She looked at me, startled. Such an amount, one might expect to have been brought by the preferred pleasure slave of a Ubar.
"Had I thousand times more," exclaimed Marcus, "I would have given it all to you!"
She looked at him, frightened. It is one thing to go for a silver tarsk, or such, and quite another for a hundred pieces of gold. She knew, of course, something of the worth of women in the markets. She knew that she was not, for example, a trained slave, a high slave, a politically sensitive slave, the shackled daughter of a Ubar being publicly sold in the city of her father's conquerors, or such. Indeed, she was only a new slave. She probably did not even know the hundred kisses.
Marcus then put his hands on her ankles, preparing to separate them. "Prepare to be used, beautiful slave," he said.
"What are you going to name her?" I asked.
"What was her name when she was a free woman?" asked Marcus. "'Tullia', 'Publia'?"
"No," I said.
"'Fulvia'?"
"No," I said. "'Phoebe'."
Suddenly Marcus closed the slave's ankles. He held them so tightly that she whimpered.
"I do not like that name," he said.
"It is an exquisite name," I said.
"I do not like it," he said. His voice was cold and hard.
The girl was frightened. She, of course, did not understand this change in him.
"Surely you have known women in Ar," I said, "whose name was 'Phoebe'?"
"It is a Cosian name," he snarled.
"But surely you knew, or knew of, women with that name?"
"Yes," he said.
"And is it not a pretty name?" I asked.
"I suppose, as a name, it is lovely," he said.
"Yes," I said. "It is a beautiful name."
"Can she speak?" he asked.
"I am surprised you care," I said.
"Where are you from, slave?" he asked. "Are you from Teletus, Asperiche, Tabor?"
"No, Master," she said. "I am not from Teletus, or Asperiche, or Tabor."
"Where are you from?" he snarled. She whimpered, his grip was so tight on her.
"Cos," she said. "From Telnus."
"Impossible!" he said. "We obtained you here, near Brundisium! Brundisium is an ally of Cos. Cosian women would not be sold here!"
"She is from Cos," I assured him.
"No!" he cried out in rage, springing to his feet. "No! No!" he howled. "No! No! No!"
He had, I assumed, surmised the likelihood of this possibility as soon as she had opened her mouth. Her accent was clearly Cosian.
"She came into my keeping at the Crooked Tarn, on the Viktel Aria," I said, "and was in the vicinity of Ar's Station at the time of its fall. She was with Ephialtes, and others, moving westward along the river, with the Cosian expeditionary force. Eventually, in the keeping of Ephialtes, she came here, into the vicinity of Brundisium. As for Cosian women, do not be naive. There are doubtless many here in bondage. They change hands as easily as others."
"How could you do this to me?" he cried. "Is this some mad, cruel joke?"
"Do not be angry," I said.
"She is Cosian!" he cried. "Cosian!"
"A moment ago," I said, "you seemed much pleased with her."
He suddenly kicked her and she recoiled, whimpering, pulling up her legs, making herself small. She was now terrified, looking up at him whose property she was, he who owned her.
"Cosian!" he cried.
She whimpered.
He then spun and faced me. "I hate Cos," he cried, "and all things Cosian!"
"Do not be angry," I said.
He suddenly drew his sword and stood over the girl, who, on her side, her hands bound behind her, looked up at him, fearfully. He raised the sword and she put down her head, her eyes closed, her teeth gritted. I did not think that he would strike her. He did not. He then spun to face me. "Sleen!" he cried. I did not think he would strike me. He did not. Angrily, he thrust the blade into the sheath. Then, oddly, he wept, bitterly.
The girl struggled to her knees. She regarded him, her body partly bent over, looking up at him.
"I should kill her," said Marcus.
"Why?" I asked.
"She is an enemy," he said.
"No," I said, "she is only an animal, a slave."
"May I speak, Master?" asked the girl.
"Yes," I said, as Marcus would not respond to her. This permission may be given by any free person and is effective, unless it is overruled by the true master.
"I will try to serve well, and be pleasing to my master," she said.
He looked down at her, in hatred, and she lowered her head.
"I should kill you," he said.
She was silent, trembling.
"At that rate," I said, "you would not be likely to rise rapidly in the ranks of the merchants."
He looked at me.
"You just paid one hundred pieces of gold for her," I reminded him. Indeed, it was primarily for this reason that I had so willingly accepted the gold. I did not think that Marcus, of course, would kill, or even really wish to kill, the girl. He might, however, knowing him, think that he should think about such things. Therefore, I had seen fit to give him an economic reason, as a sop to his rationality, for dismissing such thoughts. For example, to fling the object of so considerable an investment to sleen would be economically suspect, to say the least.
"True," he said.
"Certainly it is true," I said.
"She is worthless," he said.
"Actually," I said, "she went for a hundred pieces of gold."
He laughed bitterly.
"If you want," I said, "I will return your gold to you. I will buy her back."
He looked at the girl thoughtfully.
"Well?" I said.
"No," he said.
I smiled.
The girl looked up.
He then stood over her, and I was then frightened for her, for I had never seen him like this.
