by John Norman
She heard a jangle of spurs to her right and a soldier, riding there for a moment, looked down upon her.
She looked up.
How men looked at women they thought to be slaves, she thought.
Her face, startled, exquisite, was almost hidden, framed in the furred hood.
He seemed a handsome fellow. In the last few weeks she had become acutely conscious of such things.
She squirmed a little, in the sack, under the two broad leather belts, one above her knees, the other about her waist. He spurred away.
"You learn quickly, Cornhair, slave slut," said the girl next to her.
The blonde was startled. Then she said, deferentially, "Yes, Mistress."
"Beware, slave girl," said the other. "You are a slave, and men may call your tease, and have exactly what, and anything, they want of you."
"Yes, Mistress," whispered the blonde, deferentially.
The blonde then squirmed down in the warm sack. She turned her head, brushing away the snow on her eyelashes, against the edge of the hood. Within the sack she was conscious of her nudity, which she gathered could set men afire, and she reluctantly sensed, as though from afar, how she herself might be set similarly afire, how she might be swept up, like a sheet of begging flame, helplessly, in passions so fierce, so intense, so irresistible, that she had always denied, hitherto, that they could exist.
She thought she sensed then how it might be that a slave could crawl to a man, begging.
I will buy and sell all of them, she told herself.
Within the fur, she clutched the disk on its chain, on her throat. She jerked at it. It was on her, like the chain. She could not remove it.
I wonder what it would be like, she thought, to be truly a slave girl.
The column continued on its way. The sky was darker now. Snow continued to fall.
…CHAPTER 29…
"The meat will soon be cooked," said Ulrich. "Then it will begin, the claiming."
The giant nodded.
There was a tiny stirring beneath the table, to the giant's left. There, beneath the table, head down, bent over, small, deliciously curved, her body oriented toward the center of the hall, her wrists bound together before her body, the right wrist bound over the left, the strand which had run from her bound wrists now taken back and used to fasten her crossed ankles together, knelt his slave, Yata.
He put one hand gently upon her.
She seemed afraid.
She whimpered.
"Be silent," he said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
He withdrew his hand.
He wondered why she was so afraid. She understands, perhaps better than I, he thought, the nature of this feast.
The fire in the fire pit, that long pit, was now sturdily ablaze.
The boar turned slowly, succulently, on the spit.
Its odor hung tantalizingly in the air.
But the men seemed dark, and tense.
Had it been another time and place, the giant thought, there might have been much fellowship in the hall, among such men.
But it was not so here, in this place, this Otung hall.
Perhaps he should dance the slave for them. Might that not please them?
She did not know the subtleties of slave dance, but she was beautiful, and, being female, could doubtless move well, and provocatively, before them. Even in her ignorance she might impress upon them, these lost, confused, defeated, isolated, forlorn, spiritless warriors, what might, on far worlds, as a consequence of successful adventuring, could they but recall the songs of their blood, and the lure of the stars, fall to their lot in the way of diverse booties, in the way of various riches, including such as she, such tender, delicious, exquisite loot. Too, of course, she would obey instantaneously and unquestioningly. He had seen to that but recently.
But somehow he did not think the men in the hall were now in the mood to consider such matters, pleasant as they might be in prospect.
"Which is the hero's portion?" asked the giant.
"The right, back thigh," said Ulrich.
"He whom you call Urta names the king?" asked the giant.
"Yes," said Ulrich.
"How is it done?"
"He judges the dispute, the contest, the slaughter, if there is one," said Ulrich. "He adjudicates it. Usually there is little to be judged, for commonly only one of the nobles, or the noble's champions, remains on his feet."
"But someone must name the winner?"
"Yes," said Ulrich. "If it is a noble, then he is the year king. If it is a noble's champion, then it is his lord who is the year king."
"Who named Urta the King Namer?" asked the giant.
"Heruls," said Ulrich.
"Is Urta loyal to the Otungs?"
"He is Otung," said Ulrich. "He does what he must."
