The Complete Series

by Samuel R. Delany

  ‘The second incident was only minutes later, when I paused to overhear the tall lord in the fur-edged cloak, leaning against one of the pavilion poles and talking to his body servant, who squatted before him, busy searching for something in a small casket open on the ground. “Frankly, I find it disgusting the way they’re carrying on—both Piffles and Toad competing to see who can act the perfect mule turd. And all for that skinny twit shut up in her wagon—though, really, with the two of them acting the way they are, I don’t blame her. If I were in Fluffy’s position, I’d probably do the same.” I listened, sure I was as unnoticed here as I’d been behind the carriage. But the lord turned to gesture at me, though his eyes swept by me as his fist had swept his forehead when he’d saluted the empress. “Now, of course, we’ve got these loathsome fools to deal with. It’s disgusting—disgusting! Not Her Majesty’s policy at all; and both of them know it. Come here, my man.”

  ‘I stepped up, surprised all over again.

  ‘“You seem to have finished the last thing you had to do. Let me give you another job, before Toad gets his moist little fingers on you. Really, though, with that wound on your face—” for the pickax injury, if from time to time I forgot it, had not yet settled to this single scar, but was still a ravine of red flesh and dried scab that cascaded my brow and cheek—“if the dirt doesn’t stop him, that, at least, should keep you safe from his sloppy attentions. Now you go on and …”

  ‘He gave me another job.

  ‘And I, who’d been telling myself how I would have exploited the interest of that most noble besotted lord, went off to perform it—with the same stunned expression Namyuk had worn: a man who’d welcomed us so cordially, whose natural nobility had so flustered my guard, and who had passed a comment to me like an equal, had just dismissed me, on some whim that was the incomprehensibly random itself, as a disgusting ugly fool.

  ‘In the middle of my work, I heard a call for the slaves to come to the clearing. Were we to be sent back to the mines now? Confused, I trotted out, into the space among the wagons.

  ‘“That’s right. Come here, the lot of you!” Lord Anuron had taken off his cloak. In his red tunic, he waved an arm about in its long, loose sleeve. He was a great, brown, bear of a man, with nappy black hair, thick arms, and furry thighs showing below his red hem. “We’re going to have a little contest, now. We’re going to see what you’re made of. We called for the seven strongest slaves in the mine—though they seem to have sent us the seven youngest, instead.” All those standing around laughed. “But no matter. We’ve been watching you, you see. Now you.” He beckoned me to step forward. “You look like a strong boy. Though not quite so strong as”—here he turned to survey the line of us—“you there!” The one he pointed to was a miner called Vrach. “What’s your name, my man?”

  ‘“Eh … Vrach, sir.” Looking about warily, Vrach stepped out. “My name’s Vrach.”

  ‘“Are you ready to wrestle for your freedom, Vrach?”

  ‘“My Lord …?”

  ‘“You heard me. A fair fight to a single fall—yes, between you and me. How do you like that? If you win, I’ll buy you from the mines, take that collar from your neck, and give it to you as a present in honor of your new-won liberty. That is, if you can beat me …?”

  Vrach was one of some half-dozen miners whom I’d already decided that, because of their strength (or because they were simply half-mad), I would never fight. He was about twenty-four and had been in the mines a decade—though before that he’d been born into servitude somewhere in the west and had only been sold here when the estate he’d worked on was broken up. His hip-heavy body was all knots and blocks and angles, balanced on big, cracked feet. Some of his beard was already white; though, with the dirt, it looked mostly no color at all. He’d always been quiet. I’d tried a few times to befriend him. It hadn’t particularly worked. As I stood in the clearing, watching Vrach blink his wrinkled lids over reddened eyes, Namyuk came from behind the wagon. (I guess because he was clearly not the strongest of us, nobody did more than glance.) Moments later, Count Jeu-Forsi came out, too. He folded his arms and stood on the sidelines.

  ‘“And … if I lose, sir?”

  ‘Who, I wondered, in these last hours had stunned Vrach?

  ‘“Oh, why then—” Anuron turned up his large hands and laughed. He was taller than Vrach, darker, and broader; but though Anuron was strong, foot to forehead Vrach was clearly harder—“it’s back to the mines with you. That’s all. Nothing to lose, certainly. What do you say?”

  ‘“Then why must I fight you sir? Why not just send me back now?”

  ‘“But my man, we want some sport here!” The lord laughed, broadly, nervously. “A little entertainment. A fair fight, one fall, with freedom as the prize. Now don’t tell me you’re frightened?”

