"May I?" I asked. I pointed to a bucket of water nearby. used in tempering.
"Surely," said the metal worker.
I threw the cold water over the girl who, shuddering and sputtering, pulled back in the branding rack.
She looked at me, frightened. But her eyes were now clear. She twisted, wincing. She could now feel the pain of the whipping which she had endured. She sobbed. But she was no longer numb, or in shock. She was now a fully conscious slave, ready for her branding.
"The iron is ready," said the metal worker. It was a beautiful iron, and white hot.
Ulafi threw the metal worker a copper tarsk. "My friend here," said Ulafi, indicating me, "will use the iron."
I looked at him. He smiled. "You are of the metal workers, are you not?" he asked.
"Perhaps," I smiled. He had told me earlier that I was not of the metal workers.
"We are ready to sail," said Ulafi's first officer, who had come to report.
"Good," said Ulafi.
I donned leather gloves and took the iron from the metal worker, who cheerfully surrendered it. He assumed I was, because of my garb, of his caste.
Ulafi watched me, to see what I would do.
I held the iron before the girl, that she might see it. She shrank back. "No, no," she whimpered. "Please don't touch me with it."
The girl is commonly shown the iron, that she may understand its might, its heat and meaning.
"Please, no!" she cried.
I looked upon her. I did not then think of her as an agent of Kurii. I saw her only as a beautiful woman, fit for the brand.
She tried, unsuccessfully, to struggle. She could move her wrists, her upper body and feet somewhat, but she could not move her thighs, at all. They were, because of the construction of the branding rack, held perfectly immobile. They would await the kiss of the iron.
"Please, no," she whimpered.
Then I branded her.
"An excellent mark," said Ulafi.
While she still sobbed and screamed the metal worker freed her wrists of the clamps. Ulafi put her immediately in slave bracelets, braceleting her hands behind her, that she not tear at the brand. The metal worker then freed her thighs of the rack, and she sank, sobbing, to her knees. He freed her ankles of the shackles which had held them at the circular, metal platform. Ulafi then, pushing her head down, fastened the sturdy, steel shipping collar on her throat, snapping it shut behind the back of her neck. It had five palms on it, and the sign of Schendi, the shackle and scimitar.
"Put her in the cage and load her," said Ulafi.
The girl was then taken, braceleted, and thrust into the tiny slave cage, which was then locked shut. She knelt, sobbing, in the cage. The two sailors then lifted the cage on its poles, and, kneeling, she was lifted within it. I looked at her. I saw in her eyes that she had begun to suspect what it might mean to be a slave girl.
She was carried to the ship.
I did not think she would now escape. I thought now she could be used easily to help locate Shaba, the geographer of Anango, the equatorial explorer. In my sea bag were the notes for him, made out to bankers of Schendi. In my sea bag, too, was the false ring, which the girl had carried.
"I am grateful to you for having apprehended the slave," said Ulafi to me.
"It was nothing," I said.
"You also marked her superbly," he said. "Doubtless, in time, she will grow quite proud of that brand."
I shrugged.
"Captain," said I.
"Yes," said he.
"I would still like to book passage with you to Schendi," I said.
He smiled. "You are welcome to do so," he said.
"Thank you," I said.
"It will cost you a silver tarsk," he said.
"Oh," I said.
He shrugged. "I am a merchant," he explained.
I gave him a silver tarsk, and he turned about and went down to the ship.
"I wish you well," I said to the metal worker.
"I wish you well," said he to me. I was pleased that I had branded women before.
I wondered how much Ulafi knew.
I then left the shop of the metal worker.
Outside I saw the guardsman unchaining the girl who had been the she-urt, Sasi. Her hands were now bound before her body, and she already had his strap on her throat.
"You did not sell her?" I asked.
"Who would want a she-urt?" he asked. "I am going to take her now to the public shelves."
Looking at me the small, lovely, dark-haired girl drew back.
"What do you want for her?" I asked.
"It cost a copper tarsk to brand her," he said.
I looked at her. She looked at me, and trembled, and shook her head, negatively.
I threw him a copper tarsk.
"She is yours," he said.
He took his strap off her throat, and unbound her hands.
"Submit," I told her.
She knelt before me, back on her heels, arms extended, head down, between her arms, wrists crossed, as though for binding.
"I submit to you, Master," she said.
I tied her hands together; she then lowered her bound wrists; I pulled up her head. I held before her an opened collar, withdrawn from my sea bag. I had had one prepared.
"Can you read?" I asked her.
"No, Master," she said.
"It says," I said, "'I am the girl of Tarl of Teletus."
"Yes, Master," she said.
I then collared her. I had thought that some wench, probably one to be purchased in Schendi, would have been a useful addition to my disguise, as an aid in establishing and confirming my pretended identity as a metal worker from the island of Teletus. This little wench though, now locked in my collar, I thought would serve the purpose well. There was no particular reason to wait to Schendi before buying a girl. Besides, the collar on her might help to convince Ulafi, who seemed to me a clever and suspicious man, that, whatever I might be, I was a reasonably straightforward and honest fellow. I traveled with a girl who wore a name collar.
"Are there papers on her?" I asked the guardsman.
"No," said the guardsman. Most Gorean slaves do not have papers. The brand and collar are deemed sufficient.
I pulled the little slave to her feet, and pointed out the Palms of Schendi.
"Do you see that ship?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Run there as fast as your little legs will carry you," I said. "And tell them to cage you."
"Yes, Master," she said, and ran, sobbing, toward the ship.
I then shouldered my sea bag and followed her. A moment after I had trod the gangplank, it was drawn up. The railing was shut and fastened.
A sailor thrust the small dark-haired slave into a small cage, and snapped shut the padlock, securing it. It was next to another cage, that which contained the blond barbarian. The dark-haired girl looked at her, startled. "You!" she said. The blond girl drew back, as she could, in her cage. "Kajira!" hissed the dark-haired girl, angrily, at her. It was the blond who had taken her garment as she had lain trussed with Turgus of Port Kar, while awaiting the arrival of the guardsmen who would take them into custody. There were tears in the eyes of the blond girl. She pulled with her wrists against the bracelets which held her hands behind her. Then she looked angrily at the dark-haired girl. "Kajira!" she said to her, angrily.
Mooring ropes were cast off.
Sailors, at the port rail, with three poles, thrust the Palms of Schendi away from the dock. Canvas fell from the long, sloping yards.
The two helmsmen were at their rudders.
The first officer directed the crew. The captain. Ulafi of Schendi, stood upon the stem castle.
"Ready," called the second officer.
Ten sailors, on a side, slid oars outboard.
"Stroke," called the second officer, he acting as oar master.
The long oars dipped into Thassa and rose, dripping, from the greenish sea. The vessel moved slowly outward, into wider waters. A breeze from the east, over Port Kar, swelled the sails. They lifted and billowed.
"Oars inboard!" called the second officer.
The helmsman guided the ship to the right of the line of white and red buoys.
I watched Port Kar, its low buildings, fall behind. The sky was very blue.