straight ahead. This is common in coffle. The attention of coffle beasts is not to rove about. They are not free persons. Too, in this way they are less likely to make eye contact with a free person. With the prisoners, however, I expected that this behavior was less to be attributed to the customs and decorum of the coffle, instilled in coffle beasts, than an apprehension of the gauntlet through which they, coffled, were passing. Certainly they knew they were under the scrutiny of men, though the scrutiny, for the most part, seemed to be relatively casual. It was not as though they were prize kajirae, four-or-five-silver-tarsk girls, perhaps even some gold-piece girls, say, being disembarked from slave wagons, whose arrival in a city had been long awaited, perhaps even having been heralded by a great number of wall bills.
“Oh!” cried Emerald, startled. She almost fell. “Ai!” gasped Hiza, the last in the line. Kajirae, of course, are familiar with such attentions, and may not object. Emerald and Hiza, on the other hand, were free women. I supposed Emerald and Hiza would be the first to be put upon the block, if that were the fate in store for them.
“Harta, faster,” said Donna.
The prisoners, with their short steps, tried to hasten.
Tula, Mila, and I exchanged pleased glances. It gave us great pleasure to see our former mistresses so discomfited.
“Let them do our work,” whispered Tula.
Yes, I thought, “our work,” the work which befits such as we, the work which is ours, fit for Tula, Mila, and myself, the work of slaves.
I hoped the mistresses would also be made to bear burdens. Such may be done in coffle. I trusted that Tula, Mila, and myself would not be the only pack animals in camp.
I noted that the coffle had now exited the camp. It was from that direction that the earlier attack had sprung.
I looked about.
The men paid us little attention.
No longer neck-roped, there was nothing to keep me from slipping away into the forest. How much the masters took us for granted. Did they not know we might bolt as quickly as graceful tabuk, disappearing amongst the trees? I must wait my chance. I did suppose that, as in the march to Tarncamp, we might be secured at night. Still, it should be easy, sooner or later, preferably sooner, for me to complete the escape I had planned, and boldly ventured upon. The masters did not know me. They did not even know I was a barbarian. Had they known that they would doubtless not take me so much for granted. That was their mistake. I was not a Gorean girl. I was from Earth. I would escape!
At this point we heard the screams of women from the forest, the prisoners, I supposed, these coming from the direction they had exited the camp. Some sort of commotion was there. I did not know what was going on. Men rose up, seizing weapons, turning to face the sound. We heard a breaking through branches, cries of fear and misery, these again, I supposed, from the prisoners. “Slower, go slowly!” cried Donna. “Together, move together, step, step!” I saw the shackled prisoners then, on their neck rope. It seemed they could not move quickly enough to regain the camp, perhaps the protection of the men’s spears. How helpless they were, how distressed, frightened, and frantic, trying to hurry, impeded by their closely chained ankles. Then near the edge of the camp they fell, tangled together, weeping. Donna stood between them and the forest. “Get up,” she said. “Move slowly, to the center of the camp.” I did not know what was in the forest. I took it Donna could see it. She kept herself between the forest and the prisoners. How brave she was. The leader went to her, with his spear, and thrust her behind him, and to the side. Then he, too, backed away, slowly.
Then I saw it.
Tula screamed.
“Sleen, sleen!” she cried.
It was a large, long, agile, sinuous, six-legged thing, brown with patches of black, massive, like an immense furred lizard, low to the ground for its size, its belly almost in the leaves, a large, broad, triangular head.
“Do not strike it,” called the leader. “It is not wild. See the collar, the leash!” Then he cried out, in alarm. “Do not touch the leash, Aeson. You are not the use master. Let it alone.”