The Usurper

38

Cornhair, hooded, her hands tied behind her, her upper left arm bruised in that powerful grip, was hurried along, half dragged.

Her feet burned from the hot ground. Her ankles had been cut by coarse grass.

She feared she was no longer within the city’s walls.

“This is a lonely, vacant place,” said the first man, he in whose grip was Cornhair.

“It is not far from the city,” said the second man.

“Where are you taking me, Masters?” she said. “Who has purchased me?”

She coughed within the hood, she felt sick, she feared she might vomit.

The sun was hot on her bared arms and legs.

The air was thick, still, oppressive. It reeked with filth and decay. There was an overwhelming atmosphere of spoilage and waste, of urine and excrement, of rotting organic debris, of fish, hide, and flesh. She heard a raucous cry of some form of birds.

“The stench,” said one of the men, half choking. “I cannot stand it. Let us go no further. Let it be done quickly.”

He, Cornhair surmised, was the second of the two men.

“Masters!” wept Cornhair. “Where are we?”

“They are all about,” said the other, he whom Cornhair took to be first, the leader of the two. “Beware of your step. A false step and you might sink within, and die, a most unpleasant demise.”

“And the gold would then be yours,” said the second.

“Yes,” said the first man.

“There is nothing here but snakes, birds, and filchen,” grumbled the second.

“They do not mind,” said the first, “why should you?”

“How can they exist here?” asked the second man.

“Men set tables,” said the first. “Guests invite themselves. They feast.”

“Let us be done with it,” urged the second man.

“After a century they cover them,” said the other man, “and excavate new ones. Some opened, even after a thousand years, cannot be approached. Few can stand them. Few will enter their vicinity. Who would do so willingly? Even animals balk. Men are overcome, and faint. They must be dragged away. These things poison the earth.”

Cornhair heard a wagon roll nearby, and stop.

“Release the load,” called someone, “quickly!”

Cornhair heard a heavy, sliding noise, and, a moment later, a sound, as of weights of debris plunging into mud or quicksand.

“See how it sinks,” said the first man, he in whose charge was Cornhair.

“This one, use this one!” said the second man.

“Further, further from the city,” said the first man. “You know the orders. There must be no trace.”

“He will not know,” said the other. “And there will be no trace.”

“Done, then!” said the first.

“Masters!” cried Cornhair.

One of the men, the second, then unbuckled Cornhair’s hood and drew it away, and Cornhair threw back her head and wailed in misery.

They stood at the edge of one of the giant, circular garbage pits of the city of Telnar, its diameter some twenty yards or so. From where she stood she could see more pits, others, stretching away. There were few men about, at least on foot, but there were some wagons about, one approaching a pit, and the other withdrawing, leaving the vicinity of another pit. She could also see another, far off, returning to the city, whose walls she could see in the distance, perhaps a mile away.

Cornhair looked down into the pit before her. She knew these pits were often a hundred or more feet deep. This pit might have been three-fourths full. She could see the surface below her. It seemed a sea of filth. It was primarily brown, with streaks of black, like oil. There was little that was clearly identifiable in that viscous, semisolid morass but she saw shards of pottery, still held on the surface, and the leg and paw of a horse.

Both men, she saw, had wrapped cloth, like bandages, about their mouth and nose.

The second man picked up a stone and tossed it into the pit and Cornhair, sick, watched it slowly disappear.

“Why have I been brought here, Masters?” she said, scarcely hearing herself speak.

“Why do you think, little slave?” asked the first man.

“I do not know, Master,” she said.

“These pits are noxious and noisome, even dangerous,” said the first man, “in spreading disease, in breeding parasites, but they have their purposes. For example, they provide a place in which to dispose of the refuse and garbage, the offal, of a city, rotted fruit, the entrails of butchered animals, dead horses, unwanted relatives, enemies, whom one wishes to have disappear, displeasing slaves, and such.”

“I would strive to be pleasing, Masters!” Cornhair cried.

“Of course, you are a slave,” said the first man.

“What if my Master learns of this?” said Cornhair.

“It is on his orders we act,” said the first man.

“Surely not!” said Cornhair.

“It is true,” said the first man.

