The King

by John Norman

  "Yes, milord," said the keeper.

  …CHAPTER 12…

  "Oh!" said the small, exquisite redhead, in the bright sunlight, amidst the stalls and carts of the Sephisa market in Lisle. "Do not turn around," said a man's voice.

  The redhead whimpered a little.

  "What you feel is a gun at your spine," said the voice. "One false move and this weapon will scoop a hole eight inches wide in you, and every gut in your pretty little belly will be pasted on that wall across the square."

  "There are people about," whispered the redhead. "I need only scream."

  "It would be your last," said the voice.

  "What do you want with me?" she asked.

  "Remain calm, smile," said the voice.

  The redhead tried to smile. "You do not want me," she said, frightened. "I do not know the art of writhing in chains, of serving a master. I'm only a woman's slave, a lady's maid."

  "That is a waste," said the voice. "Your legs are exquisite."

  "Master?" she asked.

  "If you are a lady's maid," he said, "do you not think she could dress you more richly, more amply?"

  The redhead wore only a brief, sleeveless brown tunic, ragged at the hem, of simple corton.

  "My mistress is not rich," she said. "Too, she enjoys dressing me in this fashion, to demean me, that my sexuality will be evident."

  On her neck was a slim, close-fitting steel collar, closed in front, with a small padlock.

  "You are shopping," he observed.

  "Yes, Master," she said,

  "Do not drop your net of produce," he said, "and advance easily, as if nothing were amiss, to the edge of the market, to the alley there, and do not turn around."

  "Please!" she said.

  "Now," he said.

  The point of the object, which was surely a muzzle or muzzlelike, pressed into her lower back, harshly.

  "Yes, Master!" she said.

  She moved toward the alley.

  "In here," he said.

  Moaning, she entered the indicated door, a shabby door, one of several, in a worn, defaced wall, covered with scrawls, and the remains of some yellowed, posted bills.

  "Kneel," he said, and she knelt, on some boards, before a shuttered window, through which light filtered, and a chair, on which a man sat. She could see, rimmed with light, little more than the outline of his body. She could tell, however, that he wore a mask.

  "Put aside the groceries," said the man in the chair, not unkindly.

  She put them to the side.

  "I know little of serving men, Master," she said. "I am a lady's maid."

  "Show her the picture," said the man in the chair.

  From behind her a drawing, in color, was produced, and held before her face.

  She turned white.

  The picture was then withdrawn.

  "You are the maid of the Lady Publennia Calasalia, of, or once of, the Larial Calasalii."

  "No, Master!" she said.

  "Do you lie to free men?" asked the figure in the chair.

  "Forgive me, Master," she said, frightened.

  "It is known you are her maid, and you have been identified as such, and that is why you have been brought here," said the man in the chair.

  The slave was silent.

  "Is she still of the Calasalii?" asked the man.

  "No, Master," she said, regarding the picture, fearfully. "She was disowned."

  "But she receives an allowance."

  "Yes, Master is well informed.'' The slave, who was a highly intelligent young woman, realized then that she stood in terrible jeopardy, for she did not know what her interrogators knew and what they did not know. Accordingly, great risks might be involved in attempting to conceal or obscure information. She had already been caught in one lie. It might mean her life to be found out in another.

  She began to weep.

  "Show her the picture again," said the seated man.

  It was put again before her.

  "Look at the picture," she was told. "Look carefully."

  She looked at it, trembling, through tears.

  "Is that your mistress?" asked the seated man.

  The slave wrung her hands in misery.

  "Put your hands behind you, wrists crossed," said the seated man, "as though bound."

  She complied.

  "Widen your knees," he said.

  "Master!" she said.

  "And now cross your ankles, as though they were bound," he said.

  "Yes, Master," she wept.

  "Is the picture that of your mistress?" asked the seated man.

  "It is a drawing, Master!" she wept. "It is not a mechanical pictorial. I do not know if it is my mistress or not!"

  "It has been identified, by several people, as a likeness of your mistress," said the seated man.

