And then again I danced, helplessly, piteously, suing for their favor, striving desperately to be found pleasing. In the end the power belongs to the master, totally, and not to the slave. She is his.
'Excellent,' said a man. 'Excellent.'
I danced.
I danced in such a way that a free woman might only dream of, awakening, sweating, in the night, clutching her covers, in terror, then feeling her throat with trepidation, with the tips of frightened fingers, to ascertain that no cpollar has been locked on it in the night. How could she, a free woman, have such a dream? What could it mean? And what would the men do to her when they came to take her in their arms? She awakened, in terror. Perhaps she hurries to strike a light in her room. The familiar surroundings reassure her. She has had such dreams before. What could they mean? Nothing, of course. Nothing! Such dreams must be meaningless! They must be! But what if they were not? She shudders. Perhaps she then, in her long silken gown, curls up, frightened, at the foot of her bed. What, too, could that mean? She does not know. Surely that, too, means nothing. But what if it did? She lies there, troubled, but somehow comforted, somehow secure, in that position. It seems to her, somehow, that that is where she belongs.
'Superb,' said a man.
I saw now that they, or most of them, were pleased. I sensed now that I might be spared, at least if I pleased them, too, well enough in the sand. I had lured many of them, but now I danced for before them, to please them, begging for my life, danced before them helplessly, at their mercy, submitted and dependent on their favor, for my very life, as much as though I might be their own slave. I saw to my joy, coming gradually to understand it, that they, or surely most of them, would accept this, my beauty, my submission and service, abject and total, in lieu of my blood. It would be vengeance enough for them. How mighty they were, and kind! To be sure, I would have to continue to show them perfections of slave service and total deference. How grateful I was to he whom I had most feared, he who was last upon the chain, he who had given me this eagerly embraced opportunity to save my slave' s hide! But it was he, of all of them, who had refused to watch me dance. He stood with his back turned to me, his back straight, his arms folded, looking away. Many times I had danced to him, moving behind him in the sand, but he did not turn. He did not deign to glance upon me. Then, near the end of my dance, as it approached its climax, I was on my knees in the sand, writhing, bending forward until my hair was in the sand, bending back then, exposing the bow of my body, my thighs, my belly, my breasts and throat to them, my hands inviting attention to them, my hair back in the sand, and then I straightened, and then was on my back, and belly, twisting and moving, lifting my hands to them, begging for favor, piteously suing for mercy. Such things I had been taught as long ago as the house of my first training, but I think, truly, even had I not had such training, I would, in the circumstances, have done much the same. Perhaps it is instinctual in a woman. I had, when owned by Gordon, the musician, once seen a former free woman, new to her collar, in an alley in Samnium, performing so for a master, he with whip in hand, encouraging her to adequacy. She did well. She, shuddering, half in shock, learned that she would be spared, at least for the time. he then began to instruct her in how to give pleasure to a man. She attended fearfully, and well, to her lessons.
At the end of the dance, I was on my knees again, behind him. I lifted my hands to him. 'Master, please!' I begged. 'Look upon me!' But he did not turn. With a cry of joy the men surged about me. I was lifted by my upper arms and flung back in the sand. My legs were lifted up, my kneed bent. My wrist chain was pulled forward and thrust over and behind my feet. It was then jerked up, behind me. I could now not move my hands from my sides. I was helpless. My ankles, each in the grip of one man, were pulled apart, until my ankle chain, its links straightened, permitted no further extension. My opened tunic was thrust back on both sides. I, half submerged in the sand, put my head back, looking up and back. I could see the figures, and the palanquin, seemingly small, seemingly far above me, seemingly far away from me on the ridge. I thought my master, Ionicus, of Cos, might be looking at me, through the lorgnon. 'Oh!' I cried, suddenly, as the first of them put me to his pleasure. 'Are you alright?' asked Tupita.
'Yes,' I said, lying in the sand.
'The chain is gone,' she said. 'It has been taken elsewhere.'
I nodded, stiff, aching. I had known that it had gone. A little later Tupita had come down the slope.
'Lie on your side,' she said. 'Pull your legs up. get your knees as close to your belly as you can.'
She drew the chain down, from behind me, and, pushing back my ankles, I winced, put it over my feet and ankles. it was then again before me.
'Sit up,' she said.
'Yes, Mistress,' I said. She was not the 'first girl' of the work slaves, not even the first girl in our pen. Of the two of us assigned to this chain, however, she was surely 'first girl.'
'You are sure you are all right?' she asked.
'Yes, Mistress,' I said.
I turned and looked up to the height of the ridge.
'They are gone,' she said.
'Yes,' I whispered.
'Can you walk?' she asked.
'I think so,' I said.
'I think we should follow the chain now,' she said.
'Mirus saved my life,' I said.
She was silent.
'What is wrong?' I asked.
'I think we should follow the chain,' she said.
'What is wrong?' I asked.
'It is lonely here,' she said.
'I do not understand,' I said.
'I heard them talking, up on the ridge,' she said. 'Something has happened.' 'What?' I asked.
The sun was still bright. It was in the late afternoon. The sky was very blue. A soft wind moved between the dunelike hills, stirring the rough grass.
'It happened only a pasang or so from the walls of Venna,' she said, 'closer to Venna than our camp.'
'What?' I asked, uneasily.
'A body was found, that of an official of Venna, an aedile, I think.' 'I am sorry to hear that,' I said. 'I gather that he was robbed?' 'Apparently he was robbed,' she said, 'either by the assailant, or another. His purse was gone.'
'I am sorry,' I said.
'The body,' she said, 'was half eaten.'
I shuddered.
'It was torn to pieces,' she said. 'The visera were gone. Bones were bitten through.'
I winced.
'it is frightening,' she said, 'to consider the force, the power of such jaws, which could do such things.'
'There is a sleen in the vicinity,' I said. I remembered Borko, the hunting sleen of my former master, Hendow, of Brundisium, 'The tracks were not those of a sleen,' she said.
'There are panthers,' I said, 'and beasts called larls. Such animals are very dangerous.'
'As far as I know, there has not been a panther or larl in the vicinity of Venna in more than a hundred years,' she said.
'It could have been wandering far outside its customary range,' I said, 'perhaps driven by hunger, or thirst.'
'They were not the tracks of a panther or larl,' she said.
'Then it must have been a sleen,' I said.
'Sleen have no use for gold,' she said, uneasily.
'Surely someone could have found the body and taken the purse,' I said. 'Perhaps,' she granted me.
'It must then have been a sleen,' I said. 'There is no other explanation.' 'The tracks,' she reminded me, 'were not those of a sleen.'
'Then of what beast were they the tacks?' I asked.
'That is the frightening thing,' she said. 'They do not know. Hunters were called in. Even they could not