“I do not understand,” said Cornhair. “I cost forty darins, only forty darins, and yet you have been paid in gold to discharge this commission?”

“Six gold darins,” said the first man.

“Three for each,” said the second man.

“And you will do so?” she asked.

“Throw her in, and be done with it,” said the second man.

“Who is my Master?” wept Cornhair.

“He gave no name,” said the first man.

“Is he of the Larial Farnichi?” said Cornhair.

It may be recalled that the Larial Calasalii and the Larial Farnichi were two great families ill disposed toward one another. Cornhair, when free, and before being disowned, had belonged to the Larial Calasalii. The altercation betwixt these two families had begun as a clash of private armies, but, later, given the intervention of the empire, it had ended with the outlawing and ruination of the Larial Calasalii.

“I do not know,” said the first man. “He gave no name, no account of his background or origin.”

“He had gold,” said the second man. “Who needed to know more?”

“I cost forty darins,” she said. “Surely that is a fair price for my face, my figure, the pleasure I would do my best to bring a Master. You would cast aside forty darins so lightly?”

“Not we,” said the first man, “he who bought you, for this.”

“Keep me,” she begged. “Keep me, for yourself!”

“We would have the gold, and the slave,” said the second man.

“Yes, yes, Masters!” said Cornhair.

“It is too dangerous,” said the first man.

“This place offends my nostrils, my eyes sting, the sun is hot, my flesh crawls, dispose of her, here, now,” said the second man.

“No, no, Masters!” wept Cornhair. She pulled away, wildly, from the first man’s grip, spun about, and tried to run, but, in a moment, was caught by the second man, who thrust her back, she struggling, weeping, to the edge of the pit.

Cornhair cast about, wildly, and screamed, “Help! Help! Help a slave, a poor slave, Masters!”

“There is no one to hear you,” said the first man.

The nearest wagon, with its driver, and his assistant, was now far away.

“Tie her ankles together,” said the first man.

“Why?” asked the second.

“She will sink more rapidly,” said the first. “The business will be consummated more expeditiously.”

“One cannot swim in this muck,” said the second man. “It sucks one down, like quicksand.”

“If her legs are not tied, she might be able to keep her head above the surface for two or three minutes.”

“No one is about, what does it matter?” asked the second man.

“Do it,” said the first, angrily, and put Cornhair to her back, at his feet.

The second man, angrily, whipped a cord from his belt and crouched down beside Cornhair, to loop the cord about her ankles.

Cornhair screamed, for she saw, as the fellow bent over her did not, the knife. He did not even have time to raise his head, for the knife was driven into the base of his skull, into the back of his neck, severing the vertebrae. It took the second man only a minute to die. The first man then wiped his knife on his thigh and returned it to its sheath. He then rifled the purse of the second man, and withdrew from it three gold darins, a silver darin, and a handful of pennies. These he added to his own purse.

He then looked down at Cornhair.

“Keep me,” she whispered, “Master!”

“It would not be wise,” he said. “Slaves speak.”

“No,” she said. “No!”

“A loquacious slave is more dangerous than the three-banded viper,” he said.

“I will not speak,” she wept.

“It would be too dangerous,” he said.

“Mercy!” she said.

“I will not tie your legs,” he said. “Thus you can struggle for a time, perhaps one or two minutes, until your head is sucked beneath the surface.”

“I am only a poor slave,” she wept. “I beg mercy, Master!”

“It should be amusing to see you thrash about for a time,” he said. “Then you will disappear from sight, and it will be as though you never were.”

“Please, no, Master!” she wept.

He bent down, and she was lifted from the grass. Her weight was as nothing to him. One arm was behind her back, the other behind the back of her knees. She could see only his eyes, hard, above the bandages he had wrapped about his mouth and nose, to fend away the locale’s miasma.

Suddenly the bright glare of the sun was gone.

The man, holding the slave, looked up, startled, his face in shadow. It seemed as though some object, surely a cloud, had interposed itself between the sun and the foul, heated earth. But this was a broad cloud, and one of steel and flame, and one of several such clouds.

“Aatii!” he cried, casting the slave to the turf, turning, and running, stumbling, toward the distant walls of Telnar.