  "It appears to be she," said the slave. "But it is a drawing. It is only a drawing. One cannot know."

  The drawing, at a sign from the seated man, was withdrawn.

  "But you think it might be a drawing of your mistress?"

  "Yes, Master," she wept.

  "Where is your mistress?" asked the man.

  "She is not well-she is indisposed-" said the slave. "No, no! Forgive me, Master! She is not in the city!"

  "That seems clear," said the seated man.

  The slave trembled. It seemed obvious then that the quarters of the Lady Publennia must have been searched, that inquiries had been made.

  "Are you, Masters," begged the slave, "of those who questioned me earlier?"

  "Speak," said the seated figure, sternly.

  "Those who inquired of me information as to delicate matters," she whispered.

  "What?" asked the seated figure.

  The mind of the exquisite redheaded slave, kneeling, positioned according to the dictates of her captors, raced. She felt vulnerable, and helpless, kneeling, her knees spread, her wrists crossed behind her, her ankles crossed. If they knew the truth of these matters, and were testing her, and she lied, she did not know what would be done with her. It is not permitted to slaves to lie, and penalties, terrible penalties, may be inflicted on one who does. Simple truth, perfect truth, and a desperate hope for the mercy of masters, is the slave's best hope.

  "Information," said she, "as to the most intimate lineaments of my mistress's beauty."

  "As though she might even have been a slave?"

  "Yes, Master," whispered the slave.

  "Ah," said the man in the chair, an utterance of both triumph, and fury.

  The slave put her head down, frightened.

  "When were you so questioned?" asked the man in the chair.

  "Over twenty days ago," said the slave.

  "Where is your mistress now?"

  "I do not know, Master!" said the slave, looking up. "Men came for her, and she left, in a carriage, in the early morning."

  "When was this?"

  "Fifteen days ago," said the slave.

  "On the calends of Rissius?"

  "Yes, Master," said the slave, startled.

  "What is your name?" asked the seated man.

  "Nika, Master, if it pleases Master," she said.

  "It is a pretty name," he said.

  "Thank you, Master," she said.

  The seated man then made a gesture to the man behind the slave.

  The slave became aware of hands, at the side of her head, and of a band, or cloth, of sorts, between them.

  "Do not move," said the man in the chair.

  The slave was then gagged.

  She whimpered.

  Then she felt light cords of silk whipped about her crossed wrists, which were then, almost instantly, bound, and then her crossed ankles, too, were so served, and she knelt then as she had been, save that now she was gagged, and bound, hand and foot. Her eyes were wild over the gag. She was gently eased to her side on the boards. She felt a coldness on her upper left arm, and a dampness, where some fluid had been rubbed, and then, a moment or two later, as she winced,
the entry into her body, at that point, of a needle. It took some seconds to inject a given quantity of fluid into her body.

  She looked up, wildly, at the man who had been in the chair, who now stood, looking down at her.

  She looked to the other side and saw a large leather sack being drawn toward her, over the boards.

  "You are going on a trip, pretty little Nika," said the first man, he masked, he looking down at her.

  She squirmed a little, but, in a moment or two, lost consciousness.

  "I fear the worst," said Julian, of the Aurelianii, pulling away his mask.

  "What can be done?" asked Tuvo Ausonius. "The Narcona has a start of fifteen days. By now she will have crossed at least four thresholds. Radio contact, without adjustments at the thresholds, will not be possible."

  "We must do what we can," said Julian.

  "The next ship is specially scheduled, and, even so, does not leave for two weeks."

  "It will leave tomorrow," said Julian.

  "I will be ready," said Tuvo Ausonius.

  "We will be ready," said Julian.

  "You cannot leave, milord," said Tuvo Ausonius. "The ceremonials, the insult to the emperor!"

  "I have men loyal to me," said Julian. "If necessary, I will seize a patrol ship."

  "An impostor slave seems an odd selection for a spy, or saboteur," said Tuvo Ausonius.