  ‘“Yes, sir!”

  ‘“But of what?” demanded Lord Anuron; the others around us, guards and servants, were starting to smile.

  ‘“You’ll kill me if I raise a hand to you!” Vrach blurted. “You’re the lord. I’m only a slave, sir. I’m not allowed to fight with you; and you’ll kill me if I dare!” Vrach, I realized, was terrified. And so, it struck me, was I! In his iron collar, Vrach went on: “You want to fight me to show off to the Lady inside.” The clearing we stood in was directly before the closed wagon; posts had been set at the four corners of a wide space and an attempt had been made to clear the ground of stones and fallen branches, though it was just as puddled and ribboned as our barracks yard. “You want her to see you win. Then why should you let yourself lose? If I come near to hurting you, or even to getting the upper hand, you or one of your guards will strike me dead! I know it, sir!”

  ‘“No, no, no!” The lord was becoming flustered. Still wearing his sword, he reached down to unstrap it. “There—” He flung it, with its belt and scabbard, to the sidelines, then hauled his red tunic over his head, to toss it off to the other side of the clearing. “Now, you see, my man? We’re equals. I’m as naked as you are!”

  ‘And though Vrach was a slave who went naked, the iron was still at his neck. “No, sir. Please, sir! Don’t make me fight you! Don’t—”

  ‘Crouching a little, Lord Anuron stepped forward and swung his hand against Vrach’s beard. “Come, now, my man! Fight, I say! A coward?” He slapped Vrach’s other cheek. “Protect yourself. Come on. I thought our slaves were made of better stuff!”

  ‘Vrach put a hand up to his face, turning almost wholly away. He mumbled back over his shoulder “Please, sir—!”

  ‘“I say fight!” and here Lord Anuron closed with Vrach.

  ‘Vrach tried to twist away and almost fell, so that he had to turn back to catch the bigger man; and held him—only to keep from slipping. And, after a fashion, they fought: I’d seen Vrach level any number of miners in the brawls that had broken out in our barracks. But here the slave fought the way, two or three times in Kolhari, I’d seen well-bred merchants fight when set on by a street vandal: since fighting was something they simply never did, and thus the encounter was, for them, outside all known law, and since they were also completely ignorant of what hidden weapons their assailant had (usually none—though, of course, not always) or what levels of violence the battle might, in a moment, rise to (again, usually none—though, yet again, not always), they fought not to injure the assailant or even to defend themselves. All their effort went into immobilizing the attacker, trying only to hold him still, hoping vaguely that, if they could only go on holding him long enough, he would come to his senses and cease his rowdiness. And since, thus, they fought in a dream, they always lost—usually sustaining injuries as well as theft. Vrach tried to hold on to the bear-like Anuron, just to keep the nobleman from hitting him.

  ‘Standing beside me, the tall lord began to cheer. The circle of servants and caravan guards (how many swords and spears and shields could I see among them!) took it up. I didn’t.

  ‘Neither did Namyuk.

  ‘Nor did the other slave
s at the sidelines. Though some servants and soldiers were shouting for Vrach and some were shouting for Anuron, I believe that, even if the promised prize had been freedom for all seven of us, I could not have cheered Vrach on. Rather, I—and I think it was true for the rest of us—was with him, slipping and struggling in the mud; we were as terrified as he that, at the least display of strength, someone—a soldier if not the lord he fought—would just step out and slay him.

  ‘With a great grin, Lord Anuron shoved staggering Vrach away, and the two stood panting, Vrach looking around, perhaps for somewhere to run—when Anuron barreled into him, toppling with him in a puddle. The mirror broke. The two flailed, splattering first water, then mud, now this one rolling on top, now the other. But, through the whole thing, Vrach only tried to hold the lord off or to pull himself away, while the muddy Anuron pummeled and struck with fist, elbow, or knee.

  ‘The soldiers and servants went on shouting. (What, I wondered, constituted a single fall? Anuron was still fighting.) Though I had begun the day observing as if this were some mummer’s skit of the lives and loves of hereditary nobility, what I saw here was something no mummer would ever show on the platform: these nobles were free, free to do anything, anything to us. They were free to summon us or send us away. They were free to speak to us as equals one moment, and free to call us disgusting fools the next. They were free to caress us in any way they wished, and free to strike or maim us in any other. They were free to promise us freedom, and free to thrust a blade in our livers as we looked up in joy. That’s what had stunned Vrach; and it stunned the six of us as we watched Vrach get his feet under him, as we watched Lord Anuron grab Vrach’s leg and yank him back down for a second fall. And I knew that whether the tale was that of a slave’s winning his freedom in a single fall or of the lord’s proving his manliness to a noble lesser lady, neither story was for my benefit nor the benefit of anyone else in the collar.

