I wondered if she still thought of herself as a free woman, or was trying to think of herself as a free woman.
I did not think she would be successful.
I stepped back, regarding her.
The tunic she wore was fetching, if only because there was so little to it. It was high on her thighs, especially the left thigh, for her brand was evident. The hems were ragged. In places it was rent. It was muchly stained and soiled. In front it was torn to her belly.
It was then she had said, “Doubtless you are pleased to see me so,” and I had pointed to the deck, and knelt her, head down.
“Yes,” I had said, “I like to see you as you are.”
She trembled in rage before me, but dared not raise her head.
“When,” I said, “you were the Lady Flavia of Ar, high in the city, confidante of the Ubara herself, I would suppose you did not anticipate that you would one day kneel collared before one who was once a mere guard.”
“No,” she said.
“‘No’?” I said.
“No,” she said, “-Master.”
“I note,” I said, “that you bear wastes.”
She was silent.
These are borne to the rail, where they are emptied, following which the pails, seriatim, on a long rope, are rinsed in the sea, thereafter to be returned to the chain hooks on the yoke.
“Only the lowest of slaves are put to such labors,” I said.
“Some are so punished,” she said.
“Are you being punished?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
“Then you are amongst the lowest of slaves,” I said.
“Or deemed so,” she said, keeping her head down.
“You are of the Kasra keeping area,” I said.
“Yes,” she said.
“From what area are the wastes?” I inquired.
“From the Venna area,” she said.
“Then,” I said, “the girls of the Kasra area dispose not only of their own wastes, but those from the Venna area, as well.”
“Yes,” she said. “There the wastes are placed outside the heavy door. We do not enter that area.”
“Did you know,” I asked, “that the higher slaves are housed in the Venna area, and the lower in the Kasra area?”
“May I look up?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“No,” she said, “I did not know that.”
“Doubtless there are exceptions,” I said.
“I trust so,” she said.
“One would certainly not wish for a higher slave to dispose of her own wastes,” I said.
“One supposes not,” she said.
“That would be deplorable,” I said.
“Doubtless,” she said.
“Would you like to be moved to the Venna area?” I asked.
“Certainly,” she said.
“Its deck is higher, its air is better,” I said.
“How might this be arranged?” she asked.
“I need only broadcast the matter of your former identity, your fugitive status, the bounty involved, and such.”
She looked up in terror. Then she looked about, frightened. We were much alone. From some yards away she would appear to be no more than an accosted work slave. “Please do not, Master!” she begged.
“The Kasra area now seems more attractive,” I speculated.
“I do not want to be impaled,” she whispered.
“You are in little danger of that,” I said. “You are far at sea, in waters scarcely suspected, even by those of the far islands. Who here could bring you to Ar? How could it be done? Her walls are thousands of pasangs away.”
“Eventually,” she said, “-if we were to return.”
I was not at all sure we would return. Who knew the mysteries at the World’s End?
“Then, certainly,” I said.
“Master is free,” she said. “He is a man, he is strong, he is a warrior. I am small, weak, helpless, a woman, and a slave. He could easily bring me to Ar.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Would Master bring me to Ar?” she asked.
“You are no Talena, no false Ubara, no unmatched prize,” I said, “but the bounty on you, even so, is not negligible. It might purchase a galley, several slaves.”
“Some slaves,” she said, “have been exchanged for a city. Might one not be worth a galley, and might not one slave be worth several slaves?”
“It would depend on the slave,” I said.
“Buy Alcinoe!” she said.
“Only a slave begs to be purchased,” I said.
“I am a slave!” she said.
“You were always a slave,” I said, “even in Ar.”
“Yes,” she said, defiantly, “I was always a slave, even in Ar!”
“And now,” I said, “you are where you belong, in a collar!”
“Yes, Master!” she said.
“You are not for sale,” I said.
“If I were for sale,” she said, “would you bid for me?”
“I would think about it,” I said.
She pressed her lips to my boots. “I would be a slave of slaves to you!” she said. “Even in Ar I dreamed of myself, collared, in your arms!”
“It is interesting,” I said, “to have the former Lady Flavia of Ar so before me.”
“She is at your feet,” she said, “now no more than a pathetic, petitioning slave.”
“Perhaps she wishes her former identity kept secret,” I said.
“Tell no one,” she begged.
“I do not need to,” I said.
“Master?” she said, looking up.
“You are clever,” I said.
“I would give myself to you!” she said.
“You need not,” I said. “If I buy you, you are mine.”
“Master?”
“Does the tarsk give herself to the tarsk buyer?”
“Even from Ar I have loved you!” she said.
“As a free woman?” I asked.
“No,” she said, angrily, bitterly, tears in her eyes, “as a conquered, abject slave her master!”
“I have little to fear from you,” I said.
“I do not understand,” she said.
“Were I to spare you from the impaling spear,” I said, “and it were we alone, only we, who knew your identity, might I not expect a knife in the night, poison in the proffered goblet of paga?”
