"Of course,” said Corinna.
"But then he would not respect me,” said the brunette.
"Perhaps that is what he is looking for,” said Corinna.
"From an Earth girl?” asked the brunette.
"Why not?” said Corinna.
"My master does not desire me,” said the brunette.
"Do not be absurd,” said Corinna. “What woman can be desired, as a slave is desired?"
"I would be pleased to find myself of interest to my master, and would be grateful, and pleased, to be desired,” said the brunette.
"I am sure you are desired,” said Corinna.
"I want to yield, and yield,” said the brunette. “I want to yield so, and as no free woman, being free, could possibly yield, and how could I yield thusly, save to one who was my master?"
"You could not,” said Corinna, “nor could any woman. You must understand what it is for you to be owned, truly owned. The slave must yield with absolute fullness, and without reservation, to he who is her master. She is choiceless; she has no choice but to yield as she must, wholly, helplessly, and without reservation. No woman can yield with the fullness of the ravished slave to one who is not her master."
"Teach me to be a slave!” begged the brunette.
"You are a slave,” said Corinna. “Be what you are."
"I do not know how,” said the brunette.
"I am not sure you know you are a slave,” said Corinna.
"I am a slave,” said the brunette. “I want to be a good slave!"
"I am sure you are a good slave,” said Corinna.
"My master does not desire me,” she said. “He has chained me to a post!"
"Wait until tomorrow night,” said Corinna.
"I do not understand,” said the brunette.
"We will be returning to the habitats,” said Corinna, “and will be leaving the day after tomorrow, in the morning."
"I do not understand,” said the brunette.
"Tomorrow night,” said Corinna, “will be the last night in the camp, at least for some time."
"I do not understand,” said the brunette.
"There will be a feast tomorrow night,” said Corinna. “And do you think you will not be serving at that feast?"
"As a slave serves?"
"Of course,” said Corinna.
* * * *
It may be recalled that some days ago Lord Grendel, well in advance of certain human allies, arrived at the forest camp.
Whereas Cabot, as a human, had shortly found himself in immoderate difficulties with the Kur, Flavion, adept with a great Kur ax, Flavion, himself, found himself at a severe disadvantage when unexpectedly confronted with Lord Grendel, who was much larger than Flavion, much stronger, was similarly armed, and was a champion, who had earned several arena rings.
Whereas it might be conjectured that Flavion would have defended himself with vigor, even in so desperate a situation, the fact was that he flung down his ax, turned about, and lurched to the gate of the compound, the gate which, as we recall, he had securely latched, and fastened, in such a way that it might not be easily opened by Cabot, should Cabot have sought to avail himself of it, attempting to exit from the compound. The same precaution to which Flavion had had recourse, to ensure Cabot some inconvenience in leaving the compound, militated against his own rapid departure. He had torn away some of the fastenings when Lord Grendel's ax, flung with considerable swiftness and accuracy, struck him in the back, rather parallel to the spine, on the left side. Lord Grendel had won one of the agons of the ax in one of the festival games, splitting a post, at a distance of some fifteen Kur paces, which would correspond, approximately, to some twenty human paces. Following this cast Lord Grendel dragged Flavion, who was still alive, as Kurii are robust and tenacious of life, by his lamed, left leg, through the dust back to the center of the compound, where he turned him to his back, and looked down upon him. He then, with two blows of the ax, smote away the left foot and the right foot of Flavion, and then jerked him upward, that the two bloody stumps would be placed in the dirt, where the flow of blood might be slowed, if not staunched. The dust was like red mud, the stumps partly sunk into it. “Remember the arsenal,” said Lord Grendel. Lord Grendel then flung Flavion down, again, on his back, and stepped on his left forearm to hold the arm in place, and then smote away the left hand of Flavion, and then, similarly treated the right hand. “Remember the treachery contemplated at the Vale of Destruction,” said Lord Grendel.
Flavion lay in the dust, flopping and screaming.
"Finish him!” cried Cabot, in horror. “For the sake of Priest-Kings, finish him!"
Lord Grendel seemed transformed into something alien and terrible. “What are Priest-Kings to me?” he asked.
Flavion was piteously begging to be slain, but Lord Grendel put aside his reddened ax, and put his large, fanged mouth close to the left ear of Flavion. Cabot's translator barely registered what was said. “Remember the Lady Bina,” Lord Grendel had whispered to the fallen, shuddering Kur, and then he had straightened up, and backed away, and lifted his head to the far ceiling of the world and howled, as a primeval Kur might have howled, a cry of rage, of hatred, of victory, and satisfaction.
Cabot backed away.
Flavion managed to turn himself to his stomach and began to crawl on the bloody stumps, leaving prints and tracks of blood in the dust, toward the gate, but could approach it no more closely than some four or five yards.
As the Kur is robust and tenacious of life, it took Flavion several Ehn to die. He spoke much, though doubtless incoherently, but Cabot did not know what he said, for he had, long ago, turned off his translator.
Lord Grendel later cut off the head, and then sacked the body, and its parts, and dragged them into the forest, where he emptied them, for the feeding of birds, and small animals.
Ramar, the great sleen, investigated the remains, but did not feed.
It is probable that he recognized them as belonging to one who had once been a member of the camp, and was thus to be allowed to pass, unmolested.
Chapter, the Seventy-Ninth:
THE LITANY;
CECILY BETTER LEARNS HER COLLAR,
AT THE DISCIPLINE POST;
THE FEAST;
CECILY DANCES;
SOME ACCOUNT OF WHAT LATER OCCURRED
BETWEEN A MASTER AND HIS SLAVE
"Kneel,” said Cabot, “there."
"Yes,” Master,” said the brunette slave, and knelt before him.
"Now,” he said, “you are kneeling, before a man."
"Yes, Master."
"Is it appropriate?"
"Yes, Master."
"Why?
"Because I am a woman, Master."
"And what else?"
"A slave, Master."
"Keep your knees together,” he said, “closely."
"Yes, Master,” she said, and pressed her knees together, closely.
"What is your name?"
"Cecily,” she said, “—if it pleases Master."
"And what name would you like?"
"Whatever name Master wishes,” she said.
"You are Cecily,” he said.
"I am Cecily,” she said. “Thank you, Master."
"I believe,” he said, “you received some training in the pleasure cylinder."
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"There are many litanies of servitude,” he said. “I believe you were taught one of these in the pleasure cylinder."
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"We will now recite it,” he said.
"Yes, Master,” she whispered.
As Cabot noted, there are many such litanies, or exchanges of questions and responses, or such. On the assumption that the reader might be curious as to the litany used in this particular instance, it went as follows:
Q: What is that on your neck?