by John Norman
“Even after being struck, she was reluctant,” said Rurik.
“Apparently she thinks little enough of her life,” said Otto.
“She obeyed quickly enough when I cast upon her my frown,” said Rurik. “Slaves are not to dally or be disobedient. Such is cause for discipline.”
“The torture of the lascivious slave girl,” said Otto, “is most effective when the slave hates the man, and relishes her control over him, and how she may force him to writhe, yield, and explode at her pleasure, as though it were he in a collar, and not she.”
“It is effective only when she has Masters behind her, to support and protect her,” said Rurik, “for she is, and remains, only a woman and a slave.”
“I would not be the slave who falls into the power of the man whom she so enjoyed abusing,” said Otto.
“Cornhair’s heart was not in her work,” said Rurik.
“Of course not,” said Otto. “You are her Master. She knows it is she, and not you, who are to be controlled, grasped, owned, mastered, handled, caressed, and put to pleasure.”
“That reminds me,” said Rurik. “The slave was slow to obey the command of a free man. That is cause for discipline.”
“The horses, the horses,” whispered Farrix. “Free me!”
Rurik then seized the hair of the kneeling slave, and yanked up her bowed head. “You were slow to obey the command of a free man,” he said.
“Forgive me, Master,” she said.
He then cuffed her, sharply, twice.
“Thank you, Master,” she said, went to her belly, and pressed her lips to his boot.
“She knows you are pleased with her,” said Otto. “She is very pleased.”
“I do not understand what is going on,” said a merchant. “I understand this is staged, that it is an entertainment, and all, but I do not understand the entertainment. Should this supine gentleman and the others not now free themselves, somehow, of the ropes, or be rescued, or such?”
“I trust the ropes are not truly tied,” said another.
“I think there is danger,” said another.
“Dismiss the thought,” said Otto.
“Horses are dangerous,” said another.
“Surely you cannot mean these,” said Otto. “Surely you cannot suppose that we might risk these nice fellows. Surely these beasts are as gentle, mild, and sweetly tempered as they are large.”
“Of course,” said a merchant.
“That is obvious,” said another.
“Where is the food?” asked another.
Otto then knelt near Farrix and, with a knife, taken from a guard who would not be likely to miss it for some time, the very fellow dragged within the hall of Ingeld, cut one of the ropes which bound Farrix to the harness of one of the horses.
“Do not speak loudly or quickly,” said Farrix.
Otto then severed a second rope.
“You will never escape,” said Farrix.
“Perhaps not,” said Otto. “But I have seen to it that the ship is in readiness.”
“You will never reach the ship,” said Farrix.
“The camp guard is uninformed,” said Otto. “They know nothing of what has transpired here.”
“There is no way in which you can reach the ship,” said Farrix.
“Perhaps not,” said Otto. “But what if there was a distraction, if a crowd was alarmingly disbanded, if many men, perhaps two hundred, with retainers, domicile slaves, and such, were rushing about, here and there, many in confusion, perhaps in panic.”
“But they are not,” said Farrix.
Otto then severed the third rope, and stood up.
This left one rope in place, that on the left ankle of Farrix.
“Cut the last rope,” said Farrix.
Otto looked down upon him, and smiled.
“No!” cried Farrix.
Otto’s sudden cry startled not only the horses but all those about him. The four horses sped away, in the four directions. But they met little or no resistance. It was not as they expected; it was not even like drawing a plow through Lion grass, or tearing a way through the vinelike Malik growth, or drawing the stump of the Farn tree from the earth. There was no exertion, no digging in, and then the tearing, and then the breaking free. Three of the horses, the ropes dangling behind them, raced away, unencumbered, plunging through the crowd, buffeting bodies aside like bundles of robed straw, and the fourth, too, raced way, scarcely less unencumbered, dragging its tethered burden, rolling and tumbling, by an ankle, plowing its own fresh, broad furrow through the surprised, festive thong. There was much crying out, screaming, and protesting. Soon the awareness that loose, hastening, uncontrolled beasts were abroad reached to the very edges of the crowd, which began to scatter.
“To the ships, to the ships!” cried Otto.
The horses themselves were doubtless confused. Two, beyond the crowd, turned about and, to the consternation of many, milling about, proceeded to make their way back to the point of their departure, that to which their harness managers had always returned them. The other two, including that which was conveying Farrix about, once clear of the crowd, unmanaged and undriven, perhaps unnerved or frightened by the many bodies about, the cries, the fluttering robes, began to race about, through the compound.
“Seek safety in the ships!” cried Otto.
Certainly several of those about heeded this recommendation, which was soon, voice by voice, broadcast throughout the compound, rather as Otto had anticipated.
At this point, Otto, Julian, Tuvo Ausonius, and Rurik joined the many merchants, retainers, and domicile slaves bent on reaching the ships, Cornhair, bound, the leash dangling from the leash collar, hurrying behind them.
In the ships there was indeed safety, rather as behind the safety wall in an arena, where bulls and torodonts are hunted.
The advice which Otto had offered to the multitude, it seems, had been sound, and, certainly, happily, it had been well received.
