“I advise it,” he said, “for soon you must awaken, and there will be much work for you to do.”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
He then, with a length of chain, fastened her ankle to a nearby ring, one at the foot of the atrium pool, and withdrew.
She lay in the darkness, on the tiles, on the chain, trying to grasp the transformation which had taken place in her life. “Such sensations,” she thought. “Such feelings! I did not know such things could exist!” She shook her chains, a tiny bit. “I am a slave,” she thought.
Chapter Eighteen
“Please forgive the lateness of the hour, dear Timon,” said Sidonicus, exarch of Telnar, to his guest, Timon Safarius Rhodius, of the Telnar Rhodii, primarius of the senate, “but I thought it well to be discreet. I trust that you, and our dear friend, Orontius, your esteemed envoy to the palace, came to our humble quarters, here in the rectory, as suggested, well shielded in closed, nondescript palanquins?”
“We did,” said Safarius.
“Separately, by circuitous routes, alert to possible surveillance?” said Sidonicus.
“Yes,” said Orontius, leaning forward on the plush couch.
“The streets were muchly deserted?” speculated Sidonicus.
“We had guards,” Safarius reassured the exarch.
“Perhaps,” said Sidonicus, toying with the golden replica of a burning rack on its gold chain slung about his neck, over the swollen purple robes, “you are curious as to the reason for my requesting the honor of your presence here, at so unseemly and lonely an hour.”
“We are confident,” said Timon Safarius Rhodius, “it concerns the well-being of the city and empire, and is thoroughly compatible with the sweet and gentle teachings of your holy prophet, the beloved Ogg, Floon.”
“Clearly,” said Sidonicus, “these are dark and terrible times.”
“And most regrettably,” said Safarius, “many are unaware of the fact, but, naively and contentedly, prosperously and happily, pursue their own affairs, as though all was well.”
“The state does little to interfere with life,” said Orontius, “and the people do as they please.”
“And think they are thriving,” said Safarius.
“There is a barbarian on the throne,” said Sidonicus, “the senate is ignored, and the state has not, as is its duty, imposed the one true religion on the empire, but, rather, allows false religions and heresies to go unchecked.”
“It is the error of tolerance and the crime of inaction,” said Safarius.
“Of what value is the sword of the state if it does not shed the blood of the iniquitous?” said Sidonicus.
“Perhaps your god, Karch, who is reportedly omnipotent and omniscient, if interested, might remedy matters,” said Safarius.
“Then you need do nothing,” said Orontius.
“Yet I have called this meeting,” said Sidonicus.
“Karch has overlooked the matter?” asked Safarius.
“Surely men may do the work of Karch, and should,” said Sidonicus.
“And the exarch of Telnar may be depended on to know the work, and will, of Karch,” said Safarius.
“Infallibility has its privileges, as well as its burdens,” said Sidonicus.
“I am not a scholar in the simplicities, ambiguities, and obscurities, of Floonianism,” said Safarius, “but I do not recall Floon having said anything about infallibility.”
“It is implicit in the fact that, as there is one true god and one true religion,” said Sidonicus, “there must be one true authority to clarify doctrine and belief.”
“I know little about religions, of which there are a great many,” said Orontius, “but, politically, that is a sensible, and desirable, arrangement, one army, one supreme general, and so on.”
“Many assumptions are involved, of course,” said Timon Safarius Rhodius, the senate’s primarius, “for example, that one or more gods exist, that they are certain sorts of gods, have particular attributes, that they have any interest whatsoever in men, that they have a religion, that they are interested in its propagation, that they are unable or unwilling, for some reason, to establish beliefs by themselves, that a particular religion is not only the right one but only one of its many variations is the right variation, and that someone, such as the exarch, who, fortunately, happens to be of that particular variation, will be preserved from error, should be listened to, and so on.”
“Precisely,” said Sidonicus.
“You have not, of course,” said Safarius, “invited us here this evening to convert us to your particular views.”
