She put her head down, as she could, and pressed her lips to the heavy sandal, and, terrified, kissed it, fervently, and hopefully, desperately, again and again.
“I see,” said Urta, sneeringly, “that you might be trained to kiss well.”
“Masters train their slaves as they wish,” whispered Yana. “And it is the hope of a slave to be trained in such a way that she may be found pleasing by her master.” Had she actually said that, and to such a man? Yes, she had said it, and, as she realized, a moment later, it had been uttered instantly, sincerely, naturally, and without thought. “Who could say such a thing?” she asked herself. “And what could that tell her about herself,” she wondered.
“Do you beg to be trained by me, or any man?” asked Urta.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I am a slave,” she said. How could she say such things?
“There is no way back to freedom for you,” he said.
“I desire none,” she said. How could she have said that?
“Why?” he demanded.
“Because I am a slave, Master,” she said. And she knew, suddenly, that what she said was true.
Urta withdrew the sandal.
“You were displeasing,” he said.
“Forgive me, Master,” she said. “I beg forgiveness, Master.” She heard her voice as though it was the voice of another, and then she realized that it was truly her voice, a voice soft, humble, submissive, and deferent, a voice which she well recognized, from thousands of experiences as a free woman, as the voice of a slave. A free woman may speak as she pleases, abruptly or harshly, imperiously or arrogantly, slurringly or indistinctly, clumsily or inarticulately, but a slave is to speak with excellent diction, softly, clearly, and deferently. She may be punished if she does not. “Yes,” she thought, “I am now a slave. It is what I am.” And then she added, half marveling, “and it is what I want to be.” To be sure, she now had no choice in the matter. On her neck was a collar; and on her thigh, seared into her flesh, was a mark, the lovely and delicate “slave rose.”
Urta turned away from her, contemptuously, and once more peered over the balustrade.
“Yes, I am a slave,” she thought. “I belong in a collar. I hope he will sell me. I need a master. If only I had a master, a strong master, who would own me and treat me as the needful slave I am, a master who might be kind to me, his meaningless animal, a master whom I might joyfully love and serve.”
The singing of the many throats in the street below was roaring upward between the buildings.
“They are at the edge of the square,” said Urta. “They are variously armed. They are determined. They march on the palace! Surely they will destroy all free persons they find within, and seize slaves and other loot. I trust that, in their ransacking and despoiling, they will not fire the palace. Prince Ingeld, to whom you were wedded, your former husband and lord, wishes to rule from it, in the name of whatever brat it may be who will be passed off as your offspring. Behold, they do not hesitate!”
Yana wept, and groaned with misery.
“They are well upon the square now,” said Ingeld. “They are eager. They hasten!”
Suddenly there was a flash of light, brighter than daylight itself, and Urta recoiled, crying out, darting down, behind the balustrade, and, a moment later there was a sound as of erupting rocks and descending tiles and stonework, and then, one after the other, there were three more such flashes, and then, after each, a moment later, a sound as of gouged, upheaved, falling rubble. Even from where she lay, Yana, looking up, as she could, saw spumes of dust rising in the air and then being swept away by the wind.
“Master!” she cried, frightened.
Urta, shaken, rose up a bit, looking over the balustrade, and then, satisfied, straightened up, shielding his eyes from the sun.
No longer was there singing below, but rather sporadic, disjointed cries of frightened men.
“The palace was not abandoned,” said Urta. “It is being defended. They must have thousands of cartridges at their disposal. See how freely they expend them! Free women, even cities, have been given for one. It is supposed they scarcely exist. Often there is no more than one or two on a world, if that. Such things go back to a time of plenty, of fabulous resources which could be devoted to widescale destruction, a time when a moment could suffice for the slaughter of a population, the leveling of a city.”
“What was done?” pleaded Yana.
“I do not understand,” said Urta. “They did not fire on the crowd. How foolish! They might have burned hundreds, thousands alive. But they killed no one. They merely blasted out great craters, four great craters, in the path of their advance.”
“That a warning be issued,” said Yana.
“The crowd has scattered,” said Urta. “It flees back, up Palace Street.”
“The palace is safe!” said Yana.
“What fools they were,” said Urta. “They could have killed hundreds, even thousands, of their enemies, and they refrained from doing so.”
“Some are less hungry for blood than others,” said Yana.
“It will do them no good,” said Urta. “The palace is isolated. It will be surrounded. We know that the food and water at its disposal is in short supply. Our operatives within the palace saw to that before their withdrawal from the grounds. I doubt that more than three or four days will take place before the usurper sues for terms. Generous terms will be granted to lure the defenders out, and then, when they are at our mercy, they will be seized, tried, and executed.”
“You would betray honor?” asked Yana.
“Not at all,” said Urta. “That might displease worlds. It will be discovered, rather, that the treaty was illegal, that it was without standing, having not been ratified by the senate.”
“Perhaps the palace will be able to hold out indefinitely,” said Yana.
“No,” said Urta. “If it is not soon surrendered, it will be breached.”
