The Usurper (5 page)

“That makes no difference,” said Otto. “Imperial slaves, as other slaves, are women. There are slaves who are more expensive and less expensive, more beautiful and less beautiful, better slaves and worse slaves. But that is all. There is little difference between a tavern tunic and a fistful of expensive slave silk. What matters is the slave herself.”

“True,” said Phidias.

“Imperial slaves,” said Otto, “as other slaves, are women, and I enjoy seeing them so presented, imperial slaves, in this way, no different from the lowest of slaves on a thousand worlds.”

“But these slaves are quite good, quite attractive, do you not agree?” asked Phidias.

“Certainly,” said Otto.

“They are high slaves,” said Lysis.

“I thought they were trade goods,” said Otto.

“But excellent trade goods,” said Phidias.

“Surely,” said Otto.

“And none, not one of the twenty, is marked,” said Lysis.

“Interesting,” said Otto, glancing at Ronisius.

“Yes,” said Ronisius.

“All slaves should be marked,” said Otto.

“Surely you would not wish such fair skins to be marked,” said Corelius.

“The brand,” said Otto, “enhances a woman's beauty a thousand times. It puts the slave mark on her. One then sees her as slave, and she knows herself as slave. How could she be more exciting, or more meaningful, or more beautiful, than as marked slave?”

“Barbarian!” said Corelius.

“Quite,” said Otto.

“Please, Corelius,” protested Phidias, captain of the
Narcona
.

“Filene understands that she is to be soon sent to the couch of Captain Ottonius,” said Ronisius. “But one supposes we could heat an iron and have her marked first.”

“Do not drop the tray, Filene,” snapped Ronisius.

“I do not think there is time, Master,” said Filene.

“Were you given permission to speak?” asked Ronisius.

“No, Master, forgive me, Master,” she said.

“It seems,” said Ronisius to Otto, “that this slave, perhaps in several respects, is in need of instruction.”

“Perhaps,” said Otto.

“I will have a whip sent to your quarters,” said Ronisius.

“Excellent,” said Otto.

“You are a barbarian, indeed,” said Corelius.

“Yes,” said Otto.

“Esteemed ally,” said Phidias, “I beg you to take no umbrage at the remark or tone of my junior officer.”

“None is taken,” Otto assured him.

“I trust,” said Corelius, “you can tell the difference between
Safian
wine and beer.”

“I believe so,” said Otto.

“These slaves,” said he, “are
Safian
wine, not beer.”

“Beware, Corelius,” said Phidias.

“But,” said Otto, “they are in tavern tunics.”

Corelius looked away, angrily.

“I grant they are
Safian
wine,” said Otto, “but is not
Safian
wine especially interesting and enjoyable when it finds itself served in the way of beer?”

Filene clutched the tray. She would not dash it to the floor of the tent. She must not reveal her imposture. She must cleave to her role. Who would bring her the knife?

“Perhaps,” said Corelius.

“A tincture of humiliation,” said Otto, “a helplessness, even a tear of frustration, can make a slave oil more readily. A touch here, a touch there, and then, later, when one wishes, if one wishes, one may, perhaps gagging her first, command forth her surrender spasms.”

“You are a barbarian, indeed,” said Corelius. “Perhaps, apart from considerations of serving gowns, and such, we should not have bothered with the mockery of a tunic. Perhaps we should simply strip them.”

“That will not be necessary,” said Otto, glancing at Filene.

She stiffened, stripped by his glance.

“Whatever you might wish,” said Phidias.

The slaves exchanged glances.

“That, of course, dear friend, whose name, I take it, is Corelius,” said Otto, “is how women of the empire, even high women, often serve the feasts of their barbarian Masters.”

“Shameful!” said Corelius.

“Not at all, it is delectable,” said Otto. “Surely you do not mean to tell me that you would not like seeing these slaves, here, serve our supper naked?”

Corelius looked down, reddening, angrily.

“I see you would,” said Otto.

“The free women of the empire are not slaves,” said Corelius.

“You would be surprised,” said Otto. “They make excellent slaves. And what is the purpose of a free woman's clothing, even the richest, finest, and most abundant, but to conceal a slave? And many of your noble free women, their trappings removed, I assure you, would do well on an auction block.”

“I see,” said Corelius.

