seemed to be a hunting party. On the other hand I saw no tabuk, dangling from poles, nor skins slung over the shoulders of any of the fellows.
I wondered how long they had been out.
I would not have expected to encounter hunters in this vicinity, unless they were from Shipcamp.
These did not seem to be from Shipcamp.
Indeed, we were far from Shipcamp.
“What are you doing here?” asked the newcomer.
“Hunting,” said Axel.
“And what have you taken?” inquired the newcomer.
“Nothing, as yet,” said Axel.
“Perhaps,” said the fellow, “it is you who have been taken.”
“Our friend here,” said Axel, roughly shaking the fur at the base of the neck of Tiomines, “could kill at least one of you.”
“Perhaps, more,” said the newcomer. “But it would be a shame for such a fine animal to die.”
“I would suggest,” said Axel, affably, “that you do not interfere with our hunt.”
“Nor will you with ours, I trust,” said the fellow.
“One supposes not,” said Axel. “I wish you well.”
“Tarry a bit,” said the newcomer.
“You have the spears,” said Axel.
“Aeson comes,” said one of the fellows.
Arrivals were approaching from the direction of the river, which was south of our position. I suspected the several newcomers, of which the approaching fellows were doubtless a part, had originally crossed the river to the east. None of them had the caps common with mariners, so I supposed they must have come from the south, and then crossed the river, perhaps having come from as far away as the basin of the Laurius.
I counted four more of the newcomers, also armed with spears. That would make fifteen.
On a leash, held by one of the men was a tall, striking, dark-haired woman, her neck encircled with a typical band, clad in a brief, brightly scarlet slave tunic, slit at the sides. Two tarsks, I thought, of good Brundisium silver.
The fellow who held the leash approached, and stood near the leader. The slave then knelt at the leader’s side, her head down.
“Head up,” snapped the leader.
Instantly she raised her head.
“What do you think,” asked the leader.
“Not bad,” said Axel. That seemed a tepid appraisement. I wondered if he had his mind on Asperiche.
The leader looked at me, questioningly. Clearly he was pleased with the slave, and wished to show her off.
“Excellent,” I said.
“What is on your neck, Donna,” asked the leader.
“A slave collar, Master,” she said.
“And what does that mean?” he asked.
“That I am a slave, Master,” she said.
“What is on your left thigh, Donna?” he asked.
“A slave brand, Master,” she said.
“And what does that mean?” he asked.
“That I am a slave, Master,” she said.
“And what is the nature of your garment?” he asked.
“It is the garment of a slave,” she said.
“And why are you clad in such a garment?” he asked.
“It is appropriate that I be placed in such a garment,” she said, “as I am a slave.”
“This,” said the leader, indicating the slave, “was once a Panther Girl.”
“She does not look like a Panther Girl,” said Axel.
“She has been trimmed, exercised, dieted, and such,” said the leader, “brought to prime selling condition.”
“Please do not sell me, Master,” she whispered.
I gathered she had a standing permission to speak, as she had not been cuffed. This is not uncommon, that a slave might have a standing permission to speak. To be sure, such a permission is easily revoked, and then the slave will be expected to ask permission before speaking.
“She is too soft, too feminine, too attractive, too desirable, too beautiful to be a Panther Girl,” said Axel.
“They learn the collar,” he said.
“Of course,” said Axel.
“They want it,” said the leader.
“True,” said Axel.
“We have here,” said the leader, indicating the slave and Tiomines, “two beautiful animals.”
“The sleen is on a scent,” said Axel. “He is restless.”
“You can cancel the hunt,” said the leader.
“It would not be wise without meat,” said Axel.
“Would you be interested in a trade?” asked the leader.
“Please, no, Master!” whispered the slave, who dared not raise her voice.
I was surprised at the remark of the leader, as a sleen, a trained sleen, is commonly worth several slaves, just as a tarn is commonly worth several more. To be sure the slave was unusually beautiful. She now, head down, trembled at her master’s thigh. I thought of another world, one on which beauty was seldom for sale, except on its own terms. I wondered if there was all that much difference, between a woman selling herself for her own profit, or being sold by another, for another’s profit. In both cases she