Before boarding, from the boarding ladder leading to the second hatchway, Otto paused and looked back.
The compound was now nearly deserted, save for some soldiers and grooms. Three of the horses were quiet, some men about them. One of the horses was being unharnessed. The fourth horse was more unruly, or skittish, perhaps because of its unforeseen impediment, perhaps not fully understood, an object attached to it by a rope. The horse moved about, skittishly. In a bit, three grooms had managed to turn it about, and close with it, and seize its harnessing. They freed it of its burden, which tried to rise to its feet, stood unsteadily for a moment, and then collapsed into the arms of a groom.
Otto then entered the ship, and the hatch was closed behind him.
Shortly thereafter, about the time several of the merchants, and their fellows, the danger, it seems, now past, were preparing to leave their ships and return to the compound, one ship, to the surprise of many, departed, leaving behind it the fields and forests of lovely Tenguthaxichai.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
“I had hoped,” said Iaachus, “that you might have been successful, that you might have located and, somehow, rescued the princesses.”
“Our conjecture,” said Julian, “was correct. The princesses were being held on Tenguthaxichai. Unfortunately they were removed before we could make contact with them, let alone attempt their rescue.”
“Now all is lost,” said Iaachus.
“How so?” asked Julian.
“The exarch planned well,” said Iaachus. “It seems that once certain ascertainments were made, rumors were spread that the princesses were on holiday, visiting and sightseeing on various worlds, imperial worlds and some others, others well disposed to the imperium. On this holiday it is claimed they met, were wooed by, and succumbed to the charms of, two mighty princes, both Drisriaks, the Drisriaks being a tribe of the A
atii, or, as they will have it, the Alemanni. This event is being heralded as an ostensible fortuity, in which, by more subtle minds, might be seen the hand of the great god, Karch, one fraught with joyous consequences for a future of peace, order, love, justice, and harmony. Currently the princesses and their swains are the guests of the exarch, while preparations are underway to celebrate the forthcoming nuptials.”
“Preparations?” said Otto.
“Certainly,” said Iaachus. “This is not some simple affair where the bride, clad in scarlet and garlanded, to music and torches, to the intoning of wedding hymns, is led by relatives and friends to the house of the groom. The entire city must be prepared. Avenues must be washed. Buildings on the route of the procession must be repainted. Bunting must be strung, ribbons and banners obtained, and arranged, windows and doors adorned, flowers imported from Inez IV. Musicians must be organized. Ambassadors, officials, and dignitaries must be invited and housed. Consider the catering alone required to feed more than four thousand guests.”
“Surely that will take time,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Certainly,” said Iaachus, “but the exarch has that time.”
“Let us,” said Rurik, “strike, seize the princesses, and return them to the palace.”
“That is not practical,” said Iaachus. “To transgress the perimeter of holy precincts would be understood as desecration. Who would risk the outrage of hopeful, deluded millions throughout the empire? Even those who are not Floonians would be aghast. Rebellion would be invited, riots, vandalism. Who dares cheat populations of their anticipated spectacles and holidays?”
“We can act, and justify things later,” said Rurik. “It is often done. It is common statecraft. Too, one can always promise, and provide, new spectacles and holidays, preferably celebrated at the same time, or nearly so, so that populations need not wait. People are not pleased to be cheated of their holidays.”
“Things are not so simple, my noble friend,” said Iaachus. “The army is divided. Corruption is rampant. Amongst high officers there flow dark currents of ambition. Indeed, some suspect our dear friend, Julian.”
“And perhaps one such is the Arbiter of Protocol?” said Julian.
“Perhaps,” said Iaachus.
“Surely our forces are overwhelmingly loyal,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Yes,” said Iaachus, “but to whom? To what leader, to what general, to what minister?”
“There might be a thousand loyalties,” said Otto.
“As a barbarian you are well aware of that,” said Iaachus.
“Not all barbarians,” said Julian, “dress in skins, carry axes, and wear necklaces of pierced claws.”
“Intrigues can occur even within the palace,” said Iaachus.
“The seeds of ambition grow well in the soil of power,” said Julian.
“Who can one trust?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.
“We do not even trust one another,” said Iaachus.
“Surely the palace itself is secure,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Less secure than the farthest outpost,” said Iaachus. “Both the father and the grandfather of the emperor were slain within the palace, in one coup, or plot, or another.”
“How dreadful for the emperor,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“The emperor is not even aware of it,” said Iaachus. “The emperor is aware of very little.”
“You, dear Ottonius, have seen the emperor,” said Julian. “Surely you have something to say.”
“No,” said Otto.
“It is madness,” said Julian. “The empire is in peril, and on the throne we find a child, a retarded, drooling boy, terrified of insects, enraptured by the simplest of toys.”
“The empress mother wields power,” said Iaachus.
“A timid, confused, vain old woman,” said Julian.
“Beware you do not speak treason,” said Iaachus.
“So truth is treason?” said Julian.
“Frequently,” said Iaachus.
“I cannot believe the senate will ratify the projected marriages,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“It will ratify what it is told to ratify,” said Iaachus. “What senator wishes to be the recipient, by means of the royal post, of an imperial dagger?”