“Surely,” said Otto, “you would enjoy seeing some of your exalted free women, and their spoiled, curvaceous brats, if they have them, stripped and put to work, marked and collared, laboring fearfully, subject to the whip.”

“Captain Phidias,” said Corelius. “I beg to be excused.”

“And I assure you,” said Otto, “they leap well, crying out, as other slaves, in the arms of their Masters.”

“You may withdraw,” said Phidias to Corelius, and Corelius, rising, with a curt nod to those at the table, including Otto, took his leave.

Ahh, thought Filene to herself, it is Corelius who will bring the knife! How well he has managed matters, pretending to resent the barbarian's remarks, Corelius, who now withdraws, seemingly disconcerted, thereby winning the interval, unsuspected, necessary to fetch the knife. How natural and appropriate everything seemed now, and clear, his consideration for her on the
Narcona
, his concern, his politeness, and such! Too, as a gallant and refined gentleman of the empire, so different from harsh, blunt Ronisius, he had, courageously, and brazenly, dared to let be known his disapproval of the person and views of the barbarian, and his sort. Captain Phidias would surely be too highly placed and conspicuous to perform so sensitive and covert a task as supplying an assassin‘s tool. The purport of his seemingly anomalous presence in the camp was now obvious. Only one of his rank would be empowered to conduct subtle negotiations having to do with the recruitment of barbarian
comitates
. Ronisius could be discounted, as he had, in his ignorance, known no better than to treat her as merely another slave. She did fear him. Why does he look at me in that fashion, she had once asked Faye. Tremble, my dear, had said Faye, he is considering your price. How ignorant he was! He had even been so ignorant as to speak of her, the Lady Publennia Calasalia, of the Larial Calasalii, or once so, in relation to a slaving iron, she, the agent of Iaachus, Arbiter of Protocol in the court of the emperor, Aesilesius! And Qualius, in his gross ugliness, and simplicity, a tender of livestock on the
Narcona
, had not even been at the supper. Let him swill with other pigs, she thought. There was another, of course, Lysis, the supply officer of the
Narcona
, but he, she thought, might, like the captain, Phidias, be too highly ranked, too conspicuous, for the errand in question. A lesser fellow, less likely to be noticed and observed, would be a courier better suited to transport and deliver that small artifact on whose action so much might hang. Too, Lysis did not leave the table. He had not seized an opportunity, as had Corelius, in which one might place that small, light artifact in the quarters of the barbarian, in such a place that she would find it, and he would not. Where would that be, she wondered. Presumably it could not be simply handed to her. And how would it be concealed if she were naked, or even tunicked? A tiny, brief, form-clinging tunic affords little concealment for even so slight and modest an object. Too, what if it should crease her skin as she moved, and it prove not her means to victory, power, wealth, and station, but her doom? Of course, she thought, it would be beneath the furs, where she, invitingly curled in repose, would be awaiting him!

But would Corelius have time to place the dagger, she wondered.

Surely this supper is at its end, she thought.

Be swift, Corelius.

I trust that all is in order.

Had Corelius had time to place the dagger?

Was it done?

Outside the tent she heard the whirr of a hoverer's engines, one of two light, circular craft, air sleds or air vessels, in the camp, and then the sound, too, came from its matching vessel.

“You warm your hoverers,” said the barbarian.

“Against the cold,” said Phidias.

“An excellent precaution,” said the barbarian.

“Our treaded conveyances,” said Phidias, “will be similarly warmed.

“I hear the ignitions,” said Ronisius.

“It takes but a few moments,” said Lysis.

“Excellent,” said the barbarian. “Thus all may be activated without delay.”

“Heruls may be about,” said Phidias.

“This close to the forest?” asked Otto.

“Possibly,” said Phidias.

On the approach to the camp, in addition to the several horse-drawn sleds, and the hoverers, there had been two armored, treaded vehicles. Corelius had piloted one of the hoverers, Ronisius the other. Lysis had driven the first armored vehicle, and Qualius the other, which had brought up the rear of the column. Phidias, captain of the
Narcona
, had ridden in the first of the two armored vehicles.

“More
feldis
,” said the barbarian to Lira, holding forth his cup.

“Yes, Master,” responded Lira.

“I, as well,” said Ronisius.

“Yes, Master,” said Lira, then carrying the two-handled, silver vessel to his place

Shortly thereafter all four engines were shut down, those of the hoverers and those of the two armored vehicles.

