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. You do want to be safe, don t you? I asked Boabissia. Of course, of course, she said, irritably. Then perhaps you should not object to the occasional chaining out of slaves. I said. Perhaps, she said. And perhaps you should veil yourself. (pg.204) Nonsense, she said. But you do want to be safe? I asked. Of course, she said. Then veil yourself, I said. No, she said. Well, perhaps it does not matter, I said. Why is that? she asked. You are probably right, I said. What do you mean? she asked. You are probably not pretty enough to interest anyone, I said. Nonsense, she said. I am beautiful.And men would pay a high price for me. Hurtha roared with laughter.Boabissia turned about and glared at him.I was pleased she no longerpossessed her dagger. Do not laugh, I laughed.I, too, then, I fear, had she been armed, might have had to defend myself. You are stupid, both of you, she said, like all men.You simply do not knowwhat to make of free women. I am an Alar, said Hurtha. I know what to make of free women. What? she asked. Slaves, he roared. I am pretty, aren t I? asked Boabissia. Yes, I said. You are.We are teasing. And I would bring a high price, would I not? asked Boabissia. I would think so, I said, at least for a new, untrained slave, for slavemeat a master has not yet seasoned and prepared to his taste. You see? she asked Hurtha.Hurtha snorted with derision. Am I not attractive, Hurtha? she asked. You? he asked. I, she said, angrily. You are of no more interest than a she-tharlarion, he said, and if you werePage 108 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmla she-tharlarion, I do not even think a (pg.205) male tharlarion would beinterested in you. He threw back his head, laughing. If you saw me all soft and naked, at your feet, and perfumed and painted, andin a collar and chains, you would want me, she said, angrily.Hurtha stopped laughing.Suddenly he seemed angry.His hand closed on the axhandle over his shoulder.His other hand clenched into a fist. Do, not fear, Hurtha, she said, you big simple beast, that pleasure willnever be yours. Hurtha did not respond, but glared angrily, fixedly ahead.We continued on our way. He does think I am attractive, doesn t he? she asked. Of course, I said. And you would like to have me, too, wouldn t you? she asked. Under certain circumstances, perhaps, I said. If I were a slave? she asked. Of course, I said. Of course! she laughed. Move along, said a guard, one of several along our route.Boabissia began to hum an Alar tune.She seemed in fine spirits.I glancedover at her.A great transformation had come over her since the night before last, sinceshe had been put on her back, her wrists tied to the spokes, a copper bowlresting on the dirt beside her.Iwondered if she might make a suitable slave.It seemed possible.I imaginedwhat she might look like with a collar on her neck, instead of the familiarthong and disk.I supposed it might be nice to have her.It was not too late,really, I supposed, to enslave her.One could then have her when and as onepleased. What is wrong? she asked. Nothing, I said. Move, move along, said another guard. Ah, said another, regarding Boabissia.She was, of course, not veiled. Move, said another. You, too, free wench, said another, irritably.(pg.206) Boabissia would walk straightly by these fellows, regally, her headhigh, seemingly ignoring them, apparently not even deigning to glance at them.To be sure, I was confident she was only too keenly and pleasurably aware oftheir scrutiny, their appraisal and appreciation.She was now, after herexperiences of the night before last, too much of an awakened female not to beaware of, and pleased at, the effects she could exercise upon men. Do you think it wise to behave in such fashion? I asked her. In what fashion? she asked, innocently, smiling. Never mind, I said.She laughed.To be sure, what had she to fear from them? She was a free woman.She hadnothing to fear from them, absolutely nothing to fear from them, unlessperhaps, one day, she should become a slave.Then she might have much to fearfrom them.In the distance I could see the great gate of Torcadino. Slut, said one of the soldiers.Boabissia laughed, not looking at him. Collar meat, he called out.She laughed again, giving him no other notice.How well, if haughtily, she now walked.I considered the walks of free women,and of slaves.How few free women really walk their beauty.Perhaps they areashamed of it, or fear it.Few free women walk in such a way as to displaytheir beauty, as, for example, a slave must.I considered the length ofgarments.The long garments, usually worn by free women, such as that now wornPage 109 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlby Boabissia, might cover certain defects of gait perhaps, but when one's legsare bared, as a slave s commonly are, one must walk their beauty and grace.Too, given the scantiness of many slave garments, it is sometimes necessary towalk in them with exquisite care.The slave, for example, and this is commonly included in her training, seldombends over to retrieve a fallen object.Rather she flexes her knees, loweringthe body beautifully, and retrieves the object from a graceful and humblecrouch.Sometimes, to be sure, commonly in serving at the parties of youngmen, certain objects, sometimes as part of a game, (pg.207)objects with prearranged significances among the young men, are thrown to thefloor, and she must pick them up in less than graceful fashion.Whateverobject she first touches determines to whose lusty abuse she must then submit.This game is sometimes played several times in the evening.I consideredBoabissia.Her walk now seemed something between that of a free woman and aslave.It was, if haughty, quite good, and it showed, I thought, definitesigns of slave promise.There seemed little doubt that, with some tutelage,and perhaps a collar on her neck, the beauty could be kept in it, andconsiderably improved, and the sullying haughtiness removed.I glanced againat her.Yes, it seemed to me that Boabissia might even be ready to walk in aslave tunic.I had little doubt but what several of the fellows she hadpassed, her nose in the air, would, with whips, have been more than willing togive her instruction in the matter, with or without the tunic. Are you sure you want to go to Ar? I asked her. it might be dangerous. She touched the copper disk at her neck. Yes, she said. I will learn who Iam. And who do you think you are? I asked. I do not know, she said. But I was found, as I understand it, in theremains of what had apparently been a large and wealthy caravan.Perhaps itwas the caravan of my father. Perhaps, I said. At the least, passage in such a caravan would doubtless have to have beenpurchased, and that suggests affluence. That is true, I said. Presumably no drover, or low person, a mere employee, say, would have had ababy with him, she said. Probably not, I said
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