Klyd turned to look at the boy, who still sat on the bed. “Now they accept it, and a few of them, one at a time, come to the Householdings. The more who accept it, the more frightened and desperate Andle and his followers become...and the more dangerous.
“Heshri, this is my Companion, Naztehr Hugh.”
Jumping to his feet as if confronting royalty, Heshri half bowed as he said, “I am most honored....”
It startled Valleroy after the beating his ego had taken from the juncts downstairs. He said, “Not as honored as I....”
Klyd chuckled. “Sit down both of you. The one who deserves the most honor hasn’t even joined us yet.” The channel squatted down to bring his face within the Gen’s field of vision. He passed his hand in front of those staring eyes. The Gen didn’t even blink when Klyd touched his nose with a ventral tentacle.
“Well, after a few weeks at Zeor, he’ll wake up.”
“He looks drugged,” said Valleroy. The Simelan word he used was closer to “medicated,” so he added the English word he’d intended.
“That’s part of it,” agreed Klyd, “but even without the drugs he’ll be a long time developing. Even so, there’s hope. I’ve seen worse.”
“Sectuib,” said Heshri, “he’s yours for your services.”
“Heshri, you’ve got to learn that he’s nobody’s property.” The channel grunted as he attacked the fastenings of the boy’s metal collar. “He’s a person. Think of him as sick, or mentally disturbed, but still a person.”
“Yes, Sectuib.”
The collar came off with a metallic snick. Klyd wound the chain around it and put it on the dresser. “We’ll call him Norbom until he can choose his own name.”
“Then you will accept me into Zeor!”
“No. It’s not a matter of me accepting you. Rather it is you who must accept us. You will not be ready to make that decision for many months. Disjunction is neither short nor pleasant.”
“I feel...normal...now.”
“Now, yes. But after six or eight months, it may be different. In the meantime, you will be welcome at Zeor. I’ll write your entry form in the morning. You’ll take Norbom and carry a message home for me while Hugh and I ride to Iburan.”
“Gladly, Sectuib.”
“Go downstairs and get something to eat. I’m going to require Hugh’s services here. Do you have room fees?”
“I think so, Sectuib.”
“Here.” Klyd fished some coins from his pocket and pressed them into the thin hand. “Head high. You represent Zeor down there, and they all know it. Watch out for the salesman. Andle uses his kind.”
“Yes, Sectuib.” Pulling himself to his full height, the boy gathered his pride and left, acutely conscious of his new status.
When the door had closed, Valleroy prompted, “My help?”
“Yes. In spite of the drug, Norbom may panic when I initiate transfer. I want you to stand by to do whatever seems necessary.”
“Klyd, you know I’m not trained in this sort of thing!”
“You did all right handling that crowd downstairs.”
“You heard?”
“Couldn’t help it. You had me frightened there for a minute.”
“I told you, I’m not....”
“At any rate,” said Klyd firmly, “I would require the assistance of my Companion for this, so I could hardly send you with Heshri, could I?”
“If you’re going to require help, maybe you better not do it.”
“I must. I gave Heshri almost two thousand dynopters from the accounts of Zeor...that must be recovered from the Gen he was assigned. Besides, I can’t send him out there with a high-field Gen in tow, can I?”
“I wouldn’t know. It’s your move. What do I do?”
“Just stand by.” Klyd took the Gen by the hand. He moved docilely to the bed. Laid out against the spread, the slight form looked so fragile Valleroy felt sorry for him.
Klyd began to croon softly, no words that Valleroy could isolate, but a reassuring sound. Slowly the channel seated himself, took the boy’s hands, searched out the nerves of the forearms, and made the vital contact with his laterals.
The Gen’s eyes widened. Klyd hesitated, still talking to lull the incipient terror. Then, as if at some signal, the channel bent to make lip contact. The boy stiffened, real terror penetrating his drugged haze.
Valleroy was certain he ought to do something. Enviously, he remembered the calm competence of Denrau aiding Klyd. But Valleroy had no idea what Denrau’s well-schooled motions actually did. He took half a step toward the channel, but almost as soon as it started it was over.
