by John Norman
“It is you, my friend,” said Otto, “who do not understand such folk.”
At this point the second warning sounded.
Above their level, at the crew and passenger entryway, to the level of which had been wheeled a steel, stepped gangway, an officer was waiting.
He looked down at Julian.
“We are betrayed,” said Julian. “We have been deprived of the goods essential to the success of our mission. Iaachus, or someone at court, I fear, has delayed or diverted them.”
“If you think them important, bring them with you, when you follow me,” said Otto.
“You must assuredly wait for me,” said Julian, “at Venitzia.”
“No,” said Otto.
“Then all is lost,” said Julian, dismally.
“I do not want the goods,” said Otto.
“Surely you understand they would be of value, at least eventually,” said Julian.
“Perhaps,” admitted Otto, shrugging.
“I would know who has betrayed us,” said Julian. “Surely it must be Iaachus,” he said, angrily.
“Iaachus supported your mission,” said Otto.
“It seemed so,” said Julian.
“It is time to board,” said a mariner. “The third signal will be sounded any moment.”
“Where is the chief supply officer?” cried Julian.
A technician hurried past, carrying loops of insulated cable over his shoulder. This cable had been detached from a socket in the ship. Communication with the ship was now, substantially, from the port tower, not from the level of the quay.
“Time to board, sir,” said the mariner, urgently.
“Without the goods we are lost,” said Julian.
“No,” said Otto.
“Hurry!” said the mariner.
“Farewell, my friend,” said Julian, angrily, grasping Otto’s hand.
“Dismiss from your mind the dross of goods,” said Otto. “Where I go they are not the coin.”
“And what, where you go, do you take to be the coin?” inquired Julian.
“Steel,” said Otto.
“My poor, naive, simple, dear friend,” said Julian.
“You would buy allies?” asked Otto.
“Yes,” said Julian. “It is the way of the empire.”
“I had thought that civilitas was the way of the empire,” said Otto.
“One buys barbarians,” said Julian.
“It is only slaves who may be purchased,” said Otto. There was suddenly on the quay, several yards away, from behind piled crates, rearing stacks of boxes, assemblages of large machinery, a wild hooting, and cries of pleasure, numerous, boisterous, masculine acclamatory shouts.
Julian looked up, wildly.
A senior officer approached him.
Behind him was the ensign whom Julian had dispatched in search of the chief supply officer.
“I am Lysis,” said the senior officer, “chief officer in charge of supply, the Narcona.”
He and Julian exchanged salutes.
Julian had saluted first, as his own rank, in the imperial navy, the protocol of which he was scrupulous to respect, was inferior to that of the supply officer.
The supply officer turned about and began, losing no time, to wave several men behind him toward the still-open second hatch. They bore burdens of diverse size and weight. Though the nature of the goods was somewhat obscured by their packaging, the wrapping and boxings, and such, we may conjecture, and affirm with confidence, given what later became clear, their natures, which ranged from the common and ordinary, such as nails, wire and copper, to the remarkable, and even precious, such as emeralds, ivory and gold.
“These are the goods of the second manifest,” said Lysis, quietly.
“They are late,” said Julian.
“No,” said the officer. “On the instructions of one in high position, they were to be delivered at the last moment, in the interests of security, before inquiries could be made, before it would be possible to halt their embarkation.”
“One in a position of authority is brilliant,” said Julian. “I was wrong to suspect him,” said Julian to Otto.
“It is good to know on whom one may depend,” said Otto.
The goods were now moving past them.
“The manifest has been checked,” said the supply officer.
“To be sure,” said Julian, “there is not time to check it now.”
For an instant he seemed troubled.
“It is complete, milord,” the officer assured him. “I went over it in the warehouse this morning, and it has been kept under seal, and guard, since then.”
“Good,” said Julian.
No need for concern was there then.
“Be careful there,” called the ensign, at the officer’s side, as men fought to keep their grip on a bale of cloths. The heavy canvas cover of the baled cloths gave no clue as to the richness of the stuffs inside, brocades and velvets, and sheens of golden silk, materials fit to bedeck the consorts of chieftains.
Other men struggled to carry, upon their shoulders, what, wrapped in burlap, appeared to be metal ingots. Many were of iron but there were, too, among them, concealed, ingots of gold, from which rings might be formed, fine rings, for the arm and wrist.
Groups of men, four men in each group, bent under the weight of single tusks of the Thalasian torodont.
Boxes passed, which contained plates of copper, and sacks of silver and gold coins. In other boxes there rattled cameos, and medallions, bearing the visage of the emperor, represented as a bearded, powerful man.
“Hurry, hurry!” called a mariner.
Bundles of furs, and skins, were carried by, even those of the golden vi-cat, though the golden fur was rolled to the inside, that the wealth within might be well concealed.
Spices, and condiments, and many other foodstuffs, too, were hastily embarked.
“I smell the pepper of Askalan,” marveled a man.
“Are you sure?” asked another.
“Yes, I smelled it once in a bazaar on Rachis II,” he was informed.
