“Dust,” said Astrinax, shading his eyes.
“Wagons,” said Lykos, handing the glass of the Builders to Astrinax.
From the left a small group of riders, on bipedalian saddle tharlarion, were approaching.
There were five in the group. Each carried a lengthy lance.
“Tal!” called Master Desmond to the leader of the small group. The wagons, down the road, behind us, approaching from the direction of Venna, might not reach the six hundredth pasang stone until dark.
“Tal!” called the leader of the riders cheerfully to Master Desmond.
“They are hunters,” said Astrinax. “Wild tarsk, Voltai tarsk.”
The Voltai tarsk, as some forest tarsk, are much larger than the common tarsk. They are often ten to twelve hands at the shoulder. The beast tends to be territorial and aggressive. It is particularly dangerous when wounded.
“Racing tharlarion,” said Astrinax, considering the bipedalian mounts of the newcomers.
“No,” said Lykos. “Racing tharlarion are longer-legged, and finer-boned.”
“True,” said Astrinax.
“Those are rugged, powerful animals,” said Lykos.
“Hunting tharlarion,” said Astrinax.
“Consider the saddles,” said Desmond, “there are five boots to a side, as for javelins.”
“So?” said Astrinax.
“Perhaps then,” said Desmond, “cavalry tharlarion, war tharlarion.”
“Let us make festival,” said the leader of the newcomers. “You have meat and paga, I trust, and we have coin, though doubtless your hospitality may be depended upon, and wagons approach, as well, doubtless well supplied.”
“Welcome,” called Astrinax.
“Tonight we drink,” said the leader of the hunters. “Tomorrow we hunt.”
“And tomorrow night,” said one of his fellows, “who knows?”
I felt slightly chilled, even in the day’s heat, and despite the newcomer’s jollity. The results of addressing oneself to the pursuit of wild tarsk, I suspected, were difficult to anticipate.
I trusted such animals would not be in the vicinity of the wagons.
“This is a strange juncture for festival, the clearing at the six hundredth pasang stone, is it not?” asked Trachinos.
“It would seem so,” said Desmond.
Trachinos then turned away.
The newcomers, whom I took to be hunters, had dismounted, and were conversing with Astrinax, and Lykos.
Far down the road, behind us, one could make out a darkness, some dust rising from the road.
Master Desmond, shading his eyes, watched it for a time. He then turned to me. His eyes on me, I immediately knelt, and lowered my head.
It is appropriate for a female slave, gazed upon.
“Lift your head,” he said.
I did so, but feared to meet his eyes.
“You may speak,” he said.
I then looked at him, disbelievingly, my eyes wide.
“I saw you in the arms of Trachinos,” he said.
“Forgive me, Master,” I whispered. It seemed I could hardly form words. In a moment I was sure that this would pass. How strange it seemed, after several days, to hear my own voice.
“I think you will do very well for what I have in mind,” he said.
“There was a flickering of light, in the hills,” I said.
“I know,” he said.
“I tried to resist,” I said.
“But you were not entirely successful,” he said.
“I am a slave,” I said.
“It is interesting what the collar does to a female,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
Certainly it informs us that we are females, and properties, the properties of men.
“Perhaps Trachinos will buy you,” he said.
“I would rather be purchased by another,” I whispered.
“You once served in a gambling house, did you not?” he said.
“Yes,” I said, “on the Street of Chance, in Ar.”
“Good,” he said.
“Thank you for permitting me to speak,” I said.
“I may have need of you, tonight,” he said.
Chapter Nineteen
“A kiss, barbarian slut,” said the driver, reaching for me.
“You have had your kiss, Master,” I laughed. “I must now serve another.”
“You should be lashed to the bone,” he said, but then fell to his side, asleep.
“Paga!” called another driver.
“I hasten, Master!” I said, and conveyed the damp, bulging bota to him.
“To me!” called another.
I hurried to him.
“What is your use fee?” he asked.
“That would have to be arranged with my Mistress,” I said.
“Mistress?” said a fellow, drunkenly.
“Yes, Master,” I said. “I am a woman’s slave.”
“Your tunic,” said a fellow, “is that of a man’s slave.”
“I must be tunicked as my Mistress wishes,” I said.
“She is renting you out, to make coin,” said a fellow. “What is her price for your use?”
I hurried away from him.
“Give me the bota!” cried a driver, and pulled it away from me.
“Master!” I protested.
“Here, by the fire!” called a fellow. “On your back! Lift your right knee. Roll over, in the dirt! On your back now, squirm, to your side, draw your knees up. On your back! Arch your back!”
It was hard to know what I might look like to them, half in the firelight, half in the shadows.
Men enjoy mastering kajirae.
“Stand!” said a fellow. “Examination position.”
“Please, no, Masters!” I said.
One is so helpless in that position!
“Good,” said a fellow.
“Oh!” I said.
“A silver tarsk!” said a fellow.
I was startled that he had said this.
“It is a barbarian,” said another.
“So less,” said the fellow.
Of course, I thought, a barbarian, so less!
“Pass her about,” said a fellow.
“No, Masters!” I begged.