“True,” said Sidonicus. “I am aware that skepticism, denial, uncertainty, and confusion exist, that to some minds the clear truths of faith are less obvious than to others.”
“Possibly,” said Safarius, “because the clear truths of thousands of faiths, faiths often resolutely and fervently held, contradict one another.”
“As you have suspected,” said Sidonicus, “we are not gathered here to discuss the subtleties of holy things, but matters more mundane.”
“Proceed,” said Safarius.
“The senate,” said Sidonicus, “celebrated the accession of Otto, the Usurper, even urged some days of holiday.”
“We deemed it preferable to our extermination,” said Safarius.
“But,” said Sidonicus, “we can profit from your very embarrassment and defeat.”
“How so?” asked Safarius.
“The sitting proclaimed concord between the palace and the senate,” said Sidonicus. “It made the senate appear to be an ardent supporter of the current regime. Surely, politically, the palace will be interested in maintaining that appearance.”
“I begin to see,” said Safarius, primarius of the senate.
“Continue,” said Orontius, envoy to the palace.
“The Usurper,” said Sidonicus, “is not easily accessible. It would not be easy to serve him the dram of poison, to bring him within the compass of the assassin’s dagger. He hides within the palace, cowering, not daring to show himself in public, lest the outraged citizenry rise up and tear him to pieces.”
“To the best of my knowledge,” said Orontius, “he does not venture outside the palace, perhaps for fear of assassination, but I would dismiss your spies, as it seems they are telling you what you wish to hear, not what passes in the taverns, streets, and markets of Telnar. The citizenry, for the most part, give little, if any, thought to either the palace or senate. Indeed, benightedly perhaps, for the most part, they prefer to live their own lives and be left alone, particularly by the state.”
“What if,” said Sidonicus, softly, “the senate were to invite the emperor to attend a sitting, perhaps even to preside over a sitting?”
“Or,” said Safarius, “to be the recipient of certain distinctions and honors?”
“He could not refuse so gracious and generous a request,” said Sidonicus, “not without jeopardizing the supposed harmony betwixt himself and the senate. He attends. He is then out of the palace, exposed and vulnerable. Some patriots, disguised in senatorial robes, enter the chamber. A dozen knives strike. The patriots rush from the chamber, brandishing bloody knives and proclaiming liberation. Has this act not been performed in a dozen places at a dozen times? The patriots are then whisked away by suddenly appearing hoverers. The senate itself, of course, is dismayed and horrified, and innocent.”
“You will supply the patriots?” said Orontius.
“Of course,” said Sidonicus.
“We,” said Safarius, “will attend to the other arrangements.”
“Excellent,” said Sidonicus.
“How,” asked Orontius, “do you reconcile such a deed, so clever and treacherous, with the teachings of Floon?”
“We do not, nor need we do so,” said Sidonicus, “as the temple, like the sen
ate, knows nothing of such matters.”
“The temple is as shocked, and appalled, as the senate,” said Safarius.
“Of course,” said Sidonicus.
Chapter Nineteen
“Can you see, beyond the lamps?” asked Elena.
“Not well,” said Cornhair.
Elena peered out, across the large, round, half-darkened, low-ceilinged room, with its many tables, served by floor slaves. Perhaps a third of the tables were occupied. There was a rustle of conversation, the gentle susurration of small noises commonly associated with the partakings of small collations, and such.
“Why are the lamps placed as they are?” asked Pig, squinting her eyes.
“That we be illuminated, you fool,” said Cornhair.
“I cannot close the tunic,” said Pig, her remark accompanied by a small sound of chain. Her hands were fastened high over her head.
“Wriggle a little,” suggested Cornhair.
The three slaves, and the other slaves, as well, all fastened to the same overhead display bar, had been placed in inspection tunics. Such tunics, falling nicely and loosely, attractively, about the body of the slave, from her shoulders to her knees, lack a frontal closure. Accordingly they may be easily parted, as is intended by their design, to provide an unobstructed view of the garment’s occupant.
