“Our warriors did well,” said the man.
“Yes, Master,” said Ina.
“I trust the brigands from Treve bagged little or nothing.”
“Let us hope so, Master,” said Ina.
Ellen was certain that the raiders had captured at least one free woman, as she had seen her helpless in the grasp of a tarn’s talons. This was not to take account of the fate of the Lady Temesne, for her abductor had been a spurned suitor from Brundisium. The Lady Temesne, who had regarded herself as too fine to accept his suit, might this very night be at his feet, begging to please. But she might be sold in favor of Laura. But then Ellen did not know. The Lady Temesne did have pretty legs. It might be noted that the guard had paid little explicit attention to the slaves involved in these transactions, though he had kept track, noting that five slaves had been taken from Treve recently. One does, in that sense, one supposes, count or “keep score,” as one might do with kaiila or tharlarion. The free woman is in theory priceless. Thus she is not comparable with the female slave. As she is priceless, there is a sense in which even thousands of female slaves would not be as valuable as one free woman. On the other hand, reality often embarrasses argument, and it must be admitted that a single female slave, particularly if trained, is often preferred to dozens of free women. But men are that way, she supposed. Ellen did not know what her own value was. It would depend of course, on conditions in the market, and what men were willing to pay. That was an odd, but charming, in its way, thought, that she would now, in a sense, literally for the first time in her life, have value. It is interesting, this sort of thing, she thought. At one moment a woman is free and priceless, and then, in another moment, suddenly, she becomes a very practical, tangible commodity, something very real and very factual, something with a specific value, like any other piece of merchandise. In this sense a woman is without specific or actual value until she becomes a slave; it is then that she acquires specific or actual value. To be sure, these considerations are based largely on legal fictions, for, in fact, free women do have tangible values, the higher born being valued better than the lower born, the upper castes over the lower castes, the more intelligent over the less intelligent, the more beautiful over the less beautiful, and so on. To be sure the slave block commonly introduces a radical common denominator. Stripped of all conventional and social dignities and merits, as well as of their clothing, bereft of all artificialities, what is for sale there is, generally, assuming that there is nothing special about the item, that it is not the daughter of a Ubar, or the daughter of one’s worst enemy, or such, is the intelligence, sensitivity, beauty and personness of the item herself.
It would not be known for a day or two presumably how the Trevean raiders had fared within the city.
Ellen was curious as to her market value, and the thought that she must now have one charmed her. That gave an entirely new dimension to her self-concept. She, earlier, being free, had never had such a value. Now she knew she had one, whatever it might be. She knew that girls were often very vain, about the prices they would bring, and such. She thought that that was silly, but she hoped that she would bring a good price, and, certainly, one superior to that which might have been garnered by Nelsa. But she did not fear that her master would sell her. It thrilled her, of course, to know that he had this power, and that he had this power made her feel so much more a slave, but she was certain he would never choose to exercise it. I am sure he loves me, thought Ellen. Or, at least, that he wants me. Surely he thought that my “flanks were of interest.” I love him!
“Where is Ellen, the slave of Mirus?” asked the guard.
“There,” said Ina. And something about her tone of voice suggested that she had pointed Ellen out.
Ellen looked up a little, and saw the bootlike sandals of the guard before her.
“You are Ellen, the slave of Mirus?”
“Yes, Master,” said Ellen, head down, to the surface of the roof.
“Why did you not identify yourself?” he asked.
“I was frightened,” said Ellen. “Forgive me, Master.”
“You should speak up, instantly,” he said.
“Yes, Master. Forgive me, Master.”
The guard turned to his left. “What is your name?” he asked.
“Ina,” said Ina.
“You are first girl on the roof,” he said. “The work-master can arrange matters differently later, as he might please.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Master!” she said.
“Yes?” he said.
“I can keep the guardroom tidy and clean, and make the beds. I can bring food and drink to the guards, and other pleasures,” she said.
One of the other girls made a scarcely suppressed angry noise.
There was a silence, and Ellen gathered that the guard might be looking at Ina. It was difficult to tell, as one’s head was down.
Ellen supposed that Ina wanted out of the laundry, and that she did not relish taking Nelsa’s place as the favorite, or one of the favorites, of the work-master. She was, as we have noted, blond-haired and blue-eyed, and Gart, it seemed, preferred putting such slaves to his pleasures. Certainly she could not blame Ina on either score, though she, like several of the other girls, was shocked by Ina’s boldness, and her apparent audacity in seizing this opportunity to shamelessly prostrate her slave beauty before the guard. On the other hand, there might be much more to it. Doubtless, in being addressed, and such, she had lifted her head, and met his eyes. Doubtless something had passed between them. Perhaps she saw in his eyes that he was a fitting master for her and he, looking into her eyes, saw that she was a fitting slave for him, indeed, perhaps even a very special and vulnerable slave for him. Eccentricities and subjectivities, seeming anomalies, often enter into such matters. In such cases a man may bid all his resources, his wealth, his possessions, his life, anything, to obtain she whom he sees at his feet as his own perfect slave.
“Perhaps,” said the guard. “First girl,” he said.
“Yes, Master!” said Ina, quickly.
“The slave Ellen,” said the guard, “is summoned into the presence of her Master, Mirus of Ar, to appear before him in the audience chamber at the eighteenth Ahn. Until supper she is to continue her work on the roof. Instructrices will call for her at the sixteenth Ahn, to bring her to the Chamber of Preparation. A guard in the Chamber of Preparation will have the key to remove the iron belt. In the Chamber of Preparation she is to be washed, combed and perfumed. She is to be presented brief-tunicked and back-braceleted.”
“Slave cosmetics, Master?” inquired Ina.
“None,” said the guard.
Ellen, her head down, trembled with joy.
“You are a pretty slave, Ina,” said the guard.
“Thank you, Master,” said Ina.
“You will see that the slave, Ellen, is ready for the instructrices at the sixteenth Ahn.”
“She will be ready, Master,” Ina assured him.
“The guardroom could use some tidying up,” he mused.
“Ina is well-versed in domestic tasks,” said Ina.
“And others, as well, I trust,” said the guard.
“Master must be the judge of such matters,” she said, shyly.
“I am Varcon,” he said. “My private quarters are on the seventh level.”
“Perhaps Master has a slave ring at the foot of his couch?”
“It is now empty,” he said.
“Might not Ina be privileged to wear a neck-chain there?” she asked.
“Bold slave,” he said.
“Needful slave,” she said.
“We shall see,” said he.
He then turned and went to the hatchlike opening, through which he descended.
“Rise up,” said Ina. “Continue your work.”