chains. I supposed that golden chains, so to speak, would always exist, though perhaps not always be displayed. They did not realize that not every golden chain is visible. The imposition and consolidation of equality requires equality enforcers, and this introduces a new inequality. But that would become visible only when the new establishment was in place. Order is essential; it is only a question as to who will impose it. The mass, manipulated and utilized, aroused and employed, harrowed and bled, when the disruption and killing is done, when the entertainment is over, remains the mass.
Chapter Forty
I lay, naked, in the cage.
Other kajirae, as well, were so incarcerated. As animals, we would await the decisions of masters.
Things were muchly unsettled in the Cave.
The door of the slave quarters moved a little, not much. Then I heard Jane scream. I forced my face against the bars to my right, trying to see to the door. Jane was across the room, and could easily see what was in the threshold.
I heard another girl scream.
Then I saw it, large, four-legged, some six or seven feet at the shoulder, with a wide, triangular-shaped head, lowered now, sunk now between its shoulders. It had a heavy, silken, reddishly tawny coat. Its paws were broad and thickly matted. Such a creature could move comfortably on rocky slopes, on ice, through snow. For all its size it moved with the sinuous, stealthy grace one might have expected of a smaller animal. The eyes were large, and the ears, tufted, bent forward. It sunk to its belly, and its long tail moved back and forth. The beast seemed passive, except that the agitation of the tail bore witness to an inward excitement. I had never seen such a beast this close. I had seen one, perhaps this one, weeks ago, on a slope across from the Cave’s main portal, perhaps three or four hundred paces away.
I suspected that the portal now was not guarded, or only sporadically guarded.
I shrank back in the cage, as the beast, head down, moved a little toward me, and then crouched down. It moved a little more toward me, again, and was then again still. It did not pounce or charge. It did put its broad face near the bars. I saw its nostrils widen. It then put its snout literally against the bars, while I stayed as far back as I could. It made a small noise, as if puzzled. One large paw was put to the bars, but they were closely enough set that it could not enter the cage. I did see fangs. There was no blood about them. It then backed away, looked about the room, and exited through the gate.
My heart began to pound. I gasped, trying to breathe. Then I think I lost consciousness.
Chapter Forty-One
In fifteen days the revolt was muchly suppressed.
Many of the iron-chain Kurii had not supported the insurrection organized by Lucius. There were presumably several reasons for this, but one supposes loyalty and discipline were significantly involved. Many Kurii recognized the need for societal order, and recognized their role in maintaining that order. Rather than regarding themselves as the oppressed and exploited dupes of a tyrannical establishment, as they were encouraged to do, they saw themselves as the reliable and confident defenders of a valuable, proven tradition. Too, one supposes that the charisma of the almost legendary Agamemnon, whom many had followed on another world, was unlikely to be eclipsed by a renegade upstart. The fact that Lucius had been a golden-chain Kur, too, might have given some cause for reflection. He was not truly of the iron-chain Kurii. But is it not often the case that a disgruntled scion of the elite, one of station, if not of principle, eager for greater power, will seek to exploit the discontent and resentments of others for his own purposes? Demagogues are unstinting and lavish, careless and generous, in expending the blood of others. It is not their own. Behind how many gleaming veils, emblazoned with rhetorical embroideries, lurk secret, unbespoken realities? Too, societal life, like organic life, I supposed, had its inertias and habits, and balances, emerging over generations, sustained over time, vindicated in practice. Perhaps such things are best changed only incrementally, and then only with circumspection. Change is part of life; but an advantageous metamorphosis is rare. How simple the complexity of the world seems to the simple, and arrogant. The law of gravity may be objectionable, but with what is it to be replaced?
In any event, whatever might be the cause, most insurrections fail, and those that succeed seldom do more than restore the past with new bodies and different labels.
We kajirae had been uninvolved in the small war in the Cave. We, as vulos and verr, were not combatants. We were generally confined to the slave quarters, and sometimes caged. As indicated, men had been recruited, or impressed, by each faction and some, forced into battle, had been slain in the fighting. On the other hand, it was clear to the Kurii that humans made indifferent allies in a quarrel that had little, if anything, to do with them. That, doubtless, was the motivation for Agamemnon’s issuance of an amnesty for all humans who had served under Lucius or his lieutenants. Their coming, weaponless, to the lines of Agamemnon, had been a not inconsiderable blow to the insurgents. A similar amnesty had been granted to the Kurii who had served with Lucius, but only five availed themselves of this offer. These, as we learned later, had been disemboweled and strangled with their own intestines.
In any event, after some fifteen days, the fighting had diminished to an occasional skirmish in the halls. Lucius, and his followers, now reduced to a small number, were still at large in the Cave, but it was not clear where. Lucius, from his former position of authority, was extremely familiar with the Cave, not only with its open halls, and its less open, or more restricted, halls, but, too, as it turned out, with a diversity of less recognized passageways, several of which were obscure and unfamiliar, if not secret.
The greatest victory of the insurgents had occurred on the ninth day of the insurrection, when they had managed to trap, attack, and destroy the most recent body of Agamemnon, the large, mobile, crab-like machine which had been, as it turned out, fearsomely effective in the halls. A portion of the corridor had been undermined, to the degree that it could not withstand the weight of the machine. Moreover, the ceiling above this point had been prepared in such way that when the trap was sprung the ceiling, connected to the trap, would collapse. Kurii concealed nearby were then to rush forth and attack the device with axes. Agamemnon had sent two of his cohorts forward to scout his path. The floor, of course, could sustain this weight, even of two large Kurii. The bait for the trap was Lucius himself who let it appear that he was surprised in the corridor, and had then fled. To secure the very leader of the enemy was seemingly too great a prize to be ignored, and the machine, following its two scouts, abandoned its hitherto stately pace. The result was that the machine dipped into the trap, stalled, and, a moment later, was half buried in the rubble of the collapsing ceiling. The two scouts, advanced, unable to block the charge of several ax-bearing Kurii, were cut down in place, and the machine was struck by blow after blow of the axes. The machine, of course, was supported by Kurii loyal to Agamemnon, including Timarchos and Lysymachos, and the ax- bearing Kurii were soon forced to withdraw. The container which had been incorporated within the steel body of the machine was rescued by Timarchos, who bore it to safety. The machine, however, which apparently contained a large amount of intricate circuitry, could not be repaired. We did not know, after that, whether or not Agamemnon possessed another body. Doubtless, on his former world, he may have had a variety of bodies. Here, however, in effect, in exile, his resources were presumably limited. He did retain, of course, the loyalty of his followers, who doubtless associated him with a body, but no particular body.
I knocked, lightly, on the door of the small room which had been assigned to Desmond of Harfax. In my hands I held a deck of cards. It had been given to me by Astrinax, and I was to deliver it to Master Desmond.
“Who is there?” said Desmond.
“Allison,” I said.
“Is that how you identify yourself?” he asked.
“Forgive me, Master,” I said, frightened. I knew that I could be punished, if I had not been found pleasing, and I feared I might not have been found pleasing. How different it is with free women!
“Knock, again,” he said.