“I wish I could lower my arms,” said Elena.
“You need not have come,” said Cornhair.
“Your master was unwilling that you be involved in this,” said Pig.
“You petitioned him earnestly,” said Cornhair.
“It was important to me,” said Elena. “I did not want to be left out, to be an exception, to be privileged. I wanted to serve, as others.”
“Perhaps now you have thought the better of it,” said Cornhair.
“No,” said Elena, “but my arms are sore.”
“I trust you shaved your armpits,” said Cornhair, irritably.
“Of course,” said Elena, “as we all do. Men like smooth slaves, silken, caressable slaves.”
“Why did your master object?” asked Cornhair. “There is little danger here. Guards, incognito, are about; we are watched.”
“He was reluctant to see me so displayed,” said Elena.
“What does it matter?” asked Cornhair. “You are a slave.”
“He wants to keep me to himself,” said Elena.
“My Master,” said Cornhair, “has no such reservations.”
“That is because you were a Calasalii bitch,” said Pig.
“And you were a low-class slut with social pretensions,” said Cornhair.
“The Telnar Darsai,” said Pig, “are not lower-class. They are honestori.”
“The pretentious lesser honestori,” said Cornhair. “They do not begin to compare with the Larial Calasalii.”
“I am sorry,” said Pig, “I treated you badly when I owned you.”
“You were cruel, stupid, vindictive, and vengeful,” said Cornhair.
“I did not realize I would one day be put in a collar,” said Pig.
“Nor,” said Cornhair, “that my master, Rurik, would inform your master, Titus Gelinus, of the nature of our former relationship, and then that Titus Gelinus would bind you, hand and foot, throw you naked to my feet, and furnish me with a switch.”
“You well had your vengeance,” said Pig.
“You abused me for weeks,” said Cornhair.
“Please do not beat me further,” said Pig. “The switch hurts, terribly.”
“I am well aware of that,” said Cornhair. “Do not think I do not remember your switch. I remember it quite well.”
“Forgive me,” said Pig.
“We shall see,” said Cornhair.
“Do not squabble,” said Elena. “The masters might not be pleased. You are now both slaves, only slaves. Be careful that you are not both lashed.”
“I do not like this,” said Pig, “standing here, under the lamps, so clad.” She twisted her body a little, to try to bring the dangling, parted edges of the inspection tunic more closely about her body. “They will take us for brothel slaves.”
“Let us hope so,” said Cornhair. “That is our disguise.”
“Do you see those whom you hope to recognize?” Elena asked Cornhair, in a guarded whisper.
Two men had entered the reception area together.
“No,” said Cornhair.
It had been the speculation of Otto, and others, as it may be recalled, that Abrogastes, of the Drisriaks, was a captive in Telnar, quite possibly betrayed into the hands of enemies by three men, Phidias, once the captain of the freighter, Narcona, and two of his former officers, Corelius, and Lysis. This trio had been involved in the attempt to assassinate Otto on Tangara, and had, treasonously, silenced the defensive batteries of Telnar, enabling the daring raid of Abrogastes which had succeeded in abducting the princesses, Viviana and Alacida. It was the hope of Otto, Iaachus, Arbiter of Protocol, Julian, of the Aureliani, Rurik, the Tenth Consul of Larial VII, and their fellow, Tuvo Ausonius, that Phidias, Corelius, and Lysis, or at least one of them, might be in Telnar, and, if detected, might be utilized to discover the location of Abrogastes. Otto, and his colleagues, hoped to liberate Abrogastes, that he might frustrate the designs of Sidonicus and Ingeld, his second son. Ortog, the first son of Abrogastes, recently arrived in Telnar, enleaguing himself with Otto, and the others, was concerned, more simply, with the welfare of his father. The search for Abrogastes was, for political reasons, having largely to do with the power of Sidonicus in the empire, a secret search. It was hoped that the slave, Cornhair, who had been a co-conspirator with the treacherous trio in their attempt to assassinate Otto on Tangara, might recognize and identify one or more of them, following which it might be feasible, sooner or later, to locate and rescue Abrogastes. Needless to say, determining the location of Phidias, Corelius, or Lysis, who might be disguised, somewhere in the hundreds