by John Norman
"Yes," whispered another, "we are slaves." The blonde sank to her stomach on the cot, her head turned, her right cheek on the mattress, her fingers clutching its sides. She moved her left ankle a little, feeling the shackle, and its weight.
…CHAPTER 16…
"Is he alive?" asked Varix.
"I do not know," said Olar.
"Is it a Herul?" asked Varix.
"No," said Olar.
"Then we need not kill him," said Varix.
"I think he is dead already," said Olar.
"See if he is Telnarian," said Varix. "He may have money."
"I do not think he is Telnarian," said Olar.
"What is he?" asked Varix.
"He has the appearance of an Otung," said Olar.
"Not here, not this far away," said Varix.
Varix looked about, warily, apprehensively.
"I do not like it," he said.
Varix wore, over his eyes, tied at the edges with leather, a curved bone plate. It was cut with a horizontal slit, which eliminated most of the glare from the snow. Olar was similarly protected. It was bright and cold on the plains of Barrionuevo this afternoon. The sun blazed off the snow. It was in the month of Igon. One, unprotected, could go blind on such days. Both men wore fur, and deep fur boots. Each was armed, Varix with knife and ax, Olar with knife and spear.
Both were hunting vi-cat.
One had been seen yesterday, crossing the Lothar, on the ice, moving eastward.
They had been following its trail all morning, but now the hunt, for the moment, was forgotten.
"If he is dead, let us rob him, and be gone," said Varix. "If he is not dead, let us kill him, and see if he has anything of value."
"We are not Heruls," said Olar.
"We are poor men," said Varix.
"He may be a Herul spy," said Olar.
"The body," said Varix, wading through the snow, coming to the edge of the sledge, on which lay the remains of a horse, and, within the body of the horse, the shape of a man, or manlike creature, "does not appear malnourished."
"Perhaps he died recently," said Olar.
"He may not be dead," said Varix.
"The cold can keep things for a long time," said Olar.
Varix stepped back, wading backward, away from the sledge.
"Come back," said Varix.
Olar, turning, struggled back a few feet in the snow, to join Varix. Then both faced the sledge.
"See the tracks," said Varix, pointing. "The man must have been in the traces, drawing the carcass of the horse."
"Why?" asked Olar.
"I do not know," said Varix.
"He must have been strong," said Olar.
"He could feed on the horse," said Varix.
"He may not be dead," said Olar.
"That is what I think," said Varix.
"See, on the sledge," whispered Olar. "The rolled pelt of a vi-cat."
"It is not the pelt of the one we seek," said Varix.
"No," said Olar. "It is mottled."
Both men then backed away, a little farther, in the bright snow.
"It is the bait trap," said Varix.
"Yes," said Olar.
"He is Herul," said Varix.
"He is not a Herul," insisted Olar.
It is a mode of hunting occasionally practiced by Heruls. The hunter lies in wait, within the carcass, and when the vi-cat, or wolf, or arn bear or snow bear, come down from the north, in the time of Igon, prowls closely enough, the hunter, with spear, or long, thrusting blade, strikes. Commonly he is supported by others in the vicinity, lying covered in the snow, ready to spring, at a cry, to his aid. The animal, if not slain, is usually grievously wounded, and, slowed, may be trailed in the snow, the trail marked by blood.
"Do you understand what I am saying?" called Olar to the form within the carcass. "Are you alive?"
There was no response.
"I am afraid," said Varix.
"Why?" asked Olar.
"That it is the bait trap," said Varix.
"Why does that alarm you?" asked Olar.
"I think it is not now set for the vi-cat," said Varix.
"For what, then?" asked Olar.
"For us, I fear," said Varix.
At that time, suddenly, behind them, was heard the tiny jangle of harness, and the sound of a horse.
Both men turned.
"Heruls!" cried Olar.