“Might it not take a stand?” said Otto.
“The exarch has planned even for that,” said Iaachus. “The senate will be proclaimed to be irrelevant in such matters. It has to do with the alleged superiority of the koos to the fist, or something. The solemnization of marriages, their dissolution and such, is supposed to require, and be invalid without, the officiation of suitable ministrants, interestingly, those of the exarch’s particular faith. They wish to seize power over all forms of life. Indeed, the exarch, again in virtue of the supposed superiority of the koos to the fist, will claim the exclusive right to crown emperors, without which act the coronation will be accounted illegitimate.
“So,” said Julian, “the crown will be bought and sold, and the merchant will be the high ministrant, the Exarch of Telnar.”
“Precisely,” said Iaachus. “All is lost.”
Otto reached within his cloak, and pulled forth an object. With a rattle of chain and metal, the object was flung upon the desk of Iaachus.
“What is that?” asked the Arbiter of Protocol.
“It is an artifact, a medallion and chain,” said Julian. “It was obtained by Ottonius, on Tenguthaxichai, from the hall of Ingeld, the Drisriak, one of the princes involved in the projected marriages.”
“So?” said Iaachus.
“We believe it to be the medallion and chain stolen from the festung of Sim Giadini on Tangara, delivered to Ingeld, most likely by some agent of the Exarch of Telnar.”
“I recall we spoke of such a thing, a medallion and chain, long ago,” said Iaachus.
“It is a symbol of the Vandal nation,” said Julian. “It can rally the tribes of that nation to unity. The empire, united with the Vandal nation, could turn back the Alemanni. It was delivered to Ingeld, of the Drisriaks, that he might rise to unexampled barbarian power, uniting both the Alemanni and Vandals against the empire. To prevent this I had duplicates smithed and distributed to a hundred worlds. Who would then know the true medallion and chain? This stratagem confounded Ingeld’s plan.”
“You suspect, I gather,” said Iaachus, “that this object before me, the first of its kind I have seen, is the true medallion and chain?”
“We think so,” said Julian, “as it was found in the hall of Ingeld.”
“I see it as worthless,” said Iaachus, “indeed, worthless by your own hand, for who, after your plentiful distribution of surrogates, could attest its authenticity?”
“I have explained that to Ottonius,” said Julian.
“Still,” said Otto, “I would not have it housed in the hall of a Drisriak.”
“Surely,” said Rurik, “there must be some who could tell the true artifact from its duplicates.”
“Many years ago, as I understand it,” said Julian, “a Herul delivered it to the festung, but I know little of him other than his name, Hunlaki. It was all long ago. Too, Heruls seldom live long lives, as younger Heruls frequently kill them for their wagons, their horses, and weapons. Too, even if he should be alive, we do not know his camp, nor would he be likely to remember the object with fidelity. Too, it is dangerous to approach Heruls.”
“You say, a Herul?” said Iaachus.
“Yes,” said Julian. “Why?”
“Nothing,” said Iaachus.
“What of the guardian of the artifact?” asked Rurik. “He must have lived with it for years.”
“He is dead,” said Julian.
“How so?” asked Rurik.
“He was an Emanationist brother,” said Julian. “The festung was attacked, and demolished.”
“It was don
e by imperial cruisers, to eliminate a nest of heretics, according to the empress mother,” said Iaachus.
“And perhaps to cover a theft as well,” said Julian.
“The brother perished in the destruction of the festung?” asked Rurik.
“Yes,” said Julian.
“If this brother should have survived, and could recognize the genuine artifact,” said Iaachus, “why would anyone take him seriously?”
“Otungs would take him seriously,” said Otto. “He was of the high, remote, glorious, and holy festung of Sim Giadini, which had stood for a thousand years, commanding the heights of the Barrionuevo Range. This is known in the forests of the Otungs, and on both sides of the Lothar. It is known on the Plains of Barrionuevo, and amongst even the Heruls, on what they call the Flats of Tung. Even in the provincial capital, Venitzia, the festung is known. And the trustworthiness, the truthfulness, the honesty, the holiness of the brothers is legendary.”
“What was the name of this brother,” asked Iaachus, “he who was the guardian of this artifact, of the medallion and chain?”
“Brother Benjamin,” said Julian.
“He is in Telnar,” said Iaachus.
“Take me to him!” said Otto.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
“So,” said Iaachus, “the great day has come.”
“All is in readiness,” said Julian.
“I would things were otherwise,” said Otto. “Better to be hunting on Varna, riding on Vellmer.”
“What will become of Sesella, Gerune, Renata, Flora, if we fail?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.
“Little,” said Iaachus, “they are women, and marked. New collars, new chains, new selling platforms, new Masters to serve and please.”
Elena, at the serving table in the office of Iaachus, trembled, and her hands shook on the decanter, the kana a small, golden storm in the vessel.
“Be careful, girl,” said Rurik. “If you spill the wine, you will be whipped.”
“Forgive me, Master,” whispered Elena.
“Do not concern yourself, noble Rurik,” said Iaachus. “She is my property. Her skin is mine. She is mine to discipline as I might please.”