  "Who would be alone, with no thought given to it, unsuspected, with a man at night?" asked Julian.

  Tuvo Ausonius turned white.

  "It is not a spy or saboteur we need fear," said Julian. "It is an assassin."

  "You suspect Iaachus?"

  "Yes, but one does not know. It could be any enemy."

  "They do not know we are aware of an impostor slave," said Tuvo Ausonius.

  "True," said Julian. "That may give us time. Ottonius must await us at Venitzia. In that way, we may have time to warn him. I suspect they plan to do their deed in the wilderness, not within the pomerium of Venitzia."

  "The imperial family will not give you permission to be absent from the ceremonials," said Tuvo Ausonius.

  "Then I will seize a patrol ship," said Julian.

  "That is treason!" said Tuvo Ausonius.

  "Are you ready to join me in such treason?" asked Julian.

  "Treason in the service of the empire is no treason," said Tuvo Ausonius.

  "Good fellow!" said Julian.

  "What if we are successful?" asked Tuvo Ausonius.

  "Then we shall brazen things out," said Julian.

  "And if we are not successful?"

  "Then we are traitors," said Julian.

  Tuvo Ausonius shuddered.

  Tuvo Ausonius looked down at the unconscious slave, bound and gagged, at their feet.

  "We need her," said Julian. "She can make an identification of her mistress, as the free woman, the Lady Publennia of Lisle, on Inez IV."

  "We have the drawing," said Tuvo Ausonius.

  "The drawing is only a drawing, and not a mechanical pictorial, and, as far as many would know, only the drawing of someone who closely resembles a supposed slave, or, indeed, it might even be a drawing of an actual slave, the one with the expedition. How could one prove that the drawing, done even by one who had never seen the woman in person, but only by means of the memory of another, is that of the Lady Publennia? Indeed, how could one prove that even a mechanical pictorial of the woman was a pictorial of the actual Lady Publennia?"

  "True," said Tuvo Ausonius.

  "The slave is important, too," said Julian, "if we are separated, as you have never seen the Lady Publennia personally."

  "It seems a pity to take such a pretty, innocent, delicious little creature into what might prove to be a situation of considerable danger, among perhaps even ruthless barbarians and such."

  "Not at all," said Julian. "She is only a slave."

  "True," said Tuvo Ausonius.

  The two men then, together, eased the body of the redheaded slave, feet first, into the sack, and tied it shut, over her head.

  "What if Ottonius does not wait for us at Venitzia?" asked Tuvo Ausonius.

  "He must," said Julian, angrily, jerking tight, and tying, the cords of the sack over the head of the slave. She stirred a little in the sack, but did not regain consciousness.

  "But what if he does not?" asked Tuvo Ausonius.

  "Then all is lost," said Julian.

  …CHAPTER 13…

  On the day following the great feast of Abrogastes, which is conjectured to have taken place on Ukuna III, a large assemblage of barbarians, and others, climbed to the height of a rude, natural feature known as the mountain of Kragon. There, on its stony summit, well above the tree line, on a great horizontal metal ring, hands laid upon it, a swearing took place, this done by rank after rank of individuals, approaching and withdrawing, which swearing, too, similarly and successively, was repeated, hands placed upon the shaft or blade of a great spear, it seeming to have some symbolic relevance among the Alemanni and certain other peoples, mostly allied or related.

  We do not know precisely what was sworn, or what occurred, on that day in that place.

  On the other hand, it seems clear that something of importance took place.

  It was shortly thereafter, in that world's spring, after the cessation of the astronomical anomaly of the "wind of stones" that the gates of better than a hundred thousand concealed hangars were slid upward and the great ships rolled forth.

  The lions, as it was said, were awakening.

  The name of the world, in the language of the Alemanni, seems to have been Ainesarixhaben, or a place where fires are kept. It may have been the home world of the Alemanni peoples.

  It was also known, in other barbaric tongues, as Eineskmirgenlandes, a world, or country, of the morning, and Oron-Achvolonarei, the place where stone birds fly.

