by John Norman
Several men laughed.
“And then,” said a man, “have a pleasant time with her, Rurik.”
“I will,” said the officer.
So Cornhair lay curled at the feet of her Master, Rurik, in the Farnichi enclave, overlooking the Turning Serpent, somewhat northeast of Telnar. A silver chain, as we recall, ran from the ring on her silver overcollar to the ring set in the floor to the left of his thronelike chair, in which he received visitors. Beneath the overcollar she wore a simple close-fitting collar bearing the Farnichi emblem, the five petaled Pin Flower, native to Larial VII. She was not clothed, quite possibly for reasons we earlier suggested.
“We await guests,” had said Rurik.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“I am curious as to their business,” he said. “It is interesting. They come incognito.”
“Master may have me removed,” she said, “or he may unchain me, and I shall hurry to my cage, and crawl within.”
“You will remain,” he had said. “I enjoy displaying you, a pretty slave, once a woman of the Calasalii.”
At that point a staff, presumably that of the constable, or some other official, smote thrice, in a measured fashion, on the outside of the large, double door leading into the audience chamber.
“Enter,” called Rurik.
The two doors swung open, and three men approached, in nondescript garb; the first was blond, handsome, and well-formed, whose bearing, despite his garmenture, suggested that of the military; the second was a very large man, with bold, coarse features which suggested barbarian blood; the third was the slightest of the three and seemed more suited to accounts and records than traversing the possibly dangerous precincts of a Farnichi enclave in the vicinity of Telnar.
“We are gown-and-jewel merchants from Tinos,” announced the young man with military bearing.
Behind them, at the end of the long carpet, the double doors closed.
“Scarcely,” said Rurik.
“Sir?” said the young man.
“We are alone,” said Rurik. “You may speak openly.”
“I gather we are expected,” said the young man. “Our credentials have been transmitted?”
“Yes,” said Rurik, “but not the purport of your call.”
“I am Julian, of the Aureliani,” said the young man, “cousin to the emperor, now embarked on imperial business of the greatest moment.” He then indicated the large form to his right. “This,” he said, “is Ottonius, captain in the imperial auxiliaries, and this,” and here he indicated the third of the visitors, “is Tuvo Ausonius, formerly of the imperial civil service.”
“I am Rurik,” said the host, “Tenth Consul of Larial VII, Rurik, of the Larial Farnichi.”
“Forgive me, sir,” said Julian, “but I find it strange that the Tenth Consul of Larial VII should be on Telnaria.”
“And perhaps also,” said Rurik, “that a foreign enclave this redoubtable should be located so close to the imperial palace and senate?”
“Doubtless there is a purpose,” said Julian.
“There is,” said Rurik, “but I suspect that it is only now that the purpose will become clear.”
In the exchange of introductions, Cornhair, a slave, was no more to be introduced than a dog lying at his Master’s feet.
Needless to say, Cornhair was much disturbed to see Otto and Julian, whom she had not seen since the palace, and Tuvo Ausonius, whom she had not seen since the trouble in Orik’s camp, on the shore of the Turning Serpent. She kept her head down, and lay very still, hoping not to be noticed. To be sure, the beautiful curves of a chained slave are not likely to escape notice.
“We have been referred to you,” said Julian, “by a high personage, close to the throne.”
“Iaachus, Arbiter of Protocol,” said Rurik.
“Possibly,” said Julian.
“It is interesting,” said Rurik. “One would suppose that an arbiter of protocol would be a minor officiant, little more than an authority on the etiquette of receiving and announcing visitors, a determiner of seating arrangements at state banquets, and such.”
“The title of an office and its power are not always congruent,” said Julian. “Sometimes an office or role is instituted which, over time, in the hands of the bold and ambitious, arrogates to itself functions and powers never envisaged by its founders, indeed, functions and powers which would be likely to have dismayed its founders.”
