“You do not know who my master is?” she said.
“No,” said the connoisseur. “I know little more than the place to which we are to deliver you.”
“May I beg to know the place?” she asked.
“You will learn it in time,” he said.
“Please, please, Master,” she begged, weeping.
The connoisseur looked to the dealer, and to Emon and Rigg, and then shrugged. “Very well,” he said. He read off to her an address, and a world.
“But I do not know that place, or world!” she cried.
“Doubtless you will come to know it, at least for a time,” said the connoisseur, “for it is there that you will be delivered to your master.”
The pretty slave regarded the connoisseur, agonized. She put her hand, timidly, to the metal collar on her neck, a rather simple, plain collar, the collar of the house. It was all she wore, other than her brand.
“It is there,” said the connoisseur, “that you will kneel before your master, and present the flower to him, as you have been taught, the slave flower.”
“You will offer it to him humbly,” said Emon.
“And it will be his to pluck,” said Rigg.
“Masters!” cried the girl.
“Take her away,” said the connoisseur, signing one of the sheets on the clipboard.
She was pulled to her feet, and turned about.
She looked back over her shoulder, in misery and fear.
“Master!” she wept.
“You will be shipped this morning,” said the connoisseur.
She was conducted, weeping, from the room.
The connoisseur turned over a page from those on the clipboard.
“Next,” he said.
CHAPTER 18
“I am innocent!” she cried. “I am innocent!”
“Is she covered?” asked Tuvo Ausonius, alarmed, keeping his back turned to her.
“Yes,” said the officer.
Tuvo Ausonius turned about to see the girl, struggling, swathed in buckled canvas, from her thighs to her throat, forced down on her knees, on the street, outside the small apartment, with its door opening onto the street.
“You have the complaint?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.
“Yes,” said one of the officers.
“He!” cried the girl, squirming in the canvas, turning to face Tuvo Ausonius. “It was he, he! He was here!”
A small crowd had gathered.
“I only arrived from Miton this morning,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “I am of the honestori.”
“Yes, sir,” said the officer. “I believe the complaint is in order.”
“It is,” said the officer.
“I did not neglect to sign it, did I?” inquired Tuvo Ausonius.
“No, sir,” said the officer. “It is signed.”
“You have the warrant?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.
“Yes, and endorsed,” said the officer.
“Then everything is in order?”
“Yes,” said the officer.
“Down on your knees, bitch!” said the other officer, forcing the girl back down on her knees.
“This has been quite distressing,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“The apologies of the city,” said the officer.
“What is going on?” asked a man, joining the small throng.
“A prostitute, unlicensed,” said the officer to the man. “We caught her.”
“I am not a prostitute!” cried the girl.
The officer near her buckled a leash on her neck.
She looked up at him, wildly, leashed.
“I did not realize that this was a prostitution district,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “This is all very embarrassing.”
“Concern yourself no longer, sir,” said the officer. “The matter is done now.”
“I need not appear anywhere to testify?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.
“No, sir,” said the officer. “The matter is clear, and the complaint is sufficient.”
“I am not a prostitute!” cried the girl.
“How do you know she is a prostitute?” asked a man.
“Smell her!” laughed another.
“There are these, too,” said the officer. He held up, bunched in his hand, evidence, some jewelry, a scarlet halter, two rectangles of provocative scarlet silk, such things.
There was laughter from the men about.
“She claims to be a Sesella Gardener, a stewardess, from Wings Between Worlds,” said the officer in whose keeping was the leash.
“I am!” cried the girl.
“Doubtless she is,” said a man.
“But not for long!” said another.
The girl looked at the speaker, frightened.
Men laughed.
“Don’t you make enough money with Wings Between Worlds?” asked a man.
“It seems she wished to supplement her income,” chuckled a fellow.
“You should have bought a license, dearie,” said one of the women in the throng, in golden sandals, with a gown of purple silk.
“The city is particular about such matters,” said another woman.
“Too particular,” said another.
“It serves you right,” said another woman.
“We have to pay, and so should you, dearie,” said another.
“The nerve of the cheating little bitch,” said another.
“Now you will get what you deserve,” said another.
“Good, good!” said another woman.
“Cheat, cheat!” hissed another.
“I am not a prostitute,” she wept.
“How was she caught?” asked a man.
“This gentleman,” said the officer, “came to assume occupancy of the apartment and found her here, apparently having made unauthorized use of the premises. Apparently her last customer had left her stark naked, chained to a slave ring.”
“That seems appropriate,” laughed a man.
There was laughter.
“I am not a prostitute!” protested the girl, tears in her eyes.
“Certainly you must be a poor one,” said one of the women.
“She does not even have a license,” said another.
“Apparently she was not sufficiently concerned to be fully pleasing to her customer,” said the officer.
“If you’re going to be picky, and uppity, you’d better have a license, dearie,” said a woman.
“I speculate,” laughed a man, “that she will soon be such that she will be zealously concerned to be fully pleasing to men.”
“To any man,” laughed another.
“Yes,” laughed another.
The girl wept, and raised her eyes, pleadingly, to Tuvo Ausonius.
“Tell them the truth!” she begged.
“I have never seen you before in my life, young lady,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Tell them the truth!” she wept.
“I have,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“He is lying!” she cried.
“Silence, prostitute bitch!” said the officer who had her in custody.
He shortened the leash, meaningfully.
“She should think up a better story,” said a man. “One can see by the fellow’s garb that he is a same.”
“Poor fellow,” said another man.
“He would not know what to do with a woman,” said another.
There was a ripple of laughter in the throng.
This sort of talk irritated Tuvo Ausonius. He was proud of being a same, of course. Still, they did not always command the respect due to them on account of their superior virtue. Indeed, some people even regarded them as pathetic fools. That was sometimes a bit irritating. But, more importantly, Tuvo Ausonius was no longer quite as confident in his sameness as he had been before yesterday evening. What if it were not best to be a same? What if there were two sexes, quite different, really? He had not forgotten how she had looked at his feet, in scarlet silk. That is not the sort of thing that it is easy to forget. Sometimes Tuvo Ausonius had wondered what it might be, not to be a same, but a man. But then he had dismissed such thoughts as beneath him, and grossly improper. But that was before he had seen her at his feet, in scarlet silk. Such a woman, and perhaps others, would not be easy to forget.