There were seven Heruls, all told, three now behind them, and, in a moment, four others, two now approaching from the front, from behind the sledge, as they stood, and now two more, one from each side, in their dark leather, their fur capes, the conical, fur-trimmed helmets, with the slender, long, wandlike lances. Small bucklers were at the left side of their saddles. They had not even freed the bucklers. The four who had come from the front and sides now, too, drew up, reining in.
The circle was some ten yards in diameter.
In its center were Olar and Varix, and the sledge, with its weights.
There was a small sound of harness metal, as the beasts shifted in the snow, the sound of their breathing. Their breath hung about their snouts like fog. These were Herul mounts which, for simplicity, as is our wont with mounts of diverse species, we shall speak of as horses.
"Can you understand us?" called the leader of the Heruls to Olar and Varix.
"Yes," said Varix.
Whereas countless modalities of communication, as well as countless languages, verbal and gestural, coexisted in the galaxies, Telnarian, in its imperial purity, and in its dialects, and its corruptions, was, by creatures capable of forming its sounds, or analogues to them, by far the most commonly spoken. Even fierce enemies of the empire, in order to make themselves understood to one another, often had no alternative to conversing in Telnarian. The influence, linguistic and cultural, if not the civil and military presence, of the empire was, for millions of rational creatures, a fact of life. There were various legends to the effect that Orak, the king of the gods, had invented Telnarian that men might be able to converse with one another. It was generally regarded as the mother tongue of rational creatures. That Telnarian bore within itself innumerable traces of earlier languages, from which it seems to have emerged, was a fact understood by, and appreciated by, few but scholars. But there was little doubt that Telnarian, or the language that bears that name, was an ancient one. It was present in a developed form, even in the dim beginnings of the empire, as the most ancient of the imperial carvings, inscriptions and plaques attested. The language was apparently spoken by several related peoples, one of these peoples being the Telnarians, which people founded the empire. And, of course, it is by the name of that people that the language came to be known.
"Are you hunting?" asked the lead Herul, cheerfully enough, moving his horse a yard or two closer, in the snow. The snow came to the knees of the beast. It came rather to the thighs of the men.
"Yes," said Olar.
"Vi-cat," said Varix.
"Are you hunting?" asked Olar, of the chief Herul.
"Yes," he said.
"Men?" inquired Varix.
"Vi-cat," said the chief Herul.
"Perhaps it is the same beast," suggested Olar.
"Perhaps," said the Herul.
"A giant white?" asked Olar.
"Yes," said the chief Herul.
"Doubtless it is the same," said Varix.
"Yes," said the Herul. "But it seems we have caught men."
"This is not your bait trap then?" asked Olar.
"No, is it not yours?" asked the Herul.
"No," said Olar.
"Where would you like to die," asked the Herul, "here, or in the camp?"
"They are scrawny, for soup," said one of the Heruls.
"We are afoot, you on horseback!" said Olar, angrily.
"We do not allow mounts to such as you," said one of the Heruls.
"Let us take them back to camp, and run them naked, in the snow, for the dogs," said one of the Heruls.
"Spare us!" said Olar.
"You are not women," said one of the Heruls. "Sometimes we spare them."
"We work them well," said another.
"They are pleasant to whip," said one.
"Their hairless skins mark delightfully," said another, "and they squirm well."
"Too, with their small bodies and smooth skins," said another, "we find them interesting, and different, in the thongs and furs."
"You are on horseback," said Olar. "There are seven of you."
"You should not be on the flats of Tung," said another.
"You should not have crossed the Lothar," laughed another.
"Rope them," said the leader of the Heruls.
…CHAPTER 17…
"You must forgive us," said Brother Gregory, leading the way, carrying a small, shielded lamp in one appendage, descending the long, spiraling damp stairs, down, down into one of the humid, heated, murky depths of the festung, "but it is restorative, and, upon occasion, imperative, for several of the brothers to keep their skins moist."
"I understand," said Julian.
