"You are going to bind me?"
"Yes."
"But I am from Earth!"
"No longer,” he said.
She must stand so, for a time, waiting, for he removed the strings of rubies from his pouch, and freed the rubies from their cords, and deposited them in his pouch, and then, with one of the cords, not returned to the pouch, he fastened her wrists behind her.
"Where are the coins won from Peisistratus?” he asked.
"He took them,” she said.
"Turn about,” he said, “and precede me."
He then gave her a thrust, to hurry her before him. She stumbled, and then caught her balance. “Har-ta!” he said. “Har-ta!"
She hurried forward.
He gave her another thrust.
"This is for show, is it not?” she asked.
"No,” he said.
"You think I am a slave?"
"I know you are a slave,” he said.
She gasped.
He then took her by the hair, and turned her about, to face him. He looked into her eyes, fiercely.
She was clearly frightened.
"You are hurting me,” she said. “Oh!"
"Shall I call you Miss Pym?” he asked.
"You may call me whatever you wish,” she said, frightened.
"Why?” he demanded.
"Because I am a slave,” she whispered.
"Do not forget it."
"No,” she said, frightened.
He wished that the boys and young men she had known on Earth could see her now. They would derive much pleasure at seeing her as she was now, and should be, as a slave.
"You have,” said he, “as of now, a general permission to speak, rescindable at my pleasure, but I suggest you use that permission with discretion."
She was silent.
"Do you understand?” he asked.
His grip tightened.
"Yes!” she said. “Yes!"
"Is that how you address a free man?” he inquired.
"No!” she said. “No—Master! Master!"
She shuddered, and then he released her hair, and turned her about, again. Unbidden, she put her head down.
"What?” he asked.
"Nothing,” she said. “Nothing!” She seemed piteous, shaken, open, emotionally revealed.
Cabot steeled himself against pity.
Cabot recognized the moment as important to her, a door opened, a barrier crossed, a secret confessed.
"You said something,” he said. “What was it?"
"It is not important,” she said. “It was nothing, nothing!"
"Perhaps it was an utterance of defiance, of rebellion, or protest?"
"No, Master!” she said.
"Or perhaps the merest breath of a possible reluctance, the smallest suggestion of a mere hesitation in your desperate concern to be prompt and pleasing in all ways?"
"No, no,” she said. “No, Master!"
"Speak!” he snapped.
"Please, no!” she begged.
"Speak!"
"No, please no! Have mercy!"
"Do you wish to be lashed?"
"No, no!” she said.
"Speak,” he said.
"I said,” she whispered, softly, frightened, “I—I love calling men ‘Master'."
"That is because you are a slave,” said Cabot.
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"Too, it is fitting,” said Cabot, “that you call them Master, for they are your masters."
"Yes, Master,” she said.
He saw that she inadvertently trembled with emotion, with pleasure.
Interesting, he thought, how women can find themselves only in bondage.
"Say now,” said Cabot, “'I am a slave.’”
He was merciless, you see. But then such are masters.
"I am a slave,” she said.
"Louder,” he said, “more clearly."
"I am a slave!” she cried.
Again he noted her reaction, one which shook her body, suffusing it with significance and heat, with sudden emotion and pleasure.
"Say now,” he said, “'I am a natural slave, and should be a slave, and am a slave.’”
"I am a natural slave,” she said, “ and should be a slave, and am a slave."
"It is true,” he said.
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"Again,” he snapped—"'I am a slave.’”
"I am a slave,” she said.
"It is true."
"Yes, Master."
"You are charged and pleased, and suffused with desire,” said Cabot.
"Yes, Master!” she breathed, pulling a little at her bound wrists.
"In such simple ways,” said Cabot, “is your womanhood spoken."
"Yes, Master,” she whispered.
"Forward!” he said, pushing her ahead of him.
"Yes, Master!” she cried.
"Hurry!” said Cabot. “To the shuttle lock, that appertaining to the Pleasure Cylinder.
"We do not know the codes!"
"Some will know them,” said Cabot. “There must be frequent comings and goings."
"I dare not go there, Master!” she wept. “I was cast out. They may kill me!"
Cabot thrust her rudely forward, again, roughly, without consideration. She was a slave. One may handle a slave so. They expect it. And it is appropriate for them. They are not free women.
"Hurry!” he said, angrily.
"Yes, Master!” she wept.
"Har-ta!” said he. “Har-ta!"
"Yes, Master,” she wept. “Yes, Master!"
Chapter, the Twenty-Sixth:
A SLAVE WILL BE PUT IN A COLLAR, AS IS APPROPRIATE
"Why have you brought this slut back?” asked Peisistratus.
"Kneel, slave,” said Cabot to the girl. “Head down, to the floor."
"You have coins of mine,” said Cabot.
"Fetch the coins,” said Peisistratus to a burly lieutenant.
"You betrayed me,” said Cabot.
"They came for you,” said Peisistratus. “One of the translators of a monitor was set for English. Such translators are rare. I did not realize one was in the cylinder. It was clear in our conversation, to me, and to the monitors, that you would frustrate the will of Agamemnon, a will unwise to frustrate. If we betrayed you, it was simply in not contesting your removal from the cylinder, at the risk of our own destruction."
"I have considered my hands on your throat,” said Cabot.
"You could kill me, swiftly, I have no doubt,” said Peisistratus. “Those of your caste, as those of the Assassins, are skilled in such things. But would you do it here, now, and die under the blows of my men, a moment later? I see no considerable advance in either of our fortunes from such a precipitance."
"It has occurred to me that you may be of use to me,” said Cabot.
"You are aware that you are hunted in the world?"
"I conjectured as much."
"I am of use primarily to myself,” said Peisistratus.
"Hitherto, perhaps,” said Cabot.
"I do not understand."
"You know of the departure of the fleet,” said Cabot.
"Certainly,” said Peisistratus.
"Fewer Kurii are now in the world,” said Cabot.
"Yes."
"I was freed from breeding shackles by Grendel, whom you know,” said Cabot. “With me, freed as well, was she who was once the blonde pet of Arcesilaus, later the pet of Grendel."
"I know her,” said Peisistratus. “Perhaps three tarsks."
"She is with Grendel, who is being sought, for the murder of a guard, and perhaps for freeing prisoners from breeding shackles."
"He is dangerous,” said Peisistratus, “particularly where that little blonde animal is concerned."
"True,” said Cabot. “We saw him in the arena."
"You shared the shackles with the blonde?"
"Briefly."
"And Grendel did not rip out your throat?"
"I fear the thought had crossed his mind,” said Cabot, “but of greater interest to you, and one of the reasons I have sought you out, other than perhaps to kill you, is to inform you that the little blonde animal, as you think of her, and appropriately in my view, overheard him utter seditious remarks, involving a conspiracy of rebellion, implicating himself, Lord Arcesilaus, and you."