by John Norman
“There are many ways to use the lips,” I said. “But you must understand, too, that there are many ways to use the hands, the feet, the hair, and so on, indeed, in a sense, the slave is taught, in many ways, to use her entire body.”
“Teach me!” she begged.
“I do not think the pit master would approve,” I said. “Surely you would not wish me to ask him?”
“Of course not,” she said, horrified.
“I did not think so,” I said.
“It could be our secret,” she said.
“It is better that you remain ignorant of these things,” I said. “You are a free woman.”
“Please, Janice,” she said.
“It is knowledge more appropriate to slaves,” I said.
“Please, please,” she begged.
“I will think about it,” I said.
“And surely,” she said, “I ought to quaff slave wine!”
“It is terrible stuff,” I said.
“But it might be dangerous on the surface,” she said. “There might be ruffians.”
“I think,” I said,” rather, I will have you locked in an iron belt, the heaviest and most uncomfortable that may be procured.”
“No,” she said, “slave wine, slave wine!”
“You may be right,” I said. “It would not do at all if some fellow on the surface, taking you for a mere slave, and insensitive to the civilities involved, should simply throw you to the stones and put you to his pleasure.”
“Janice,” she said.
“Yes?” I said.
“I knew what I was doing,” she said.
“I thought so,” I said.
“I know what I am,” she whispered.
“Oh?” I asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Hurry, veil yourself,” I said. “I hear the approach of the guard!”
15
“It is for this reason that you have been brought here,” said the pit master.
I had followed him, to the lowest passages in the pits, and to what surely must have been one of the dankest corridors in that dismal place. There was damp straw on the floor of the corridor. Sometimes an urt, a small rodent, not like the large urts in the pool, scurried past. Water, here and there, dripped from the ceiling of the corridor. I could stand upright in the corridor, but most of the men of this world, I conjectured, could not have done so. The head of the pit master, for all his bulk, he like a bent-over bear, was lower even than my own. In such a place, in such a corridor, I think he, with his terrible strength, and almost like a four-footed animal, would have proved a terrible foe to almost any man, even those of this world. In this place there was a smell of dampness and stench. I was afraid to have come here. The pit master carried a tiny lamp. It cast long, strange shadows about. Fina, who usually accompanied him in the pits, had been left in our quarters, chained to her ring.
The pit master handed me the tiny lamp, with five keys taken from his belt, undid the five locks on the iron door. He swung the door open and took back the lamp.
He motioned that I should follow him within.
Frightened, I crept within.
The ceiling within the cell was higher than that in the corridor. Within it a man, say, an interrogator, a guard, might stand upright.
“There,” said the pit master, lifting the lamp.
I gasped.
Lying at the back wall of the cell was a crumpled heap. It rose slowly to all fours, blinking against the light. I was not sure it was human at first glance. Then I saw it was a man. It was an extremely large man. He was disheveled. His hair was matted and wild. He was heavily bearded. He wore rags. On each of his limbs, and on his neck, there was a heavy chain, each of these fastened to a different heavy ring in the wall behind him.
“This is to be your charge,” he said. “You will add him to your other duties.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“You were purchased for this,” he said, “even before he came into our keeping.”
I nodded.
“But we did not expect to receive him as he is,” said the pit master.
I did not understand this.
“He was betrayed into our hands,” said the pit master, I thought with a note of regret.
“Ten sleen,” said the pit master, “have been given his scent.”
I was startled to hear this.