They are now prepared, they are ready for departure, thought Filene, in the background, with her tray of cakes. All is in order, all proceeds apace.

She looked, anxiously, to Phidias, to Lysis.

Were they party to the evening's projected deed?

“You are excused, Filene,” said Phidias.

“Yes, Master,” she said. “Thank you, Master.”

“Proceed to the quarters of Captain Ottonius, and await him, naked, in the furs.”

How humiliating, she thought. I am a free woman!

“Yes, Master,” she said.

It seemed the knife then, as she had thought, would be concealed in the furs.

She handed her tray to Rabbit.

The barbarian would not know, of course, that this was the first of the night camps in which the hoverers and treaded vehicles had been so warmed.

They will be ready, she thought.

A departure is anticipated. All, indeed, proceeds apace.

The knife, by now, must have been placed.

As she exited, her wrist was seized by Ronisius.

“Master?” she said, stopped, startled.

“Our guest is to be well pleased,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said, catching her breath, relieved.

“If he is not well pleased,” said Ronisius, “you will muchly regret your failure in the morning.”

“I will do my best,” she said.

“I trust that will be sufficient,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Do well,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

She then hurried from the room.

She was determined to do well, indeed.

Chapter Four

For those who live on full, generous worlds, worlds of plenty, worlds of blue water and black soil, it is difficult to conceive of want, save in limited ways, as in, say, an exhaustion of
vessite
or copper, or the extinction of a given food animal. And if one world is exhausted, its oceans gone, its soil barren, its star a cinder, one might, with an appropriate means, discover, colonize, and plunder another world, just as one who ruins one farm might move to another, and another. But even light takes time to plow its passage amongst stars, and there may be but a limited number of thresholds, and passes, in the mountains of space. It is recognized that, for a given civilization, housing massive, covetous populations, exploiting even ten thousand worlds, or millions of worlds, for a million or more years, nonrenewable resources, however abundant, will prove finite. That had come about in the empire, producing paradoxical discrepancies betwixt worlds, worlds which clung to a remnant of sophistication, refinement, technology, and power, and worlds which had relapsed into primitive savagery. There were worlds on which the sight of an airship, even a simple hoverer, would excite storms of disbelief and superstition, and worlds on which starships routinely departed from spaceports. On some worlds there existed power which could split planets and explode stars, while, on others, creatures of diverse species would do war with stones and sharpened sticks. And on many worlds the mixes of technology and simplicity, of machines and horses, of civilization and barbarism, existed side by side. Venitzia, on Tangara, the provincial capital, for example, had its electronic defenses and its occasional visitations by imperial ships, with their shuttles, or lighters, descending to the surface, while outside the perimeter Heruls rode, with their slender lances, and Otungs hunted in dark forests. Accountings in the empire had become erratic. Many worlds, marginal and now isolated, continuing to regard themselves as members of the empire, had faded, unbeknownst to themselves, from the records of the imperial administration. Others, rebel worlds, had declared their independence from the empire, several unnoticed by the empire. Over the past ten thousand imperial years, years measured in terms of Telnaria's orbital periods, borders had contracted. Yet, in many of the inner worlds, life went on much as usual. Frivolous gayety reigned in palaces, mansions, and villas, while, sometimes but streets away, brutes and savages prowled amongst tenements and hovels, claiming domains, ruling their tiny kingdoms of hunger, fear, want, and scarcity. On some worlds, a single Telnarian rifle drew the distinction between king and criminal, between rogue and hero, between tyrant and rightful lord, between noble and base. A dozen women might be exchanged for a handful of charges or cartridges. There is little doubt that, at the time of our story, and doubtless for many years earlier, for such things take time, there had existed, amongst many worlds, fear of, distrust of, and surely resentment of, the empire. For example, consider taxation. It is natural to resent taxes, which deprive one of a portion, considerable or not, of the fruits of one's labor, and particularly natural to resent them if one sees little personal benefit consequent upon their exaction, and if they seem to be imposed by a remote, almost anonymous, almost faceless authority, an authority one suspects of corruption and exploitation. In such a situation a spark of disgruntlement, perhaps occasioned by a fresh law, a new confiscation, an unpopular bureaucratic ruling, can ignite a torch of hate which can, in turn, set a continent or planet ablaze. In such a situation there are always beasts who can recognize, encourage, feed upon, and utilize discontent. Masses, ignorant and weighty, properly stimulated and guided, constitute a mighty force. Powerful indeed is he who, by means of golden promises, holds the reins of the masses.