"Who is the current year king?" asked the giant.
"Fuldan, the Old," said Ulrich.
"He who was sent for?" asked Otto.
"Yes," said Ulrich.
"I do not understand," said Otto.
"The bloodshed and slaughter at the last king naming was so plenteous, the champions wounded, or slain, so numerous,'' said Ulrich, "that, in the end, few were willing, or fit, to claim the kingship. Fuldan, the Old, seeing at last the madness of it, hobbled to the boar and thrust his knife into the right, rear thigh. 'Who will kill me, who will kill one who rode with Genserix, who will kill one who has shed his blood a hundred times in the cause of Otungs, who will kill an old man?' he asked. By that time the stomach for killing one another had been muchly abated. 'Let him be king,' said men. 'You are king,' said Urta, the King Namer, and thus came Fuldan, the Old, to the kingship of the Otungs."
"But Fuldan is not here," said Otto.
" 'I am king, but there is no king,' had said Fuldan," said Ulrich. "He avoids the hall. He avoids the folk."
"Then there is no king, truly," said Otto.
"There is one who was named king," said Ulrich.
"If you would have no king, then name Fuldan king again," said Otto.
"No," said Ulrich. "A year king can be a king but for one year only, and now, after the year, the nobles are ready, once more, none willing to yield place to another, to fly at one another's throats."
"This must please the Heruls," said Otto.
"They will have it no other way," said Ulrich.
"I would have it otherwise," said Otto.
"It is a long time since the pelt of a white vi-cat has been in the hall of the Otungs," said Ulrich.
"It is here now," said Otto.
"The meat will soon be done," said Ulrich.
"I am hungry," said Otto.
"One does not eat the meat, of course," said Ulrich.
"Why not?"
"Its cost tends to dampen hunger," said Ulrich. "Its price is high, and paid in blood. One tends to lose one's appetite."
"One should have a stronger appetite," said Otto.
"Perhaps," said Ulrich.
"There is no drink, no bread," said Otto.
"We do not eat nor drink at the feast of the king naming," said Ulrich.
"It is a poor feast," said Otto.
"It is not a feast," said Ulrich. "It is the Killing Time."
…CHAPTER 30…
Julian, codes exchanged, brought the hoverer down in the muddy yard outside the administration building.
There was, with the change in inertia, as the craft decelerated, a small, soft, startled cry from the object lying on its side in its net behind Julian and to his right.
''Inform the governor of the arrival of Julian, of the Aurelianii, kin to the emperor!" called Julian.
"Yes, your excellency!" said a guard.
Guards, shielding their faces from the spattering mud and water, whirled by the lifters, had hurried to the gunwales of the small craft, even as it had landed.
Julian cut the motors, and the craft eased into the mud.
The object in its net, lying behind Julian and to his ri
ght, whimpered. It could move but little, its legs drawn up, in the net.
The trip from the festung of Sim Giadini had been a bitterly cold one, and the small hoverer had been often buffeted with winds. Sometimes it had been impossible to see more than a few feet before the windscreen. They had been forced to land several times. More than once the tiny craft had been dug out of the snow by mittened hands, or, lifters roaring, had torn itself free, in its urgency, even at the cost of precious fuel.
"The yard is muchly empty," said Tuvo Ausonius. There were only two vehicles in the yard, both covered with canvas.
There were few lights in the barracks, at one side of the yard. The slave shed was dark, and no smoke emerged from its two chimneys.
Too, there were few supplies in view, though these might be housed in the dark warehouses to the north.
"The stables seem empty," said Tuvo Ausonius.
"Hold!" called Julian to the guard, who turned about.
"Summon, too," said Julian, "Phidias, captain of the Narcona, and Lysis, officer of supply, with the Narcona!"
"The shuttle has departed," called the guard. "Phidias is gone. Lysis, and other officers, and several men, with equipment and trade goods, have gone."
"The trade expedition has departed?"
"Yes, your excellency," said the guard.