of districts in vast, rambling Telnar was a daunting task, one giving little promise of being brought to a successful conclusion. There was one clue, and it was on the grounds of this clue that Otto had decided to act. Phidias, Corelius, and Lysis, assuming that Cornhair had successfully employed the poisoned dagger on Tangara, had abandoned her to the mercies of Otungs and imperial soldiers. Naturally, they had assumed her dead, presumably following her capture and torture. On the other hand, following a series of events elsewhere recounted, she had, in a time of great unrest in the city, been put up for sale in an outlet of The House of Worlds, located on Varl Street in Telnar. She had been purchased by an unknown buyer who, by means of agents, planned to have her cast into one of Telnar’s vast, reeking carnariums, refuse pits located outside the city walls. The buyer was presumably one of the treacherous trio, or someone associated with them. As Cornhair had been a party to the plot to assassinate Otto, she might recognize and implicate them. It would then seem a matter of practical expediency to arrange for her elimination. Fortunately for the slave, however, shortly before she could be cast into the carnarium, the raiding fleet of Abrogastes, undeterred by defensive batteries, stormed out of the sky, doing landfall in the muchly deserted area of the carnariums. After the second of her would-be murderers was killed, the first having been earlier slain by his fellow, he unwilling to share gold, Cornhair was seized by raiders and carried to the palace, where Abrogastes, resistance in the city quelled, was soon to hold temporary court. When again he took ship he had had the princesses, Viviana and Alacida, with him, as his prisoners. It was shortly after that that Cornhair had fallen into the clutches of the Lady Gia Alexia, of the Telnar Darsai, a former, remote, scorned acquaintance. Otto had based his supposed clue on two factors. First, few but one of the treacherous trio, or someone associated with them, fearing much for their own lives, would consider disposing of a comely slave, presumably an object of value, in a carnarium. Second, it see
med of interest that, given the many markets in the city, and given the rioting and disruption in the city, that Cornhair had been discovered in this particular market. It was not a famous market, patronized by hundreds of regular customers, come from all points in the city. Its customers might then be supposed to be local, or likely to be local. Too, given the disruption in the city, presumably few at that time would wish to travel far from their own lodgings. This suggested the possibility that at least one of the treacherous trio might reside in the vicinity of the House-of-World’s outlet on Varl. Beyond this, the House-of-Worlds, besides their market on Varl, also maintained a well-known restaurant and brothel, also on Varl Street, “The Pleasure Palace,” one of more than a dozen such establishments, variously owned, in Telnar, which bore the same name. And thus it was, that the three slaves were placed as they were, on the display bar. The first of the three men, Phidias, Corelius, or Lysis, if recognized and identified by Cornhair, would be followed, discreetly, by Elena, freed of the bar; the second would be followed by Pig; and the third, if recognized, would be followed by Cornhair. Presumably a man who might be alert to being followed by a man would be less suspicious of a slave. To be sure, each of the slaves, would be followed, at a distance, by one or more armed servitors.
“A man approaches,” whispered Pig.
“Do not fear,” said Elena, “we all have yellow “hold tags” on our collars.”
The “hold tag” on a girl’s collar, with its number, indicates that the girl is reserved, and may not be removed from the display bar except by the fellow who has reserved her, who, of course, holds a correspondent tag, with its number.
“Oh!” said Pig, shrinking back, pulling at the chains over her head, fastening her to the display bar, as the sides of her inspection were parted, and lifted aside.
“Please, Master,” she whispered, “I am reserved for another.”
The sides of the garment were parted, more widely.
She turned her head to the side.
“For another,” she said.
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