That is a terrible thing. The sleen is the tenacious, six-legged carnivore I had seen before, on the ledge, and on the surface of the tower. My own scent had been “taken” by two sleen, on the second day I had been in the pits. One is held down, naked, and the sleen, first one, and then the other, are ordered forward. They thrust their huge, cold snouts about one’s body, learning one’s scent. While they do this one’s name is repeated, so that they will associate the name, which may then figure in a signal, with the scent. A hunt-and-kill order may then be issued, and the sleen will track down and tear to pieces the object of its hunt. The manner in which this operates, for my instruction, had been demonstrated. A gigantic haunch of meat was “named” and its scent given to the two sleen. It was then placed with other such slaves of meat. The signal given to the two sleens rushed upon it and tore it to pieces, ignoring the other meat, to which they had not been given access. They are disciplined beasts. I had been crouched down naked, in my collar, at one wall. “You understand what may be done?” called the pit master. “Yes, Master!” I had cried. “Shall I give them the signal for you?” he asked. “Please, no, Master!” I had wept. “Do you wish to be set loose in the mountains, or in the city?” he asked. “No, Master!” I had wept, hysterically. “I want only to obey, and be pleasing!” he had then, with a word, sent the sleen back to their pens. I had later inquired of Fina if she, and the other girls, had been accorded this terrifying honor. “No,” she had said. “That sort of thing is very seldom done,” I had then understood, that, for some reason, I must, indeed, be special. “But do not think,” Fina had said, “that our chances of escape are any better than yours.” “No,” I said. There was the collar, the brand, the garmentrue, the close-knit nature of the society, such things. There was no escape for any of us, when we were slaves on this world. But it is one thing to realize the impossibility of escape and quite another to realize that one may be pursued by a merciless creature over whom one has no influence or control whatsoever. Such things do not care, for example, whether or not one has learned one’s lesson, whether or not one is contrite, whether or not one is beautiful, and so on.
“Ten?” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
That would be every sleen in the pit master’s sleen pens.
“Who is he?’ I asked.
“Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira,” he said.
“Forgive me, Master,” I said.
“He is “41,”” he said. “The prisoners in this corridor are referred to only by numbers.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“We are to meet someone here,” said the pit master. “I think they are coming.”
The prisoner had now changed his position. He was sitting there now, by the wall, cross-legged. His back was very straight. He seemed to stare into space.
I could hear movement in the passageway, outside.
I knelt.
Three men entered the cell. The first was the fellow who had occupied the great chair on the surface of the tower, to whom I had been presented several days ago. The other two I did not know. They were warriors. One carried a torch. After recognizing their leader, whom I took to be an important person in this city. I kept my eyes straight ahead. As a slave, one must be wary of appearing presumptuous.
“Bring the torch closer,” said the leader.
He looked carefully at the prisoner.
“Yes,” said the leader. “It seems as reported.”
The prisoner did not speak. He continued to gaze, seemingly unseeingly, into space.
“What is your name?’ inquired the leader.
> “I do not know,” said the prisoner, slowly.
“It was the fall, from tarnback,” said one of the warriors.
“From tarnback?” asked the prisoner, puzzled.
“No,” said the leader. “You slipped, on rocks.”
“We took him on the side of a mountain,” said one of the warriors. “He slipped down, for several yards, a hundred or more. Then we got the ropes on him.”
“Your name is ‘41’,” said the leader.
“My name is ‘41’,” said the prisoner, dully.
“Yes,” said the leader.
“What is your caste?” asked the leader.
“I do not know,” said the prisoner.
“You are in the garments of the Peasants,” said the leader.
“I am of the Peasants,” said the prisoner.
“Yes,” said the leader. Then he straightened up, but continued to look down at the figure before him. “His own mother would not know him,” he said.
‘No,” said one of the warriors.
“Is the girl proving satisfactory,” asked the leader of the pit master.
“Yes,” he said.
“Slave!” snapped the leader.
“Yes, Master!” I said, quickly.
“You have been told you will have duties here?”
“Yes Master,” I said.
“For most practical purposes you will be the only one to attend upon this prisoner,” he said. “For most practical purposes you will be the only person he will know or see here.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“To be sure,” he said. “there will be guards about.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“You understand the nature of this matter, the confidentiality of it, the privacy of this keeping, the isolation which is imperative?” the leader asked the pit master.
