I thought again of the two slave girls who had been hurrying past, doubtless to arrive home in time to prepare their masters' meals and then to be ready, bathed, perfumed and in a bit of silk, kneeling, to greet him. I began to get a bit uneasy then on my own account. This night, I knew, I was to be ordered to the chamber of my Mistress. I did not think she would be pleased if I were late in returning to the house. I would not relish being whipped again, though presumably it would not be with the snake, nor being perhaps confined for another day in close chains.
"May I speak, Master?" I asked.
"No," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said. I glanced at the water clock. It was now shortly after the fifteenth Ahn.
"Ah," said Turbus Veminius, as the Lady Kita, with her two guards, entered the shop.
"Is the perfume ready?" she asked.
Turbus Veminius handed her the vial. She removed the tiny cap and lifted it to her face, which was veiled. She in haled delicately through her nose. I saw the veil draw inward.
"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, horrified. "Surely this is slave perfume!"
"No," said Turbus Veminius, "but it, by design, resembles it."
"Surely you do not expect me to pay for this?" she asked.
"Only if you wish to, Lady Kita," he said.
Her eyes, over her veil, were angry.
"You wished a perfume, did you not," asked Turbus Veminius, "to distract your companion from his slave sluts, did you not?"
"Yes," she said.
"This perfume," said Turbus Veminius, "will remind him of what he has forgotten, that you are a woman."
She looked at him, her body rigid with rage.
"But it, in itself," he said, "will do little to improve your situation"
"I do not understand," she said.
"You are, I suspect," said Turbus Veminius, "a pretty little thing. If your companion bought you, naked and collared, in a market, he would doubtless prize you highly."
"Turbus!" she cried, angrily.
"But as his companion you are too much taken for granted," he said.
"It is true," she suddenly sobbed.
"If you would improve your situation somewhat," he said, "I recommend that you learn the arts of the slave girl, and practice them with diligence"
"That would only improve my situation somewhat?" she asked, puzzled.
"Yes," he said, "for you would still be free, and no free woman, because she is free, can truly compete for the attention and affection of a man as can a slave girl."
"Why?" she asked.
"I do not know," said Turbus Veminius. "Perhaps it is simply because the slave girl is a slave girl, truly, and is owned."
"What then am I to do?" she asked.
"You could risk slavery," he said, "expose yourself to possible capture, walk the high bridges at lonely Ahn, picnic in the country, go to paga taverns alone, take dangerous sea voyages."
"But what if I were caught, and enslaved?" she asked.
"You would then be a true slave girl," he said, "and would doubtless be taught, thoroughly, and more deeply and sensuously than you could ever hope to learn them as a free woman, for you would then be a slave, the arts of the female slave."
"But I might never again come into the possession of my former companion," she said.
"Presumably you would not," he said. "But presumably you would come into the possession of some man who truly wanted you, and who was willing to pay good money for you."
"I brought a large companion price to my companion," she said. "Perhaps he wanted that more than me."
"I do not know," said Turbus, shrugging.
"He did," she said, bitterly. "He did."
"Perhaps it would be just as well, then," said Turbus, sympathetically, "if you did not come again into his possession."
She put her head down.
"The girl who is bought off the block," said Turbus, "knows that it is she herself, and only herself, who is desired. Nothing else, you understand, is being sold, only the girl."
"Yes, Turbus," she said. "I understand."
"I will take back this perfume," he said. "Obviously you will not want it."
"No," she said, quickly, lifting her head. "I will take it."
"The price is high," he said, "a golden tarn disk."
"I will pay it," she said, giving him the coin from a small, beaded purse she held in her hand.
She turned to leave, but then, again, turned to face him.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Do you sell slave perfume, true slave perfume?" she asked.
"We do not sell perfume for slave sluts in the shop of Veminius," he said, sternly.
"Forgive me, Turbus," she said.
"Try the shop of the Steel Bracelets," he smiled. "It is near the house of Hassan, on the Street of Brands."
