“Hopefully, by the second or third generation,” said the visitor, “the reddened sword may be cleaned, wiped dry, and sheathed.”
“By then no divergent options will be available,” said Ingeld. “Concepts will be rooted out. Language will be purified. Dangerous words will not exist.”
“The channels will have been prepared,” said the visitor. “Thought will then flow in them, as it must.”
“Minds will be unable to frame unwelcome thoughts. Men will know nothing else.”
“For their own good,” said the visitor. “Sheep need their shepherd, pigs their sty tender.”
“I fear,” said Ingeld, “you underestimate the curiosity, the inventiveness, the independence, the astuteness of men.”
“I do not think so,” said the visitor. “Men herd nicely. They are born to follow, and ask only to be led. Thus they are spared the uneasiness, even the torment, of thought. And dissidents may be done away with.”
“But they will rise,” said Ingeld. “And sow the seeds of thought.”
“When necessary,” said the visitor, “the secular sword, summoned forth, may once more depart its sheath.”
“I know little of gods,” said Ingeld.
“You need not be converted,” said the visitor, “only your peoples.”
“I see,” said Ingeld.
“We possess the medallion and chain,” said the visitor.
“And to whom are they to be delivered?” asked Ingeld.
“To a suitable recipient,” said the visitor.
“Have you chosen such a recipient?” asked Ingeld.
“Yes,” said the visitor, “one we believe most suitable.”
“Who?” asked Ingeld.
“You need not seek him out, and kill him,” said the visitor. “You would have no need to do so, and you would have little interest in doing so.”
“Who?” said Ingeld.
“Ingeld, son Abrogastes, of course,” said the visitor.
“Deliver it,” said Ingeld.
“Can I trust the great Lord?” asked the visitor.
“As I can trust you,” said Ingeld.
“The medallion and chain,” said the visitor, “will be yours within twenty days.”
“Apparently it reposes then in Telnar,” said Ingeld, “in the very seat of empire.”
“Perhaps,” said the visitor. “I would not know.”
“Kneel straighter, slave,” said Ingeld.
“Yes, Master,” said Huta.
“Behold this slave, comely and helpless, on her chain,” said Ingeld. “She was once Huta, high priestess of the Timbri, supposed servant of the supposed ten thousand gods.”
“False gods,” said the visitor.
“She is now the slave of Drisriaks,” said Ingeld, “owned as might be a pig or dog, a boot or shoe.”
“Excellent,” said the visitor. “Would that such a fate befell all priestesses, sacral courtesans, temple dancers, and such. Let them all be sold in public markets. Let them all tremble on the chains of Masters.”
“She fell afoul of Drisriaks,” said Ingeld. “Had she been less stimulating, stripped in a collar, or had she writhed less well, naked, for her life, embracing, caressing, and doing a slave’s homage to the mighty Spear of Oathing, she would have been slain.”
“Milord?” said the visitor.
“Such opportunities would not have been accorded a male,” said Ingeld.
“I do not understand,” said the visitor.
“It would not be well to fall afoul of Drisriaks,” said Ingeld. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Milord,” said the visitor.
“Clearly?”
“Yes, Milord.”
“Are we not all friends?” asked Ingeld.
“Most certainly, Milord,” said the visitor.
“Perhaps,” said Ingeld, “we may then prevail upon you to share our celebratory feast.”
“I would be honored,” said the visitor.
“Afterwards,” said Ingeld, “shall I have this slave at my feet sent to your quarters?”
“Please, no, Master!” begged Huta, and then put down her head, quickly, cringing, fearing to be struck, for she had spoken without permission.
“For what purpose, pray?” said the visitor.
“For the purpose of serving you, as the slave she is,” said Ingeld.
“I see,” said the visitor.
“Shall I have her delivered to you, naked and chained?”
“That would be thoughtful,” said the visitor.
“But woe,” said Ingeld, “I may not do so, for she belongs to my father.”
“Thank you, Master,” whispered Huta.
The visitor turned away.
“Hold,” said Ingeld.
The visitor turned about, to face the high seat.
“Within twenty days,” said Ingeld.
“As agreed,” said the visitor.
“You will, of course, attend the celebratory feast,” said Ingeld.
“Of course,” said the visitor.
“I shall arrange that, in your place, you will find a dram of water and a crust of bread,” said Ingeld.
The visitor then turned about and left the chamber.
With a rustle of chain Huta put down her head and pressed her lips softly to the dark leather boot of Ingeld. “Thank you, Master,” she whispered.
28
The sand was warm, even uncomfortably so, beneath the bared feet of Cornhair.
She could not see for the hood, covering her entire head, snugly buckled about her neck.
“Mistresses?” she begged.
But she was not answered.
She did not know to whom she belonged.
“This way,” she heard, a woman’s voice, “here, before the box of honor, housing the throne of the hostess.”
Cornhair felt the tug of the leash, and she followed on its strap, a few feet across the warm sand.
In the tunnel she had not been hooded.
She did not think the structure was a large one.
Two days ago she had been purchased from the slave house in Telnar, for five darins.
She did not know where she was.
She had been taken from the slave house, hooded, bound, and leashed. On the street outside the slave house, she had gathered, from sounds, and words spoken, that two palanquins had been waiting, with their bearers, or attendants. The two women, one of whom it seemed had purchased her, took their places in the two conveyances, which were then put to the shoulders of the bearers. Her leash was fastened to the rear of the first palanquin, which she must follow, on foot. She was still naked, from the slave house, even in the street, but naked slaves, though not common in the public streets of Telnar, were not unknown. For example, the citizens of Telnar were not unfamiliar with chains of nude girls, captives not yet put under the iron, and marked slaves, sometimes from far worlds, being conducted from port pens to markets. Also, as a discipline, or punishment, Masters might send their girls about the city, on errands, and such, clad only in their collars. Slaves are well aware that a tunic may be awarded, withheld, or removed, at the discretion of the Master. The control of clothing, like food, blindfolding, gagging, whipping, binding, and such, are at the prerogative of the Master. Girls are well aware of this, and it is nothing likely to be forgotten more than once. Some Masters keep their slaves nude indoors, but almost all will have them clothed in public, though clothed as what they are, as slaves. Cornhair, on her leash, was grateful for the hood. In its way, it granted her a certain welcome anonymity. What would it matter if she should walk as a slave, if no one knew it was she? Had she not, as a woman, at least after she had been embonded, been often tempted to do so, to walk as a slave is expected to walk, so naturally, so gracefully, so beautifully? Might it not be thrilling to do so, to walk as other girls, so excitingly, so desirably, women who were well aware they were slaves, women who were delightedly slaves, women grateful to be slaves, women proud of specialness, vain of the collars on their necks? Certainly she was a woman and much more aware of her womanhood, and its power, in a collar than she had ever been as a free woman. As a free woman she would have been afraid to walk unabashedly as a woman. As a slave she need have no such inhibitions. Indeed she might be lashed if she tried to conceal or deny the loveliness, vulnerability, and fullness of her sex. It was no wonder free women so hated slaves, for in the chains of their freedom they were denied the freedom of their sex. As she followed the first palanquin she could not but be aware of the vulgar sounds, comments, compliments, and reactions which greeted her passage. Indeed, she started several times, crying out in the hood, in response to pinches and good-natured, sharp, stinging slaps. It was natural then, in her vanity, that she walk as a slave. Who would know?