"You are an animal," he told her, "and a slave."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"And you are also a Cosian," he said.
"I am an animal and slave," she said. "I no longer have citizenship."
"But you are from Cos," he said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"And in that sense you are Cosian," he said.
"As Master will have it," she said.
"And you are my enemy," he said.
"No, Master," she said.
"You are my enemy!" he said.
"I am a slave girl," she said. "I am not permitted to lie. I am not your enemy."
"You will be treated as my enemy," he said.
"As Master wishes," she said.
"I hate Cos," he said, "and all things Cosian."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"And in the sense that you are from Cos, you are Cosian," he said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"I hate you," he said.
"Yes, Master," she said, tears in her eyes.
"And accordingly," he said, coldly, "you will be treated as an animal and a slave, and a Cosian, and as my enemy."
"It is fitting that I be treated as an animal and a slave, Master," she said, "for that is what I am, but is it fitting that I should be treated, too, now, as a Cosian, and as your enemy?"
"You will be so treated," he said.
"Yes, Master," she wept.
He then cuffed her savagely, in his hatred, and fury, striking her to her side in the dirt.
She looked up at him, wildly in fear, and he pounced on her, and, seizing her by the hair, pulled her up to her knees, facing away from him, and pushed her head down to the dirt. He then, ruthlessly, her small hands twisting in their bonds behind her back, put her to his pleasure.
"I am yours, Master!" she wept. "Do with me as you will!"
He cried out like a larl, in fury.
"Oh, yes, Master," she wept. "Oh, yes, Master!"
Exquisitely helpless, and in his power, I s
aw that she was his, fully.
In a moment he had done with her. She was gasping, and regarding him with awe. He spurned her to the side, with his foot, and turned to regard me.
"She is a pretty thing," I said.
"You may use her, of course," he said, "any time you wish."
"Thank you," I said. "It is rare that the use of a hundred-gold-piece girl is handed about so freely."
"You tricked me," he said. "You did not tell me she was a slut from Cos."
"You did not ask me," I said.
"You are a poor slave," he said to Phoebe.
"I will try to be more pleasing to my master," she said.
"I should give you to a tharlarion keeper," he said.
"As Master pleases," she said.
"I should sell you for a tarsk bit!" he said.
"As Master pleases," she whispered.
"In neither of those ways," I said, "will you make money."
"Oh, have no fear," he said, "I will keep her—at least for a time."
"In order to recoup your investment fully," I said, "I take it that that would be for at least a few Ahn."
He turned to face me.
"Sorry," I said.
"Is your sense of humor typical in Port Kar?" he asked.
"I have never really thought about it," I said. "Some of us, of course, are jolly fellows, at least upon occasion." To be sure the general reputation of Port Kar was that of a den of thieves, a lair of cutthroats and pirates. On the other hand, there was now a Home Stone in the city. Some folks might not even know that.
"If you want," I said, renewing my offer, "I will buy her back."
"No," he said.
I did not think, of course, that he would accept my offer. Had I thought he would have accepted it, I would not have made it.
She looked up at him from where she now lay in the dirt, near our small fire.
I supposed I might use Phoebe once in a while, when my needs were much upon me, as she was a convenience, and a slave, but I suspected I should save her mostly for Marcus. He was glaring down at her, she helpless at his feet. I smiled to myself. I did not think, truly, he was eager to share her, however much he might profess to despise her.
"On your belly, slave," said Marcus.
She rolled to her belly.
He considered her curves and the slave's vulnerability of her.
She trembled.
With his foot, then, he turned her again to her back, and she looked up at him.
"Yes," he said, musingly, "you are not unattractive."
She was silent, frightened.
"It is not hard to see how a man might desire you," he said.
Her lower lip trembled. She was helpless.
"Yes," he said, "the collar is pretty on you, and the brand. You make a pretty slave, female of Cos."
She looked up at him, terrified.
"I think I shall keep you," he said.
"It is my hope that I will prove pleasing," she whispered.
"Oh, you will be pleasing," he assured her.
"Yes, Master," she whispered, frightened.
"Do you know, slave," asked he of the prostrate girl at his feet, "why I shall choose to keep you?"
"It is my hope," she said, "that you will keep me because you find me of interest."
"I find you of interest, yes," he said.
"Thank you, Master," she said.
"I hate you," he said.
"Master?" she asked.
"Do you think I keep you because of the gold?" he asked.
"I do not know, Master," she said.
"No," he said. "I do not keep you because of the gold. I am of the scarlet caste. I am of the Warriors. I could cast the gold away, as a gesture."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"To me it is meaningless."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Why then should I keep you?" he asked.
"Perhaps for my utilities as a slave, Master?"
"You need not fear," said he, "that your utilities as a slave will be overlooked."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"But you must be aware," he said, "that such utilities, in a generic sense, may be purchased easily and cheaply, anywhere."
"Of course, Master," she said, tears springing to her eyes.
"Why then should I keep you?" he asked.
"I do not know, Master," she said.
"You are from Cos," he said.
"Master?" she asked.