Klyd rose and moved wearily to the chair. “Hugh, take care of him.” He closed his eyes.
Not knowing what else to do, Valleroy dressed the boy in one of his own changes of clothing, using several pins scrounged in an empty dresser drawer. Throughout this operation, the boy remained passive. When he’d finished, Valleroy stood the Gen in front of the mirror. “Well, now you look like Norbom instead of a number.”
“He certainly does,” said Klyd, rising to examine the Gen.
“I thought you were asleep!”
“We ought to be. Let’s take him to the toilet and wash. Heshri will be back pretty soon, and we can all get some sleep.”
“Flip you for the chair.”
“What?”
“The children get the bed, don’t they?”
Klyd mouthed the English word. “Flip? Doesn’t that mean turn over?”
“Yeah. Flip a coin. Gamble.”
“Oh. No. Gen society does indeed have its cultural priorities, but they differ radically from those of Sime society. You’ll still have to share the bed with me, and you’ll have to make it seem like routine.”
Valleroy shuddered. “Yes, Sectuib. But that old bag downstairs isn’t going to rent the kids a room. Even Gen eyes can see that.”
“True. She’d probably throw us all out if her husband would let her.”
As they made their way down the hall to the washroom, Norbom between them, Valleroy asked, “Why wouldn’t her husband let her?”
“He knows many of his guests stop here on the off chance of seeing one of us perverted freaks. When they get home, they can embroider fanciful tales about the harrowing things those ‘filthy people’ do. Tonight’s incident will enthrall many a fireside gathering this winter...and it will bring a wave of new business here.”
They took turns managing Norbom and were on their way back to their room when Heshri joined them. Sharing out the blankets, they bedded down for the night, the two Simes falling instantly into a deep sleep while Valleroy lay self-consciously stiff.
Valleroy’s fingers sought the starred-cross that nestled on his breast. It helped. If only Aisha had such a secret weapon!
CHAPTER FIVE
CHOICE AUCTION
Noon of the next day found Valleroy riding beside the channel while trying to avoid the carts and wagons that jammed the streets of Iburan. Unlike Gen towns, Iburan had no wall and no apparent defenses. It sprawled chaotically in every direction, reeking with the pungent scents of Sime living...a veritable metropolis compared to Valzor.
During that long ride through city streets, Valleroy was slapped with wet laundry from a second-story clothesline, clouted by a workman’s ladder, which Klyd avoided with uncanny grace, pelted by thrown mudballs, and subjected to lewd jeers from street urchins who scattered at Klyd’s merest glance. Valleroy endured stoically.
As they neared the auction, the indignities ceased. Here, the buildings were newer, the people brighter, and the streets quieter. At the end of a side alley, they found a stable where the horses would be cared for. From there they made their way on foot toward the stands that were already filling with spectators and purchasers.
The auction occupied a bowl-shaped amphitheater surrounded by tall buildings that seemed to crowd up to the wall and peer into the arena. The circular stone ledges that served for seats were unpadded except in the lavishly app
ointed boxes reserved for dignitaries. As they picked their way down through the occupied areas, Valleroy was glad for the way the Simes fastidiously withdrew from contact with the perverts. It left room to walk even in the crowd.
Pausing to survey the scene, Klyd pointed out the representatives of the Householdings in a segregated area near the stage. Stepping carefully, they made their way down toward them. Klyd marched right to the center of the Householder’s section, nodding cordial greetings and exchanging comments with his peers.
Valleroy tried to acknowledge each introduction with due courtesy but found his eyes constantly drawn to the stage. Three silvery cages arranged in a triangle displayed three lovely Gen women, impeccably groomed and implacably defiant.
Here were no vacant, staring eyes or blank minds. These were people! People who were for sale to be killed in exquisite luxury...but nevertheless to be killed.
Klyd’s hand on his arm brought Valleroy into a seat, but he continued to stare. In English the channel muttered, “Snap out of it, Hugh, this isn’t the first time you’ve attended an auction with me, remember? Or do you want to be answering questions until the net of lies chokes us both?”