“Yes,” said the pit master.
I understood very little, if anything, of what was occurring. I was, however, familiar with the noramlities of the depths, and recognized that an unusual degree of caution, and certainly special measures, were being taken in connection with this prisoner. I gathered that he was of the Peasants as he, apparently, wore the rags of such garments. Too, he had acknowledged himself of that caste, as I had just heard. On the other hand, it seemed clear that he was no ordinary peasant. He must have some unusual importance or value. Possibly he possessed valuable information, information of great interest to these men. But, if he had such information, he did not seem to be aware of it. He did not, as far as I could tell, even know his own name. Indeed, I was not even certain that he had known his own caste for a moment, a matter apparently of considerable importance to most on this world. But then he had been reminded of it, it seemed, and had apparently recalled it.
Why, I asked myself, would such a man be kept here, in this low corridor, in a five-lock cell, with five chains on his body? He was an extremely large man. He was doubtless very strong. Then I was afraid. Perhaps he was also extremely dangerous. Perhaps that was why, at least in part, he was the object of these special measures, these precautions. But he seemed gentle. It was almost as though he did not understand where he was, or the chains on him. There must be, I thought, something wrong with him. Perhaps he was simple. But he had had, I recalled, a fall.
“We named you ‘Janice’, as I recall,” said the leader to me.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Janice, Master,” I said.
“Look up, Janice,” he said.
I looked up.
“You are prettier then I had remembered,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“She is in a tunic,” observed the leader to the pit master.
The pit master looked up.
“You show unusual consideration for pit slaves,” said the leader.
“Sometimes, perhaps,” said the pit master.
“But with respect to her duties here, in connection with this prisoner,” said the leader, “she is to be bare-breasted, and is to be given, at most, a string and slave strip.”
“It will be as you wish,” said the pit master.
“And, tonight,” said the leader, “see that she is thoroughly washed and combed, and made-up, and perfumed, and silked, and send her to my quarters.”
“It will be as you wish,” said the pit master.
16
The doors to his quarters, double doors, were opened before me, each by a deferential slave girl, her head down. They were briefly silked.
I had approached down a long, carpeted corridor. Flanking me, but a just a little behind, were two guards.
I wore rich silks, which muchly covered me. These were not altogether unlike the free woman’s robes of concealment but the materials were not so inflexible and ornate. Far softer they were. Too, I had been veiled. The veil that I had been granted, however, was not of the sort commonly adorning free woman, heavy and opaque, but was of light silk. Beneath it the lineaments of my features might be subtly discerned. The girl who was to be introduced into his apartments was not a free woman, but a meticulously adorned, exquisitely veiled slave.
I could see him within, reclining on a divan.
“Welcome, my dear,” he called, and, with a gesture, invited me within.
The two slave girls closed the doors behind me, and slipped away. I was not followed into the room by the guards. I would suppose that they turned about, and returned to their duties, perhaps by the outer doors, those at the end of the hall.
Before the divan, but a bit to the right, as I faced it, was a low table, on which there were beverages and fruits, and tiny bowls and plates, filled with an assortment of viands. I felt momentarily giddy with the smell of the roasted meats, the breads and pastry.
We were not wholly alone in the room together for, to my right, back, near the divan, but not so close to it as the table, sitting on cushions, cross-legged, were three musicians.
I approached the figure on the divan, which wore longing robes and knelt before him, my head down.
“Kneel with your knees close,” he said, kindly. This seemed fitting, as I was dressed.
I closed my knees. I kept my head down.
He must have given some signal to the musicians, for they began to play, softly, in the background.