“Let us suppose your principal is Iaachus, the Arbiter of Protocol,” said Rurik.
“There seems no harm in the supposition,” said Julian.
“Proceed,” said Rurik.
“You are aware, of course,” said Julian, “that a raid, brief and fierce, took place recently in Telnar.”
“Batteries failed,” said Rurik.
“By intent,” said Julian.
“The point of the raid was to assassinate the emperor?” said Rurik.
“Better for the enemies of the empire that the emperor should thrive,” said Julian, “given his weakness and simplicity, his gibbering inanity.”
“The emperor is well?” asked Rurik.
“Yes,” said Julian.
“What, then, could be the point of the raid?” asked Rurik. “Merely an endeavor to inform the empire of its vulnerability?”
“Bold dynastic pretensions,” said Julian. “The princesses, Viviana and Alacida, have been abducted, to be wedded to the sons of Abrogastes, king of the Drisriaks, high tribe of the Aatii.”
“Surely this is not known,” said Rurik, leaning forward.
“It is not generally known,” said Julian.
“Surely such a matter cannot be long concealed,” said Rurik.
“We fear not,” said Julian.
“I begin to suspect the point of your presence here,” said Rurik, leaning back.
“As I understand it,” said Julian, “Larial VII and certain worlds were ravaged by internal strife, the clash of large, well-equipped, private armies.”
“Those of the Larial Calasalii and the Larial Farnichi,” said Rurik.
“Strife appears to have been costly, and indecisive,” said Julian.
“Worlds were in flames,” said Rurik. “It was madness.”
“Truce would seem to have been in order,” said Julian, “some sensible demarcation of territories, some rational division of authority, some acceptable allotment of spoils.”
“Certainly,” said Rurik. “To a neutral observer, outside the bloody compass of war, to one who has not been in the field, who has not suffered, some such solution appears obvious, even necessitated. But you do not know the Calasalii and the Farnichi, the bad blood, the history of animosity, the century of strife, the hatred, the tradition, how they view one another.”
“The empire intervened,” said Julian.
“Yes,” said Rurik.
“At the invitation of the Farnichi,” said Julian.
“As it happens,” said Rurik.
“It is rumored,” said Julian, “that Farnichi gold was involved.”
“I have heard that rumor,” said Rurik.
“And you know, I assume,” said Julian, “that it is true?”
“Who knows?” said Rurik. “It is difficult to say about rumors.”
“And it seems that more than gold was involved,” said Julian.
“Oh?” said Rurik.
“Your enclave is located near Telnar,” said Julian.
“Consider it an embassy,” said Rurik.
“Abetted by the empire,” said Julian, “you crushed the Calasalii.”
“The contribution of the imperial forces were, of course, welcome,” said Rurik.
“But, later,” said Julian, “there was a surreptitious outlawry of the Calasalii, subsequently, suddenly, made public, complete with pervasive
seizures and arrests.”
“It was time their outlawry, practiced for a century, was legally recognized and acted on,” said Rurik.
“There would seem, in the view of many, in such a respect,” said Julian, “little to choose from, amongst the Calasalii and the Farnichi.”
“All are entitled to their opinion,” said Rurik.
“Men to mines and quarries,” said Julian, “women to the slave block, the chain and collar.”
“A condign resolution to the inequities of the Calasalii,” said Rurik.
“You have a well-curved slave at your feet,” said Otto.
Cornhair, her legs drawn up, kept her head down, hoping not to be recognized. She had shaken her hair a bit about her face.
Rurik nudged her with the side of his foot, and she whimpered a little, but kept her head down.
Rurik bent down and brushed the hair away from the back of her neck. In this way the silver overcollar was more clearly seen.
“This is a woman once of the Calasalii,” he said.
“I cannot see her well,” said Julian, “but I assume her features are delicate, feminine, and exquisite, slave-acceptable.”
