Abrogastes had had her branded promptly, but had not done the work himself. He had given it over to the smith and his fellows. He himself had scarcely seen her afterward. She had, with others, served twice, her ankles in leather shackles, in his hut.
The mark was on her, of course, and it identified her as a slave. But surely it provided her with little assurance that she might be spared.
She might be thrown, tonight, to the dogs that guarded the camp.
“They think,” called Abrogastes to the tables, he striding about, fixing his fierce eyes upon one of the feasters after another, “that we are weak, that we are afraid of them! Are you weak, Granicus? Are you weak, Anton?”
“No,” responded these creatures.
“You, Ingeld?” inquired Abrogastes.
“No, milord.”
“Hrothgar?”
“No, father!” cried Hrothgar.
“Hensa? Orkon?”
“No, milord,” said these men.
“Who here fears the empire?” called Abrogastes.
“The empire is strong,” said a man.
“Do you fear her?” inquired Abrogastes.
“No, milord!” said the man.
“The empire believes that we cannot fight, that we are afraid to fight, that we are cowards!” said Abrogastes, his eyes blazing.
“Surely she is wrong, milord,” called the clerk.
“Is she wrong, brothers?” inquired Abrogastes.
“Yes, milord!” cried a man.
“The empire is strong, milord,” said a man.
“The empire,” whispered Abrogastes, “is weak.”
“Milord?” asked the man.
“Weak,” said Abrogastes.
He then turned about and, not more than a pace from the prostrate Huta, returned to the dais, where he stood before the bench, between the high-seat pillars.
“You have spies, milord?” inquired a man.
“Yes,” said Abrogastes.
“Let rings be brought!” called the clerk.
Men gasped, looking about, many apprehensive.
Huta, ignored, fearing, not knowing her fate, lay before the dais, frightened that no notice was taken of her, not even the blow of a boot, and yet fearing, as well, that she might, at any moment, by some happenstance, even by some caprice, as though by the shifting of a wind, be returned to the attention of the hall.
Chain me, she whispered to herself, chain me.
Abrogastes seated himself on the bench, between the high-seat pillars.
I want chains, she whispered to herself. Chain me, so that I cannot run, chain me to a ring, by the wrists and ankles, by the neck, if you wish, so that I cannot escape, so that I will be secure, so that I know I will be kept, at least for the night! Chain me, my master. I beg chains.
“I have thought long on these matters, and hard,” said Abrogastes.
“Is it wise to have rings brought, father?” inquired Ingeld.
“There is a time to bring the rings,” said Abrogastes.
“Is this the time, father?” asked Ingeld.
“It is the time,” said Abrogastes.
“It is the time!” said Hrothgar, smiting with two fists upon the table.
“But the empire is eternal,” said a man.
“Let it be eternal,” said Abrogastes.
“I do not understand,” said the man.
Two men entered, from the side, bearing with them a coffer, bound in iron.
“The rings, milord,” said the shieldsman, at the left shoulder of Abrogastes, the sword of his lord over his left shoulder.
Huta looked pathetically to one of the musicians, still by the dais.
She could not read his expression.
She shuddered. She had, as she had been urged, danced her secret dreams, her secret thoughts, her needs, herself, her slavery, what she was, who she was. She had danced as a slave, shamelessly, holding nothing back, surrendering everything, releasing all, throwing herself piteously upon the mercy of harsh masters. And she had danced, too, before Abrogastes, and as his helpless, and, to her consternation, so vulnerably, as his needful, slave. What more could she do? What more could she give? Surely she had lost everything. But he had then thrust her with his boot from the dais, and seemed now to have dismissed her from his mind.
Mighty matters were afoot, and she knew herself only a worthless, meaningless slave.
She moved herself a little, and, lifting herself on the palms of her hands, regarded the scale, the pointer of which inclined ever so slightly toward the left side of the semicircular dial, toward the skull at its termination, indicating that the greatest weight, at this moment, lay within the pan of death.
What if they should forget her, and leave matters as they stood? Would not then the men come and, taking her by the arms, conduct her outside, to be thrown to the dogs?
She lay back down, trembling.
“Who here does not want wealth beyond his wildest dreams?” asked Abrogastes.
Men looked at one another, and grinned.
“It is there for the taking,” said Abrogastes. “We need only have the courage to seize it! The empire is like a shell. It is hard on the outside, but once we break through, as I assure you that we, in strength, we brothers together, can, there is nothing to stop us, not until we reach the treasure rooms, the boudoirs, with our chains, the hearths of Telnaria herself!”
“They have ships, thousands, and weapons,” said a man.
“We too have ships, and will have more, as we are joined by disaffected worlds. We are not the only enemies of the empire. Many are sophisticated, technological worlds which will support us with ships, with supplies, with equipment and armament.”
“You have sounded these things out?” asked a man.
“Else you would not have been called to the feast,” said Abrogastes.
“There are many peoples here, milord,” said a man.
“We are strong,” mused another.
“The empire is a burden on many worlds, and places, milord,” said a man. “They would be pleased to be rid of her.”
“The time to strike is now,” said Abrogastes.
“And what will these worlds want of us, who wish us to take their risks, and do their work for them?” asked a man.
“What we give them,” said Abrogastes, “is what they will receive.”
“It will be by our doing?” asked Ingeld.
“Yes,” said Abrogastes.
“There will be worlds to distribute?” asked a man.
“A billion worlds,” said Abrogastes, “to be distributed, to the brave, the faithful, the loyal, to owe their duties to their lords.”
“The empire is eternal,” said a man, his voice shaking.
“Let it be eternal, or not,” said Abrogastes. “What does it matter? It is a house into which we may, if we wish, enter. Do you think the empire, if she is to endure, cares who governs her, who is her master? Do you not think that power has not changed hands within her a thousand times, by poisonings, by assassinations, by untimely deaths, by intrigues, by palace seizures, by riots, by civil wars, in her long history? That there is a throne is all that is required, that and someone to sit upon it!”