John Norman: The King

“Or that of a woman,” she said.

“To the hilt,” he said.

“I see,” she said.

“But a scratch would suffice,” he said.

“If you wish him slain,” she said, “why do you not hire ruffians to manage the business?”

The eyes of Iaachus clouded. Then he smiled. “No,” he said, “it is better done by an agent, on a distant world, far from public attention, by an agent whose presence would arouse no suspicion, by an agent who would be utterly unsuspected.”

“What if I cannot approach him, what if he is armored?” she asked.

“You will doubtless be able to approach him,” he said, “and I suspect that, at times, in your presence, armor would be laid aside, and, if not, remember that so small a thing as a scratch on the back of the hand will be quite enough.

“Are you interested in this matter?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” she said. “But I am not a mariner, not a gunner, not a technician. I do not understand under what excuse, or pretext, I might be included in a crew voyaging to Tangara on such a business.”

“There will be various goods taken with the vessel to Tangara,” he said.

“‘Goods’?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, “trade goods, and goods to smooth the way, to serve as inducements, to serve as gifts, and such, things that barbarians might find of interest, for example, skins, wines, grains, cloths, gems, silks, oils, copper plates, spices, gold, brooches, rings, nails, wire, ivory, iron, silver, goods, many forms of goods, ranging from the common to the exquisite.”

“To the exquisite?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, “such as emerald cameos, carved in the likeness of the emperor.”

“I do not understand,” she said.

“Drink your kana ,” he said.

She lifted the tiny bowl to her lips. Over the rim, of purest luxite porcelain, from the valley of Raf, milled later in the tradition of the Toronichi, she regarded him. Her eyes were blue. Then she put back her head and drained the shallow container. As she had her head back he glimpsed, in the partage of her high brocaded collar, her white throat. She then again regarded him. She then replaced the tiny bowl, now empty, on the table.

Her hair was blond.

It was fixed in a way not uncommon among high ladies of the empire, being fixed upward, formally, stiffly, in an intricate coiffure, held tightly in place by a rather rectangular, peaked, enclosing frame, a headdress in effect, of golden wire and jeweled leather.

“Of course,” he said, “it may be that you would prove to be an unsuitable choice for the matter at hand.”

“Unsuitable?” she inquired.

“That you might not prove an appropriate choice for the agent in question, that it is not, at the moment, clear that you possess the necessary qualifications.”

“Milord?” she inquired.

“In the role in which you would be cast,” he said, “you must be believable. If you are not, suspicions would be immediately aroused, and all might be lost.”

“It is my hope that I might prove believable in the role which I am to play,” she said.

“My informants suggest that there would be no difficulty in the matter,” he said.

“Informants?” she said.

“Attendants at the women’s baths, and such.”

“I do not understand,” she said.

“But you understand that I must be sure of the matter,” he said. “There is much at stake.”

“I do not understand,” she said.

“Rise, and stand there,” he said, pointing to a place on the marbled floor, a few feet from the table.

“For what reason?” she asked.

“Do it,” he said.

“I am not accustomed to being addressed in that fashion,” she said, coldly.

“Now,” he said.

“Good,” he said. “Now remove your clothing, completely.”

“Milord!” she protested.

“Do so,” he said, not patiently.

“I am of the senatorial class!” she said.

“Now,” he said.

She angrily removed the robes, and the many garments beneath them. It was not easy for her to do, as women of her station were customarily assisted by one or more maids in these tasks.

“Ah,” he said.

Her eyes flashed fire.

“Straighten your body,” he said. “Good.

“You are angry?” he asked.

“I am of the senatorial class!” she said, in fury.

“Is this the first time you have been naked before a man?” he asked.

“Yes!” she said.

“Remove your headdress,” he said. “Loosen your hair.”

“Please!” she said.

“Now,” he said.

Angrily she unfastened the headdress, and lifted it off, and put it to one side, with the robes on the floor, near her feet, and then fumbled with the net and wire. It had taken better than three hours for her coiffure to be arranged earlier in the day.

“Shake your hair loose,” he said.

With an angry shake of her head she freed her hair.

“Put it behind your shoulders,” he said.

In fury she put it back, behind her.

“Turn,” he said, “slowly.”

She complied.

“Now kneel here,” he said, indicating a place near the table.

“Straighten your back, put your hands on your thighs, put your head up, widen your knees.”

He then regarded her, with care.

“With the expedition to Tangara,” he said, “among the trade goods, the gifts, and such, to be kept, distributed, or utilized at the discretion of the barbarian, there will be twenty slave girls, who must be of remarkable beauty, of the highest order of beauty.’’

She looked up at him.

“You are trembling,” he said. “But, of course, it must be the first time you have been before a man in such a position.”

“And in what position am I?” she asked.

“In one of the common positions of the female slave,” he said.

She made an angry noise.

“I would not look into the eyes of a male,” he said, “or any free person, for that matter, unless you sense that it is permitted, or you have been commanded to do so.”

“I am free!” she cried.

“Yes,” he said, “but to see you kneel so, one might forgiven for having doubted it.”

“I will rise!” she announced.

“Not without its being permitted,” he said.

“I am free, am I not?” she said.

“Of course,” he said.

But she remained kneeling. She had not received permission to rise.

“Yes,” he said, approvingly, “I think you will do very nicely.”

“I suppose I should be pleased,” she said.

“Of course,” he said.

She shook, half in trepidation, half in fury. She did not know whether she was pleased, or angered. Within her lovely, tumultuous bosom feelings warred.

Then she became again the woman of the senatorial class.

“I shall see that you are included on the cargo manifest for Tangara,” he said.

“The other nineteen women will also be free women, of high class?” she said.

“No,” he said. “They will be common slave girls, save, of course, that they will be of extraordinary beauty.”

“But I will be the most beautiful,” she said.

“One does not know,” he said. “One must see what the men think.”

“I despise men,” she said. “But not your lordship, of course,” she added, quickly.

“Another agent will be sent with you,” he said. “But, in the interests of security, he will make himself known to you only later.”

“He will be a member of the crew?”

“Yes.”

“He will bring the dagger?”

“Yes, and he will, of course, assist you in your work, in so far as it is practical.”

“I do not understand,” she said.

“He will see that you obtain the knife,” he said. “After all, it is not he who is likely to be alone with the barbarian at night.’’