They travelled on a sort of stage-coach, pulled by huge lizard-like creatures and Shemba rode outside the coach, in a padded basket tied to the top. She had only a blanket to cover her and the cold of the on-coming winter made her pull it tightly about her. She often shivered during the day and this made her all the more eager to crawl into her Master's arms at night. Which she supposed was the idea.
Some nights they would stop in great estates similar to that she had been trained in. There she felt she knew her way around and could deal with all the services her master required of her. But other nights they would stay at inns and there she became aware again that she was a stranger on this world. Customs, food and people were all strange to her. She would be taken down from the stage-coach in her basket and taken to the kitchen where she would warm herself, naked and shivering by the fire. The free servants would pay her no more attention than a cat. She would be washed in a tin tub before the fire and fed from a plate of left-over meat on the floor. Under no circumstances were slaves allowed to eat at tables or sit on couches like free people. Then she would be taken up to her Master's room.
Sometimes he would be alone and he would take her body fiercely and almost indifferently, as if his mind were somewhere else. Often he would ask her afterwards about her life as a free woman and the world she had come from. But her first Master had blocked off all memory of that time and she found it painful and disgusting to think about. It was literally revolting to her that she had ever been allowed to go about pretending to be free when she was clearly intended by nature to be a slave.
At other times he would have friends with her, business acquaintences and she would serve them a meal and afterwards dance for them. At one meeting there were four other men and she served them two at a time all night. She slept right through the next day and did not even feel the cold until she was awoken at that night's destination.
Then finally they arrived at the huge city of Vri, her Master's home. As the coach came over a rise she saw through out of the basket the towers of the city rising before her. Green and unearthly they rose, made out of a glassy material like nothing she had seen before. The city was magnificent. But for now they did not enter it. The coach pulled to a stop by a huge country estate just outside the city. Her basket was taken down and she found herself being tipped out on the grass by her Master's feet. He paid off the coachman and then said: "We have arrived little Shemba. This is my home. You will enter it on all fours and not rise till you have permission."
"Yes, Master."
Awed, Shemba crawled beside her Master through the iron gates and along a paved path to the huge villa. Waiting outside were a young man dressed in a military uniform, a breastplate and greaves like those she had seen on some of her first Master's guards, and a woman dressed in expensive looking robes. There seemed to be a certain frostiness in her manner as she greeted the Master and kissed his cheek.
"Welcome my dear. I hope you had a profitable journey."
"Oh, middling my dear. You look lovelier every time I come home. How are you, son?" he said as he grasped the young man's hand.
"Very well father. And very glad to see you. I've two turnings leave this time. I don't have to be back with my unit till the beginning of next month."
"Wonderful! That's excellent news. My dear, I have a small present for you. That perfume you wanted."
The woman did not seemed deeply pleased by this.
"How nice. And what else did you buy?" She nodded at Shemba.
"Ah, this? Well, this is a present for Karrak. Karrak, I hope you like her."
Shemba trembled as she realised she was to change hands again.
"And did you sample your present before buying it?" The woman's voice reached freezing point.
"Ah, now well, my dear..."
"I see." The woman stalked back into the house.
"Oh my. Well, Karrak do you want her? I'll have to sell her off if you don't." Shemba almost burst into tears at that prospect.
"She's lovely, Father. But are you sure?"
"Yes of course. It's time you had a slave of your own. And Shemba is something special. First of a new line. She's something for a young man to enjoy. And your stepmother wouldn't let me keep her anyway."
"Well in that case father how can I say no?"
"Splendid. Shemba, kneel up."
Once again she felt her nose-ring grasped and heard (or rather didn't hear) the words that sent her into suspension between Masters. The next thing she knew was that her nose ring was being held by the young warrior Karrak. He let go of it in surprise. The slave was looking at him with awe and devotion. As he let go she took his hand and began kissing and licking it.
"Master, my Master. Thank you. Thank you."
Orthos chuckled: "She seems to have bound to you very nicely. You can try her out this evening."
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