She had not done well in Telnar before, on the selling shelf, or on the block, but she now looked forward to her sale, to belonging, hopefully, to a private Master, whom she must then strive to please. Even as a free woman, long ago, when she had despised slaves, she had had recurrent, uneasy fears that her own throat might be suitably encircled with the bondage ring. How such thoughts had distressed, and fascinated, her. How she had forced such thoughts away, and then waited, hopefully, for their return. In her confidence and pride, in her days of station and wealth, it had never occurred to her that the collar might one day be locked on her own neck, and that she would find herself on her knees before free persons. Then, after the social debacle of her waywardness and debts, her de-facto abandonment by her family, her trying to scratch out a pitiful existence on the pittance of an allowance, limited to only one slave, the girl, Nika, she had been recruited by Iaachus, the Arbiter of Protocol, in the court of the emperor, Aesilesius, to assassinate a barbarian mercenary, Ottonius, a captain in the auxiliary forces, this having largely to do with frustrating the plans of Julian, of the Aureliani, regarded by Iaachus as a threat to the throne and empire. As we recall, she was to be so situated, in the guise of a female slave, that she might, by means of a poisoned dagger, complete this task, following which she was to be richly rewarded. As we recall, prior to her thwarted attack, she had actually been enslaved, but without her awareness. After her failure to kill the barbarian captain, Ottonius, and having been abandoned by her supposed confederates, she found herself in the hands of Otungs. Instead of having her tortured and executed, she had been branded and sold to Heruls. She sold for one pig. Eventually, purchased from Heruls by a dealer, she had been sold in Venitzia, the provincial capital on Tangara, to the company, Bondage Flowers, which had an office in Venitzia, after which she had been shipped with other slaves, first to Inez IV, and thence to Telnaria, eventfully finding herself in Telnar. We remind ourselves of these perhaps familiar matters, because they, in their way, remind us of moments in a slave’s journey. Too, she had certainly begun to learn herself on a dock at Inez IV, in the hold of a freighter, on a shelf in Telnar, on a block in Telnar, in a dining hall in a remote villa, where she had served at a woman’s supper, in an arena at that villa, and then, later, being conveyed downstream in one of four covered barges, to some village port whose name she did not even know, in the delta of the Turning Serpent.
If only there had been a wind from the east, she thought, swelling the wide, matted sail!
“Ah!” had said the man at the village port. “Excellent!”
“There are two sets,” had said Ortog, “a larger set of one hundred and fifty-two, and a smaller set of twenty-two. The larger set, with the exception of two whom I will keep for my own pleasure, we will ship to far worlds, Omar II, Vellmer, Tangara, Inez IV, Varna, and a dozen others.”
“Some of those are rude worlds,” said the man.
“There are towns, and trading stations,” said Ortog.
“I suppose so,” said the man. “But you are unlikely to do much shipping for a time.”
“Why?” asked Ortog. “I have four Lion Ships, fueled, waiting in their sheds.”
“The blockade,” said the man. “It was not anticipated. Lightning from a clear, blue sky. The barbarian commander is in place.”
“The war is not to be fought so,” said Ortog. “Much must transpire first.”
“Troops, ships, are at far-flung borders,” said the man. “They man walls, but the wall has been over leapt.”
“A bold stroke,” said Ortog.
“A perilous stroke,” said the man. “Even now border cruisers must be hurrying to Telnaria. The siege will be broken and lifted. The barbarian commander has erred grievously. He will be caught and destroyed.”
“How long does he have?” asked Ortog.
“It is estimated only a few days,” said the man.
“If what you call the wall is deserted,” said Ortog, “barbarians will flow in.”
“The barbarian commander must be mad,” said the man. “What can he do? The great explosives, which could split worlds and thrust planets from their orbits, have been expended.”
“Some may yet exist,” said Ortog.
“But surely not in the hands of barbarians,” said the man.
“I suppose not,” said Ortog.
“You should be able to leave in a few days,” said the man. “Slave gruel is cheap.”
“Who is the barbarian commander?” asked Ortog.
“A man named Abrogastes,” said the man. “Have you heard of him?”
“Yes,” said Ortog. “I have heard of him.”
“He must be mad, to isolate himself so, to place himself in such jeopardy.”
“Perhaps,” said Ortog, “this Abrogastes is not mad. Perhaps he hopes to conclude the wars with a single blow. Why should one scratch at the skin of the empire when one might strike at its heart?”
“Telnaria’s defenses are not weak,” said the man. “If the blockading cruisers should come within firing range, the planetary batteries will burn them from the sky. Telnaria’s only fear then will be the rain of molten debris.”
“Surely this commander, Abrogastes, must be aware of that,” said Ortog.
“The blockade is annoying, but pointless,” said the man. “You cannot starve a planet into submission. So, my friend, what if a few aristocrats must do without their favored wines, or imported eels, for a few days?”
“I do not think this Abrogastes is a fool,” said Ortog.
“You know him?” asked the man.
“I have heard of him,” said Ortog.
The village fellow then cast his glance on the one hundred and fifty-two slaves standing on the river wharf, chained together by the neck, naked, as is common with women in coffle.
“A nice lot,” he said. “Where did you get them?”
“I picked them up, a bit to the west,” said Ortog.
“You raided a slave caravan,” said the man, “and stole their goods.”
“Something like that,” said Ortog.
“We are tolerant of thieves here,” said the man. “What of this smaller lot?”
This smaller lot consisted of Cornhair, and the twenty-one other slaves who had served at the suppers of the free women in the remote villa.
“Why are they clothed?” asked the man.
Cornhair’s group was chained together by the ankle, the left ankle.
“That the larger set may the more acutely be aware that they are not clothed.”
“I have not noted one of them speaking,” said the man.
“They dare not,” said Ortog. “They are under discipline.”
“The other group, the smaller group, sits together, pleasantly, looking about, chatting,” said the man.
“Let the larger group notice that,” said Ortog.