He had removed his jacket, and his shirt was soaked with dampness and sweat.
He could hear the chanting of the brothers.
Here and there, in niches, were small votive tablets.
***
"Is that a female?'' had cried the gatesman in horror, pointing to the small figure with Julian and Tuvo Ausonius, all three long disembarked below, in the valley, from the hoverer.
The outer gate to the festung had creaked open, slowly, to admit the travelers.
It was a long, winding, tortuous trail up from the level, up from the valley, one of several miles, to the outer gate of the festung.
It was seldom traveled. Visitors were few at the festung of Sim Giadini.
At the village below they had learned that it would not be wise to approach the festung, save in this fashion, on foot and not obviously armed.
There were defenses, at various levels, which must be specifically, and consecutively, disarmed.
This was done from within the festung, the deactivations consequent, at given levels, upon judgments, given the data of diverse surveillance devices.
Too, a known man of the village had accompanied them, as a guide.
"Yes," had said Julian.
"Nothing female may enter here," said the gatesmen.
"This is the hospitality of the festung of Sim Giadini?" had asked Julian, irritatedly.
"She does not appear in desperate need of medical assistance, she is not bleeding, she is not dying," said the gatesmen.
"No," admitted Julian.
"She may not enter," said the gatesmen.
He averted his eyes that he might not look upon, and perhaps be tempted by, what was now in the company of Julian and Tuvo Ausonius.
"Surely she is sufficiently concealed," said Tuvo Ausonius.
The object of their discussion, small, fur-booted, and heavily bundled in furs, was kneeling on the stones before the gate, which posture she had assumed, correctly, suitably, while waiting for the response to the great metal ring, lifted and dropped three times, as the guide had advised, against the plate.
In her days with Julian and Tuvo Ausonius, thanks to their intensive training, she had made considerable progress in learning her slavery.
Her arms were not in the sleeves of her jacket but within the jacket, the wrists cuffed together, behind her back.
About her throat, over the furs there, there was a metal leash collar, from which, gracefully dangling, in loops, threaded through loops on the jacket, was a lovely, light, chain leash.
Commonly, in the transport of slaves by primitive peoples over the snow, in sleds, the slaves are simply, in their chains, wrapped naked in heavy furs. In this fashion there is little danger that they will be tempted to flee the sleds, or, huddling, chained, by the fires, the camps.
"It does not matter," said the gatesman.
"She is only an animal, a slave," said Tuvo Ausonius.
The woman looked up. Her head was muchly covered by the bundling of the fur hood, but it could be seen that her face was exquisite. Wisps of red hair peeked out from within the hood, framing her lovely features.
"Not even female animals are permitted within the festung, " said the gatesman. "Nothing female, no female bird, no hen, no ewe, no cow, no bitch, no mare, no sow, nothing female."
"Put down your head," said Julian.
The slave instantly lowered her head.
"You may look on her now," said Julian. "You can see nothing."
"No," said the gatesman, "I can see furs, and it is not difficult to detect, from their configuration, that within them there is a female."
"I fear he is right, milord," said Tuvo Ausonius.
The small figure, the center of such attention, trembled a little, on her knees, her head down.
"Take her away!" cried the gatesman.
"Take her back to the valley, to the hoverer," said Julian.
"Milord!" protested Tuvo Ausonius.
"It is all right," said Julian. "I should have anticipated this."
"I shall have to close the gate," said the gatesman.
"She is leaving," said Julian.
Julian gestured, with his head, to Tuvo Ausonius.
"On your feet, girl," said Tuvo Ausonius.
She rose up and followed Tuvo Ausonius, head down, with small steps, deferentially, who drew away from the vicinity of the gate, to where the guide stood.
"May I now enter?" inquired Julian.
"Certainly," said the gatesman.
Standing near the guide, and Tuvo Ausonius, she looked back, toward the gate.