  ‘The two struggled.

  ‘And for all the ripples around them in that muddied mirror, I could no longer make out in it any turn of cloud, nor any branch of tree.

  ‘Then the door to the Lady Esulla’s wagon opened. Crouching down, a servant woman looked out, ducked back in, then pushed something forward: an elaborate box splatted onto the mud. She disappeared. (The cheers and cries increased at the contest, but I was watching the wagon.) A thin, dark woman with short black hair, wide-spaced eyes, and wearing a white ankle-length shift stepped carefully out to stand on the pedestal.

  ‘She looked at the fighters.

  ‘Lord Anuron must have seen her. Perhaps he relaxed his grip, because Vrach pulled away from him, splashing on all fours, and, three yards off, staggered to his feet. Vrach turned to her too, mud from sole to crown. Blinking, he took a step back.

  ‘Lord Anuron reeled upright, made a clumsy bow to the Lady, and grinned through the slop. He turned in the torn-up clearing to face Vrach, who stood, looking between the lady and the lord. Anuron took a breath. Then, again, he barreled forward. What he did next was to bring his knee up, hard, between Vrach’s legs and, at the same time, bring both fists down, like dropped rocks, on Vrach’s shoulders. The miner rose enough for his feet to suck clear from the mud, gave out an “Uggggggg …” and fell, splattering, both hands thrust between his legs. He lay there, the “Uggggggggggggg …” going on. And on.

  ‘Guards and servants applauded.

  ‘“ … ggggggggggg …”

  ‘And on.’

  5

  ‘PANTING, GRINNING, LORD ANURON looked around at his audience. That must have been the fall he was waiting for: he gave another small bow, then turned to Lady Esulla. “See?” he called, over the applause, between gasped breaths. “I won, Fluffy …! That last was a trick my father taught me … Does it every time! I could even teach it to you too, if you’d like …? I tell you, it’s not a bad idea for women to know how to fight in these strange and terrible times!”

  ‘As guards and servants moved off, Count Jeu-Forsi came forward to stand over Vrach. Slowly, he stooped, took the miner’s shoulder, and peered at him.

  ‘The Lesser Lady stepped from her pedestal, to make her way across the mud and squat, beside them, the hem of her shift in seconds soaked and soiled.

  ‘In his fur-edged cloak, the tall lord walked out to join them. Vrach’s moan came from among them. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but from their whispers and consultations, they were talking about the fallen miner.

  ‘I was surprised.

  ‘So was Lord Anuron.

  ‘Still buoyed by his victory, he went over to see what they were doing and said genially: “I knew if we got started, Fluffy, that would bring you out. Come on, now. You must tell me: what did you think of that last one—the one I dropped him with?”

  ‘Lady Esulla looked up from where she knelt on the muddy ground. “Piffles—” her voice was both breathy and chill—“will you, if only for my sake and the honor you bear my father, put some effort into being a little less tiresome? Otherwise, I don’t know what I’m going to do!”

  ‘“Tiresome …?” Lord Anuron stepped back. “Tiresome …!” His face contorted toward the same flustered petulance with which he’d raged at his servants. But he turned and, with the mud still on him (some blood in with it, too, on his shoulder and his thigh), once more stalked, this time naked, from the encampment toward the far pines.

  ‘The three nobles turned again to Vrach. Now they called the six of us over—what, they wanted to know, did we think of his condition? I have no idea what we mumbled. Lady Esulla sent for towels and a basin, and stooped there, washing mud from Vrach’s face and chest. Now over his drunkenness (perhaps that had only been for Namyuk), Count Jeu-Forsi called someone to run to his tent and fetch the stoppered bronze pitcher—it was a powerful, even dangerous, potion; but he never traveled without it. At least it would ease the miner’s pain. (Though it took almost half an hour to take effect, it did.) They had a stretcher brought. Count Jeu-Forsi took one end and ordered a soldier to carry the other. (I didn’t think the little lord was strong enough for it and stepped up to take it from him. But, though he still smelled of drink, he waved me back; and managed very well.) As the stretcher went past us, the tall lord stood with his hand on Lady Esulla’s shoulder, the two talking softly, now with concern for Vrach, now with barely controlled outrage at Acorn Head.

