The ant regarded him angrily, probably wondering how to punish a man who was being insubordinate by demanding punishment. If it was mockery, it was unanswerable. “Why?”
“So that I may heal faster and be able to do more work.”
“And why would you want to do that?”
“I was born a miner, master. I must be able to outwork the dross.”
The ant shrugged. “Then lie down.”
That was a wise precaution, for if Hrarrh fainted during the licking, the cat would slash him as he fell. He did not faint—his eyes opened afterward—but another slave had to roll him over so that the panther could clean his back. I carried him to the paddock.
I scrounged a few scraps of food that had not yet been consumed. I managed to rouse him enough to force it into him. No one else came near us. No slave ever wanted to attract attention, and the ants were openly watching from their side of the compound.
Hrarrh chewed with determination, forcing lumps down his throat and repeatedly gagging. His eyes were unfocused and he shivered uncontrollably. He was in deep shock, probably very close to death.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked faintly.
I shrugged. “Just eat.”
“You think I can help you escape?”
Certainly I would not mention my plan to an ant, even a captive ant. “If I did, I wouldn’t dare be seen with you.”
He nodded. “Then why?”
I was not sure of that myself. Probably, as a coward, I admired courage. “Someone helped me once, when I was hurt and alone.”
He worked that out while he chewed some more. Then he said: “You’re a fool. And so was he.”
I was surprised to find him still alive when I awoke. He lined up for the bosses and went through the whole incredible process all over again, from licking to final collapse.
But he did not faint quite so often during the shift, and he was conscious afterward as I carried him up the ladder. That was a bad journey, for I was weakened by overwork and lack of food, and we almost ran out of luck before the top. The other slaves again ignored us when we reached the compound, but they had left enough refuse in the trough for two good meals, and a pair of the dirty leather covers lay nearby, apparently over looked. Such consideration was unusual and might be lethal if the ants chose to interpret it as a sign of admiration or approval.
Three…four… By his fifth shift Hrarrh had stopped fainting and was producing almost as much as the slowest of the healthy men, yet he still needed my help on the ladder, and so it was that the two of us again returned to the paddock together. The other slaves were continuing their pretense that we did not exist. The two pariahs sat alone in a sunbaked emptiness, chewing their roots and gristle.
Hrarrh had pulled a hide around himself to protect his new skin from the sun, but that skin was in itself vindication of his faith in the healing powers of the panthers’ saliva. His puppy fat had already gone, which was an improvement, but the scars on his face did nothing for his looks. His nose seemed to have been applied too hot, so that it had melted and spread, and brow ridges like tree branches made him seem permanently surly. Tufts of wiry hair protruded through the scabs around his big mouth. He was an ugly kid. He was going to be a very typical ant.
I knew I had taken a risk by befriending him. Every moment we remained together increased that risk, so I had to satisfy my curiosity before retribution separated us.
“Now,” I said, “tell me why.”
He scowled. “Why what?”
“Why did you volunteer to be licked?”
“So I could work.”
“But why do you want to work?”
“Isn’t it obvious?! They have three dead men to avenge.”
I was baffled. “So?”
“So they wanted to give me time to heal. Then the bosses would have taken turns with me.”
“You hoped to die?”
He looked offended. “No!”
“They can do nothing to you that would hurt worse than that.”
“It would go on longer. And be more permanent.”
“But they still can!”
He shrugged and obviously regretted doing so. “You’re only a herdman. You don’t understand pride.”
“Pride? You endured those lickings for pride?”
“Partly. But I’ve shown that I’ve got balls, so maybe now they’ll let me keep them.” His gaze flickered across the compound toward the cottages. “Most tribes need new blood. Who knows? I’m a miner. Maybe one of the girls’ll take a fancy to me when I get some hair on my chest.”
I wondered if even a female ant could ever think of Hrarrh as good-looking, but perhaps he was a better judge of that than I was. While I was pondering this, I saw that he was looking hard at me.
“So I’ve got a chance,” he said. “You don’t. Why do you stay?”
“What do you suggest I do? Walk out?”
“Step off the top of the ladder.”
“I’m a coward.”
He scowled. “No slave ever escapes! Never!”
“What about angels, though? Don’t they sometimes raid a mine?”
“Angels? You’re crazy! Angels don’t mess with miners!”
“Are you sure?” I was remembering what Orange had told me.
He spat out something unchewable and stuffed a lump of unidentifiable meat in his mouth. “Certain! Heaven needs what we produce—lead, iron, copper… The angels leave the mines alone. If that’s what you’re waiting for, then you’ll wait till the sun sets.”
“But…” Was this what Orange had called nonsense?
“But nothing! Even if Heaven sent an army of angels, it couldn’t approach a mine like this without us—them, I mean—without them knowing. So all the slaves go down the mine, the ponies come into the paddock, and where s your evidence? What angel is going to venture into the mine to look? What happens to him if he does?”
I did not reply. He was very convincing.
“Or we just fight it out. Cat against gun is a fair match at close quarters. How many angels can Heaven afford to lose?”
“Not many, I suppose.”
“Damned few.” Then he said in a low voice, “Knobil, I’m grateful. It hurts me to say it, but I am. Now leave me alone! You’re going to be punished, and if you keep defying the rules like this, you’ll be shucked for sure. I’ve given you the best advice I can: Die easy!”
“Thanks.”
After a moment he added, “One other bit of advice, then: Stay away from traders.”
“Traders?” I had not seen traders since my youth on the grasslands, but of course the ore we dug must go somewhere.
Hrarrh’s scabby face was grim. “Traders sell slaves to us—even a herdman must have discovered that by now. They’re one of our main sources. A trader will sell his grandsons if he can see profit.”
“So why tell me to stay away from them? I’m already in the worst place I could be.”
He hesitated, glancing at my hair. “I’m not sure about that. Just remember my advice. The first bit was the best.”
He struggled to his feet and I said: “Hrarrh?”
He paused, scowling down at me. “Yes?”
“Good luck with the beautiful lady miner. And if it works out for you…remember me?”
He nodded. “I’m greatly in your debt. I won’t forget that, Knobil!” He limped away, clutching the rugged hide around him like a cape.
That was how I met Hrarrh.
—4—
I AVOIDED HIM ON THE NEXT SHIFT, and he managed on his own. As I came out of the mine, I was stopped by one of the bosses and sent back in with his crew. Double duty, without rest or food, ranked fairly high on the list of punishments—it had been known to kill a man—but it was better than some of the things they might have done to me. It also put me on the opposite tour from Hrarrh, so we could not meet again.