With an effort, Valleroy dragged his eyes away from the girl in the center cage, a redhead dressed in scintillating green and white with what looked like emeralds around her throat. Klyd turned in his seat, scanning the ranks of the crowd behind them. “You take the right, while I check the left.”
Obediently, Valleroy began scanning the right portion of the crowd. “What am I looking for?” he muttered barely moving his lips. The audience seemed a cross section of wealthy Simes, well dressed, well groomed, and, Valleroy noted, well armed with jewel-handled whips.
In an “of course” tone of voice, Klyd said, “The highest-ranking buyer who appears to be in greatest need.”
“Oh,” said Valleroy, as if that explained everything.
“Never mind. I’ve already checked your section. But you must at least appear to be doing your job.”
“Yes, Sectuib.”
Turning back to face front, Klyd bent close as if to hold a conference. “When I move over to talk with Sectuib Nashmar, you search my section until you find the woman dressed all in red. She’s Deference Bidder since she is in greatest need. That means we can’t outbid her. Until she makes her buy, I want you to watch her as if you were reading her bids and reporting them to me. Got that?”
“Got it. Seems there’s more to being a Companion than I ever thought.”
“Much more, Hugh. Much more. Let’s just hope Lutrel doesn’t take a fancy to Aisha...if she’s here.”
Klyd moved over two seats and went into conference with one of the other channels, Nashmar, wearing the green livery of Householding Imil.
Examining the man closely for the first time, Valleroy noted he must have had at least one distant ancestor who was oriental and one who was black. His face had the classical broad, flat oriental features, but his skin was an earthy brown. It contrasted oddly with the typical Sime build, wiry yet powerful despite the lack of obvious muscles. But the most startling thing about Nashmar was the blond hair and blue eyes so incongruous with the rest of him. Valleroy couldn’t help staring several moments longer than he should have.
Nashmar’s Companion was no less interesting. He appeared to be a nearly pure-bred black, a rarity such as Valleroy had never seen before.
With difficulty, Valleroy tore his eyes from the conference and squirmed around until he could see the woman in red. He couldn’t see any obvious difference between her and the others in the stands...except that she was perhaps, a little richer...but he kept her hands in sight ready to report every motion she made.
Amid a flurry of drums, the auctioneer came onstage and began a rapid-fire patter that made little sense to Valleroy. The audience settled down while Klyd unobtrusively covered Valleroy’s hands with his own, tentacles entwined among Gen fingers. Valleroy managed to suppress his reaction long enough to see that the other Householders had assumed the same position. He tried to relax and keep on eye on Lutrel. At least half the audience was watching her.
The three women were quickly sold, and three men were brought out. They were muscular specimens of hale manhood, fettered by chains that were much more than decorative. Bare torsos gleamed with oils that highlighted the contours of their well-developed muscles. Around their throats, cruelly barbed collars lay ready to pierce their necks if the slightest pressure was applied to the chain. A second spiked harness encircled their loins so that any sudden movements would be sheer torture.
The men stood still, eyes, flashing defiance, but helpless. Klyd muttered, “Zeor could use a few like them. I hate to attend these affairs when I’m not free to choose from the best offered.”
Valleroy was about to frame an acid retort condemning the channel for a cold-blooded Sime bigot, but instead he warned, “She’s bidding now.”
Klyd’s eyes flashed to the hands of Nashmar, who was getting Lutrel’s bid from his Companion and repeating it for Klyd’s benefit. As soon as the Deference Bidder’s hands moved, all the other bidding ceased. The second male captive’s sale was the quickest up to that point.
“She’s leaving now,” whispered Valleroy. “One of her attendants is coming down to take possession. She must really be somebody!”
“You don’t know? Hugh, that’s Lutrel.” At Valleroy’s blank stare, he elaborated, “Andle’s wife!”
“Oh? Oh. Do you suppose she recognized us?”
“Probably not. Her need was intense enough to be thoroughly distracting. But you can be sure that at least one of her servants will be reporting directly to Andle. We must walk with extreme caution.”
“You think Andle is directly responsible for Feleho’s murder?”
