“I am not afraid of larls,” I said. I would count them, in the cages, and make away, and would have so great a start that they could not catch me.
“Then you are a fool,” said Relia.
“Larls are not men,” said Janina. “They will not care that you are clever, or pretty. They will not ravish you or shackle you, or beat you, or sell you to another. They will eat you.”
There was another crash of thunder, and the rain continued to fall heavily.
“It is a terrible night,” said a girl.
“None will be about this night,” said another.
“May the roof hold,” said another.
A drainage ditch had been dug about the kennel, and I did not fear that water would be likely to seep into the kennel. The roof was sturdy, and caulked with ship’s tar.
“It may rain for days,” said a girl.
“It is the season,” said another.
“Then snow,” said yet another.
“Ice was in the river yesterday,” said another. “I saw it.”
“The great ship must soon leave,” said another. “Otherwise it will be frozen fast.”
“What is to be done with us?” asked a slave.
“We have served our purpose,” said another, “in Tarncamp, and now in Shipcamp. They do not need us any longer.”
“Perhaps they will kill us,” said a slave, apprehensively.
“Do not be foolish,” said another. “We will be sold south.”
“We may know of secret things,” said a girl. “They may kill us.”
“We might talk,” said another, frightened.
“Not I,” said another.
“You will speak quickly enough on the rack,” said another.
“True,” said another.
“They will kill us then!” cried a girl, and jerked wildly at her chain.
“Men do not kill kajirae,” said Relia, “no more than they would kill pretty birds or kaiila.”
“What then?” asked a girl.
“Is it not obvious?” said Relia.
There were cries of misery, and consternation, in the kennel. We were all familiar with the great ship. We had seen it, often enough. It was looming, awesome, and mysterious. It was unlike other ships. It was almost a floating city. For what had it been built? For what waters had so mighty a keel been laid? What storms had it been framed to withstand? What broad, trackless, landless wildernesses might it hazard? What strange harbors might so monstrous a vessel seek, by what unfamiliar, far ports of call might it be lured?
“No, no!” cried several of the girls.
The rain continued to beat heavily on the roof. The wind began to howl. Thunder sounded again, and again.
We drew our blankets more closely about us.
“You have been to the dock, all of you,” said Relia. “You have seen the loading of cargoes, the great casks, the bags of sa-tarna and suls, crates of bitter tospits, paga and ka-la-na packed in straw, medicines, salves and unguents, endless streams of supplies.”
“And the objects of war,” said another, “timbers, hurling stones, cordage, jars of pitch, finned darts, spears, glaives, javelins, varieties of blades, masses of shields, bucklers, wrappings in which are bound a thousand arrows.”
“But, too,” said Relia, “coffers which might contain pearls, gems, jewelries, golden wire, weighty coins.”
“Vessels of rare metal, black-and red-figured potteries, candles and lamps, perfumes and silks,” said Janina.
“I saw siriks, shackles, slave harnessing,” said a slave, uneasily.
“What,” asked Relia, “do you think the likely object of the projected voyage?”
“War,” said a slave.
“Trade,” averred another. “Consider the cargos, rep-cloth, wool of the hurt, candles, mirrors, lamps, such things.”
“War with whom, trade with whom?” asked Relia.
We were silent.
“What do men prize most,” asked Relia, “after gold, after victory in war, after fine kaiila, and loyal sleen?”
“Beautiful, fearful, obedient, docile slaves,” said another.
“How many of you have been sold?” asked Relia.
“Everyone in the kennel has been sold,” said a slave, “and some of us many times.”
“What are you then?” inquired Relia.
“Slaves,” said a girl.
“Articles of commerce, objects for vending, stock, properties, wares, commodities, goods, merchandise,” said Relia.
“I do not understand,” said a girl.
“Our role in this is clear,” said Relia. “We need not fear being left behind. Dismiss such thoughts. We are cargo, as much as suls or paga, as much as would be nose-ringed kaiila, penned tarsks, or tethered verr.”
“No, no!” cried a slave.
“They will take us with them,” said Relia, “if not for the common purposes of slaves, the services and delights derivable from our ownership, then as goods, objects for sale, for barter, and trade.”
“No!” cried another slave.
“We are cargo,” said Relia, “the one cargo you wish to overlook.”