“I find them so,” said Rurik. “Large, gross, plain, masculine women, if collared at all, which is presumably a mistake, for who would want them, are best put in the fields, the kitchens, and laundries.”
“Surely,” said Julian. “The collar is for the most desirable of women.”
“Yes,” said Rurik, “for true women, fit slaves.”
“They need only acknowledge to themselves that they are slaves, fit slaves,” said Julian, “and they will learn themselves, find themselves, and be happy.”
Cornhair, trying to hide her face, trying to keep her body small, trembled.
“She seems frightened,” said Otto.
“She is a slave,”’ said Rurik.
“The outlawry seems to go beyond the simple matter of alliances and the outcomes of battles,” said Julian.
“Perhaps,” said Rurik.
“More gold exchanged hands?” asked Julian.
“Who would know?” asked Rurik.
“I suspect an independent consideration was involved,” said Julian.
“What would lead you to suppose that?” asked Rurik.
“An armed enclave of the Farnichi on Telnaria,” said Julian, “under the command of the Tenth Consul of Larial VII.”
“Proceed, conjecture,” said Rurik, pleasantly.
“I suspect that in exchange for imperial help against the Calasalii, and perhaps, in particular, afterwards, for the outlawry of the Calasalii, more was involved than Farnichi gold.”
“A favor, or favors, perhaps,” suggested Rurik.
“Iaachus, the Arbiter of Protocol, should he be involved in this,” said Julian, “is an extremely clever and, I fear, unscrupulous man.”
“One hears various things,” said Rurik.
“Statecraft is subtle, and occasionally dark,” said Julian, “and sometimes unseen. It is not all broadcast negotiation, open meetings, public bargainings, flags, banners, proclamations, decrees, and such.
Sometimes one acts when there is no appearance of action.”
“And sometimes,” said Otto, regarding Cornhair, “it resides on the point of a knife.”
Cornhair shuddered, her head down. Had she been recognized?
“I am sure,” said Rurik, “my esteemed guests have something in mind.”
“Which doubtless you suspect,” said Julian.
“Surely you do not expect me to respond to what has not been spoken,” said Rurik.
“As the empire abetted the Farnichi, so, too, might the Farnichi be expected to abet the empire,” said Julian.
“Speak,” said Rurik.
“Why are you here?” said Julian. “The motivation is clear. Events precipitate specifics. Iaachus has brought you here to have a tool at readiness, a weapon which might be used in various ways at various times, to have at his disposal a private army, one outside of official channels, one unrelated to familiar resources.”
“Perhaps,” said Rurik.
“The princesses must be recovered,” said Julian.
“I understand,” said Rurik.
Chapter Forty-Nine
“Which one do you want?” asked Ingeld.
“Neither,” said Hrothgar.
“Release us!” said Viviana. She spun about, robes whirling, on the rush-strewn, dirt floor of Ingeld’s hall. “Return us to Telnaria!”
Ingeld’s hall, on this world, incidentally, had once been the hall of Ortog, a secessionist Drisriak prince.
“Be patient, Princess,” said Ingeld.
“We are of the royal blood,” said Viviana. “We will never espouse commoners, let alone barbarians. It is unthinkable. Release us!”
“Shall I have their clothing removed?” inquired Farrix, he of the Teragar Borkons, the Long-River Borkons.
“Stay away!” cried Viviana.
“It might make it easier to decide,” said Farrix.
“Neither would bring much on a block,” said Hrothgar.
“We are beautiful, I, in particular,” cried Viviana.
“Sister!” protested Alacida.
“I am going to the stables,” said Hrothgar. “I must tend my horses.”
“Clear your mind, dear brother,” said Ingeld, “of horses, hot bror, falcons, and slaves. We talk here of important things, of power, of worlds.”
“Have your power, and your worlds,” said Hrothgar. “I want a blue sky, a fine morning, fields of green grass, a good horse beneath me, a falcon on my wrist, and game afoot. Then, at the end of the day, give me bror in my cup and a slave in my arms.”