“You would risk damage to the palace, even its destruction?” asked Yana.
“Unfortunately,” said Urta.
“I do not understand,” said Yana.
“It has to do with the Turona,” said Urta.
“The Turona was intercepted, and looted, by a corsair,” said Yana. “I, and others, were seized on the Turona.”
“And had you not been,” said Urta, “you would not now be at my feet.”
“It was robbed of copper and silver, as well as slaves,” said Yana.
“It was robbed, as well,” said Urta, “of something far more valuable than slaves, silver, and copper.”
“I do not understand,” said Yana.
Urta bent down, over her prone form, pushed her ankles forward to reduce the tension on the confining leash, and undid the taut straps which had bound her crossed ankles together, so uncomfortably, so high, behind her back, and then drew the freed leash forward, from under her body, and stood up, the leash in his hand.
“On your feet,” he said.
Yana, her hands fastened behind her, struggled to her feet. As she had been tied, her balance, for moment, was uncertain.
Yana noted that her Master’s grip on the leash was now firm.
His eyes appraised her, as a slave may be appraised.
“Master looks upon his slave boldly,” she said.
“Do you object?” he asked.
“I may not,” she said.
“You are not a free woman,” he said.
“No, Master,” she said.
“The name ‘Viviana’ is a familiar Telnarian name,” he said. “There are few who would recognize the former Viviana, the sister of a deposed emperor, she of royal blood, in the unkempt, bedraggled slave before me.”
“I am no longer, legally, the sister of Aesilesius,” she said. “I am
now a property, an object, an animal. Too, I am no longer, legally, of royal blood. I am now of slave blood.”
“I see that you know the law,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“I think,” he said, “I will name you ‘Viviana’. It pleases me to own you under that name.”
“Master may do with me as he wishes,” she said.
“You are “Viviana’,” he said. “What is your name?”
“‘Viviana’, Master,” she said.
“You understand,” he said, “that that is a mere slave name, put on you as one might put a name on a dog or pig?”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
He lifted the leash before her.
“You attempted to escape,” he said.
“Only to warn those in the palace,” she said.
“You failed,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Do you think escape is possible?” he asked.
“No, Master,” she said.
“Ever?” he asked.
“No, Master,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I am a slave,” she said. “I am in a collar.”
“We shall now leave the roof,” he said. “I must take counsel with highly placed ones.”
Viviana regarded her master.
“I will chain you somewhere,” he said. “The doings of moment in which I am embroiled, doings of great importance, are not the concern of pigs, dogs, and slaves.”
Viviana, barefoot, tunicked, and helpless, felt the cool wind coursing across the roof.
“I trust you understand,” he said.
Viviana recalled the many audiences and assemblies of state which she had been required to attend, at which policy had been discussed and decisions made, decisions sometimes dealing with worlds, meetings she had found tiresome, meetings at which she had been perforce present, distracted, inattentive, disinterested, and bored.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
She then, on her leash, her hands braceleted behind her, followed her Master from the roof.
Chapter Seventy-Four
“Drink, Master?” asked Flora, once an officer of the court, on Terennia.
Otto held forth his goblet, and a bit of water was poured into it, carefully, from a pitcher.
“Bread, Master?” inquired Renata.
“Yes,” said Otto, and Renata put a crust of bread on the golden plate.
All the slaves in the room were clothed in brief tunics. Men often prefer to have slaves so, as the sight of the female figure, scarcely clad, pleases them, indeed, often arouses and excites them. One speaks, of course, of true men. It is well known, as well, that the sight of a scarcely clad slave improves the appetite. Such garmenture, too, serves to remind the slave that she is a slave and, if it must be known, given her display and bareness, arouses and excites her, as well. Had the occasion been less somber, the slaves might have served even more simply, clad only in their collars.
Several men were gathered about the makeshift table set in the throne room. There was Iaachus, the Arbiter of Protocol, his slave, Elena, in attendance; and then there were Tuvo Ausonius, once a finance officer on Miton; Julian, he of the Aureliani, an officer in the navy; and Titus Gelinus, a rhetor and attorney, who was the envoy of the palace to the senate, and the envoy, as well, of the senate to the palace. Rurik, the Tenth Consul of Larial VII, of the Larial Farnichi was not present. He, as it may be recalled, was stationed in the dock district. Some slaves knelt nearby, unobtrusively, but at hand, should they be summoned. These were Sesella, owned by Tuvo Ausonius; Gerune, a former barbarian princess, who had sided with her brother, Ortog, in his secession from the Drisriaks, now in the collar of Julian; and Pig, a former ambitious, avaricious Telnarian beauty, the Lady Gia Alexia, now the property of Titus Gelinus. Lovely Filene, or Cornhair, the former Lady Publennia, of the Larial Calasalii, Rurik’s slave, was not amongst the other slaves. She was presumed to be with her master, somewhere in the dock district. It was not unusual for a man to wish his slave at hand, for his convenience. Amongst other slaves present were two slaves of Ortog, of the Ortungen, the first son of Abrogastes, king of the Drisriaks, commonly referred to as the Far Grasper. These were Delia and Virginia, both once of Telnar, the first the former Lady Delia Cotina, of the Telnar Farnacii, and the second, the former Lady Virginia Serena, of the lesser Serenii. Ortog was rumored to be in the delta of the Turning Serpent.