"It is being led by the blond-haired captain, Ottonius?"
"The barbarian?"
"He."
"No, it seeks him."
"He is not with the expedition?"
"No, your excellency."
"It is imperative," said Julian, "that I follow them and make contact with the expedition immediately. I will need their route, seven hoverers, fuel for a month, a hundred men, draft animals, two dozen sleds, perimeter defenses, weapons and supplies!"
"The garrison is muchly gone," said the guard. "There is little left, even fuel, until the next supply ship."
"Go!" said Julian.
The guard turned about, again, and hurried toward the administration building.
"Surely all is not lost?" said Tuvo Ausonius to Julian.
"We shall leave Venitzia within the hour," said Julian.
The two men looked down at the object at their feet. It was lying on its side, in its heavy furs, on the metal decking of the hoverer, its legs drawn up. The net was of closely linked chain, a slave security net, though it may be used also for the securing of cargo, that usually done, however, with a rope net. The chain net cannot be chewed through, nor cut with a knife. The slave is inserted into the net, usually sideways, and then the opening is closed and padlocked, with a single lock, a massive one, about one of the deck rings. This makes it impossible for the slave to rise to her feet, to interfere in any way with the operation of the craft, even to extrude a hand from the net. Too, perhaps most importantly, it assures her safety, or, perhaps more realistically, the safety of the master's cargo, that she, or it, will be kept within the craft should it, say, engage in unusual maneuvers, as in evading predators, giant insects, or insectoidals, on some worlds, winged lizards on others, magnetic air mines, other ships, or such, or encounter turbulence. A strong wind can occasionally invert such light, disklike craft. But even in fine weather such confinements, or others, are often resorted to, as their imposition pleases the masters, and is experienced as informative by the slaves. This is not unusual as that which pleases the masters is often found instructive by the slaves, even extremely so.
A wisp of Nika's red hair emerged from within the heavy fur hood.
She looked up, her eyes wide and frightened, over her shoulder, at Julian.
"We expect to soon encounter the Lady Publennia," said Julian, looking down at the confined, lovely slave. "When you see her you are to identify her for us, immediately and clearly."
"But she is my mistress, Master!" said the slave.
"She is an outlaw and traitress, and no longer possesses property," said Julian. "And you are a slave and we are free men. You will obey us instantly and unquestioningly."
"Yes, Master," moaned the girl.
"As soon as you see her, thusly, you will identify her for us, immediately and clearly."
"I will try, Master," whispered the girl.
Julian kicked her, with the side of his foot, through the chain net, with a sound of chain. "And you will succeed," he said.
"Yes, Master!" she said.
"Or die," said Julian.
"Yes, Master!" she said.
"Sir," said the guard, returning. "The governor inquires as to your rank."
"Ensign," said Julian, angrily.
"Your requests are to be conveyed through channels," said the guard, "your excellency."
"I am Julian, of the Aurelianii," said Julian, "kin to the emperor, on a mission of importance and delicacy."
"Such a mission is already in progress, and under the imperial seals of secrecy," said the guard.
"I would know its route, and consult its maps," said Julian.
"The seals are imperial," said the guard. "The governor suggests you avail yourself of the hospitality of the junior officers' quarters. He is prepared to see you tomorrow."
"I want the hoverer refueled, now," said Julian.
"There is no authorization for that," said the guard.
"What of sleds, and men?" asked Julian.
"Resources are limited," said the guard. "It is our hope that the fence holds, and the expedition soon returns."
"What of those vehicles?" asked Julian, indicating the two vehicles under canvas in the yard.
"They are in need of repair, and are not fueled," said the guard.
Julian smote down on the gunwales of the hoverer with his mittened fists.
"The governor," said Tuvo Ausonius, "seems unduly rigid, and severe."