"Thank you, Turbus," she said. She turned again, to leave.
"And do not let them overcharge you," he called after her. "Five two-hort vials should cost you no more than a copper tarsk!"
"Yes, Turbus" she said. "Thank you. Turbus " She stopped in the doorwav, but did not turn to face him. "I wish you well, Turbus," she said.
"I, too, wish you well, Lady Kita," he said.
She looked up at one of the two large guards who stood beside her. Then she lowered her head. He was looking at her, with a curiosity and interest that must have been unsettling for her. She hurried then from the shop, followed by the guards.
Turbus Veminius looked at me.
"Approach, Slave," he snapped, "and lower your head."
I hurried to him, and put my head down. He took the loop of leather, with its tiny sack, from my head.
"You are Jason," he asked, "the slave of the Lady Florence of Vonda?" He was looking at the note, extracted from the sack.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Her perfume was ready yesterday," he said. He went to one of the cabinets. From the sack he took the coins. They were five silver tarsks. He put them in a drawer. He wrote something on the note, and then he put the note and the vial of perfume in the sack. I again put down my head and he put the sack, on its leather string, about my neck.
"Be careful with that perfume," he said. "It is expensive. It is a signature perfume"
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Is your Mistress beautiful?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Would she look well in a collar?" he asked.
"I am only a poor slave," I said. "How could I form an opinion on that?"
He looked at me, sternly.
"Yes, Master," I said. "She would look well in a collar."
"You are a big fellow," said he. "Have you ever been entered in the stable bouts?"
"No, Master," I said.
"It is growing late," he said. "Perhaps you should hurry home. Your Mistress, hot in her robes, will be wondering where you are."
I said nothing.
"Must I beat you from the shop with a whip?" he asked.
"No, Master," I said. I turned about.
"It seems a shame for a beautiful woman to waste her time with a silk slave," he said. "She should be crawling, collared, to the feet of a true man."
I said nothing.
"Run!" he said, suddenly. "Run, Slave!"
I ran from the shop.
Outside, almost immediately, I struck against two men. "Forgive me, Masters," I said. But my arms were then held, each arm by one of the men. "I did not mean to strike against you," I said. I was being pulled then along the street. The shadows were long. It was warm, and late in the afternoon. There were only a few people on the street. I saw that the two men who held me were the fellows in the brown tunics whom I had seen earlier. "I am sorry, Masters," I said. "Beat me, and let me go, please." I realized then they were pulling me toward an alley. My feet, bare, scraped on the flat stones of the street. My hands, tied behind me, as they had been while I had run the errands of this morning and the errand of this afternoon, fought the binding fiber. A passing Baker glanced at us. "What do you want of me?" I asked. I was dragged into the alley. "I am Jason, slave to the Lady Florence of Vonda," I said. "I cannot be he whom you seek. Look at my collar. Call a guardsman!" I was thrust along the alley. About fifty yards down the alley was a high-sided tharlarion wagon. It had a canvas cover. I was thrown brutally, back first, against a building near the wagon. My feet were half kicked out from under me. My own weight then half pinned me in place. I saw that these men were accustomed to handling slaves. "Who are you?" I asked. One of the men, from his tunic, drew forth a slave hood. "Who are you? What do you want?" I cried. Then the wadding connected with the hood was thrust into my mouth; in a moment, by buckled straps, fastened behind my neck, it was secured in place. One of the men then threw aside the cover on the wagon. Inside I saw a slave sack and, formed of wood, a small, stout, cord-bound, thick-barred slave cage. Such cages are quite adequate for bound slaves. The hood was then drawn over my head and, by straps, buckled shut under my chin. My feet were kicked then fully from under me. In a moment I felt myself being thrust, doubled up, in a heavy leather sack. My head was then thrust down. The sack was tied shut over my head. The two men then lifted me, helpless in the sack, and placed me in the slave cage. I heard its wooden gate slide down into place. The gate then would have been tied shut.