“I think he was pleased with a slave,” I said.
“And you, Allison,” said the Lady Bina. “Were you well pleased?”
“Please do not make me speak, Mistress,” I said, my head down.
“Speak,” she said.
I looked up at her, tears in my eyes. “I am a slave, Mistress!” I said.
“I understand,” she said. “Excellent.”
“As I understand it,” said Lord Grendel, “a copper tarsk-bit is the usual price for a use, for example, to be placed in the pan beside a secured camp girl, to be put in the chained neck box of a coin girl, and such.”
“Good,” said the Lady Bina. “Then a single copper tarsk-bit is not a negative reflection on the quality of the slave.”
“Not at all,” said Lord Grendel.
“Excellent,” she said.
“And in the taverns,” said Lord Grendel, “a tarsk-bit will usually purchase a goblet of paga, and, if the customer wishes, the use of a paga girl. Sometimes dancers are extra.”
“I am very pleased,” said the Lady Bina, smiling upon me.
“Am I not to be despised?” I asked.
“No,” said the Lady Bina.
“I cannot help myself,” I said.
“Nor should you,” said Lord Grendel. “Rather, you should desire it, with all your heart, to be so alive, and female.”
“But you do not understand,” I said, “how helpless one is!”
“You do not yet know how helpless a slave girl can be,” said Lord Grendel. “When your slave fires are better kindled, you will begin to understand.”
“You may begin to repair your garment,” said the Lady Bina. “After that, you may prepare supper.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
“And thus,” she said, “you see the difference between a mistress and a master.”
“Mistress?” I said.
“A master,” she said, “would doubtless have you prepare supper before repairing the garment, that he might see you serving in a torn tunic.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
“Or less,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
Chapter Fifty
“Scribe’s Urt,” had said the Lady Bina, and I located the card, and placed it on the pile.
Only one other card was left, and so she needed not read it. It was Warrior’s Sleen. I placed the last card on the pile. As I suppose is clear, when one wishes to transmit the message, one takes a deck, rearranges the cards, inscribes the message on the edges of the deck, and then replaces the cards in the usual order. The recipient, then, who has the card sheet used for the particular message, places the cards in the order prescribed by the sheet, and, once again, the message is visible. In the Cave, the visible message was in substitutions, a Tau for an Al-Ka, or such, but often enough, now, it was in clear Gorean. Substitutions were still used if the matter was sensitive, but, now, often enough, this layer of security was omitted. All that was sought, frequently enough, now, was a certain level of privacy. To be sure, the message could be in clear Gorean, inscribed openly on a sheet of paper, and it would have remained opaque to me. The Lady Bina would not even tell me the names of the letters, or their values. “You do not need to read, Allison,” she informed me. “I have little doubt, Mistress,” I said, “that you are far more intelligent than I, but I am sure that I, just as you have, might learn to read.” “I am still learning,” she said. “Cursive script is a bother.” “Even so,” I said, “is there that much difference between us?” “There is a considerable difference between us,” she said. “And what is that?” I asked. “Your neck is in a collar,” she said.
When the Lady Bina or Lord Grendel received, or sent, a card message, I was often used. In preparing a message, I would rearrange the cards, randomly, following which the message would be placed on the edges of the deck. After that, I would read the order of the cards that the card sheet might be prepared. After that, I would place the cards again in the normal order, in which case the message disappeared. In receiving a message, which would have the cards in the normal order, as in the current case, the Lady Bina or Lord Grendel would read from the appropriate card sheet, and I would place the cards in the order prescribed by the card sheet, after which they would have the message, either in clear Gorean or in a substitution related to clear Gorean. I was also used to carry these messages back and forth. The wine shop of Amyntas remained a station in this exchange, but only one, to which I would deliver a message or from which I would receive a message, to be returned to the Lady Bina or Lord Grendel, almost always Lord Grendel. Sometimes Lord Grendel would deliver a message somewhere in person, and, sometimes, retrieve a message from some unknown source. This was almost always done at night.
To my apprehension, particularly at first, I would deliver and receive these messages as I had at first, when I had been robbed on my way to the wine shop of Amyntas, that robbery which had placed false information in the hands of the conspirators, namely, with the sack tied about my neck, closed with a signature knot, and my wrists braceleted behind me. You may well imagine my fear, at first, in this sort of coming and going. Anytime anyone came close to me, I would tense, and almost cry out. I would start when a shadow fell across my body, or on the street before me. A word, casually spoken, in a crowd, might make me half faint in fear. I half expected, particularly at first, to be seized, gagged, and thrust into an alley or doorway. The first time I had scarcely been uneasy, fearing little more disruption in my service than an occasional stolen kiss. Certainly I had not expected to be seized, rudely dealt with, and robbed. Now, when there was little, or nothing, to fear, I was as skittish as a tabuk doe who has caught the scent of a sleen. Lord Grendel had been very wise not to inform me of the nature of his plans, and his expectations, when I had carried that first message.
“Very interesting,” said the Lady Bina, considering the deck of cards, and turning it about a bit. “Yes,” she said, “very interesting.”
“Mistress?” I said.
“Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira,” she said.
“Please teach me to read, Mistress,” I said.
“Do not forget, Allison,” she said, “that you are in a collar.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. “Forgive me, Mistress.”
“My offer,” she said, looking at the cards, “was refused, again refused.”
“What offer?” I asked.
“This is a matter between free persons,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. “Forgive me, Mistress.”
“Well,” she said, “I shall respond.”
“Mistress?” I said.
“I shall wipe the edges of this deck clean,” she said. “I will then mix the cards, and inscribe a new message. You will then put the deck in its normal order and deliver it to the wine shop of Amyntas.”
“Must I be back-braceleted?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said.
“I will be helpless,” I said.
“Of course,” she said.
It was now a month and a passage hand after I had been robbed on the way to the shop of Amyntas. I had gathered, though I had not been explicitly told, that the ruse of Lord Grendel and his associates had been successful. A number of men, apparently several, masked and armed, perhaps two hundred, had converged on a given barn outside the city, had broken into it, and found it empty. Attempting to withdraw, they found the building surrounded by a large number of armed men, many armed with crossbows, and some, Peasants, armed with the great bow, the Peasant bow. A torrent of quarrels and arrows apparently made departure unwise. Fires were set about the building to further discourage any projected withdrawal. As negotiations apparently proved inconclusive,
