“Is your body your own?” asked Ingeld.
“No, Master,” she said.
“Is anything your own?” he asked.
“No, Master,” she said.
“What of your least thought, or feeling?” he asked.
“They, too, are owned,” she said.
“Who owns you?” he asked.
“Men,” she said.
“But who, in particular?” he asked.
“Your father,” she said. “I am afraid to be here. Does he know I am here?”
“No,” said Ingeld.
“I am afraid,” she said.
“Why should you be afraid?” he said. “You are chained to a ring.”
“I fear Master wants Huta,” she said.
“Perhaps,” he said. “Would you object?”
“Master is young and handsome,” she said. “And I am only a slave.”
“You look much better now,” he said, “than when you were a priestess. Nudity and a chain become you.”
“I belong to your father,” she said.
“As of now,” he said.
“Your father,” she said, “is possessive, a man of great power, a man of temper, of wrath, of mighty fury.”
“As of now,” he said.
“Might we not both be slain?” she asked.
“I am heir apparent to the high seat in the great hall,” he said.
“So, too, was Ortog,” she said.
“Ortog did not plan well,” he said. “He managed his business badly.”
“There is your brother, Hrothgar,” she whispered.
“Hrothgar is a fool,” he said. “He is often in his cups. He would rather have a falcon on his wrist than a scepter in his hand.”
“I am afraid,” she said. “I fear your words, I fear your voice, your eyes.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Behind your eyes,” she whispered, “I think there are secret thoughts.”
“Nonsense,” said Ingeld, “I am merely another simple, pleasant fellow.”
“Subtle, ambitious thoughts,” she said.
“Of treason?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“I speak no treason,” he said.
“Who would be so unwise as to do so?” she said.
“Why are you afraid?” he asked.
“In the presence of treachery, or treason, who would not be afraid?”
“Only the free need be afraid,” he said. “Beasts, dogs, horses, slaves, need not be afraid.”
“Even the beast of a traitor, his dog or horse, might be slaughtered,” she said.
“True,” he said. “Once loosed, it is sometimes difficult to restrain the sword of anger and vengeance.”
“Too,” she said, “I am your father’s property. He does not know I am here. I do not belong here.”
“But you like the touch of a boot on your thigh, do you not?” he asked.
“Master Abrogastes, my Master,” she said, “hates me, and suspects it was I who seduced Ortog into the paths of secession.”
“Was it not?” asked Ingeld.
“One such as Ortog does not follow well, or long,” she said. “He wanted signs, and prophecies. Assurances of success. I supplied such things.”
“Hastening defection,” said Ingeld.
“I fear so,” she said.
“And hoped to gain concessions thereby, recognitions, status, and profits for your fraudulent rites and claims.”
“Yes, Master,” she said, “but now I am naked, on a chain.”
“If you were to be found here,” said Ingeld, “it is possible that Abrogastes would hold you accountable, suspecting that you hoped to ply your wiles once more, hoping to seduce yet another of his sons into the paths of secession, into the country of deceit and treachery.”
“It is not true, Master!” she said.
“You and I know that,” he said, “but my father does not.”
“Master?” she said.
“He might not be pleased to learn of your new stratagem,” said Ingeld.
“I have no stratagem,” she said. “I am a slave!”
“But perhaps a sly slave,” said Ingeld. “I need only hint such a thing to my father.”
“You would not do so!” she said.
Ingeld smiled.
“Have mercy on me, Master,” she said. “I am now only a girl, marked, and fastened to a ring at your feet.”
“You are afraid, are you not?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Do you know why you have been brought here?”
“No, Master!”
“Surely you suspect,” he said.
“No, Master!” she said.
“Are you not a slave?” he asked.
“I belong to your father!” she said.
“As of now,” he said.
“I beg to be sent back to my cage!”
“Perhaps I shall have you on the planks at the foot of the high seat,” he said.
“What if the shriek of my ecstasy should carry to the ears of Abrogastes?” she said.
“Surely, as a slave,” he said, “you are familiar with gags.”
“Have mercy on me, Master,” she wept. “Beat me, if you wish, but return me to my cage!”
“When I touched you,” he said, “you responded.”
“Forgive me, Master,” she said.
“Do not fear,” he said. “I will have you in my arms, and as the slave you are, when I wish. But I have not brought you here for such a purpose.”
“Master?”
“I am expecting a guest,” he said. “And when he is admitted, and welcomed, I want you at my feet.”
“As I am?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, “exactly as you are.”
At this point, there were three loud knocks on the left side of the double door, as one would face it from within, from the high seat, what would be the right side of the door, from the outside. These sounds were the result of the measured striking of a spear butt three times against the heavy wood. The Drisriaks, as many other peoples, even in a day of hoverers, rifles, and sky ships, were fond of traditions and antique usages. For example, the vaulted ceiling of the hall was of timbers, and its floor was of earth, strewn, in the ancient fashion, with rushes.
“Enter,” called Ingeld.
24
The whip snapped.
Some men looked up, from the house, to the platform.
“Lot two hundred and twenty-seven,” said a voice.
Cornhair winced, bent over, a keeper’s hand tight in her hair.
Again the whip snapped, and Cornhair was yanked upright, and then, her hair released, thrust forward, stumbling, she climbed the seven steps to the height of the broad, rounded surface, seven steps as there are seven letters in the most common Telnarian word for a female slave.
Cornhair, brightly illuminated, centered in a pool of light, unable to see well into the darkened house, was turned about, before the crowd.
She heard her attributes, in detail, her hair and eye color, her height and weight, her lovely measurements, pleasant to behold, proclaimed to the men. This was done by a clerk, he who had read her lot number, at a table near the foot of the block, on its right side, as one would face the house.
Then, small drums pounded, and two double flutes came alive.
There were four musicians, who were, as the clerk, near the foot of the block, but they were more to the left side, as one might look toward the house.
The melody was sensuous, suitable for its purpose, to enhance the exhibition of a slave. It swayed in the house like a snake of sound.