line of slaves approached. They, too, stopped at thecairn and settled to the ground: both groups stared with dull-eyedlack of interest and only the slave-masters showed any animation. Theother master stopped a good ten paces before he reached Ch'aka andwaved an evil looking stone hammer over his head.
"Hate you, Ch'aka!" he roared.
"Hate you, Fasimba!" boomed back the answer.
The exchange was as formal as a _pas de deux_ and just about aswarlike. Both men shook their weapons and shouted a few insults, thensettled down to a quiet conversation. Fasimba was garbed in the sametype of hideous and fear-inspiring outfit as Ch'aka, differing only inunimportant details. Instead of a conch, his head was encased in theskull of one of the amphibious _rosmaroj_, brightened up with someextra tusks and horns. The differences between the two men were allminor, and mostly a matter of decoration or variation of weapondesign. They were obviously slave masters and equals.
"Killed a _rosmaro_ today, second time in ten days," Ch'aka said.
"You got a good piece coast. Plenty _rosmaroj_. Where the two slavesyou owe me?"
"I owe you two slaves?"
"You owe me two slaves, don't play like stupid. I got the iron arrowsfor you from the D'zertanoj, one slave you paid with died. You stillowe other one."
"I got two slaves for you. I got two slaves more I pulled out of theocean."
"You got a good piece coast."
Ch'aka walked down his line of slaves until he came to the over-boldone he had half-crippled with a kick the day before. Pulling him tohis feet he booted him towards the other mob.
"Here's a good one," he said, delivering the goods with a last partingkick.
"Look skinny. Not too good."
"No, all muscles. Works hard. Doesn't eat much."
"You're a liar!"
"Hate you, Fasimba!"
"Hate you, Ch'aka! Where's the other one?"
"Got a good one. Stranger from the ocean. He can tell you funnystories, work hard."
Jason turned in time to avoid the full force of the kick, but it wasstill strong enough to knock him sprawling. Before he could get upCh'aka had clutched Mikah Samon by the arm and dragged him across theinvisible line to the other group of slaves. Fasimba stalked over toexamine him, prodding him with a spiked toe.
"Don't look good. Big hole on the head."
"He works hard," Ch'aka said. "Hole almost healed. He very strong."
"You give me new one if he dies?" Fasimba asked doubtfully.
"I'll give you. Hate you, Fasimba!"
"Hate you, Ch'aka."
The slave herds were prodded to their feet and moved back the way theyhad come, and Jason shouted after Ch'aka.
"Wait! Don't sell my friend. We work better together, you can get ridof someone else...."
The slaves gaped at this sudden outburst and Ch'aka wheeled raisinghis club.
"You shut up. You're a slave. You tell me once more to do what and Ikill you."
Jason shut up since it was very obvious that this was the only thinghe could do. He had a few qualms about Mikah's possible fate: if hesurvived the wound he was certainly not the type to bow to theinevitabilities of slave-holding life. Yet Jason had done his best tosave him and that was that. Now Jason would think about Jason for awhile.
* * * * *
They made a brief march before dark, apparently just until the otherslaves were out of sight, then stopped for the night. Jason settledhimself into the lee of a mound that broke the force of the wind a bitand unwrapped a piece of scorched meat he had salvaged from theearlier feast. It was tough and oily but far superior to the barelyedible _krenoj_ that made up the greater part of the native diet. Hechewed noisily on the bone and watched while one of the other slavessidled over towards him.
"Give me some your meat?" the slave asked in a whining voice, and onlywhen she talked did Jason realize that this was a girl; all the slaveswere alike in their matted hair and skin wrappings. He ripped off achunk of meat.
"Here. Sit down and eat it. What's your name?" In exchange for hisgenerosity he intended to get some information from his captiveaudience.
"Ijale." She tore at the meat, held tightly in one fist, while theindex finger of her free hand scratched for enemies in her tangledhair.
"Where do you come from? Did you always live here--like this?" How doyou ask a slave if she has always been a slave?
"Not here. I come from Bul'wajo first, then Fasimba, now I belong toCh'aka."
"What or who is Bul'wajo? Someone like our boss Ch'aka?" She nodded,gnawing at the meat. "And the D'zertanoj that Fasimba gets his arrowsfrom--who are they?"
"You don't know much," she said, finishing the meat and licking thegrease from her fingers.
"I know enough to have meat when you don't have any--so don't abuse myhospitality. Who are the D'zertanoj?"
"Everyone knows who they are." She shrugged with incomprehension andlooked for a soft spot in the sand to sit down. "They live in thedesert. They go around in _caroj_. They stink. They have many nicethings. One of them gave me my best thing. If I show it to you, youwon't take it?"
"No, I won't touch it. But I would like to see anything they havemade. Here, here's some more meat. Now let me see your best thing."
Ijale rooted in her skins for a hidden pocket and dragged outsomething that she concealed in her clenched fist. She held it outproudly and opened it and there was enough light left for Jason tomake out the rough form of a red glass bead.
"Isn't this so very nice?" she asked.
"Very nice," Jason agreed, and for an instant felt a touch of realsorrow when he looked at the pathetic bauble. This girl's ancestorshad come to this planet in spaceships with a knowledge of the mostadvanced sciences. Cut off, their children had degenerated into this,barely conscious slaves, who could pride a worthless piece of glassabove all things.
"I like you. I'll show you my best thing again."
"I like you, too. Good night."
V
Ijale stayed near Jason the next day, and took the next station inline when the endless _krenoj_ hunt began. Whenever it was possible hequestioned her and before noon had extracted all of her meagerknowledge of affairs beyond the barren coastal plain where they lived.The ocean was a mystery that produced edible animals, fish and anoccasional human corpse. Ships could be seen from time to timeoffshore but nothing was known about them. On the other flank theterritory was bounded by desert even more inhospitable than the one inwhich they scratched out their existence, a waste of lifeless sand,habitable only by the D'zertanoj and their mysterious _caroj_. Theselast could be animals--or mechanical transportation of some kind,either was possible from Ijale's vague description. Ocean, coast anddesert, these made up all of her world and she could conceive ofnothing that might exist beyond.
Jason knew there was more, the crossbow was proof enough of that, andhe had every intention of finding out where it came from. In order todo that he was going to have to change his slave status when theproper time came. He was developing a certain facility in dodgingCh'aka's heavy boot, the work was never hard and there was ample food.Being a slave left him with no responsibilities other than obeyingorders and he had ample opportunity to discover what he could aboutthis planet, so that when he finally did leave he would be as wellprepared as was possible.
Later in the day another column of marching slaves was sighted in thedistance, on a course paralleling their own, and Jason expected arepeat performance of the previous day's meeting. He was agreeablysurprised that it was not. The sight of the others threw Ch'aka intoan immediate rage that sent his slaves rushing for safety in alldirections. By leaping into the air, howling with anger and beatinghis club against his thick leather armor he managed to work himselfinto quite a state before starting off on a slogging run. Jason,followed close behind him, greatly interested by this new turn ofaffairs. Ahead of them the other slaves scattered and from their midstburst another armed and armored figure. They churned towards eachother at top speed and Jason hop
ed for a shattering crash when theymet. However they slowed before they hit and began circling eachother, spitting curses.
"Hate you, M'shika!"
"Hate you, Ch'aka!"
The words were the same, but shouted with fierce meaning, with notouch of formality this time.
"Kill you, M'shika! You coming again on my part of the ground withyour carrion-meat slaves!"
"You lie, Ch'aka--this ground mine from way back."
"I kill you way back!"
Ch'aka leaped in as he screamed the words and swung a roundhouse blowwith his club that
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