him, blind or not, between me and the opening, as I expected the other guard, wary and curious, to appear there, once Grendel had been secured, presumably by using the leash to tie his ankles together. I was familiar with such ties, as I had sustained them in the house of Tenalion. It is a common way of rendering a back-bound slave immobile and helpless. I did not think the guard, alone, would strike Grendel, who might move, even leap up or flee, until he was secured, and when he was secured, there would be no hurry about the matter. Too, he would be curious, I supposed, as to the whereabouts of his fellow guard. Might he be still pursuing an annoying, wayward kajira?
I waited an Ehn or two, and then I heard the other guard calling out, in raucous Kur. After another Ehn, he called out again, less temperately.
There was then silence, and I could scarcely breathe.
I was sure that he was approaching.
I sensed then that he was at, or near, the opening. I saw the blade of the ax first, and then saw the shaft, and then the whole weapon grasped in his paws, and his body crouched over it. I did not think I could have run, even if I had wanted to.
Clearly the beast was puzzled. It saw me, standing back a few feet in the passageway, and it saw nothing of its fellow.
Irrationally, it said something to me in Kur.
I shook my head. I could not understand it, nor, had I spoken, could he have understood me.
He came toward me a pace or two.
Then, suddenly, he lifted his head, and those wide dark nostrils distended. I was sure he smelled blood.
I then screamed and covered my eyes, for the ax of the first guard, in the grasp of Tiresias, from behind, from where he had come about the boulder, smote down on the second guard, hemmed in by the narrow passageway. The blow, I took it, was not a good one, as Tiresias could not see his target, though he must have been aware, reasonably closely, of its position. The blade missed the center of the head, and clove downward, through the side of the skull, close to the left ear, and continued through the shoulder, and half into the ribs. I am sure the ax had been well sharpened for an execution. Still I think it was a blow such that few but a Kur could have struck.
I was back several feet and yet the rocks near me were spattered with blood. The entire end of the passageway, where it opened onto the sloping rock, about the fallen Kur, was run with blood. Tiresias was crouching over his kill, divesting it of harnessing. He cast the harness toward me, impatiently, growling. Grendel had not yet joined us. Thus he must have been unable to do so. “Yes,” I whispered, “yes.” I removed from the sheath a Kur side knife. The blade was some fourteen horts in length, and double-edged, but the handle, made for the grip of a Kur, was large for my hand. I seized it with both hands. Again, with a growl, Tiresias admonished me for what he must have interpreted as dalliance. It was with exquisite care that I made my way about the body in the passageway. Tiresias was less fastidious and the fur of his feet, and his paws, were soaked with blood. In a moment or two I had made my way from the passageway to where Grendel was secured, and, with the knife, slashed apart the leash strap which had bound his ankles together. Another moment and the ropes which had bound his arms to his sides were lying about his feet, as he crouched down, looking back to the portal. He put out his paw and I surrendered the knife. That handle would be comfortable in his grasp. He looked behind himself again, and then thrust me toward the passageway from which I had emerged.
When we reached the passageway Tiresias had dragged away the body of the second Kur, presumably to place it with the body and head of the other. I went several feet away from where the fearsome blow had been struck, that which had felled the second guard. I stood there, shaken, trembling, while speech in Kur passed between Grendel and Tiresias. Each took the hand of the other in his mouth, and I shuddered, as those massive, fanged jaws closed about the other’s hand, but not even the skin was broken. This was, I took it, some sign of confidence, of fellowship, of respect, perhaps even of affection. Each might have torn away the hand of the other, but not even the skin was broken. Suddenly Grendel turned toward me, and I went instantly to my knees, and put my head down. He stood then before me. I lifted my head, and smiled. Was he not pleased? Would he not be grateful? Had I not done well? Had I not played a part in saving his life, at least for the moment? I waited for him to speak. Then he turned away, again to speak to Tiresias.
I regarded him disbelievingly, he facing away from me.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
I was then acutely conscious of my camisk, of the collar on my neck, the mark borne by my thigh.
I was a slave!
One does not thank a slave. Would one thank an animal?
I had done, in effect, what I had been expected to do, what, in effect, I had been instructed to do. I had, in effect, obeyed. One does not thank a slave for obeying. It is what she must do.
How conscious I was then of my bondage!
Indeed, it can be frightening for a slave to be thanked. What might it mean? Is it a warning, a criticism, that she is behaving too much like a free woman, who would expect to be thanked? Is it a trick? Is he thinking of her in terms of close chains, or the slave whip? Is he thinking of selling her? Has she already been sold, or given away?
“Master,” I said, softly, “may I speak?”
Grendel turned to face me. “Yes,” he said.
“What occurred may have been seen from the portal,” I said. “It may be supposed that the guards took you into the mountains, but, in time, when they do not return, an investigation will be made. There will be a search, a pursuit in force. You must flee.”
“I have not finished my work,” he said. “There is more to do.”
“There is nothing you can do,” I said. “They will hunt you down. They are merciless. You must flee.”
“What of you?” he asked.
“I am freezing,” I said. “I am half lame.”
“We will build a fire,” he said.
“You must not,” I said. “Smoke will be seen. You must flee!”
“When they come to the fire,” he said. “We will be gone.”
“The fire,” I said, “will be a distraction?”
“There will be a better,” he said.
“Master?” I said.
“After dark,” he said, “you will go by the portal, but keep against the wall, to the right, where you will not be seen. Then, when it is opportune, slip into the Cave.”
“How will I know when it is opportune?” I said. “There are guards, Kur guards.”
“It will be clear,” he said. “The matter will be arranged by our friend, Tiresias.”
“You must flee, both of you,” I said.
“We will hide,” he said.
“Where?” I asked.
“Where,” said he, “they will not look.”
“Flee!” I begged him.
“I have work to do,” he said.
I saw Tiresias approach, some short, gnarled branches in his grasp, and some shrubbery, dirt still about the roots.
I also noted he was now in harness, as well.
Grendel fetched the ax of the second guard, and lifted that long-handled, double bladed, weighty weapon. He handled it as I might have wielded a stick.
“Master,” I called to him.
“Yes?” he said.
“Tiresias cannot understand us,” I said. “He has no translator.”
“So?” said Grendel.
“Did I not do well?” I asked.
“You did splendidly,” he said.
“Is Master not pleased?”
“I am pleased,” he said.