"No," said Julian, straightening, angrily. "That is the fury of it! We must admire him! His behavior, under the circumstances, is impeccably correct. He cannot be faulted. His behavior is in strict accord not only with protocol and regulation, but, I fear, good judgment. He is not, upon the petition of any nobleman, short of the emperor or his representative, to break imperial seals. Too, he is acting in accordance with his primary charge, the security of Venitzia. If he would not rush to grant an audience to any junior officer, why should he grant me one, as that is, precisely, my rank. We must admire him for putting duty before an attempt to curry favoritism with a patrician. Would there were more like him!"
"At this point," said Tuvo Ausonius, "we could use a sycophant. The last thing we need now is an incorruptible official, an honest man and a good officer."
"Sir," said the guard, "the governor would be honored, unofficially, of course, if you, and your companion, were to have dinner with him this evening."
"Thank him," said Julian, "on behalf of my friend and myself, for the honor would be ours, but inquire if we may not, instead, have snowshoes, and a single sled, a small one, with supplies, such as may be drawn even by a slave."
"Yes, your excellency," said the guard, turning about.
"Surely you have no intention of leaving tonight?" said Tuvo Ausonius.
"That is my intention," said Julian.
"You do not know where to find the expedition, or where, even, to look," said Tuvo Ausonius.
"We must do what we can," said Julian. He looked down at Nika in the closely linked, stout meshes of her confinement. "I had thought, my dear," said he to the exquisite slave, "that we might be in time, and that, tonight, we might have spent pleasant hours in a pleasant, cozy tavern, well-appointed and well-stocked, and well-lit with roaring fires, with you and your former mistress."
"With us, Master?" asked the girl.
"Yes, to let you both, a free woman and a woman's slave, see what true women are like, women in an exquisite, enhanced, refined order of nature."
Nika regarded him, wide-eyed and trembling.
"It would do you both good," said Julian, "to let you see true women, slaves, in wisps of slave silk, in collars, aroused and beggi
ng."
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"To let you, too, both of you, a free woman, and one once a mere woman's slave, feel silk, and metal, upon your own bodies, and firelight, and sense what it would be, what it will be, to be at the command of, and in the power of, men."
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"But," said Julian, "it seems that it is not to be, and that rather it is the winter night of Tangara, and a dangerous, doubtless fruitless, journey, which lies before us."
"It is madness, milord, to so enter the night," said Tuvo Ausonius.
"The life of Ottonius is at stake," said Julian.
"It is madness nonetheless," said Tuvo Ausonius.
"Do not accompany me, friend Ausonius," said Julian.
"No, milord," said Tuvo Ausonius. "I would rather share a glorious madness, a noble madness, than linger indefinitely, wormlike, counting days, until the end, in a dusty, terminal sanity."
"We may not return," said Julian.
"That is true of any journey, milord."
Shortly thereafter, a sled and supplies provided, the sled drawn by a small, trudging figure, Julian and Tuvo Ausonius left Venitzia.
They trekked north by northeast, following speculations afforded earlier by Brother Benjamin, of the festung of Sim Giadini, which speculations, in broad outline, tended to be confirmed by various officers in the garrison.
On the sled, among other supplies, was, wrapped in silk, and then coarse cloth, a small object, weighing about a pound and a half. It had been given to them by Brother Benjamin, while they were in the festung of Sim Giadini.
When they were beyond the fence something like a hour's trek through the frozen, crackling, moonlit snow, Tuvo Ausonius, looking about, said, "We are being followed."
"I know," said Julian.
What they did not know, nor had Brother Benjamin, nor the garrison officers, was that the location of the territories of the Otungs, little more now than their pastures and fields, had changed several times over the years, due largely to the demands and pressures of Heruls. The trading expedition, under Lysis, supply officer of the Narcona, had had somewhat better information, information obtained by the governor of Venitzia through secret agents, posing as trappers, traders and such. The locations of Herul groupings and those of other barbarians, such as Otungs and Basungs, were, as on many worlds, seldom publicly disclosed, and tended to be known only in a very general way. Even the trade expedition, as we have noted, was counting on obtaining a refinement of information in the wilds themselves, presumably from natives.