“Barbarian!” said Viviana.
“You know the will of our father, the king,” said Ingeld. “For my part, I would be pleased to give you a hundred horses and a hundred falcons, a barrel of bror, and a hundred slaves. I cannot, in Telnarian law, marry both princesses.”
“You shall marry neither!” said Viviana. “Even now imperial ships rush to rescue us!”
“Our information,” said Ingeld, “is that ships remain in their housings, why should they not, they do not know where to go, and your disappearance is denied. They can do nothing. They are helpless. They must wait for us to contact them.”
“They seek us! They search! They speed to our rescue,” insisted Viviana.
“Your head must be as empty as one of your brother’s rattles,” said Ingeld. “Resources are limited, few, and precious. Surely you are aware of the rationing of resources. In places, a town might be exchanged for a pistol, a city for a rifle and ten charges. Do you think this is a hundred thousand years in the past? Finding you would be more difficult than locating a single grain of sand on a beach a thousand miles in length.”
“Liar! Liar!” said Viviana.
“As far as I am concerned, dear brother,” said Ingeld, “you need not marry a princess. I am perfectly ready to marry one of the princesses, either one. I cannot marry both. If you marry neither I need only marry one, and make certain the other never returns to Telnaria, where she might marry a Telnarian and bear a son, indeed, better, that she remain unmated.”
“That is easily enough arranged, Lord,” said Farrix, “a simple motion of the knife.”
“I do not want either of them,” said Hrothgar.
“And you are not wanted!” said Viviana, angrily.
“Hrothgar is a strong, handsome fellow,” said Farrix. “I am sure he could make you kick, and buck.”
“Do not be vulgar,” said Viviana.
Alacida began to weep.
“Stop blubbering, female,” said Ingeld.
“‘Female’?” said Alacida.
“Yes,” said Ingeld, “even a princess, even a quee
n, is a female.”
“I loathe men,” said Viviana. “I will have no feelings toward them. They are either brutes or fops. I cultivate frigidity. I pride myself on my inertness. I know nothing of sex, and will know nothing of sex. I am of the royal blood. I am a princess. I am superior to sex.”
“Let us get her clothes off, put her in a collar, and give her a taste of the whip,” said Farrix.
“Beat him, cast him out!” demanded Viviana.
“It is my understanding,” said Ingeld, “that many free women of civilization, of the empire, think themselves superior to sex.”
“They are different, once they are sold off the block,” said Farrix.
“And you, pretty Alacida,” said Ingeld, “are you superior to sex?”
“I fear not,” whispered Alacida.
“Good,” said Farrix, “strip her and get her in wrist-to-ankle shackles. It is easy to learn womanhood in chains.”
“It is easy to make a woman moan, and beg,” said Hrothgar.
“Please, let us desist in such vulgarity,” said Ingeld. “Consider the feelings of our guests.”
“Females,” said Hrothgar.
“Women of station, of refinement and sensibility, of education and breeding,” said Ingeld, “indeed, even princesses, not half naked, collared slaves.”
“I want neither,” said Hrothgar.
“And you will have neither!” exclaimed Viviana.
“I trust, dear brother,” said Ingeld, “you will reconsider your position on this issue.”
“No,” said Hrothgar.
“It is the wish of the king, our father,” said Ingeld.
“It is not my wish,” said Hrothgar.
“Then,” said Ingeld, “explain your reluctance to our father. Proceed, displease him! And remember Ortog!”
“Very well,” growled Hrothgar. “I will marry one or the other. What do such things matter?”
“Viviana is the eldest, and doubtless the most prestigious to wed, but Alacida, I speculate, would most likely be the first to bear a son.”
“You gentlemen, in making your plans,” said Viviana, coldly, “forget one thing. Neither my sister nor myself will consent to such an infamy. We are adamant. We would as soon espouse filchen as such as you, rude, gross barbarian lords.”