a pan of water will be placed near her. Too, of course, a girl may be so chained in order to elicit bids on her. If that is the case, there will usually be a sign to that effect hung about her neck. The commonly proffered reason for using a slave ring, of course, is to prevent the theft of the slave. I realized that I had never been chained to such a ring. This produced a certain amount of annoyance. Did it never occur to my mistress, or the beast, that I might be stolen, that someone might regard me as worth stealing? My own suspicion in these matters, of course, was that the public chaining of slaves was likely to have less to do with the dangers of slave theft, and more to do with the gratification of masters. Masters seem to enjoy chaining their slaves. Aside from the indubitable perfection of the custody involved, it is also a ritual of the mastery, in which the master shows the slave that she is a slave, an animal, and a possession, which may be chained at his pleasure. She will remain where she has been placed, helplessly so. It is his will. Too, of course, the chaining has its effect on the slave, who is fully aware of what is involved. In this act, she understands herself owned, and who is her master.
I suddenly stopped, absolutely, straining my hearing. I thought that I might have heard a sound, some paces to my right. But it was then quiet. I must have been mistaken. I think the slightest scratch of a leaf on the stones, perhaps even the gentle alighting of a scrap of paper borne by the tiniest whisper of wind, curling about a corner, would have alarmed me. I could see the lamp, on its pole, far to the right. It was dim. It swung a little. I then began, again, my progress, bit by bit, toward the praetor’s platform, and the empty coin stalls.
I remembered that, days ago, some thieves, fleeing, had emerged from a sewer in the vicinity of the praetor’s platform, and had been apprehended by guardsmen. The grating, of course, would have been replaced.
I trusted it was securely in place.
At last, to my relief, I came to the coin stall nearest the praetor’s platform. I understood I was to wait there, or in the vicinity.
For what was I to wait?
Was it here I was to wait for Lord Grendel to arrive and, at his leisure, kill me?
Without rising to my feet I pushed open the half-gate of the stall and crawled inside.
I then closed and latched the gate.
I huddled within.
The wooden sides of the stall were comforting. If affording little protection, they would, at any rate, as they were surmounted, or thrust aside or splintered apart, warn me of his approach.
It was very quiet.
I heard nothing.
As time went by, more and more time, I began to suspect that some mistake, or misunderstanding, had taken place.
Far off I heard the bar for the First Ahn.
It was still early then, very early.
Later I heard the sounding of the bar for the Second Ahn.
Was I to stay here all night?
I then became afraid, even though it was the middle of the night, that I might be apprehended in the market, in the morning, when guardsmen, at the praetor’s signal, opened the market to the stallsmen, merchants, and dealers.
That would not be pleasant.
Still, as individuals milled about, early, I thought, perhaps I could mix in, and, unnoticed, make my way back to the domicile.
I heard, far off, the ringing of the Third Ahn.
Perhaps, I thought, I should return home.
It is lonely here, and dark, and cold, but, clearly, if something were to happen, it would have happened by now. I was heartened. Now, I was sure, reasonably sure, nothing would happen.
Return to the domicile, Allison, I said to myself.
No, I said to myself. I will stay, if only a little longer.
Again the clouds parted, and, again, one of the moons was visible. I rose up a little, and looked over the counter of the stall. The market was again bathed in cool light, and then, again, with the rolling of clouds, the moon was obscured, and the market became once more a jumble of shadows, a weird terrain of the night, a frightening desert of darkness, so different from the brightness, the bustle, the noise and tumult of the day. Across the plaza the lamp, on its pole, was still lit.
I will go back to the domicile, I thought.
It was at that moment that I heard a heavy, grating sound, a scraping sound, some yards away.
Something heavy, and metal, was being moved, shaken, being wrenched, and then was forced free, and thrust to the side.
A moment later I heard it replaced.
I knew I was to wait, and stay in place.
But I could not have run then, even had I wished to do so.
Run, I thought, run, but I could not do so.
I sensed something was outside, being very still.
Then I sensed something moving toward me. I had tried to be silent, but it was approaching.
Then something struck against the side of the stall. Had it not seen the barrier? It is clumsy, I thought.
I looked up, toward the ridge of the counter and there, a darkness against a darkness, I saw a wide, shaggy, massive head.
It is Lord Grendel, I thought, come to kill me.
I heard a snuffling sound, as though scent were being taken. A dark tongue moved about fangs. Broad ears, pointed, like lifted hands, seemed to emerge from that head, against which they must have been laid. They turned toward me, as though they might have been eyes, inclining downward, peering downward.
I knew that I was not to cry out, and that I was not to struggle. The instructions of Lord Grendel had been clear on that point. Oddly, I did not think I could even whisper, or speak, let alone cry out, nor could I move.
I was terrified.
Suddenly the stall’s frontage was torn away, from before me, and struck clattering to the side, and I saw the large shape there, intent, crouched down. Then it moved a little forward, reaching out, moving its arms back and forth, uncertainly, as though it could not see for the darkness, but even I could see that much.
I sobbed as it scrambled forward, and seized me.
It held me tightly, clutching me to it, and I sensed filth, and slime, from the sewer, and was almost overwhelmed by the smell of Kur. I was aware of a broad, deep chest, hot and covered with damp, matted hair. In some parts of its journey it must have moved through water. I sensed a mighty heart beating within that expanse. I heard again the snuffling sound and felt the broad, distending nostrils of the beast moving about my neck and shoulders. Then one paw was placed on my head, carefully, and I felt it moving about, through my hair. I wore no kerchief. Then I felt the paw, feeling about, clumsily, under my chin. I feared then I was to be strangled, or that my neck was to be broken. I now knew this was not Lord Grendel for Lord Grendel was not awkward; for all his size, and power, he was remarkably graceful; his movements were as sure as those of a stalking sleen; too, he was dexterous; the same paw which might tear the iron handle from a gate could lift a pin from the floor, and fetch a stone of choice from a lady’s jewel box. But the paw did not crush me, but thrust up, seizing the collar, briefly, which it then, almost immediately, relinquished.
It then thrust me back, away from it, against the back of the stall. My shoulder was bruised.
I half lay against the wood, regarding it with horror.
I had not cried out, I had not resisted.
Then there issued from that monstrous thing on the other side of the stall a series of low noises, almost as though they might have been those of larl, or sleen. There was nothing human there, but the stream of sound was clearly articulated, and I knew it was speaking to me. I understood nothing. Did it hope I might understand it? Did it think I might have a translator?
The scent of Lord Grendel, I knew, was on me. At least he had said so. Had that encouraged it to speak? Did it suspect that something was in the vicinity, or even in the stall, which might understand it? Could it not see we were alone?
