"Oh," she said.

"One of the pleasant things about owning a slave," I said, "is the opportunity to converse with her, to listen to her, to hear her express herself, her feelings and ideas. One can learn much from a slave. Many slaves,, like yourself, are highly intelligent. They can express themselves articulately, clearly, trenchantly and lyrically. It is a great pleasure to talk with them."

"I see," she said.

"Then, when one wishes," I said, "one puts them again on their knees."

"You are cruel," she said.

"Kiss me, Slave," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said, and kissed me, softly.

We were then silent for a time.

"Master," she whispered.

"Yes," I said.

"I begin to sense," said she, "what it might be like to be a true slave."

"You are an ignorant girl," I said.

"I have learned some things," she said.

"Very little," I said.

"I have learned to obey," she said, "and to call free men, 'Master.'"

"What else have you learned?" I asked.

"Something which you have taught me," she whispered.

"What is that?" I asked.

"I have learned to need the touch of a man," she said.

"I will sleep now," I said.

"Please do not sleep now," she said. I felt her fingers tips at my shoulder.

"Touch me," she begged. "Touch me-as a slave girl."

"Do you beg it?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

"Very well," I said.

She looked up at me. "Are you going to make me a full slave?" she asked.

"No," I said. "I am only going to satisfy your slave needs as they exist at your present level."

"Yes, Master," she said.

Later she wept and squirmed in my arms lost in the sensations and ecstasies which she could at that time reach. Then she lay at my thigh. "Can there be more?" she asked. "Can there be more?"

"You have not yet begun to learn your slavery," I told her.

I almost cried out as her teeth bit into my side and her fingernails tore at my thigh in her frustration. She seemed almost fastened on me like an animal. With my hand in her hair I pulled her head upward. She lay then with her head just below my chest. Her eyes were wide. Her small hands held me tightly. She was breathing heavily. "Master, Master," she whispered.

"Be silent, Slave," I said. "It is now time to rest."

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

13.

Imnak Broaches To Me A Topic Of Some Importance; We Encounter Poalu One of the problems in approaching tabuk on the tundra is the lack of cover.

I followed Imnak's example, crawling on my belly, after him, the horn bow in my hand, an arrow loose at the string. I was very cold, and was soaked through. The tundra is cold, and much of it is boglike in nature.

Some eleven tabuk were grazing on the mosses some one hundred yards from us.

The horn bow, unfortunately, formed of pieces of split tabuk horn, bound with sinew, is not effective beyond some thirty yards, One must, thus, be almost upon the animal before loosing the shaft. Wood is scarce in the north and the peasant bow, or longbow, is not known there. More importantly, in the colder weather, the long bow would freeze and snap, unable to bear the stress of being drawn to its customary extent I had brought a longbow north with me but I wished to accustom myself to the horn bow, for the larger weapon, I knew, would be useless for most of the year in these latitudes. It is difficult to convey the nature of a world subject to great cold. A nail struck by a hammer can shiver into fragments. Urine can freeze before striking the ground. The squeal of a sleen may be heard for ten to twelve miles. A common conversation can be heard half a pasang away. A mountain which seems very close, given the sharpness of visibility in the clear air, may actually be forty pasangs in the distance. The cold air, touching the body of a sleen, forms a steam which can almost obscure the animal. A running tabuk can leave a trail of such steam drifting behind it. One's breath can freeze in a beard, leaving it a mask of ice.

I cursed inwardly, as the tabuk trotted a few yards farther away grazing.

I had suggested to Imnak that we come hunting. I wished to speak to him alone, without the girls being present. A hunt had seemed at the time a convenient way in which to accomplish that objective. Now I wished we had simply sent them off packing to gather moss.

Hot Bazi tea I wanted. This is an important trade item in the north. I now knew why. The southern sugars are also popular. I had originally supposed this was because of their sweetness, there being few sweet items, save some berries, in the north. I now began to suspect that the calories of the sugars also played their role in their popularity. The red hunters think little of eating half a pound of sugar at a sitting.

We were trying to move close to a large bull tabuk. He moved away from us again.

I resisted the desire to rise to my feet and run screaming at the animal, bow drawn.

I followed Imnak. He almost seemed a part of the tundra itself. When the bull tabuk would turn, lifting its head, ears high, we would stop, remaining immobile.

We inched closer. We had been on our bellies for more than an Ahn trying to approach the animals.

Imnak gestured that I should crawl beside him. I did so.

"Are you cold?" he whispered.

"Oh, no," I said.

"That is strange," he said. "I am very cold."

"I am glad to hear that," I said. "I am very cold, too."

"It is hard not to be cold," he said, "when one is soaked with icy water crawling on the tundra."

"That is it," I said.

"You do not seem in a good mood," he said. "Was Arlene not pleasant in the sleeping bag?"

"She was very nice," I said. "How was Thimble?"

"She squeaks a lot," he said.

"Some girls are noisier than others," I said.

"It is true," he said.

"Perhaps you are not in a good mood because you are cold," suggested Imnak.

"I wager that is it," I said. "Why are you in a good mood," I asked, "if you are cold?"

"It is bad enough to be cold," he said, "without being in a bad mood, too."

"I see," I said. For some reason, ridiculous as it was, I felt cheered up.

"I wanted to come hunting with you," said Imnak, "because I have something serious to discuss with you."

"That is strange," I said, "I wanted to discuss something with you."

"My business is serious," he said.

"So, too, is mine," I said.

"Men of the south must be approached so cautiously," said Imnak. "They are so touchy and strange. Else I would have mentioned my business to you long ago."

"Oh," I said. It had been for much the same reason that I had delayed broaching to Ininak the nature of my mission in the north.

"My business," said Imnak, "concerns Poalu, the daughter of Kadluk."

"Your business is more serious than mine," I said. "Mine pertains only to the saving of the world." I well remembered Poalu, the coppery spitfire whose kicked leather ball I had unwisely permitted to strike me.

"I do not understand," said Imnak.

"It does not matter," I said. "What of Poalu?"

"I love her," said Imnak.

"That is unfortunate," I said.

"Do you love her, too?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I thought that it was unfortunate for you."

"Oh," he said. Then he said, "That is not unlikely, but it is difficult to help matters of that sort"

"True," I said.

"And Poalu loves me, too," he said.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, "once when I took feasting clothes to her father's house she threw the urine pot at me."

"That is a hopeful sign," I said.

"Another time," he said, cheerfully, "she beat me with a stick, calling me a good-for-nothing."

"It is clear she is very interested in you," I said.

"It is strange that so beautiful a girl has so few suitors," he said.

"Yes, it is quite strange," I admitted.

"Akko, who is my friend," said Imnak, "says that to take such a woman would be to leap naked into a pit of starving snow sleen. Do you think so?"

"I think so," I said. Actually I thought Akko's appraisal of the potentialities of the situation was overly hopeful, it being colored by his native good humor and optimism, vices endemic among red hunters.

"But I am shy," he said.

"I find that hard to believe," I said. "You seem to me a bold fellow."

"Not with women," he said.

"You are certainly fierce enough with Thimble and Thistle," I said. "They live in terror of displeasing you in the least."

"They are not women," he said.

"Oh?' I asked.

"Oh, they are women of a sort," he said, "but they are not of the People. They are nothing, only pretty, white-skinned slave beasts. They do not count."

"That is true," I said. They did not count. They were only slaves.

"Poalu is different," he said.

"That is for certain," I granted him.