  ‘Lady Esulla sent three servants to set up a bed of benches for Vrach by the side entrance to the pavilion. We kept glancing over where they were bringing out mats and pillows and rugs—none of us, you understand, slept on anything but straw and earth in our barracks. Yes, it was best for the others to go back to the mines this evening. Really, the lords could not apologize enough—to all of us! Namyuk and I were chosen to stay over at the caravan site and help Vrach back in the morning, since he was in no condition to return that night. A soldier would go with the other miners and explain our absence. We two mustn’t worry. It would all be taken care of. The others went off, while Namyuk and I were told to make ourselves as comfortable as we could, there beside the pavilion, where Vrach was stretched, dazed from the drug. Supper hour had arrived at the caravan, and servants began to come out to Namyuk and me with a dozen (it seemed) astonishing dishes, more than half of which we were afraid to eat because we didn’t know what they were. Still, the remainder made a meal more sumptuous than anything I’d ever known, not only at the mines but, indeed, at my home in Kolhari. Vrach’s occasional moan behind us joined the sound of our eating and the soldiers’ and servants’ chatter coming and going inside.

  ‘As the sky’s blue deepened, the tall lord came out to us.

  ‘He’d come to look at Vrach.

  ‘He’d also brought out his own plate and, after once more examining the injured slave (who now at least was conscious and able to mutter a few words), sat down to finish his meal with us. He called for a small bowl of broth to be brought and held Vrach’s head in his lap to spoon a few sips past the miner’s beard. For the first time
since the fight Vrach managed a smile—then threw up all over the lord’s lap and leg.

  ‘Always squeamish, Namyuk bolted from the bed’s edge at that one. But the lord only called for more towels to clean Vrach and himself. Then, when he’d made the miner as comfortable as possible with more pillows and rugs, he sat down beside me again on the bed to continue his supper. (Namyuk finished his, squatting on the ground, his plate between his toes.) My mother’s care for me during some childhood sickness played at my memory. In the mines, no one received such treatment. There, a sick or injured slave was simply put to work on a less demanding job. If his ailment was such that he would be indisposed for more than two or three days, he was often taken off somewhere and left to starve—that is, if a guard didn’t grow tired of his calls for food and kill him in the night with a knife across the throat.

  ‘The tall lord—I didn’t know his name nor can I remember what Toad or Fluffy had called him—stayed on to talk to us, to ask about our lives at the mines, about our lives before. He told us that, while his own parents had once owned many, many slaves, though he remembered seeing them in the fields when he was ten or twelve, the empress did not relish the institution, and, though buying or owning slaves was still legal, when his family had moved to the north their slaves had been freed or sold. For all four of the nobles together in the caravan, including Lord Anuron, mastery such as we had seen abused today was a childhood memory, not an adult reality. (That night I first learned, while the empress still owned various slave-worked institutions such as the mines there in the north and the quarries off in the south, no slaves were used at court.) His curiosity about us and our lives was as sincere as his concern for Vrach, and as we talked there, through the evening, all of us, despite our discomfort, despite our distrust, became more and more open, more and more honest—no doubt he as much as we. That evening, I learned things of Namyuk and Vrach (who was, after a while, able to talk a little) I’d never have learned at the mines—if only because I’d never have thought to ask such questions as that tall lord asked. Doubtless they learned similar things of me. And all three slaves learned things about the life of a Nevèrÿon noble that bewildered, that astonished, that seemed as unbelievable to us as any night dream reconsidered in the day. Oh, not all we learned was pleasant. When Vrach fell silent awhile, Namyuk and I were soon talking of our freedom, our capture, our life before the mines. The tall lord listened. The tall lord smiled. But now from a momentarily noble frown, now from a lordly blink of incomprehension, now from a look of truly imperial blankness, soon Namyuk, Vrach, and I—and, finally, the lord himself—began to suspect that the life we were describing to him was so far below his in comfort, privilege, and power, that both Namyuk’s forest village and my dockside home were so chained about in what for him was just pettiness and poverty … well, as he finally admitted to us, leaning forward on his knees with a small smile of apology, he was just not sure he could see the difference between such freedom and actual slavery; nor was he clear why one state was really preferable to the other and accepted it (if indeed he did) only on our say-so.