The beast, I was sure, might have most of the city at its disposal, moving from roof to roof, traversing the darkness, saving perhaps the towers and bridges.
Why was I obeying the beast?
Why was I moving, as I could, toward the market of Cestias? Would it not have been better to flee anywhere else? Why would he want me there, rather than somewhere else? Was it in the market, near the praetor’s platform that he wished to apprehend me?
Was I proceeding blindly, foolishly, toward a predesignated place of execution? But why there, rather than a hundred other places?
What might be special about that place?
Indeed, why did he not simply kill me in the domicile, bloodlessly, strangling me, breaking a neck, and then carrying me to some other part of the city, far from the shop of Epicrates, to be discovered in the morning?
But, I recalled, from Antiope, that slaves, or, at least, it seemed so, had not been set upon. To be sure, perhaps no other slave had seen paws, and arms and fur, matted thickly with dried blood.
I knew little of the Lady Bina, nor of the beast, nor of the world, or worlds, from which they had come.
I was sure, if the Lady Bina were not, that it was Kur.
Why was I obeying the beast?
Was I moving to my death?
But, if so, why had he given me the instructions he had? Would that not have been meaningless, and excessive, or might it have been calculated, to assuage my anxieties, to put me off my guard? He had informed me that I would not be hurt, unless I disobeyed. But that was hard to believe. Were the streets themselves not a danger? Who knew what might lurk around the next turn? Might one not be slain by a guardsman’s spear, a frightened guardsman striking at a movement in the darkness, the source of which was unknown?
I felt the soft brush of hair on my head, for I wore no kerchief now. That had seemed important to the beast. I touched my collar. That, too, it seemed, might have some significance, that my neck was so encircled, that I was thus identified as no more than kajira.
I was terrified of the beast, but, oddly, I was not at all sure he wished me ill. If he wanted to kill me, he could have done so, a number of times, conveniently, and with impunity. He had treated me, surely usually, with solicitude, even kindness. He had disciplined me only once, and that lesson needed not be repeated. The former Allison Ashton-Baker was an intelligent slave, and she learned quickly, very quickly. My bondage in the domicile had been a light one. He seemed, in many ways, despite his size and appearance, more sensitive, more rational, more human than the Lady Bina. Surely I could never have supposed he would have given me ten Ehn, in a public place, to demonstrate that I might be of interest to men, and, failing that, be sold to butchers for sleen feed. I wondered if the Lady Bina would have done so. Certainly I would not have liked to make trial of the matter. I suspected she might have done so, if I had failed to satisfy her curiosity in the matter, and not because she was thoughtless or cruel, but, rather, simply, because she was concerned with the matter. If one object proved unsatisfactory, it could be discarded and replaced with another, one more satisfactory. I wondered sometimes if she were fully aware, other than intellectually, casually, or abstractly, that other human beings existed, had feelings, and such. Doubtless she understood such things, but perhaps did not see them as having much, if any, importance. Interestingly then, she who appeared most human might seem in some ways less human, and that which appeared least human might seem in some ways more human. But what is “human”?
I recalled that I had been told his “scent” was on me. What significance might that have, if any?
Certainly I was unaware of the scent, at least on my own body, or of any significance which it might have.
My bondage in the domicile of the Lady Bina and the beast was, as noted, a light bondage, but, too, I found it dissatisfying. On this world my slavery, and its appropriateness, had been brought home to me. I had seen hundreds of Gorean men about, as I had scarcely on my world understood such men could exist, so large, strong, and powerful, so naturally self-satisfied, so unassumingly proud, and arrogant, possessive, aggressive men, unconfused and unconflicted, so clear-eyed, easy-moving, and large-handed, so innocently and unquestioningly virile, before whom my slightness and softness, so different from them, seemed theirs, an appropriate prize and acquisition of their desire and might. In the very sight of such men I felt it natural that I should kneel and bow my head, hoping that I might be noticed, might be found acceptable, might be found such that they might deign to snap their fingers and indicate that I might follow them, hoping to be eventually awarded their collar. As a woman, or a sort of woman, I felt weak before such men. I did not desire pain but was prepared to accept it if they imposed it on me. It was to male dominance that I thrilled. How natural and whole, and right, and happy, and grateful, I felt in such a relationship. One supposes this harkens back to remote antiquities in which certain acquired females, as opposed to others, responded to male dominance, surrendered to thongs and masters, and, generation by generation, were preferentially bred. And so it is not so strange that in women, or many women, one might find the readinesses and hopes of slaves. Let each ask herself what she desires to be, what she is. Celebrate the free woman, but take in your arms the slave.
I was now in the vicinity of the market of Cestias.
I recalled the beast had told me not to be afraid, but I was afraid. Who would not be?
I touched my collar.
Are we not, in our way, bred for the collar?
On my old world I had not worn it, unless invisibly. But here, on this world, I wore it. It was real, and fastened on me.
Any of this world who might see me would see me, and understand me, and instantly, as what I was, kajira.
The market was muchly dark.
To one side, my right, at the far edge of the market, there was a pole, on which was suspended a single lantern.
It flickered, and moved a little, in a moment of wind.
I went to all fours.
I would make my way, slowly, carefully, toward the coin stalls, now deserted. I took advantage of what cover might be available. There were, of course, empty stalls, to which produce might be brought near dawn, come before light from the local villages. But there were also, here and there, baskets, boxes, occasional chests and cabinets, presumably empty, and some bare, tiered shelves, which might be lodged against the back of a stall, or, often enough, behind a spread mat or rug.
I nearly cried out for a small urt, presumably startled, had darted by. I could have held two or three in the palm of my hand.
One of the moons emerged from behind a cloud, and, for a moment, the market was eerily lit in its pale light.
I saw, some fifty or so paces to my left, the platform of one of the two market praetors. It bore a single curule chair. The platform is reached by a set of wooden steps. Sometimes an awning is stretched over the platform.
It was close to that platform that the coin stalls, perhaps advisedly, were stationed.
I did not move until the clouds once more obscured the moon.
In a bit, as I moved, listening, a few horts at a time, my hand suddenly rested on an iron ring, anchored in the stone. It was a slave ring. Such rings are often found in public places, in markets, near shops, along boulevards, and such, furnished by the municipality as a convenience. Girls such as I may be chained to them, while masters shop, or otherwise pursue their various concerns. The girl is usually fastened by the left ankle, or the neck, to such a ring. Usually she is left to her own devices there, but sometimes the masters require a certain position, most often kneeling, head down. Sometimes boys enjoy tormenting the slaves at the rings. This is particularly the case if the girl is a new slave, fresh to her collar, brought in from an enemy city. This sort of information seems somehow to travel rapidly about, perhaps as a result of a master’s seemingly casual or inadvertent remark, overheard by some unpleasant urchin, a snide observation by another slave, one informed, and perhaps jealous of the beauty of the new slave, perhaps as the result of the ridicule of some inquisitive free woman who has taken it upon herself to inquire into such matters, a ridicule perhaps administered to the strokes of a switch, such things. Sometimes a master’s vanity is involved, and he chains the girl publicly in order to display her, that he may be envied, that his good fortune may be recognized, or such. If the day is hot and sunny, the girl may be chained in the shade. Perhaps
