maybe you might have heard of them."
"I have."
"Are they real? Some people have told me they died out a long time ago, but that isn't what the man who whipped me said."
I told him, "They still exist, so far as I'm aware. Do you happen to recall the name of the torturer who scourged you?"
"He called himself Journeyman Palaemon—ah, you know him!"
"Yes. He was my teacher for a time. He's an old man now."
"He's still alive, then? Will you ever see him again?"
"I don't think so."
"I'd like to see him myself. Maybe sometime I will. The Increate, after all, orders all things. You young men, you live wild lives—I know I did, at your age. Do you know yet that he shapes everything we do?"
"Perhaps."
"Believe me, it's so. I've seen much more than you. Since it is so, it may be that I'll never see Journeyman Palaemon again, and you've been brought here to be my messenger."
Just at that point, when I expected him to convey to me whatever message he had, he fell silent. The patients who had listened so attentively to the Ascian's story were talking among themselves now; but somewhere in the stack of soiled dishes the old slave had collected, one shifted its position with a faint clink, and I heard it.
"What do you know of the laws of slavery?" he asked me at last. "I Wolfe,_Gene_-_Book_of_the_New_Sun_4_-_The_Citadel_of_the_Autarch mean, of the ways a man or a woman can become a slave under the law?"
"Very little," I said. "A certain friend of mine" (I was thinking of the green man) "was called a slave, but he was only an unlucky foreigner who'd been seized by some unscrupulous people. I knew that wasn't legal."
He nodded agreement. "Was he dark of skin?"
"You might say that, yes."
"In the olden times, or so I've heard, slavery was by skin color. The darker a man was, the more a slave they made him. That's hard to believe, I know. But we used to have a chatelaine in the order who knew a lot about history, and she told me. She was a truthful woman."
"No doubt it originated because slaves must often toil in the sun," I observed. "Many of the usages of the past now seem merely capricious to us."
At that he became a trifle angry. "Believe me, young man, I've lived in the old days and I've lived now, and I know a lot better than you which was the best."
"So Master Palaemon used to say."
As I had hoped it would, that restored him to the principal topic of his thought. "There's only three ways a man can be a slave," he said.
"Though for a woman it's different, what with marriage and the like.
"If a man's brought—him being a slave—into the Commonwealth from foreign parts, a slave he remains, and the master that brought him here can sell him if he wants. That's one. Prisoners of war—like Wolfe,_Gene_-_Book_of_the_New_Sun_4_-_The_Citadel_of_the_Autarch this Ascian here—are the slaves of the Autarch, the Master of Masters and the Slave of Slaves. The Autarch can sell them if he wants to. Often he does, and because most of these Ascians aren't much use except for tedious work, you often find them rowing on the upper rivers.
That's two.
"Number three is that a man can sell himself into somebody's service, because a free man is the master of his own body—he's his own slave already, as it were."
"Slaves," I remarked, "are seldom beaten by torturers. What need of it, when they can be beaten by their own masters?"
"I wasn't a slave then. That's part of what I wanted to ask Journeyman Palaemon about. I was just a young fellow that had been caught stealing. Journeyman Palaemon came in to talk to me on the morning I was going to get my whipping. I thought it was a kindly thing for him to do, although it was then that he told me he was from the guild of torturers."
"We always prepare a client, if we can," I said.
"He told me not to try to keep from yelling—it doesn't hurt quite so bad, is what he told me, if you yell out just as the whip comes down. He promised me there wouldn't be any hitting more than the number the
"I have."
"Are they real? Some people have told me they died out a long time ago, but that isn't what the man who whipped me said."
I told him, "They still exist, so far as I'm aware. Do you happen to recall the name of the torturer who scourged you?"
"He called himself Journeyman Palaemon—ah, you know him!"
"Yes. He was my teacher for a time. He's an old man now."
"He's still alive, then? Will you ever see him again?"
"I don't think so."
"I'd like to see him myself. Maybe sometime I will. The Increate, after all, orders all things. You young men, you live wild lives—I know I did, at your age. Do you know yet that he shapes everything we do?"
"Perhaps."
"Believe me, it's so. I've seen much more than you. Since it is so, it may be that I'll never see Journeyman Palaemon again, and you've been brought here to be my messenger."
Just at that point, when I expected him to convey to me whatever message he had, he fell silent. The patients who had listened so attentively to the Ascian's story were talking among themselves now; but somewhere in the stack of soiled dishes the old slave had collected, one shifted its position with a faint clink, and I heard it.
"What do you know of the laws of slavery?" he asked me at last. "I Wolfe,_Gene_-_Book_of_the_New_Sun_4_-_The_Citadel_of_the_Autarch mean, of the ways a man or a woman can become a slave under the law?"
"Very little," I said. "A certain friend of mine" (I was thinking of the green man) "was called a slave, but he was only an unlucky foreigner who'd been seized by some unscrupulous people. I knew that wasn't legal."
He nodded agreement. "Was he dark of skin?"
"You might say that, yes."
"In the olden times, or so I've heard, slavery was by skin color. The darker a man was, the more a slave they made him. That's hard to believe, I know. But we used to have a chatelaine in the order who knew a lot about history, and she told me. She was a truthful woman."
"No doubt it originated because slaves must often toil in the sun," I observed. "Many of the usages of the past now seem merely capricious to us."
At that he became a trifle angry. "Believe me, young man, I've lived in the old days and I've lived now, and I know a lot better than you which was the best."
"So Master Palaemon used to say."
As I had hoped it would, that restored him to the principal topic of his thought. "There's only three ways a man can be a slave," he said.
"Though for a woman it's different, what with marriage and the like.
"If a man's brought—him being a slave—into the Commonwealth from foreign parts, a slave he remains, and the master that brought him here can sell him if he wants. That's one. Prisoners of war—like Wolfe,_Gene_-_Book_of_the_New_Sun_4_-_The_Citadel_of_the_Autarch this Ascian here—are the slaves of the Autarch, the Master of Masters and the Slave of Slaves. The Autarch can sell them if he wants to. Often he does, and because most of these Ascians aren't much use except for tedious work, you often find them rowing on the upper rivers.
That's two.
"Number three is that a man can sell himself into somebody's service, because a free man is the master of his own body—he's his own slave already, as it were."
"Slaves," I remarked, "are seldom beaten by torturers. What need of it, when they can be beaten by their own masters?"
"I wasn't a slave then. That's part of what I wanted to ask Journeyman Palaemon about. I was just a young fellow that had been caught stealing. Journeyman Palaemon came in to talk to me on the morning I was going to get my whipping. I thought it was a kindly thing for him to do, although it was then that he told me he was from the guild of torturers."
"We always prepare a client, if we can," I said.
"He told me not to try to keep from yelling—it doesn't hurt quite so bad, is what he told me, if you yell out just as the whip comes down. He promised me there wouldn't be any hitting more than the number the
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