‘You may serve,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
I then began, in the manners of this world, as I had learned them in the pens, to serve, deferentially, self-effacingly, proffering drink and food, sensitive to, and obedient to, his least inclination, his least word or glance. How different these things were from the provender of the pens, of the pits! There was no gruel here, no dried mush, no pellets. And I had not been fed since morning. I hated the silken veil then, despite its beauty, for it sealed my lips from food. I would have preferred, I assure you, primitivisms more typical of this world, such as the barbaric banquets of soldiers and guards, in which we must serve naked. There, at least, we might kneel and whimper, begging food. There, at least, we might hope, at least if we were found sufficiently pleasing, to be fed by hand or thrown scraps. But here I was ravening, and I dared not speak.
He dropped a tiny bone, sucked free of meat, onto a small, golden plate.
“You serve well, Earth woman,” he said.
I handed him, at his gesture, a glistening napkin and he touched it to his lips.
I felt almost faint with hunger.
But these men, of course, do not spoil their slaves.
At his indication I held forth the tiny golden finger bowl, and he dipped his fingers within it, and then dried them on the napkin.
I replaced the finger bowl and the napkin on the small table. I then knelt before him.
The music was very soft, unobtrusive, in the background. The melodies of this world tend to be barbarically sensuous.
I sensed his eyes upon me, but did not look up.
The room was a large, rich room with
a smoothly tiled, glossy floor. Small rugs and cushions were here and there. There were numerous, rich hangings. In places slender pillars rose to graceful arches. At the walls, at places, there were ornate chests. Some screens with open grillwork were to one side. There were some side portals, with beaded hangings. It was through one of these that the slave girls had slipped away. In the left, rear part of the room there was a window. Outside it I could see lights in some of the tower buildings of the city. There was also an entryway in the back part of the room to what seemed to be an open porch. I could see more lights through this aperture, in the distance. Some of those lights, I think, may have been on the walls of the city itself.
I kept my head down.
I was well aware of myself as a slave.
I could see the coverings, and cushions, at the foot of the divan.
The music was subtle, insistent.
I lifted my eyes, pleadingly, to the male, who was to me, though I belonged to the state, in this time and place, as Master.
“You may speak,” he said.
I held the veil more closely about my features, as thought this might the better conceal me. But, of course, as I instantly realized, this was foolish. I had seen it in the mirror. My features, my lips, could be discerned within it. It did seem to provide me with some protection from his gaze, but its actual effect, of course, was primarily symbolic, that there was a veil. If anything my gesture might, for an instant, have rendered my features more visible to him. I quickly lowered my hands, the veil, as it were, adjusted.
“I am hungry, Master,” I said.
“Does the Earth woman beg food?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
He let me remain kneeling before him, my head down.
I could hear the music.
In it were reflected the nature and values of a complex civilization.
“Stand,” said he, “and go there, and face me.”
He pointed to a place on the glossy tiles, some feet before the divan.
“Remove your veil,” he said.
I obeyed, standing before him, a few feet before him. I removed the veil first from my features, opening it, and brushing it to the sides, and then, with almost the same gesture, I lifted it and put it back, behind me. It was then upon me, behind my neck, and before, resting over my shoulders. This veil, like many of the veils on this world, was quite large. It was some six feet in length and three or four feet in width. It was designed in such a way that it might be, if the wearer wishes, wrapped about the entire head, shoulders, and upper body. A smaller veil may be used, of course, with hooded robes of concealment. It is bound or pinned about the face, within the hood. Many robes of concealment are hooded. The hood may be either an integral part of the garment or an independent accessory. There is an entire lore of veils, having to do with their nature, opacity, style, coverage, and such, as with fans on my old world, in former centuries, much may be done with them by a clever woman. In typical, modest veiling, that called for by most properties, only the eyes and the upper part of the bridge of the nose are exposed. It was in that way that I had been veiled in my serving. When I had parted my veil, and brushed it back, and put it behind me, I could hear, in the music to my right, in a ripple of interest and approval, of delight and excitement, the musician’s reaction. I lifted and brushed back my hair, freeing it. I adjusted it, too, with a toss of my head. Perhaps it was a vain gesture. One of the musicians chuckled.