It was an exotic trade good, doubtless little known on Tangara.
The scent came through the pores of the box of fernwood in which it lay.
Too, there were many other spices, and such, though well sealed, from various worlds, such as nutmegs, gingers, cinnamons, marjorams, frostfruit peel, coriander, thyme, extract of les, cream of kalot, essence of almond, rosemary, mint, siba, chives, mustard, whole cloves, ground cloves, curry powder, mixed herbs, flakes of hineen, tel sauce, minced basbas stalk, sage, paprika, boiled arla leaves, seed of the pinnate fennis and vanilla.
“But the goods are not quite complete, are they?” asked Julian.
“No,” said the officer. He lifted his hand, to an unseen compatriot.
“Move!” said a voice, from behind boxes, and machinery. “This way, this way!” said another voice. Instantly, there was another rousing cry of delight from the longshoremen, the stevedores, the porters, the drivers, the dock hands, some hooting, the clapping of hands.
It was a similar sound to that which had risen upon the quay but moments earlier.
“This way,” said a voice, that of a young, blond officer. There were cries of pleasure from many men about, who, it seemed, had come from here and there, from many places about the quay, some descending even from their coigns of vantage on boxes, from the seats and hoods of vehicles, and such, to crowd about what was now the center of their attention.
“This way, this way,” said another voice, a severe, impatient voice.
Approaching, uncertainly, were several muchly concealed figures.
Each was covered, almost entirely, by a large, light, but closely woven, opaque, white, sheetlike cloth, which was thrown over the head and buckled about the neck, that portion of the cloth constituting then, in effect, an opaque, concealing hood. Below, at the sides, at the shoulders, two apertures appeared in the cloth, through which bared, fair arms projected. The cloth
itself, its hem, so to speak, fell midway, in its voluminousness, upon lovely calves. In this way the lower portion of the well-rounded calves, and the trim ankles and the small feet of each figure, these lovely parts all bared fully, as the arms, were visible. The left ankle of each of the figures was encircled by a light, flatish, narrow, but sturdy, steel anklet, which was locked. After having been unloaded from some vehicle on the quay, which was doubtless the occasion of the first raucous greeting to which they had been subjected, they had assumed, doubtless upon command, a common hand linkage. In this case it was as follows: The first figure puts its right hand behind it and it is felt for, and grasped, by the second figure, who then puts its own left hand behind it, which is felt for, and grasped, by the left hand of the figure behind it, who then puts its own right hand behind it, which is felt for, and grasped, by the right hand of the figure behind it, and so on. To be sure, there are several other such linkages, hands on shoulders of the preceding figure, right hand back to left hand forward, repeated and so on.
The figures had now been permitted to unclasp hands and had been pushed together, crowded together, closely, near the grille ramp leading to the second hatch, only a few feet from Julian and Otto.
“Why are they not chained?” asked Julian.
“They are not going to escape,” said the supply officer.
There was laughter from the men about.
“Forgive me, milord,” said the officer.
“When such merchandise is moved,” said Julian, “I prefer for it to be secured.”
“Yes, milord,” said the officer.
“And I do not mean by a cord or rope to which each clings,’’ said Julian. “I mean a neck chain, a wrist chain, an ankle chain, an arrangement of bars and collars, locked, plank neck-stocks, nailed or bolted shut, such things.”
“Yes, milord,” said the officer.
The figures, under the sheetlike coverings, shifted, uneasily.
The sound of the third warning then rang out, from the port tower.
“The sequencing is begun,” said an officer.
“You must board immediately,” said another.
“He is right, milord,” said the supply officer.
“Sir!” called down the officer, anxiously, from the higher entryway, at the top of the wheeled, steel stairway.
“I would see them,” said Julian, suspiciously, abruptly.
“There is no time, milord,” said the chief supply officer.
“Remove the traveling cloaks,” commanded Julian.
This was hastily done, almost frantically.
There were shouts of pleasure from the ruffians, and others, on the quay.
“They are not collared!” said Julian.
“They are ankleted, milord,” said the supply officer.
Each of the figures was now revealed to be that of a lightly clad beautiful woman. Each wore a white, short skirt which wrapped about her hips, and a snug, tight white halter. The midriff of each was bared.
“They are muchly clothed,” said Julian.
“They are prize slaves,” said the officer.
Julian went to one of the girls, and then to another. He thrust up the short skirt at the left hip.
One of the slaves, a blonde, gasped, in protest, though it was not she whose flank was thus subjected to such abrupt, peremptory inspection.
Julian looked at her, puzzled, and then looked to the officer.
“These are not branded,” he said.
“None are branded,” said the supply officer. “One in authority, whose name need not be spoken here, thought that felicitous, that the masters into whose ownership they come might then have them marked as they please, or even not, if that be their wish.”
“I see,” said Julian.
“They are prize slaves,” said the officer.
“But in their condition as slave no more than any other slave,’’ said Julian.
“True,” said the officer.
“A common mark then would be as quite suitable for them, indeed, surely as appropriate for them, as for any other.”
