“Fools, fools, fools!” he said.
I went to my knees, and then to all fours. I shook my head. Then I must have slipped to the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was hard to see, against the pounding rain. The pack I bore was sodden. Water ran down the side of the mountain. The trail beneath our feet was half washed away. The sky was again black with a mountain storm. It was the third day of rain. We all, men and slaves, bore our burdens, with the exception of the Lady Bina, for she was a free woman. The heavier burdens were borne by the men, the lighter by myself, and Jane and Eve. Our tunics had not been dry for days. Our legs were run with water and mud. We had salvaged what we could from the three wagons, which we had left behind. In the third wagon there had been some weaponry, some spears, two swords, a crossbow with a dozen quarrels. None of the men, I took it, knew the Peasant bow, the great bow, else such a formidable weapon would have been carried, one of rapidity of fire, of remarkable penetration. Had Trachinos been truly of the Peasants, as his garb suggested, he would have known that weapon, and not been without it. Peasant boys, from childhood, are trained in the use of bows, preparing them for the day when they will have the strength to draw the great bow, on which day they are accounted men, suitable for mating with free women. Our weaponry, of course, was borne by the men. It can be death for a slave to touch a weapon.
“Oh!” I cried, and Desmond of Harfax spun about, seized my right arm, and steadied me. “Watch your footing, clumsy slut,” he said. He then turned away, to fight his way further through the rain and mud.
“I am not a slut, Master,” I called after him, plaintively.
“You are,” he snarled.
“Yes, Master,” I moaned.
“And lower, and worse,” he called back, “a slave!”
“Yes, Master,” I said, in misery. I feared I had displeased Desmond of Harfax. If only I were a free woman, and worthy of him!
A few steps forward, and he called back, cheerily, “I like sluts!”
“I am one!” I called out, in the rain.
“That is known to me,” he said.
“And a slave!” I cried.
“The least and best of sluts,” he called back.
“Would you not rather I were a free woman?” I called ahead.
“No,” he said, “free women are boring.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“You cannot buy them,” he said.
“I am not free!” I called out, happily.
“No,” he said. “You are a slave, and should be a slave.”
“I know, Master,” I said. “I have known that for years, long before I was put in a collar.”
“Good,” he said.
“May I not heel Master?” I said.
“No,” he said, “the trail is too narrow.” One heels on the left side, usually a little behind. Much depends on the master, the terrain, the crowding, or such.
“If you owned me, would you march me on your leash?” I laughed.
“Certainly,” he said, “and possibly naked.”
“In public?” I said.
“If it pleased me,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
In Ar, and even in Venna, I had seen several girls on their leashes, some naked. Some had had their wrists braceleted or thonged behind their back. Masters are beasts and sometimes enjoy displaying their properties. How proud some of those girls had been, particularly when marched before free women. It would not do, of course, for some of those girls, even if tunicked, to encounter one of those women later, if her master were not present. She might be knelt and well switched. That is sometimes the penalty for being desirable and beautiful.
I wondered if I would be switched.
The liqueur of Falnus, as was now obvious, had been drugged. It had been drunk largely because of the seal on the flask and, far more importantly, the freedom with which the hunters themselves had partaken of the fiery delicacy. It now seemed clear the seal had been broken earlier, and then, after the contents had been tampered with, had been restored, or at least given the appearance of having been restored. More interestingly the hunters must have prepared for the evening’s work, either by, over time, building up an immunity to the drug, or, more likely, by imbibing a counteragent to its effect, prior to its distribution at our camp. Our tharlarion had been driven off in the night.
“We must turn back,” had said Trachinos. “The tharlarion are gone. The Voltai is dangerous. We cannot carry enough supplies for an indefinite journey forward. We must try to find our way back to the Aqueduct Road. Even so, we may starve.”
“The wagons of Pausanias,” said Desmond of Harfax, “are ahead. They must have a destination, some village, or stronghold. I think it best to continue our journey.”
“Afoot?” asked Lykos.
“Yes,” said Desmond of Harfax.
“What shall we do, noble Astrinax?” asked the Lady Bina.
“We shall go forward,” he said.
“Good,” she had said.
He had seemed resolute on this. He still kept the night watch.
We now heard a rumbling, from somewhere above us, through the rain.
I saw a frightened mountain urt scurry past. Higher in the mountains the urts have a mottled pelt, or one which is white.
Desmond of Harfax, who led our column, stopped, and lifted his hand. “Hold, hold!” he cried.
I tried to peer upward, through the rain.
A pebble bounded past.
“Back, back!” cried Desmond of Harfax, and we turned, all, and fled back, slipping, half sliding, along the trail.
“Hold!” called Desmond.
We turned about.
His hand was again raised.
Shortly thereafter a vast, loose quantity of mud, some fifty paces wide, and perhaps fifteen deep, moved past us, before us, downward, slowly, then more rapidly, to plunge into the valley below, perhaps a quarter of a pasang distant.
Before us the trail had disappeared.
“We shall have to make our way around this,” shouted Desmond of Harfax, trying to wipe rain from his eyes.
“I have had enough,” shouted Trachinos. “I am going back.”
“I wish you well!” called Desmond of Harfax.
“What?” shouted Trachinos.
“I wish you well,” called Desmond of Harfax, again.
Trachinos cupped his hands to his mouth. “We must all go back!” he shouted.
“Come closer,” called Desmond of Harfax.
A cold wind began to blow.
The free persons gathered together. There was a wide spot on the trail here. It had a fair steepness on one side, a chillingly sharp drop on the other. Jane, Eve, and I, shivering in our soaked tunics, our sopped burdens tied to our back, stood to the side. As animals we must wait to see where we would be taken.
