the preceding evening. Soon a hardy blaze was illuminating the clearing, brightly. It was bright enough for a man’s paga feast, the sort at which stripped free women must dance as slaves and, to their shame, though they are still legally free, will be put to use as sluts before their collaring and branding.
Hiza sat up in her blankets. Emerald rubbed her eyes.
“Awaken, slothful sisters!” cried Tuza. “Donna is avenged! Welcome to the band of Tuza.”
Hiza leaped up, drawing her knife, but Tuza faced her, her own knife drawn, and ready. Tuza crouched like a panther, the blade of her knife at her knee, blade upward.
Emerald was now on her feet as well. She, too, had drawn her knife.
“Darla is defeated,” said Tuza. “I am first. I am leader. Victory is ours. More gold for us. See the armlets, the bracelets, and anklets I have left for you. Rich booty. I share! Donna is avenged.”
Hiza and Emerald stood near the fire, uncertain.
“Do you wish to do contest?” asked Tuza. “Alone, together?”
By now Tula and Mila, too, were awake, and turned about, frightened. To be sure we, as slaves, would abide the outcome.
“What Darla did to Donna,” cried Tuza, “I have now done to Darla! Let it be so. Let the strongest, the fiercest, the mightiest, command the band.”
“Do not speak of vengeance,” said Hiza. “You had no care for Donna. You hated her, as you hated Darla. You collaborated with Darla, to oust Donna, that you should receive the gift of the lieutenancy!”
Tuza fixed her eyes on Hiza. “Do you have your blade drawn before your leader?” she asked.
Hiza thrust her dagger back into its sheath. And Tuza turned her attention to Emerald. “Well, pretty Emerald,” she said, “do you care to carry an unsheathed blade before your leader?”
“No,” said Emerald, and resheathed her weapon.
“Who is leader?” asked Tuza.
“You,” said Hiza.
“You,” said Emerald.
“Perhaps,” said Hiza, “you should have fought, in the way of the Panther Women.”
“I did not choose to do so,” said Tuza.
“No,” said Emerald. “Darla was dangerous.”
“It is not our way to kill a leader in her sleep,” said Hiza.
“Of course not,” said Tuza. “I did not kill her.”
“She lives?” said Hiza.
“Of course,” said Tuza. “Killing her would not satisfy me. I have something much better in mind.”
Hiza and Emerald exchanged puzzled glances.
“I do not understand,” said Emerald.
“You will fetch her, both of you,” said Tuza, “but first arrange the slaves. Get them up. The little beasts are already awake. Kneel the sluts, heads up, so that they see what ensues.”
Shortly thereafter we were kneeling in a line, on our neck rope. Our ankles were still bound together, and our wrists, as well, behind our back.
“Lift your heads, slaves,” said Hiza.
Tuza regarded us. “You are no longer silenced by the will of the mistress,” she said.
We took ourselves then to be in the common modality of the slave, subject to no more than the usual restraints on our speech.
But still we did not speak, not daring to do so, not even to request permission to speak.
Masters and mistresses do not always care to hear the speech of slaves.
“Changes have occurred in the camp,” said Tuza. “There is a new leader. It is Tuza. You will find her less indulgent than the former leader, who was weak. It is a long trek to the coast. You will be expected to work well for your gruel. If you are found unsatisfactory, you will be tied in the forest, and left for the beasts. If all goes well, you will be stripped and sold on the coast. Is this understood?”
“Yes, Mistress,” we whispered.
Our voices trembled. It had been long since we had been permitted to speak. It seemed strange to enunciate sounds. I feared momentarily I might not be able to say words. But I had heard myself whisper, “Yes, Mistress.”
“You are poor stock,” said Tuza. “I am thinking of being displeased with you. What shall I do with you?” She glared at each of us, in turn. “Please do not beat us, Mistress,” said Tula. “Please be kind, Mistress,” said Mila. “Please be merciful, Mistress,” I said. “You, Vulo,” she said. “Mistress?” I said. “You writhe nicely under the switch,” she said. “Men will like that.” “Please be merciful, Mistress,” I said. Surely we all responded similarly under the switch, for we were all slaves. Tuza, I feared, bore me some particular animosity. That was probably, I surmised, because I had been captured by Emerald, who expected to sell me.