desire to be one of a hundred or more in a rich man’s pleasure garden, or to be a city slave, or a slave owned by a business, such as a mill or great farm.
As the conversation continued to wend its way about through a miscellany of apparently random topics, certain things began to become clear to me. One was that there seemed to be no relationship between the fellows who had captured the Panther Women and the sleen master and his fellow. They were not part of the attacking force, or somehow in league with it. Indeed, I suspected they might be only too willing to leave the camp, but that that option might not really be theirs. If they were guests, it seemed they were not the sort which might come and go as they pleased. Further, whereas the conversation seemed casual and pleasant, on the part of the sleen master and his fellow, I began to sense it might not be as idle as it might seem on the surface. Why should they, out here in the forest, be discussing tunes, czehars, flutes, kalikas, and such? Aeson and Genak, I think, drank more than the sleen master, and his fellow. The sleen master, as it was hot, opened his shirt, and it was then noted that about his neck, on a slender strap, hung a whistle. “That,” said Aeson, thickly, pointing to the whistle, “is how you control the sleen. It conveys the signals.”
“No,” said the sleen master.
“No?” said Aeson.
“No,” said the sleen master, who had identified himself as Axel of Argentum. “Tiomines, like most sleen, responds to verbal commands.”
“Which are secret, and pertinent, to the given animal?” said Aeson.
“Surely,” said Axel of Argentum.
“What is the whistle about then?” asked Genak.
“It is a tune whistle,” said Axel. “See the tiny holes. It is a pleasure to occasionally while away the time with it in a camp.”
“Play us a tune,” said Aeson.
“See how it is bent,” said Axel. “It is defective. I would have it repaired.”
“Try it,” said Aeson.
“Even when new,” said Axel, “not everyone could sound it, and it is now broken.”
“It requires strength to sound it?” asked Aeson.
“Yes,” said Axel.
“Nonsense,” said Genak. “Even a slave could sound so little a thing.”
Axel laughed and slipped the whistle, on its strap, over his head. “Let us see,” he said, motioning me to him. I approached him, and knelt, the large bottle supported in its net, the sling running from my left shoulder to my right hip. As I am right-handed, I would guide the neck of the bottle with the left hand, and lift and tip it with the right hand. Axel handed me the whistle. It was bent. It did have tiny holes in its barrel. It was not large. It was about two horts in length, perhaps a little longer.
“Blow it,” said Aeson.
I did not think it would be difficult to sound it. I was uneasy about calling attention to myself, when its blast was heard. To be sure, I had been commanded. Master Axel, nor the others, seemed concerned that its blast might be heard outside the camp. We were deep in a lonely, and unsettled, wilderness. And certainly the area about the camp had been routinely scouted, and guards posted.
I blew very softly on the whistle, hoping that whatever sound it might make would be scarcely noticed. Surely it would be enough for them to hear even a tiny note. If they wanted some great blast let it be sounded by some free person, not one whose body was subject to the lash. But no sound came from the device.
“See?” said Axel.
“Blow harder,” said Aeson.
I then tried, again and again, to sound the whistle, but I heard nothing.
“Even when new,” said Axel, “it required strength to sound it, and it is now broken.”
As he extended his hand, I gratefully returned the whistle to him, and rose up, backed away a pace or two, and again knelt, where I had positioned myself for the masters’ convenience. The bottle in its net was now light, as the liquid was mostly gone.
“I doubt I could sound it myself,” said Axel.
Then he put the whistle to his lips, and, as far as I could tell, exerted great force on the tiny device.
“Let me try,” said his fellow, whom I had resolved to hate with all my might.
It pleased me considerably that even he, so large a man, was unable to bring any sound from that recalcitrant, small object.