The girl held the sheet tightly about her.
The auctioneer lifted the hair of the slave, displaying it.
“Golden hair,” he said, “sparkling as ripe Sa-Tarna.”
“Shave her head!” called a man.
“Consider it as a sheet of pleasure, which might be spread about your body,” said the auctioneer, “or its value as a bond, fastening her wrists behind the back of her neck.”
“Cut it off,” said a fellow. “Use it for catapult cordage, that she may be good for something.”
“Throw her to leech plants!” called a man.
“Feed her to sleen!” cried another.
I knew nothing, at the time, of leech plants, and I had not yet beheld a sleen.
“Come now, noble Masters,” said the auctioneer, “regard her ankles, her calves, her small hands, so tight on the sheet, the exquisite delicacy of her features.”
The men were silent.
“What are we offered for this traitress?” called the auctioneer.
“Let us see her!” called a man.
The sheet was whipped away from the slave, half turning her about.
Then she was turned before the crowd.
She was praised, as one might praise an animal. Then I realized that, as a slave, she was an animal. And I realized that I, too, was now an animal.
This thrilled me, that I should now be no more than an animal.
The men cried out with pleasure, at the removal of the wrap-around tunic. Now, it seemed, there was no more talk of leech plants, of sleen, or such. What they saw now, it seemed, was a slave.
The former Lady Persinna was put to all fours on the red carpet, while the bids were forthcoming.
A little later, she cried out, in misery, and terror, from all fours, not permitted to rise. “No, no! Not to him! Not to him! Do not sell me to him! Please! Please! Sell me to anyone, but not to him!”
But it was to that fellow that she was sold.
He came to the edge of the platform. “Perhaps you remember me,” he said.
She would have scrambled back, on the carpet, but it was too late. The leash had been snapped on her neck.
I saw her being led away.
I now suspected that the fellow who had bought her, despite the shabbiness of his nondescript robes, had come prepared, in such a market, in such a district, to outbid all likely competition. Apparently he had realized she would be sold in this market on this day. I supposed that was not common knowledge. It seemed probable to me that this matter had been arranged, perhaps even with the collusion of a praetor, if not the Ubar himself. Perhaps the fellow had requested, or been granted, such a favor, that he would purchase the former Lady Persinna, to her humiliation, in a low market, for a handful of coins. Indeed, I wondered if the coins, even, were his. Perhaps it amused someone, perhaps an important personage, if the former Lady Persinna should find herself in the collar of that fellow, or someone like him.
Thus, I conjectured a plausible explanation for the apparent anomaly of one such as the former Lady Persinna, of the Merchants, of Four Towers, which, I gathered, must be an exclusive residence, or an exclusive residential area, being vended in such a market. It was to demean and humiliate her. Let her learn quickly, and well, that she was now only a slave.
As the slaves had been sold, even the former Lady Persinna, much in the street had gone on as it had before the Tenth Ahn. Many men, and women, had come and gone, and shopped, and bargained, without attending to, or, apparently, even noticing, what was going on on our side of the street. A sale of slaves, particularly in a low market, was a familiar, commonplace thing, I gathered, worthy of no particular attention. A lad, drawing a cart, had stopped for a time, to look on, but had then gone ahead.
Suddenly I was much aware that only two remained in the cell, myself and another brunette, a darker, taller brunette. I felt the back of the cell wall against my back. I looked to my left, to the opened gate.
The portal was empty.
The slaver’s man was at the foot of the circular platform. The auctioneer stood on the surface of the platform. A small breeze moved the blue-and-yellow robes. The auctioneer and the slaver’s man, and some of the others, as well, now turned about, were witnessing the departure of the former Lady Persinna, naked on her leash, and her master. Three or four of the fellows who had been at the platform were following the pair, jeering at the miserable slave. I saw her spat upon, and one fellow cast dirt upon her. The only bond she wore was her leash, and, with her hands, and arms, she tried to cover her head. The leash was not taut. She tried to follow her master as closely as she could. It is the master who will protect the slave, as any other animal, should he choose to do so. Her current master, however, seemed not to notice the abuse to which his lovely acquisition was subjected, and she, of course, not having been granted the appropriate permission, would not dare to speak.
Then, after a time, the fellows who had hung about the departing pair stood still, shook their fists, and, looking after the couple, the slave and her master, called out some final words, which, I gathered, may have been foul.
I knew little about the former Lady Persinna, or the affairs, political and otherwise, which had brought her to a tiny, readying cell in the Metellan district, but I hoped that her master would put a different name on her. Given the veiling, and half-veiling, particularly amongst higher-caste women, I would suppose that few in the city would recognize the former Lady Persinna in just another scantily clad collar-girl, one amongst many, hurrying about her errands, fearing to dally, in teeming Ar. Perhaps many might suppose the Lady Persinna had perished in the revolution, or in her imprisonment, in some obscure dungeon, perhaps strangled there, or had perhaps eventually met her end writhing on some obscure impaling stake. Perhaps her secret, that of her former identity, would be known to few. Indeed, perhaps, eventually, for most practical purposes, it would be a secret shared primarily between the slave and her master. Then, as she knelt, and kissed and licked at his feet, she might hope that he would not see fit to reveal her former identity. Could she be so pleasing to him? Too, her life had been transformed. She was now only the slave of a master. Perhaps she might find in this those fulfillments of which a free woman scarcely dares to dream. In the collar she might find her happiness, and a thousand times more freedom, though an abject slave, than she had ever known in her former life. She did have “golden hair,” which was rare, but surely not unknown. That would probably not be enough to identify her to strangers. “Golden hair” tends to raise prices in the south, but not in the north, where it is more common. “Golden hair,” I suspected, had brought more than one girl into the collar, at least in the south. Interestingly, auburn hair is that pelting, so to speak, which tends to be most favored in the markets. I am not sure why that is. It is probably a matter of its rarity, as it tends to be even more rare than “golden hair.” One thing that I learned of your world, which struck me as of much interest, is your preference for honesty, or truth, or your dislike of fraud, or what you think of as fraud. On my former world, for example, it is quite common for a brunette to dye her hair blond, and, so to speak, pass herself off as a blonde. No one thinks much of this, or much objects to this. On your world, on the other hand, at least amongst slaves, such things are taken seriously. If a barbarian slave is brought to the markets and she has dyed hair, this is made clear to possible buyers, and is commonly taken as a defect. Sometimes her head is shaved. If it is thought the girl did this of her own will on her own world, dyed her hair or had it dyed, it is taken as evidence of her deceitful and meretricious nature, and, accordingly, the rightfulness of embonding so duplicitous and worthless a creature. Masters, incidentally, take seriously the moral character of their slaves, and commonly regard themselves responsible for its supervision and improvement, by the whip, if necessary. Interestingly, to me at least, a slaver who misrepresents merchandise, for example, claiming former high caste for a girl who was actually formerly of low caste, or who tries to pass off a dyed blonde for a natural blonde, may be banished and ruined, his goods confiscated, his house burned to the ground. On your world, honesty, truth, and such, are obviously of great moment. Still, I have heard rumors that some free women dye their hair. They may do as they wish, of course, for they are free.
The fellows who had for a time pursued the former Lady Persinna, and discomfited her so cruelly, she now only a slave, were now returning to the area of the block. Too, the fellows there, who had watched, but had not left the vicinity of the block, now turned about again, and began to gather again, now more closely, about the block. Some looked through the bars. We, the other brunette and I, were at the back of the cell, standing, close together. We could be seen, but perhaps not well. Though muchly clothed, as such things go, for slaves, in the wrap-around
