by John Norman
“I am thinking of Varna,” said Otto.
“You are hungry for slave meat,” said Julian.
Otto was silent.
“How is Renata?” asked Julian.
“She is coming along excellently,” said Otto. “Already, at a touch, she is hot and helpless. I am thinking that she would make a lovely gift for someone.”
“It seems,” said Julian, “that it is a particular piece of slave meat for which you hunger, perhaps one that you have never forgotten.”
Otto did not respond. He looked out of the vehicle, at the rugged terrain.
“Perhaps one that you have never even tasted,” suggested Julian, smiling to himself.
“She is a lying, treacherous, meaningless slut,” snarled Otto.
“But surely one who is attractive,” said Julian.
“Yes,” growled Otto. “She is not without her insidious charms.”
“I think she has learned the collar,” said Julian. “And that she is fearful.”
“She should be fearful,” said Otto. “She is a slave.”
“I think it is her desire, even desperately so,” said Julian, “to be found pleasing by her master.”
“She, the treacherous, meretricious chit?” said Otto.
“Yes,” said Julian. “And I think, too, it is her desire to please you.”
“Slaves are often in heat,” said Otto.
“If she truly betrayed you,” said Julian, “I would think you might enjoy making use of her.”
“She is far away, on Varna,” said Otto.
“Stop the vehicle,” said Julian to the driver.
The driver stopped the segmented, treaded vehicle.
They were at the height of the winding path that led to Julian’s holding.
Julian stood up and looked back, over the path, and down to the road far below, lying in the valley.
“The way is clear behind us,” said Julian.
“And I see no cars in the sky,” said Otto, shading his eyes.
“What is the delay?” said Julian, angrily.
“Perhaps they have arrangements to make,” said Otto.
“Yes,” said Julian, “perhaps they have not yet completed their arrangements.”
It was not easy to detect the presence of the holding as it was set in among the granite mountains. Indeed, portions of it were carved from the living rock itself.
“I thank you for the outing,” said Otto.
“You should learn how to operate a vehicle of this sort,” said Julian.
“I would be pleased to do so,” said Otto.
“Your horsemanship is remarkable,” said Julian.
“It is like flying,” said Otto.
“Surely you have ridden before,” said Julian.
“Only here,” said Otto. “We had no horses in the village.”
“Do you think you could do war from the back of a horse?” asked Julian.
“Yes,” said Otto.
They were not on one of the original Telnarian worlds but one, Vellmer, within the first quadrant, not the first provincial quadrant. This holding was one of several owned by the Aurelianii, and one of some five which were designed to afford an occupant a large measure of both security and privacy.
“Why will you not wait at your ancestral home?” had asked Otto, some days ago.
“I do not want to risk it,” had said Julian.
“But will the palace know where you are?” asked Otto.
“Certainly,” said Julian. “They have been informed.”
Julian and Otto now resumed their seats.
In a moment, the codes spoken into the receivers, the gate slid to one side and the vehicle entered the holding.
The gate, which was better than a yard thick, of layered steel, then slid shut behind them.
CHAPTER 27
“Where am I?” begged Flora, rising from her mattress, as the door of the cell was opened.
“On Vellmer,” said the slave girl, bearing the tray, with fruit, two slices of bread, some leaves of vegetables, and drink. She knelt down and, carefully, placed the objects on the small table, some two-foot square, on short legs, rising some foot or so from the floor. There was one mat on the tiles, near the table. The cell had only one occupant. There were no chairs in the cell. The mattress was in a small frame, only an inch from the floor. Slave girls are seldom permitted to sit in chairs. Too, their bedding is usually on, or near, the floor.
“Should you not have asked me to kneel?” inquired Flora.
The girl looked at her.
“Or instructed me to do so?” asked Flora.
“I, too, am only a slave,” said the girl.
Flora knelt down, on the mat, by the table. The girl was still kneeling on the other side, but ready to rise, and withdraw.
Neither was collared.
“Wait!” said Flora.
The girl looked up.
“I know I am on Vellmer,” said Flora. “I was delivered to an address on Vellmer, but then I was hooded and moved, and was brought here.”
“Yes,” said the slave girl.
“Where am I, here?” asked Flora.
“I may not say,” said the slave girl.
“Is my master here?”
“Yes.”
“Who is my master?” begged Flora.
“I may not say,” said the slave girl.
“I do not even know who owns me!” said Flora.
“Doubtless you will learn, when it pleases the masters,” said the slave.
“Is this the house of my master?”
“No.”
“But my master is here?”
“Yes.”
“Who is my master?”
“I may not say,” said the slave.
“Do not leave!” begged Flora.
The slave rose up, with the tray. “You are very beautiful,” she said.
Flora, too, rose up. Both women were very much the same height. Perhaps Flora was the tiniest bit taller.
“You, too, are very beautiful,” said Flora.
