiator, looking down at her.

Please don’t stand so closely to me, she thought. Cannot you see I am uncomfortable?

“But even fighters like Archon and Mir San were once low in the matches,” he said.

These two were known throughout galaxies. They normally performed on the Telnarian worlds themselves, even in the imperial arena.

“You — you enjoy the arena?” she said.

“Yes,” he said, thoughtfully. “The light, the crowds, the music, the contest. One is very much alive there. I can understand why men seek it out. But I do not feel the arena is my destiny.”

“You are free,” she said. “You can leave Pulendius.”

“He saved my life. I serve him,” he said.

“Doubtless he pays well,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

“You are of the humiliori,” she said. “You do not have a destiny.”

“Even less than humiliori have slaves a destiny,” said he, looking down at her.

“What do you mean by that?” she cried.

“Why, nothing, milady,” he said.

She felt weak, giddy. What could be the meaning of such feelings?

She feared they might be those of a slave girl before her master.

“Why did you look at me, as you did this evening?” she asked, angrily.

“Surely it was milady’s imagination,” he suggested.

“Perhaps,” she said icily.

“Methought,” said he, “that milady did have her eyes once or twice upon me.”

“Never!” she said.

“How then would she know if I might have glanced upon her?”

“You are an insolent beast!” she cried and raised her small hand to strike him. But the blow did not fall and she winced for her small wrist was trapped as though in a vise of steel, helpless in the

grip of his great fist.

Once before he recalled, when he had first recovered from his wound in the barrack of the school of Pulendius and had been on his feet, that Pulendius had come to see him. Pulendius, unexpectedly, had struck at him and his wrist, too, had been so caught. “If I were wearing a wrist knife,” had said Pulendius to him, “you would have lost fingers.”

“But, milord,” had said the peasant, “you were not wearing a wrist knife.”

“Excellent,” had said Pulendius. “Release me, now. Your training begins in the morning.”

“Please let me go,” she said. “You’re hurting me.” He released her, instantly. She drew back her hand, rubbing the wrist. She had never guessed before what it might be like, to be the captive, so helplessly, of so mighty a grip.

“Why would I have wasted my time,” he asked, “looking upon one who was a mere slave?”

“I was not the slave!” she said. “There was a slave there, she who cared for the flask of kana!”

“You are both slaves,” he said.

“I am not a slave!” she cried. “I am of the patricians!”

“You are a slave,” he said.

“No,” she cried.

“I have learned in the school,” he said, “how to look upon a woman, and tell if she is a slave or not.”

“And I am one such, a slave?” she said, angrily.

“Yes,” he said.

“Begone!” she wept.

He stepped back, and bowed. “Yes, milady,” said he.

“What is the contest tomorrow evening?” she demanded.

“Its nature, until the moment,” said he, “is to remain confidential.”

“Are you to be involved?” she asked.

“That is my understanding, if it is necessary,” he said.

“I see,” she said.

“Is it milady’s intention to attend?” he asked.

“Certainly not,” she said.

“Good night, milady,” said he, bowing, and withdrawing.

It was shortly thereafter that the captain chanced by, in the very corridor in which was the large observation port, that before which the last recounted events took place. The officer of the court stood by the port, grasping the railing with one hand, with the other holding her small purse tightly against herself. She was looking out, on the silent, lateral, unsounded depths of the night, on the tiny, clustered fires, some suns, some universes themselves. She may have seemed shaken. In any event the captain paused, solicitously.

“I am all right,” she assured the captain.

“I passed in the corridor,” said he, “on my way, one of Pulendius’s brutes. I trust you were not accosted.”

“No,” she said. “No!”

How could she have been accosted? One does not accost slaves. One commands them.

“I think it a mistake that such brutes should be allowed to roam freely,” he said.

“Doubtless,” she laughed.

“They should be kept in cages,” he smiled.

“Perhaps,” she laughed.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

She had heard that female slaves were sometimes kept in cages, sometimes quite small cages.

“I bid you a joyous evening,” said the captain.

“Captain!” she said.

“Yes?”

“There is to be some sort of entertainment tomorrow evening?”

“Entertainment?”

“Games,” she said, “a contest?”

“Yes,” he said.

“A contest?”

“Yes,” he said.

“At what time and place may I inquire?”

“It is nothing in which you would be interested, milady,” he said.

“It is in the lower portions of the ship,” he said.

“In the hold,” said he, “Section Nineteen, an hour after supper.”

“I will see how I feel tomorrow evening,” she said. “If I am bored, I might look in.”

“You should not wish to see it,” he said.

“Oh?” she asked.

“I am not sure you would find it appropriate,” he said.

“Other women will attend, I trust?” she asked.

“Doubtless,” he said.

“I have every right to attend, do I not?” she asked.

“Of course,” said he.

“This is a pleasure ship, a cruise ship,” she said. “Entertainments are afforded. I have paid my passage.”

“You are entirely welcome, of course,” said the captain.

“Is anything wrong?”

“No,” he said. “It is only that you are of Terennia.”

“And what has that to do with it?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said.

“We shall see how I feel tomorrow evening,” she said.

The captain’s offer to escort her to her cabin was declined. She was, after all, of Terennia. Yet, to recount matters accurately we must mention that after his departure, for whatever reason, she began to tremble. She looked out, again, onto the night, and the stars, the worlds, and was afraid. She felt very small, and helpless. The ship itself, with its light, its warmth, its steel, its numerous life-support systems, did little to allay her apprehension. It would not have hurt, she thought, even though she was of Terennia, and who would know, to have had the company of the captain to her cabin. It was a long way there, through several passages, and she was clad in such a way that it was made quite clear, in spite of the teachings of Terennia, that she was not really a “same.” She looked at herself in the mirror of the portal. No, she was clearly other than a “same.” She was something else, quite different from a “same.” She then hurried to her cabin, looking about her, even stopping to peer down adjoining passages, before crossing other corridors, and then, in a little while, frightened, and breathless, for she had at times even run a little, in short, hurrying steps, the most permitted to her by the garment in which she fled, she arrived at her door. In a moment she was within, and stood on the inside of the cabin, her back against the door, the door double-locked. She was frightened, and was breathing heavily. Then she moaned, and turned about, and sank to her knees behind the door, and put her hands out, touching it, touching the steel.

She was not a slave!

She was safe.