There were six such clouds of steel which lowered themselves gently on feet of fire to the earth. No sooner had these great forms, like platforms resting on legs of metal, come to rest than several ports in the hulls slid open and ramps protruded, descending to the earth. Down these ramps rumbled strings of armored vehicles, some on treads, while, from other ports, open hoverers with mounted weaponry emerged, like hornets streaming from a nest.

Cornhair struggled to her feet, frightened, but laughing hysterically with joy, elated to be alive.

Then she winced for she saw the running figure of the man who had held her, several yards away, burst into flame, and vanish in smoke, and a hoverer, low, only a dozen feet in the air, continuing on its way toward the walls of Telnar.

Vehicles, skirting the refuse pits, roared about Cornhair, who dared not move. Hoverers, like dark plates, dotted the sky.

There could be no landing, she had heard. The ensconced batteries might incinerate anything within range.

But here, in this place of stench and horror, in this lonely, vacant, avoided place, the walls of Telnar in the distance, before her very eyes, the air still hot and stirred from their descent, were ships, the fabled Lion Ships, six such ships, of the Aatii.

Cornhair screamed, and twisted away, nearly struck by a hurtling vehicle.

She stood upright, that the pilots of those armed, racing ground ships might see her, that she might not be caught in treads or crushed into the earth by broad, heavy tires.

Though she was not collared she was alone in this terrible place, and her hands were tied behind her, and she was tunicked, tunicked as was thought fit for a slave. Her slim, well-turned lineaments were well exposed, as would be unthinkable for a free woman. Surely there could be no doubt as to her status. If so, it might be instantly confirmed, by tearing aside the hem of her skirt, on the left side, revealing the slave rose.

Bondage has its terrors and its joys.

So much depends on the Master!

What slave does not wish to be owned by a severe, but kindly Master, one who has some sense of what it is to be a woman, some sense of what a woman wants and needs, one who will subject her to the domination without which she cannot be her true self, a female at the feet of a male, one by whom she, as she wishes, will be owned and mastered? How joyful to be subject to the whip and know that one will be punished if one is not pleasing, and then not feel the whip, because one is pleasing, and one finds one’s joy in serving, in loving, and being pleasing.

One advantage, of course, in being a property, is that, as one is a property, one can be owned. Properties have value, lesser or greater value. A slave is a property, one of greater or lesser value. Thus, she is in little danger of being killed, no more than any other domestic animal, of greater or lesser value. She, as other domestic animals, may be purchased, sold, gifted, stolen, seized, appropriated, and such, but she is likely to have little to fear where her life is concerned. Where a free man or a free woman might be summarily slain a slave is likely to be merely acquired. Where a free woman might have her throat cut a slave would be more likely to have a ring put in her nose and then, by means of a cord attached to that ring, her hands bound behind her, be hurried after a new Master.

Cornhair had little doubt that if she had been a free male, or perhaps even a free female, and certainly, if she had run, or resisted, she would have been burned to a burst of ashes, as the fellow who had fled from her side, leaving her at the edge of the vast, foul pit.

These men about now, in the vehicles, and the hoverers, passing about her, and over her, moving toward the city, were clearly of barbarian stock.

Although she was filled with trepidation, she had no immediate apprehension of grievous danger. She was more stirred, more excited and thrilled, than terrified.

These men were barbarians.

They had uses for women, she knew, particularly beautiful women.

Too, she was alive!

She knew that the blockade of Abrogastes could not have been emplaced and managed without a great many ships.

Here were only six ships.

This must be a small part of what must be a large, impressive force.

Clearly then this was not an invasion, but something very different, a raid, of sorts.

How was it that the batteries had been silent?

The swarm of land vehicles and hoverers which had issued from the hulls of the six great ships had now muchly abated, having apparently reached and entered the city.

Indeed, no hoverers were now in sight. On the other hand, at intervals, one or more of the smaller vehicles, treaded or wheeled, rolled down the corrugated steel ramps, and moved, though in a leisurely way, toward Telnar. Their purposes, we may suppose, were various, but, at a minimum, it seems likely that some were intended to establish and maintain a defensive perimeter within which the six ships might be relatively secure, should a sortie emerge from Telnar; others to maintain some physical communications between the preceding wave of attackers and the ships, for example, carrying personnel back and forth; others to safeguard exit routes and prevent attackers from being cut off from the ships, and so on.