“You must be muchly favored, and a high slave,” said the slave girl, “for you are gowned.”
Flora wore a simple, loose, ankle-length garment of white wool. It was sleeveless. Its neckline was generous, generous from the point of view of masters, and would leave a slave in little doubt as to her bondage.
The garment of the slave girl was quite similar, being sleeveless and of white wool, and such, and differed really, only, in its length, for it came high on her thighs. It was a simple garment and displayed its wearer well. It was a common form of slave tunic.
The two garments were all the women wore.
“You are well fed, and have your own cell,” said the slave girl. “You are not kenneled.”
“Are you kenneled at night?” asked Flora.
“Save when I am chained at the foot of my master’s couch,” said the slave.
The slave girl went to the door of the cell, which consisted of heavy, vertical bars fixed in thick, lateral crosspieces. She paused there for a moment, the tray in her left hand, looking back at Flora. She then stepped outside, and closed the door.
“Wait!” called Flora.
The door shut with a heavy, unmistakable, efficient snap.
The slave girl turned, and paused, a few feet on the other side of the bars.
“Why am I being treated like this?” begged Flora, hurrying to the bars. “Why have I not been set to service, why have I not been summoned before my master?”
“I do not know,” said the slave girl. “Perhaps they are readying you to be a gift.”
“A gift!”
“I do not know,” said the slave girl.
“That must be it!” wept Flora.
“You have been trained, as I understand it,” said the slave girl.
“Only a little!” said Flora.
“I envy you,” said the slave girl.
“All masters train us,” said Flora.
“That is true, ea
ch trains us to his pleasure,” said the slave girl.
“Then your master trains you?”
“Yes,” said the slave girl. “He trains me, as it pleases him, precisely so.”
“Wait!” called Flora.
The girl paused at the end of the short corridor, before the iron door there. She would knock on this and be admitted to the outer area. A little later the guard would check the cell, to make certain it was securely locked.
Flora clutched the bars of the cell door. She shook them, wildly. But there was little movement of the door.
“I was sold!” she said.
“Perhaps your master tired of you?” said the slave girl. “Perhaps he no longer wanted you. Perhaps he did not like you.”
“I have been sold!” wept Flora. “Now I am on Vellmer, and am to be given away as a gift!”
“I do not know,” said the slave girl.
“Do not go!” begged Flora.
“I must, I have duties,” said the slave.
“Be kind to me!”
“May I call you ‘Flora’?”
“Yes, yes!” said Flora.
“Do you like the name?”
“Yes,” said she who wore the name.
“That was the name on your packing slip,” said the slave girl.
“It was what they called me in school,” said Flora.
“Your master had not given you a name?”
“No,” wept Flora.
“It must be terrible not to have a name,” said the slave girl.
“Yes,” said Flora.
“We will say your name is ‘Flora’,” because that is what the guards call you,” said the slave girl.
“Thank you,” said Flora.
“So it will do,” smiled the slave girl.
“Yes,” said Flora.
“Your name is ‘Flora’,” she said.
“Until men see fit to change it, or take it away,” said Flora.
“Yes,” said the slave girl. “Such things are up to the masters.”
“Yes,” said Flora.
“We are powerless. We are totally at their mercy.”
“Yes,” said Flora.
“I must leave,” said the slave girl.
“What is your name?” asked Flora.
“Renata,” said the slave girl.
She had then knocked on the iron door at the end of the corridor, and in a moment was in the outer area. The door closed, and locked, behind her.
Flora clutched the bars. “I have been sold,” she wept. “I am to be given away, as a gift!”
She then, sobbing, clinging to the thick bars, put her head down. She pressed the side of her face against the bars. Her tears ran against the metal.
CHAPTER 28
“My name is Tuvo Ausonius. I believe you will find my credentials in order. I come on behalf of his majesty, Aesilesius, emperor of Telnaria. I bring, enclosed in this case, a commission, in the rank of captain, for one Ottonius, known to you, milord, and, as I understand it, a guest now in your house.”
“This is he,” said Julian, indicating Otto, who stood beside him.
“Greetings,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Greetings,” said Otto.
“May I introduce my colleague, Sesella,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“It is unusual for a same to have but one name,” said Julian.
“Greetings,” said the companion of Tuvo Ausonius.
“Greetings,” said Julian.
Julian regarded his two visitors. He had surely not expected sames, not from the summer world. How severe, and gross, he thought, were their garbs, and yet, oddly, they did not seem to carry themselves as sames, nor to have the severe mien one expects of sames. Perhaps they were not sames, thought Julian, but what would be the point of disguising such matters, what would be the object of the pretense, under these circumstances?
“Your colleague appears to be a female,” said Julian.
The smaller of the same-garbed pair, for a moment, looked frightened.
“Sames do not concern themselves with such matters,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
Julian had an eye for women, and thought that he might detect something of interest within that bulky shielding of same garb, something of perhaps even considerable interest.