“True,” said the officer.
“Indeed,” said Julian, “let the most beautiful of slaves wear no more than a common mark, that it may help her to keep in mind what she is, that she is no more than a slave!”
“Yes, milord,” said the officer.
One of the slaves, a blonde, stiffened, in anger.
Once, again, this caught the eye of Julian.
“It is time to board!” called the officer from the higher entryway.
The sound of pigs could be heard on the quay. It might be recalled that goats, sheep, and pigs had appeared on the public manifest, with certain other animals, but that the pigs had not yet been embarked.
The bared feet of the slaves were on the steel grille of the main platform, near the shallow ramp, also a grille, leading to the second hatch. It was not uncomfortable, as the grille was closely set, but it must have been warm, and they must have been aware, keenly, of the numerous, aligned ridges of the grille on the soles of their feet. The grille ramp, which was adjustable, as there is some variation in hatch placements, was of a similar construction.
“Hurry!” called the officer, from the higher entryway.
One of the slaves, a blonde, went to the entryway ladder, and had ascended three steps before she suddenly cried out in pain, the back of her legs, just below the hem of the short, white skirt, lashed with a switch, in the hand of one of the two officers who had brought them forward, he who seemed the more severe of the keepers.
“What do you think you are doing?” he cried out, angrily.
“Boarding,” she said.
There was laughter on the quay, about the hatch.
“Get back where you belong,” said the officer, fiercely, pointing with the switch to the bevy of briefly clad beauties near the ramp grille.
She stood for just an instant on the step, but, when he raised his switch again, she hurried down and fled back among the others.
Laughter rang out on the quay.
“Forgive her, milord,” said the blond officer to Julian. “She is a debtress, from Myron VII, sold to defray her own debts, and knows as yet little of what it is to be a slave.”
Julian was studying the blond slave, intently.
“She will learn!” laughed a man.
“Yes!” said another.
There was more laughter.
“Move aside!” said a man.
There then came, being hurried, a tiny herd of pigs, some dozen or so, which, by men with sticks, were driven through the hatch.
“This way!” called a mariner inside.
“It is through this hatch that you will be loaded, my dear,” said the supply officer to the blonde, indicating the second hatch, “with the other animals.”
She crouched down, and, it seemed, frantically, desperately, was trying to force the anklet from her fair ankle.
Of the twenty slaves, or seeming slaves, ten were brunettes, and ten were blondes.
“They are a likely lot,” said a man.
“Yes,” said another.
“I wonder what they will be doing on Tangara,” said a fellow.
“We are to be distributed among taverns on Venitzia,” said one of the slaves.
“I think I shall put in for duty on Venitzia,” said a man.
“Do not,” laughed another, “it is a desolation, a wilderness.”
To such a world, thought Otto, angrily, were the Otungs banished.
“I expect to be purchased for a high house, perhaps that of the prefect,” said one of the slaves.
“And doubtless among your other duties,” said a man, “will be cleaning and the polishing of silver.”
The beauty, a brunette, tossed her head, and looked away.
“Were you given permission to speak?” asked the blond officer, one of the two who had brought the women forward.
“No, Master,” said more than one. Several put their heads down.
> “Insolent slaves,” said the severe officer.
“They will learn quickly,” said a man.
“They need only be beaten, branded, and collared,” said another.
Several of the women shifted their weight, moving from one foot to another, apprehensively.
Such things could be easily done to them.
They were slaves.
Few now met the eyes of the bystanders.
The blond looked up, ceasing her efforts to free her ankle of its identificatory device, conscious of a shadow over her.
It was Julian.
“It is on you,” said Julian.
She stood, angrily.
“Stand straighter,” said Julian.
She did so, angrily.
“Do I not know you?” he asked.
“I do not think so, milord,” she said, seemingly suddenly frightened.
“I have seen you somewhere,” he said.
“I do not think so, milord,” she said.
“It would seem unlikely, milord,” said the blond officer, “as she is from Myron VII.”
That world was far from Inez IV.
Julian took the hair of the blonde and held it, tightly, and pulled her head back, studying her face.
“I am sure I have seen you somewhere,” he said.
“We must go,” said the supply officer.
“Some festival, some supper, some regatta, somewhere,” said Julian.
“She is a common type, though an exquisite specimen of the type,” said the one officer, the more severe of the two, he with the switch. “There are millions like her in the galaxy.”
The woman made a tiny, protesting noise, but she could move her head scarcely at all, as it was held.
“Perhaps she served as a slave at some such affair,” said the blond officer.
“Perhaps,” said Julian.
“Perhaps you met her when she was free,” said a man.
“Perhaps,” said Julian.
“She might then have been dressed differently,” laughed a man.
“Yes,” said Julian.
He then, slowly, by the hair, forced her down, to her knees. “Keep your hands down,” he warned her, when she seemed tempted to raise her hands to her hair.
“On all fours,” he said.
She complied.
“Do you see him?” asked Julian, indicating Otto.
She nodded.