Suddenly one of these small vehicles swerved toward Cornhair.

“Take her!” she heard.

The small vehicle, tearing up turf, ground to a stop beside her.

“Masters!” cried Cornhair.

She had no time to kneel, for a hand reached out, seized her by the bound arm, and drew her into the vehicle.

“I have her,” said the fellow in whose grasp, tied as she was, Cornhair was helpless.

The vehicle then continued on its way.

Cornhair was thrust to her knees on the steel flooring, at the feet of two or three men, who stood behind a raised, slitted, shieldlike projection, through which they could peer.

A hand thrust her head down, almost to the floor.

“What are you doing out here, tied like a pig?” asked a man.

“I am as a pig, Master,” she said. “I am a slave!” Cornhair wished it to be immediately clear, if it were not already clear enough, that she was not a free woman, and was thus, hopefully, immune from the hazards which might accompany that state.

“These are unlikely lakes in which to go swimming,” said a man.

“Yes, Master,” said Cornhair.

“What were you doing here?” asked the first man.

“I do not know,” said Cornhair.

“She was brought here to be disposed of,” said one of the men.

“I fear so,” said Cornhair.

“Doubtless deservedly,” said another.

“No, Master!” said Cornhair, her head down, her eyes on the steel flooring.

“She’s a pretty one,” said one of the men.

“You are not wearing much,” said a man.

“I am a slave,” she said.

“At least we need not rip silks from her body,” said a man.

“Still, it is pleasant to do that,” said another.

“Are there more like you, in Telnar?” asked a man.

“Yes, Master,” said Cornhair. “Thousands, and free women, too!”

“Are the free women good looking?” asked a man.

“I do not know,” said Cornhair.

“It is easy enough to find out,” said a man.

There was laughter.

“Spoils,” said a man.

“Booty,” said another.

“Loot!” said another.

“What do you think, little slave?” asked one of the men.

“We are women,” said Cornhair. “We belong to those strong enough to take us and make us slaves.”

“That is a slave’s answer,” said a man.

“I am a slave,” said Cornhair.

“You have no collar,” said a man.

“It was taken away,” said Cornhair. “I assure you I am a slave. Examine my thigh! You will discover that I am well and clearly marked, nicely marked.”

“Every slave should be in a collar,” said a man.

“Yes, Master,” said Cornhair.

“Collars are lovely on a woman,” said a man.

“Yes, Master,” said Cornhair. There was little doubt in her mind but what a collar muchly enhanced a woman’s attractiveness, and not merely aesthetically. Much had to do with its meaning. It said much about the woman who wore it.

Cornhair, looking up, as the vehicle rumbled on, saw above her the arch of a gate. They were now in the city.

“May I speak, Masters?” asked Cornhair.

“Yes,” said a fellow, considering windows and rooftops. The street seemed deserted. Doubtless the main attacking force had plied this street, and perhaps others, like it.

“Telnar is large,” said Cornhair. “It is the capital. Millions reside here. Surely you cannot reduce Telnar with the forces at your disposal.”

“We have briefer business here,” said a man.

“We shall not be long,” said another.

“The assault will have gathered by now,” said a man. “The strike is imminent.”

“Within the hour,” said another of the men.

“What is our destination, Masters?” asked Cornhair.

“The palace, the imperial palace,” said a man.

“No!” cried Cornhair, and sprang to her feet, only to have her hair seized and held, and she was then cuffed, back and forth, four blows, left cheek, right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, and then, subdued, miserable, lips bleeding, she sank again to her knees.

“What is wrong, little slave?” asked a man.

“Let me go!” she begged. “You need not untie me. Just let me go! Put me from the vehicle! Cast me to the pavement, but do not take me to the palace!”

“You fear the palace?” said a man.

“Yes, yes,” she said. “Please do not take me there! Please, Masters!”

“It is our destination,” said the fellow at the controls of the vehicle.