We have noted, earlier, in reporting the observation of Lysis, supply officer of the
Narcona
, the current pervasiveness of citizenship in the empire. No longer was it prized; no longer, for most, needed it be sought, and obtained, if at all, only by a considerable expenditure of time and effort; now, freely bestowed, it had become meaningless; it had become worthless. The relevance of this sociological development would become obvious. The vast, seething, restless populations of the empire, without identification, without allegiance, like cattle, might be herded with impunity. Once men would die for the empire; now they lived for nothing. Once the empire was the sun of their day and the star of their night; its standards and anthems were now neglected or forgotten; the temples of former gods were unfrequented; altars crumbled; weeds intruded into sacred groves; holy springs ran dry. Coin ruled in precincts where patriotism and love had once held sway. Man, in a great and impersonal world, now deemed himself small, alone, and lost.

It may help to understand certain impending developments if one contrasts the restless populations of unhappy worlds, hitherto referred to, strangers to one another, united by little but a nominal citizenship in a vast, scarcely understood hierarchy of power, with a quite different societal arrangement, that of tribality. Those referred to by the civilized as “barbarians” tended, almost universally, to belong to sociological groups which might be, for lack of a better word, called tribes. This is what men were, a Drisriak, an Otung, or such. In the earlier days of the empire these tribes had been robbed of worlds; where they had resisted, they had been, in large part, exterminated, or banished and relocated, permitted to live here and there on the peripheries of civilization, perhaps to supply raw materials to the civilized worlds, such as produce, timber, hides, fur, and animals for arena sports. Indeed, some of these individuals were recruited for the games themselves, or for bodyguards to men who could afford them. While the men of the empire tended to grow weak and soft, the barbarians, in their isolation, in their harsh climes and dangerous wildernesses, continued to wax hard and strong. In times, some of these tribes were recruited as
federates
and permitted to settle within the empire, largely to supply soldiers for the imperial military. In this fashion, several of these tribes, and collections of tribes, gained a foothold within the empire itself, and access to the training and discipline formerly reserved to regulars in the Telnarian armed forces. It was rather as though one might invite vi-cats or
arn
bears into one's home, that they might serve as guard beasts.

One looks into the night sky.

The passage of light, as is well known, is very swift, but its velocity, as is also well known, is finite.

One sees, in many instances, the consequence of a journey begun thousands of years ago.

The star, even the galaxy, may no longer exist.

Several of the passes, and the thresholds, in space have been charted. Some are guarded by imperial forces.

What if a pass should be breached, a threshold forced and its garrison overcome?

It is not impossible that strange ships might ply such a river.

But there may be other geodesics in the gravitational mountains of space, as well, and even, as in the case of the passes, and the thresholds, other passes, other thresholds, undisclosed gaps, crevices, in space.

Might not such things be scouted? Might not probe vessels seek them out? Might not some small ship, poised, look upon such a sea, and some account of its adventure, later, be heard in some tavern, or hall?

It must be understood that borders shift, expanding and contracting, and may be crossed. Certainly several worlds, at the periphery of the empire, and not always at the periphery, have known raids. And some of these worlds, we fear, have been settled by invaders, who have mixed with the indigenous population, absorbing their culture, industry, and technology. Some such worlds remain, officially, imperial worlds. Other worlds, it is rumored, in order to escape the burdens of the empire, surrendered to the fleets of armed, barbarian kings, exchanging one lord for another. Yet other worlds, to further consolidate the fruits of their own rebellions, supplied barbarians with training, ships, and weaponry, that they might discomfit the empire.

And so we have a beleaguered empire, with far-flung, brittle walls, defended by a diminishing military, with ever-diminishing resources, and a soft, vulnerable center, the inner worlds, muchly defenseless if those far walls should be breached, and foreign ships should pour through, darkening the sky.

At the edges of the empire wolves prowled, their fierce, gleaming eyes alit with hatred, envy, and greed.

One of these wolves we have met before, Abrogastes, the Far-Grasper, lord of the Drisriaks.