The gatesman, with his weight, with two hands, was pressing the gate shut. He paused for a moment, Julian within, impatient, beyond him, to view the slave, even bundled as she was, angrily, and then shut the gate, firmly.
She heard the two heavy bars being slid through their brackets behind the gate, first one, and then the other.
She briefly met the eyes of the guide, a rude fellow, from below, and then looked away.
She had seen desire in his eyes.
He was a peasant, simple, brutal, rude, lustful.
She had become aware of her desirability here again, as she had on the patrol ship, serving the crew's mess, barefoot, in a collar and slave rag, and in the appreciative glances of Julian and Tuvo Ausonius, as they sought to improve her posture, her movements and skills, until they would be likely to meet the requirements of even an unusually exacting master. And now here, again, she had become aware of her desirability, twice, in quite different ways, once in the loathing, the anger and disgust of the gatesman, fighting a naturalness and might which he had mistakenly, ignorantly, forsworn, he the deluded, self-tortured victim of a grotesque conditioning program, one promulgating, even celebrating, thwarted drives and suppressed desires, and that of the peasant, who had looked upon her with hardy approbation, much as he might have upon a fine pig.
She was aware now, from many indications, of her desirability, and its effect on men, and the power which she might, in virtue of it, under different circumstances, have held over men.
It is no wonder, she thought, that they strip us, and chain us, and cage us, and put us up for sale.
We are too beautiful, and too dangerous, to be free. It is wrong that we should be free! It is absurd that we should be free. We belong to them by nature, and they will see to it that they own us. It is no surprise then, she thought, that they do with us as they please.
We belong to them, she thought. I do not object. I love them. Let them be strong with us! I despise weak men. Oh, be strong with me, Masters!
"Come, girl!" called Tuvo Ausonius.
He and the guide were already several yards down the trail.
"Yes, Master!" she called, and hurried after them.
Tuvo Ausonius was a master of women. But he had not so much as put a hand on her. He cared, it seemed, for some other slave, a Sesella, back o
n Inez IV. But surely he could have two slaves. Some men had several! Lord Julian, too, whose identity she had learned, kneeling before him naked, in obeisance, on the patrol ship, she sensed was a natural master of women, but he had not touched her either, other than once to tie her, and whip her, for clumsiness. He had some barbarian slave, it seemed, of which he was fond. But she was sure she could compete, at least after more training, with a mere barbarian. Let him choose between us, she thought, or have both of us, and others! But she had not been given to the crew, either. She was a virgin, which was not unusual, as she had been purchased at an early age, fourteen, to be a woman's slave.
That she was a virgin seemed to be of interest to some men. She was not certain why that was. To be sure, it was important to her. She would not have wanted to awaken in her cell, for example, and discover that her virginity was simply gone.
She hurried down the trail, to catch up with the men.
They were far ahead now, and were not looking back.
She fell once, heavily, twisting in her fall to her left shoulder, unable to break her fall because of the back-cuffing, confining her wrists. Whimpering, she regained her feet, and, pulling a little at her small, encircled, chained wrists, the leash chain striking against the furs, continued on down the trail, hastening after the men.
They were even farther ahead now.
She called out, "Wait, Masters! Please, wait!"
But they did not wait.
She hurried on.
She did not dare to call out again. She did not wish to risk being beaten.
***
"Brother Benjamin!" called Brother Gregory, gently.
Brother Gregory stood on damp stones, at the edge of a broad, dark, warm pool.
He lifted up his tiny lamp.
The chamber was itself lit, though dimly, with similar lamps, set here and there on a shallow, circular shelf, its structure following the perimeter of the chamber, which was round, and shallowly domed.
These lamps were brought to the depths by the brothers, and taken with them, when they ascended to the higher levels.
There was a gentle stirring in the dark waters, and several pairs of eyes surfaced, large, round eyes.
The eyes seemed to stare at Julian.
It was difficult to read any expression in such features, without clues from the body.