  This was, in the reckoning of the empire, in the third year of the reign of the emperor, Aesilesius.

  …CHAPTER 14…

  The horse put its head down, its long hair whipped by the wind. It drew against the traces, and stumbled to its knees in the snow.

  It turned in the traces, snorting, wildly, in pain, tilting the sled, and threw its head to the side, its round eyes rolling.

  Its body was already half covered with snow.

  The man, wrapped in the fur cloak, with the staff, who had been struggling at the side of the sledge, thrusting at it, lifting it, waded to the beast's side. The horse's mighty lungs heaved. It gasped. The freezing air seared its nostrils. The wind and air, too, tore at the side of the man's face, and stabbed his lungs. The breath of the horse whipped away from it, like a lace of fog, broken and splintered. There was ice caked about its jaws.

  The man looked down at the animal, bracing himself against the wind.

  He could see little, even in starlight reflected from the snow, for the blasting wind and ice.

  This was the third night of storms.

  Already the stirred, whirled snow was deep on the plains of Barrionuevo, or, as some have it, the flats of Tung. In places, by morning, it would drift to heights of fifty feet.

  Tangara is bitter in that place, in the month of Igon. Only once had the Heruls raided in that month, and that was years ago, when they had crossed the Lothar on the ice.

  It was then that they, fresh from their defeat of the Otungs, had carried war to the related folk, the Basungs.

  It was after this that the plains of Barrionuevo had become, for many, the flats of Tung.

  On them the Heruls, a hardy, merciless, slave-keeping folk, in the summer, grazed their herds.

  The man knelt in the snow beside the horse. He opened its eye, which had closed, with his mittened fist. It was still alive, gasping.

  He drove the staff into the snow, and removed from the sledge a great sword, one which must be wielded with two hands. He lifted it, with both hands, and then smote the horse's head away. He then, kneeling beside the beast, trembling with cold, cut it open, and cu
t himself bits of meat, thrusting them, fumbling, into his mouth, his beard crusted with ice. The blood from the horse froze as it entered the air, forming almost instantly rivulets, and breakages, of thick, dark ice. The man cut through the rib cage, and pulled away tissue. He tore with his mittens, and then, as they sopped, and crusted, and might have broken, he dug with his sword, holding it near the point, at the ventral cavity of the beast, emptying it, pushing its contents away, and he then crawled, freezing, huddling, within the body, which, for moments would be warm, but might provide, for days, shelter and food.

  It is a trick known to Heruls, and others, for example, to those of certain festung villages, such as that of Sim Giadini, nestled at the foot of the heights of Barrionuevo.

  …CHAPTER 15…

  "He is gone! I heard it in the kitchen, from one of the barrack girls!" said the small brunette, rushing into the administration's cement slave shed in Venitzia, a small city on Tangara, surrounded by its electric defenses. It was the provincial capital.

  "Who is gone?" cried the blonde, rising from her simple, sturdy, anchored metal cot, to which she, like the other girls to theirs, was chained.

  The surprise, and bewilderment, was universal.

  The girls came to the ends of their chains, out, into the aisle, as they could. Their chains must reach far enough to make possible the cleaning of not only their area but of the adjacent portion of the aisle, as well.

  "The barbarian!" cried the girl. "He has gone!"

  The blonde cursed the chain on her left ankle that would permit her only a handful of feet from the cot.

  "I do not understand," said she who was first girl, even she, at the moment, chained to her cot.

  "They are startled, in consternation, furious!" said the brunette. "It seems he left Venitzia before dawn, without informing anyone, taking only a horse and supplies upon a sledge."

  "But why?" asked a girl.

  "I do not know," said the brunette. "He was to wait, for his excellency, Lord Julian. There was some diplomatic mission or other, it seems. But he has gone!"

  "What of all the hoverers, of the shuttle, of the Narcona?" asked another.

  "The Narcona remains in orbit," said the brunette. "The shuttle is within her. The hoverers are covered, in the yard, with the supplies."