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.Two short-legged tharlarion passed me, like ships, movingtoward the dead ul.I climbed onto the sand.I would cross the island, and return, again, to theraft.I had not sheathed the sword. Wait! I heard, a tremulous voice, small, pleading.I did not turn about Ihad thought she had been killed.I continued toward the other side of theisland. Wait, please! I heard.I then turned about.I saw her a few yards behind.I could also see her foot-prints in the sand,where they had followed mine.She ap-proached to within a few feet of me, butno nearer.She stood there, frightened, shuddering.She was filthy. I thought you had been killed, she said. I thought you had been killed, I said. I fell in the water, she said. Apparently in a channel, I said. I nearly drowned in the mud, she said. You look disgusting, I said. Is it dead? she asked, frightened. Yes, I said.I thought her knees might give way, that she might fall to the sand. It is dead, I said. You are injured, she said.My left leg was covered with blood. It is nothing, I said. There may be others, she said. Probably not in this vicinity, I said.The larger uls, as opposed to theseveral smaller varieties, some as small as jards, tend to be isolated andterritorial. But there are many dangers in the delta, she said. Some, perhaps, I said.Suddenly she hurried forward and dropped to her knees in the sand before me.She was sobbing and shuddering, uncon-trollably.She put her head tremblinglydown to the sand.The palms of her hands were in the sand, the sand comingover her fingers.She kept this position for severalIhn.Then she looked up at me, piteously, pleadingly, from all fours. Please, she said. Please!She had performed obeisance before me. Please! she wept.I regarded her, impassively.She crawled to my knees and clasped them, kneeling before me, looking up atme, tears in her eyes.She held her arms about my legs, closely.I could feelher move and tremble, and shudder.Her face was running with tears.Then she put her cheek down, against mybloody leg.I could feel her tears on my leg. Please, she whisperedpiteously,  Please! Please! Lick the blood from my leg, I said. Yes, yes! she said, eagerly.I looked down to see that small, lovely pink tongue ad-dressing itselfdutifully, eagerly, assiduously, to its task.How in contrast its softness,its color, and its attentive deli-cacy seemed to the bedraggled, filthyfigure, with its matted hair, at my feet.To be sure, the figure wascurvaceous.When she had finished her task, cleaning the blood and dirt from my leg, shelooked up at me, hopefully, her hands still on my legs. Back away, I said. Stay on your knees.Page 117ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlShe backed away, about two yards, on her knees.I raised the blade of the sword a little. Lift your chin, I said.She complied. You are filthy, I said. Let me come with you! she said. It is difficult to assess you in your present condition, I said.She looked at me, startled. Go make yourself presentable, I said.Surely she would remember that the menof Ar were to make me presentable before I appeared before her, during ourlittle interview, that which had occurred on another island, several days ago,that in which I had learned she was a Cosian spy, that in which I had firstnoted that that her ankles would look well in shackles.Tears sprang to her eyes. Make yourself sparkle, I said.With a sob, she sprang up, and hurried across the sand, and out a little intothe water, where she stood, the water to her knees.She then began to wash herlimbs and body, and face, the water splashing and falling about her.I watchedher.It was not unpleasant.A slave girl, I thought, however, would have doneit much better, and, of course, in such a way that an observing master mightbe driven mad with passion.The Lady Ina, of course, was only a free woman.She did look back, anxiously, from time to time, but this, I think, was lessto observe my interest and reaction than for the purpose of reassuring herselfthat I had not left.Then she knelt in the water, by the shore, and washed herhair.This she did do with a touch of sensuousness, perhaps because she wasnow reasonably confident I was not about to disappear into the rence.Thissensuousness became pronounced when she began to comb her hair out with herfingers, and also when she began to dry it, shaking it lightly about, andlifting it, and moving it about, in her hands, to dry it.Then she threw her hair back over her shoulders and rose to her feet, andapproached me, slowly, across the sand.Now she stood again, before me, straightly, yet gracefully, her ankles in thesand, the sun on her.She was now very white, her ablutions performed, the mud washed from her, andher hair was lovely.She sparkled.She smiled.I think she knew she wasbeautiful, or thought she was beautiful.But as I continued to regard her,impassively, her mien became less confident, and more timid.I pointed to the sand before me.She immediately, frightened, dropped to her knees and again put her head downto the sand, the palms of her hands, too, on the sand.It is pleasant to have a woman perform obeisance before one.It is alsoappropriate.In such a way, in such symbol-isms, may the order of nature, andits profound truths, in a conventional and civilized manner, be expressed andacknowledged.To be sure, this gesture had not been performed voluntarily by the woman atthis time, in a typical reverence for the male, for nature, and for herself,and her meaning, but had been commanded by me.Also, I had not commanded thisgesture merely for my own pleasure, to see the beauty before me, somarvelously, so rightly, but I had commanded it of her for her own good, thatshe might clearly understand the nature of our relationship, that she wouldunderstand herself, in the deepest part of her belly, as being submitted.Indeed, I had required it of her categorically, unquestioningly, as a mastermight require it of a slave. You may raise your head, I said.She looked up at me, her lower lip trembling. Kneel back on your heels, I said. Open your knees, widely.More widely.Good. I did notPage 118ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmldoubt but what she would recall that she had, back on the other island, daysago, when she had had power, the backing of numerous armed men, been theissuer of such instructions, not their recipient. Place the palms of yourhands on your thighs, I said. Lift your head. This is a slave position, is it not? she asked. Yes, I said. I am not a slave! she said. Do not break position, I said.Her eyes brimmed with tears. You now wish to address a petition to me? I asked. Yes! she said. Do not break position, I warned her.She kept position. You may speak, I informed her. Take me with you! she cried. Guard me! Protect me! Defend me! I cannotprotect myself! Icannot defend myself! I am a female.I need male protection! I am only afemale! Without your protection I will die in the delta.Without yourprotection I can never get out of the delta alive.Iam a woman, only a woman.I need you desperately! Rencer women, I said,  live in the delta. I am not a rencer woman! she wept.To be sure, rencer women, as well as others, needed the protection of men.Ifnothing else, slavers could hunt them down and get them in their chains.Allwomen need the protection of men, though sometimes this protection is soprofound and so familiar as to escape notice.But let the barriers ofcivilization lapse, even for a day, and their need for men would becomeunmistakably apparent [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]