"That is why I shall keep you," he said. "You shall remind me of Cos. You shall stand for Cos. You will be proxy for Cos. It will be as though Cos herself, beautiful and helpless, were in my power, at my mercy. On her then, through you, who are Cosian, I may vent my hatred and fury."
The slave shuddered.
"Some small part of what Cos owes," he said, menacingly, "you will pay."
"As Master wishes," she whispered.
"Do you think your life with me will be easy?" he asked.
"No, Master!" she said.
"Have we a slave whip in the camp?" he asked me.
"No," I said.
He put aside his shoulder belt, with the sheath and blade, and removed his tunic belt, slipping the pouch and knife sheath from it.
"On your knees, slut of Cos," said he.
She struggled to her knees.
He doubled the belt, and regarded the slave.
"What are you going to call her?" I asked.
"What was her name, again, as a free woman?" he asked.
"'Phoebe'," I said. I had no doubt he recalled it well, perhaps too well.
"That will do," he said. "It will amuse me that she will wear that name now—as a slave name."
"Excellent," I said.
"You are Phoebe," he said to her. "Who are you?"
"Phoebe, Master," she said.
"Kiss the belt," he said.
She quickly kissed the belt. Too, then, as he held it there a moment, she kissed it again, more lingeringly, and then licked it, and then looked up at him.
He then went behind her and she bent over, her head to the dirt, fearing the belt.
He put the belt down, on a pack, and, crouching beside her, touched her at the waist.
"Ohh," she said softly.
I had seldom seen a female so responsive, at least initially, to the touch of a man. I had no doubt that Marcus was very special to this beautiful young slave, in a way over which she had little or no control. This response on her part seemed to infuriate him. "Sly slave," he snarled.
She sobbed.
Marcus seized the belt and stood behind her, angrily. The belt, doubled, swung menacingly, back and forth. She trembled, head down. Then, angrily, he returned to where he had discarded the pouch and knife sheath, replaced them on the belt, and replaced the belt about his waist. He then, angry still, slung his sword belt and sheath over his left shoulder.
"It is dark," he said.
"Yes," I said. I did not think we should dally in the camp. To be sure, I did not expect that Octantius or his men would be back quickly, and, in any event, it would take them time to reorganize and secure arms. Too, as the mercenaries might still be about or be thought to be about, and the gold was gone, I did not think that we would have much to fear, at least immediately, from that quarter. On the other hand, it would be well to move out with expedition.
Marcus went to the side, to secure some of his gear.
Our first treks would be at night, and we would, at least in this vicinity, avoid roads, paths, waterways, agricultural areas, villages, communities, and such. We would move with something of the stealth and secrecy which we had utilized in the delta. Later, it would presumably be safe to frequent more civilized areas. Indeed, in time I expected we could travel with impunity, as vagabonds, toward Ar, presumably even on the Viktel Aria, during daylight hours. I did not think there would be much danger of being recognized. The girl with us, of course, would neither be she who had been Ina nor remind anyone of her. Also, even if we were recognized, I
did not think that anyone would find us of particular interest in ourselves. Even torturers, I supposed, might be satisfied with the information that we had given the girl to a mercenary, Edgar of Tarnwald, and he, by that time, would presumably have slipped away, unnoticed, and presumably under new names. The slave which had been delivered to him, too, presumably would by then be in some locale unbeknownst to him, and might have changed hands several times.
Marcus left the camp to fill the water bag.
Phoebe looked at me, frightened.
"You may speak," I said.
"I love him," she said. "I want to serve him. Why does he hate me?"
"He does not hate you," I said.
She looked at me, startled.
In a few moments Marcus had returned. He had also brought with him a light slave yoke, presumably purchased somewhere, perhaps from the stake attendant.
He then, with great roughness, freeing her tightly bound wrists from behind her back, fastened Phoebe, she gasping, wincing, in the yoke.
"You are yoked, slut of Cos," he said, examining his handiwork.
"Yes, Master!" she said, happily.
He then, in anger, fastened portions of our gear to her back, and to the yoke, thus transforming her into a lovely beast of burden. The yoke itself was not heavy, but its weight, together with the weight of the gear, and such, was not negligible for one such as Phoebe. She would carry weight and know it.
"Will it be necessary to put you on a leash?" he asked.
"No, my Master," she said.
I picked up the tiny garment which had been Ina's, retrieved from the slave camp, from where she had thrust it between slave cages, in her flight.
I shook it out, that Phoebe could see that it was a skimpy, one-piece slave tunic.
She looked at it eagerly, hopefully. It would be very precious to her, even such a small thing as it was. I had saved it, of course, for her.
"This," I said, "I shall place in one of the packs, in case of need." There was no question of permitting her to wear it now, of course, given Marcus's anger. He would want her to serve now, stripped. Too, he had already yoked her.
"No," said Marcus.
"No?" I asked.
"There will be no need for it," he said. "If I choose to clothe her I will do so in a way that befits her, in a way that will make clear that she is the lowest and most despicable of slaves, in such a way that she will know herself more naked than naked."
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