is acceptable to the master, he might put it upon her. Names, too, of course, may be used to humble and punish a woman, and such names, humbling names, and punishing names, are as much real names as the most beautiful of names. That is, then, who she is. Perhaps in the future she will try much harder to be pleasing, that she might be given a better name. I considered the lovely girl whom I had enjoyed last night under the wagon, in the storm. I thought she looked rather like a 'Liadne.' That was a beautiful name. I thought I would give it to her. I decided upon it. She was now, although she did not yet know it, Liadne.
I looked down at the Vosk Road, below. There were fewer refugees on it now than last night. Perhaps many had passed through the area last night. Perhaps now, for most practical purposes, the route was cut off.
My attention was then drawn to the girl on the saddle before me. She was bent low, cowering over the pommel, sobbing, grasping it with both hands. She had had a very difficult time of it. There was no gainsaying that. I took her by the hair and straightened her, and, turning her head, twisting her body, looked upon her. The blindfold was still well in place. She moaned. Her cheeks, under the dampened blindfold, were run with tears. These, too, had run upon her body. I then turned her about again.
We flew northward, in silence.
She sobbed.
I considered feeling pity for her, and then dismissed the thought, for it was weakness. She was a woman. Her wrists, too, were in my bracelets.
We flew further, in silence.
She wept.
I saw that she, though slender, was well curved, and beautiful.
'You may beg,' I informed her. 'What?' she said.
'You may beg to be caressed,' I said.
'You're mad,' she said.
'Is it your intention to be difficult?' I asked.
'Do not beat me,' she said.
'You may now beg to be caressed,' I told her.
'Have I fallen into the hands of a monster?' she cried.
She was a legally free woman, but she was now before me, half naked, blindfolded and braceleted, my captive and servant. Indeed, she had even purchased her captivity and servitude. I wondered if she regretted what she had done. She now, at any rate, understood it more clearly.
'Beg,' I said.
'I am not in the mood,' she cried.
I laughed. How amusing are free woman! Slaves learn to be in the «mood» instantaneously, at so little as a glance or a snapping of the fingers, and a pointing to the floor.
'Please,' she said. 'please!'
'Beg,' I said.
'I beg to be caressed,' she said, weeping.
I then began to caress her, she before me, weeping, trying to resist, captive and servant, clinging to the pommel.
'Monster,' she moaned. 'Monster.' Then she sobbed, suddenly, partly with surprise, partly with sensation.
I chuckled. Her legs looked well, split, squirming, over the glossy saddle. 'Monster!' she wept, her head back.
Her hands jerked, the fingers moving. She could not reach me. I heard the small sounds of the links, jerking taut, then relaxing, then jerking taut again, joining the bracelets.
'Perhaps you are now more in the mood?' I asked.
'Do not stop!' she begged.
'And what shall you call me?' I wondered.
'Oh,' she moaned. 'Ohhh!'
'Surely you are curious to know what you should call me,' I speculated. 'Yes!' she cried. 'Yes! Yes! What shall I call you? Oh! Oh!'
'You may call me 'master, ' I said. 'Yes, Master!' she cried.
I then held her still, trying to calm her for a time.
'I called you Master!' she cried. 'Am I yet legally free?'
'Yes,' I said, 'but I think it will be well for you to accustom yourself to calling free men Master.'
'Yes!' she said.
I decided that I would not yet grant her the collar, ripe for it though she might be. She was a free woman. I would make her wait longer, in frustration, for it.
'Please touch me again,' she begged.
'You liked it?' I asked.
'I have now felt it,' she said. 'I now desperately need it.'
'Even to the surrender of all you are, and have been?' I asked.
'You have tried out your tarn,' she said. 'Now, try me out!'
I regarded her. I thought she would look well, naked, tied absolutely helplessly, on her back or belly, over the saddle of the tarn.
'Master?' she asked.
It was a fitting tie for such as she.
'Perhaps later,' I said.
I then folded my cloak about her, to protect her from the wind.
We continued northward.
9 The Camp of Cos
'Who is it?' she asked, kneeling in the darkness of the tiny tent, the large sack covering most of her body.
'It is I,' I said, reassuring her.
I crouched beside her and unfastened the drawstrings of the sack which I had tied under her body and about her thighs, to hold it on her. I then pulled it from her and unbraceleted her hands from behind her back.
'Were you successful?' she asked, shaking her head, loosening her hair. 'Cook,' I said.
I then sat, cross-legged, in the tiny tent. We were just within the fringes of the Cosian camp. There were, in this vicinity, clouds of tiny tents and shelters, some of them belonging to soldiers, most to civilians, sutlers, merchants, slavers, and such. The nearest investment trench was a half pasang away. One could see the walls of Ar's Station from where we were. The girl busied herself, preparing food. It seemed peaceful here. It was difficult to believe that fighting took place daily in the vicinity of the walls, indeed, sometimes at night.
'There is little but porridge,' she said.
I nodded.
There would be even less, I supposed, in most homes in Ar's Station.
'Have you heard anything?' she asked. She was putting twigs and leaves in a small pit outside the entrance of the tent.
'It is said the city will soon fall,' I said.
'The defenses cannot be long maintained?' she asked.
'It is thought not,' I said.
'You wish to gain entrance to the city,' she said.
'Yes,' I said.
'Why?' she asked.
'I have business there,' I said.