“You come, actually, I take it,” said Julian, “from our esteemed friend, Iaachus, arbiter of protocol.”
“It is my understanding that my mission derives most immediately from that revered personage,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Why has there been this long delay, a delay unconscionable in a matter this straightforward, this simple?”
“I do not know,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “I apologize, of course, on behalf of my superiors, for any inconvenience.”
“Such considerations do not lie within the purview of your assignment,” said Julian.
“No, milord.”
“We do not allow just anyone in this holding,” said Julian. “But you are of the Ausonii.”
“That is interesting,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “I had not realized that something of that sort might have mattered.”
“We are particular,” said Julian.
“Ah,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Is anything wrong?” asked Julian.
“It is nothing,” said Ausonius.
“You are from Miton,” said Julian.
“Yes, milord.”
“Why was not someone from the palace, from the summer world, from the capital world, from the administrative worlds, not given this assignment?”
“I do not know, milord,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“The same worlds tend to be isolated,” said Julian, “scarcely integrated into the empire.”
“We are loyal to the throne,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Your car is below, in the landing area,” said Julian.
“Yes, milord,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
Julian pressed a button on the lower edge of the top of the desk in the receiving office. There was a whirring of machinery, as though far off.
“I had expected,” said Julian, “given my rank, that the commission would be brought to the holding by an imperial magistrate, preceded by twelve lictors.”
“Is that the common protocol?” inquired Tuvo Ausonius.
“Yes,” said Julian. “One would have thought it would have been observed by Iaachus.”
“Yes,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“He is the arbiter of protocol.”
“Yes,” said Tuvo Ausonius, thoughtfully.
“What is wrong?” asked Julian.
“Nothing,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
Julian Walked to one side of the room, and looked out, through gigantic windows, onto the mountains. Too, he could see, in a small landing area below, on a shelf below, the car. Air rippled about it. Its motors were hot, running.
He then returned, to stand behind the great desk.
On this desk there lay, rather at its center, but nearer Tuvo Ausonius, a flat, black case.
“Open it,” said Julian.
Tuvo Ausonius hesitated.
“Honor,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “is more important than life, for life is worthless without it.”
“You are a same,” said Julian. “Such things are of no interest to you.”
“Why do you hesitate?” asked Otto.
“You have a duty to perform,” said Julian.
“Documents, treaties, charters, commissions, such things, are not ordinarily delivered in this fashion, are they?” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“No,” said Julian.
“There is a time lock on the case,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“It is a simple device,” said Julian. “You dial the combination, and, in ten seconds, those necessary for the internal machinery to clear the bolts, the case opens. You know the combination?”
“Yes,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“What is wrong?” asked Otto.
“Nothing,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Open the case,” said J
ulian.
“There are special instructions,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “It is to be opened only in your presence, milord, and that of your guest, Ottonius.”
“That is that we may verify the opening of the case,” said Julian. “We are both present. Proceed.”
Tuvo Ausonius drew from within his jacket a sealed envelope and handed it to his colleague.
His colleague regarded him, puzzled.
“Leave the room,” he said to the colleague.
Wildly then, bewildered, did the colleague regard him.
“Now,” he said.
The colleague, looking back but once, frightened, clutching the paper, hurried from the room.
“Milords,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “I must now ask you to leave the room, as well.”
“The case is to be opened in our presence,” said Julian.
“I must insist,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“You are a brave man,” said Julian. “What is the combination?”
“Milord?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.
“When the combination is dialed,” said Julian, “not only will the mechanism be engaged, but a signal will doubtless be transmitted to your car below.”
“It is waiting,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“It is ready for flight, even now,” said Julian. “It will need ten seconds to ascend to its attack track.”
“I do not understand,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“I have taken precautions,” said Julian. “Dial the combination.”
Tuvo Ausonius, steadying the case with one hand, began to rotate the dial with his other hand.
He stopped, short of the last number.
“What is it?” asked Julian.
“Six,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “Perhaps you had best leave the room.”
Julian reached over Tuvo Ausonius’s hand and moved the dial to six. A small purring sound emanated from the case.
“The mechanism is engaging,” said Julian.
Tuvo Ausonius was sweating.
“The car is rising, outside, I hear it,” said Otto.
“Gentlemen,” said Julian. “I think it would be wise if we withdrew. Please follow me.”
Scarcely had the three men stepped from the room, through a concealed, spring-actuated panel in the wall behind the desk, than the room vacated was rocked with an explosion. Window glass flew outward, the desk was shattered, walls were gouged and battered, papers were scattered, and blackened and aflame. At almost the same instant a searing flash of fire from the car tore at a thick, transparent domelike shield which, by the mechanism activated by the button beneath the desk earlier, had been placed in position. The car was not a hundred yards past the dome, and was banking for a second run, when it exploded, and burst into flame, caught in steams of fire from the walls.
