“Beware! Back!” cried Desmond of Harfax, thrusting me to the side of the hall.
Four Kurii, claws scratching on the smooth tiles of the hall flooring, hurried by. They carried improvised shields of nailed wood and spears. One turned about, surveying us, eyes bright, determined that we were human, growled, and rejoined his fellows. A kajira, Chloe, sped past us, in the other direction.
“What is going on?” I asked.
“War,” said Master Desmond, “but it seems one in which we are not implicated.”
“I do not understand,” I said.
“One in which we are not yet implicated,” he said.
Astrinax appeared at our side.
“This is our opportunity,” he said, “to escape the Cave. I have been to the great portal. It is no longer guarded.”
“What of the guards?” asked Desmond.
“One is dead,” he said. “I do not know the whereabouts of the other.”
“Four Kurii, armed, passed us, a moment ago,” said Desmond.
“I think some beasts have left the Cave,” said Astrinax. “I fear chaos reigns.”
“Back,” said Desmond, and we shrank back against the wall.
“What is it?” said Astrinax.
“I do not know,” said Desmond.
“The machine,” I said. “You have not seen it. I know the sound. It is the machine!”
Approaching down the corridor, moving carefully, the stalk-like eyes rotating about, scanning, came the machine, accompanied by two shield-bearing, ax-carrying Kurii, Timarchos and Lysymachos.
“Aii!” said Astrinax.
The machine paused, and the stalk-like eyes turned toward us, but then it, and its fellows, passed us, as had the previous Kurii, but in the other direction.
I supposed that it was reconnoitering or looking for isolated foes.
I did see that the large pincer-like appendages were wet with blood. If the barbed darts with their thin cables had been fired, they had now been withdrawn into the torso of the device.
“It does exist,” said Astrinax.
“You see,” said Desmond. “Slaves can speak the truth, without the assistance of torture.”
“That is Agamemnon?” said Astrinax.
“Yes,” said Desmond.
“He is a machine?” said Astrinax.
“Now,” said Desmond. “He might have many bodies.”
“Let us gather men, who will be our allies,” said Astrinax, “acquire supplies, warm clothing, and depart. Pausanias and his wagons have gone. We have the kaissa sheets. They must be distributed. Gor must be warned.”
“We must exercise caution,” said Desmond.
“The great portal is clear,” said Astrinax.
“It is not obvious we may leave with impunity,” said Desmond. “Too, I suspect most of the men will not care to desert their gold.”
“Some may flee,” said Astrinax.
“Alone, into the mountains, with gray winter on the horizon?”
“Before the snows,” said Astrinax.
“Let them,” said Desmond. “I will remain.”
“Why?” said Astrinax.
“To kill Agamemnon,” said Desmond.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I clutched the bars of the slave cage in which Desmond of Harfax had placed me. I shook the bars, as I could. “Come back, Master!” I had cried. “Come back, release me, Master!” But he had gone.
He had thrust me into the cage, and then swung shut the gate, securing me within. How helpless one feels in such a cage! I had turned about, quickly, to regard him. He was standing back, contemplating me. The shadow of the bars fell across my body. He was grinning. He liked to see me so, naked, caged. “I hate you!” I said.
“Lie down,” he said. “On your side. Curl, kajira.”
I did so.
“You are a pretty little bundle,” he said. “How high your hip, the lovely curve to your love cradle, your calves, your small feet.”
He smiled.
My eyes must have flashed fire.
“Yes,” he said, “pretty.”
“I hate you,” I said. “I hate you!”
He had then turned away.
It was then that I had risen to my knees, clutched the bars, and called after him, but he had not come back.
He had left me in a cage, a cage, as it had pleased him!
I recalled how he had looked upon me! How boldly! He had looked upon me as what I was, an animal, a pretty animal, which might be bought and sold, which might be done with as a master might please. I held the bars. I pressed myself against them.
I was caged, and helpless.
How strong are men! How they look upon us! How much we are at their mercy! How I hated him! How I wanted to kiss his feet. How I wanted to please him, as a naked slave!
We had not anticipated a Kur revolt, the rising of several of the iron-chain Kurii against the silver- and gold- chain Kurii. Indeed, we had not been clear, for more than a day, what was occurring. We did know that there was skirmishing in the halls, and that some Kurii had attacked others. The humans in the Cave, I am sure, would have been muchly pleased to have remained neutral in such an altercation, as a single human, or even two or three, was a sorry match for a Kur. But, as may often be the case in such affairs, neutrality was not acceptable to committed belligerents. The choice accorded to humans was, in effect, certain death or participation in the conflict, supporting one faction or the other. I suppose this had partly to do with Kur distrust of humans, partly with an unwillingness that some might profit in safety and comfort from the pain and blood of others, and partly with the fanatic conviction of each party in its righteousness, which justified the impressment of reluctant allies. Which side a given fellow found himself on seemed to be largely an accident, a matter of vicinity. Master Desmond, though, with his fellows from the secret meeting, including Astrinax, Lykos, Trachinos, Akesinos, and Kleomenes, had worked his way through to the positions held by the adherents of Agamemnon. The point of this, I gathered, was to gain access to the container so that he might, when the opportunity afforded itself, open it and destroy its contents.
It was four days into the revolt before we learned that the leader of the revolutionaries was Lucius himself, whom many of us had taken to be high Kur in the Cave. His ambition it was, it seems, to replace Agamemnon, and further the schemes which Agamemnon had put in place. It was not a question of overthrowing a state, or relinquishing its intrigues and projected imperialisms, but appropriating a state with its established strengths. He was less interested, so to speak, in overthrowing a throne than in changing its occupant. I had been aware, for some time, of the jealousy, envy, and resentment felt by many lesser Kurii for those placed above them, for whatever reason it might be, intelligence, energy, vision, some conception of merit, success in some form of competition, blood connections, the machinations of politics, the accidents of time or place, or simple fortune. If they could not wear a golden chain why should anyone? Let there be a golden chain for everyone, or no golden