Aesilesius, the young, deposed emperor, was not present. His absence provoked neither surprise nor curiosity, but was, rather, taken for granted. Of what value or interest might be the presence of a feeble, uncontrollably salivating, retarded stripling? His familiar plaything, nurse, companion, and mentor, a delicate, red-headed slave named ‘Nika’, was also not in evidence. Aesilesius would often scream, cry, and tear at his hair and clothing that she be brought to him. The most piteous pleas of Nika to be relieved of her onerous charge, that of attendant upon the former, deposed emperor, had been scorned by the empress mother, and, it seems, had gone unheeded by the emperor himself, Ottonius, the First, sometimes, in whispers, spoken of as the Usurper.
A captive, blond Corelius, was also not present. He was chained in the kitchen, unshod, clad in the tunic of a slave.
Iaachus had suggested that he might be turned over to the restless mob hovering about the far edge of the square, several of whom might well remember him, or be surrendered to the mercies of Sidonicus and Fulvius, the exarch and deputy exarch of Telnar, but the emperor had demurred.
“It was wise to expend four of our six cartridges at once, rapidly, altogether, four days ago,” said Iaachus to Otto. “As you surmised would be the case, the enemy withdrew precipitously, and, suspecting that we must be stocked with ammunition, having been so free in its expenditure, were reluctant to renew their advance.”
“It won us a reprieve of four days,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Indeed,” said Julian, wryly, “a day per cartridge.”
“I anticipated a week,” said Otto, “but already probes and provocations multiply.”
“Perhaps Ingeld has penetrated our ruse,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Sidonicus, impatient to proceed, may have assured useful, gullible fanatics that being torn to pieces by blasts and consumed by fire is a quick, sure route to the table of Karch,” said Julian.
“That we have not fired again has doubtless heartened the foe,” said Iaachus.
“There is another possibility, as well,” said Otto, “one I view with dread.”
“Speak, dear friend,” said Julian, concerned.
“Through purchases or bargainings, through pledges or promises,” said Otto, “the foe may be accruing resources. Indeed, he may already have them at his disposal, but has been reluctant to apply them.”
“Resources?” said Julian.
“Cartridges,” said Otto, “five cartridges, two, as I understand it, for a pistol, and three for a rifle.”
“I do not understand,” said Julian.
“There was a ship,” said Iaachus, “the Turona, which carried such treasures, which was intercepted by a corsair.”
“You think such devices have found their way to Telnar?” asked Julian.
“It is possible,” said Iaachus.
“Why then have they not been used?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.
“They are incredibly precious,” said Iaachus. “One waits. One ponders. One does not spend gold recklessly.”
“But one may spend it freely,” said Otto, “for what is worth more than gold.”
“Such as an empire,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Precisely,” said Otto.
“I think,” said Julian, “Ingeld is unwilling to destroy the palace.”
“I think that is it,” said Titus Gelinus. “I think that is true.�
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“A palace can be rebuilt,” said Otto.
At that moment a great explosion rocked the palace, and, a moment later, another. Slaves screamed, men leaped to their feet, the table shook and dishes rattled, and outside the throne room could be heard, as though in the distance, a tumbling of masonry.
“The great doors are sealed, are they not?” inquired Julian.
“Surely,” said Otto.
“Our question is answered,” said Iaachus. “Ingeld and Sidonicus have cartridges.”
“From the Turona?” said Titus Gelinus.
“Presumably,” said Iaachus.
“They would then have three left,” said Julian. “We have two.”
“Pistol cartridges,” said Otto.
“The great doors,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “were designed, were they not, to withstand the force of such weaponry?”
“Yes,” said Julian.
“To resist one strike,” said Iaachus, “perhaps two.”
“So few?” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Two cartridges were expended,” said Otto. “They would presumably be those for the pistol. The three not yet fired would presumably be stronger charges, those for the rifle.”
“One must not expect too much of a foot of steel,” said Iaachus. “It is only a foot of steel.”
“We may all die,” said Julian, “choked with dust, crushed in debris.”
“Or wading, drowning, in molten metal,” said Iaachus, pleasantly.
There were cries of consternation from the slaves, who were now again, as was appropriate, on their knees.
“Be silent,” snapped Iaachus.
The slaves then lowered their heads, trembled, and were silent. They must await their disposition. It would be done with them as with other animals, as their masters pleased.
How exalted are free women!
How lowly are slaves!
Chapter Seventy-Five
“What is the damage?” inquired Otto.
“The great guard doors, gouged, and shaken, are awry on their hinges, but muchly hold,” said Julian. “As they hang, there is a narrow crevice at their height. One would need ladders, from the outside, to reach it.”
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