“It’s very possible. Zeor is a political keystone. Destroy us and the whole Householding Tecton could collapse. Look! That girl resembles....”
Valleroy’s eyes shot back to the stage, all thoughts of Sime political intrigue driven from his mind. But none of the three dark-haired beauties that stood there was Aisha. “The one in the middle resembles her somewhat, but Aisha is shorter, with a more oriental caste to her eyes.”
“Well, that’s only the third group. Nine more to go. Deference Bidder is now the man dressed in black, the one in the box at the top of tier three.”
“The dark-skinned one?”
“Right. Keep an eye on him.”
Valleroy shifted in his seat until the new Deference Bidder came into his line of sight. “Klyd, what reason did you give Nashmar for requiring his signals?”
“The usual...that I was training you in a new system and wasn’t sure if we had it right yet.”
“Stacy was right about you. You’re good in the field.”
“He was right about you, too, or we wouldn’t have gotten this far. I just wish you had a little more self-control.”
After the man in black purchased a hulking giant of a man, there were no more Deference Bidders. Valleroy was allowed to repossess his hands as the auction took on some of the aspects of a free-for-all. Fortunes were changing hands, for the sake of one Choice Kill. As the seventh group—three stunning blondes tauntingly dressed in Zeor blue—were displayed, Valleroy said “Why are these people willing to pay so much when they could get a Gen from the pens for practically nothing?”
“For exactly nothing, and that about all they’re worth. There’s a certain status in being able to afford the best and in this case, quality is proportional to the degree of defiance the victim can muster.”
“There’s more of a thrill in conquering a fighter?” Valleroy knew his disgust was showing, but he didn’t care.
“Not conquering, frightening.”
“You ought to know!”
In that soothing, professional tone he’d used on Norbom, Klyd said, “I wouldn’t know since I’ve never killed. But this I do know...disjunction is not merely physical. The kill touches deeply rooted psychological traits. It actually wa
rps the personality. That’s one reason only the young can come to us.”
Valleroy greeted that with silence. The auctioneer, a wizened leathery-skinned Sime, completed the sale of the third man in the eighth group. It seemed to Valleroy that each sale was contested interminably now that there was no Deference Bidder. At least it gave him time to learn some of the auctioneer’s tentacle gestures.
Group nine consisted of three petite, dark-haired beauties, each baring a striking resemblance to Aisha. Valleroy began to wonder if Feleho had mistaken one of these for her.
Group ten slowed the bidding to a crawl, Each of the three men, hardly more than boys really, was a clearly handsome specimen of a pure race...one Oriental, one Caucasian blond, and one Indian. The auctioneer seemed to value them higher than the bidders wanted to go.
Group eleven, the last group of women, were all statuesque blondes. Valleroy’s heart collapsed. Here was the disappointment he’d been nerving himself to face. Yet Aisha was a fighter at least equal to any of these. She would be Choice for some dignitary...somewhere.
He watched in grim silence while Nashmar fought a hotly contested battle for the last three men, who appeared to be brothers. They were tall, superbly muscled Gens with hatred in their cold blue eyes.
Every time Nashmar’s opponent raised the bid, Klyd muttered a string of imaginative maledictions that amazed Valleroy in their scope and depth. There came a long pause after the last such raise while the auctioneer called for further bids. Nashmar sat silently, lips compressed.
Valleroy said, “What’s the matter?”
“That’s Tyte Narvoon bidding against Nashmar,” said Klyd, as if that explained everything.
Valleroy twisted around to take another look at the opposition. The auctioneer had attempted to speed the bidding by offering the lot of three together, but this man was blocking the effort. “He looks frightening but what makes him different from anybody else?”
Klyd favored Valleroy with a sharp glance, seeming to consider the wisdom of explaining. Then he gave an almost imperceptible shrug. “I guess you’re an adult even by Gen standards.” He looked toward Nashmar. “Narvoon is what I would term a real pervert, but I don’t know the English word for it. He prefers men instead of women. Nobody would mind except that he buys Gens for his purposes. The kill is one thing, legalized torture is something else. Haven’t you noticed that even the nonbuyers have been bidding against him all afternoon?”
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