Chapter 14

They repeated the show in different parts of the city for the next several days. Konti took to checking Kirk's eyes repeatedly throughout the day, even during the afternoon shows. Each evening they talked. Konti tried to understand what made Kirk tick. Kirk tried to explain it to him. Neither were very successful.

The fifth afternoon was different. Konti took Kirk to his social club. With no advance instruction, the only clue Kirk had was that Konti left the leash at home. Kirk followed Konti into a lavishly appointed building, and knew at once that the slapstick comedy of the streets did not fit in this setting.

Konti gave him no verbal instruction at all. An occasional hand gesture was all Kirk had to go on. The rest was guesswork. No one else there had a personal slave, so he could not simply copy what others did. Weapons were checked at the door, along with wraps. Several onlookers gasped in astonishment and apprehension when Konti gave Kirk his weapons. Konti ignored them, so Kirk did too.

It soon became apparent that Kirk's presence gave Konti significant prestige. He attended to Konti's comfort, gave him a backrub, served him a meal, and cleaned up afterwards. After the meal, Konti gestured Kirk to the floor at his feet, and put his feet on Kirk's back as a foot rest. He spent over an hour in this position, while Konti talked about him.

Most of it was fiction. Konti was the center of attention, and they all wanted to know how he had conquered Kirk. He wove a fascinating tale of Kirk's breaking point. It contained so much detail, it was quite believable. Kirk was impressed. When Konti got to a description of Kirk's present reaction to the whip, he was interrupted. Someone wanted a demonstration. Someone else volunteered to produce a whip for the purpose. Before Konti could formulate a reasonable excuse for not doing this, the whip was placed in his hand.

Kirk visibly shuddered. This he had not planned on. He doubted if Konti had either. Just how good an actor was he anyway? He prayed that it would be believable. Konti thrust the whip under his nose, and he shrank away from it. Kirk knew this audience would not be satisfied with anything less than a full-blown demonstration.

As he surveyed the crowd, Konti reluctantly came to the same conclusion. I made this trap myself, he thought, but it was Kirk's idea. Fully expecting Kirk to prove him a liar, Konti nevertheless decided he might as well play it to the full.

"There are twenty of you. You may each apply one lash."

"No!" Kirk screamed, then changed his tone to begging. "No. Please no. You promised. I've done everything you said. Please don't. You promised no more. Please don't let them."

Kirk was virtually sobbing, prostrate at Konti's feet. Konti was visibly disgusted, while privately absolutely astounded. He kicked Kirk in the shoulder, and sent him sprawling.

"I lied. So shut up, stand up, and pretend you're still a man."

The crowd's laughter held no real humor. They were all disgusted. Amid Kirk's sobbing and protesting, they hauled him to his feet, draped him over the back of a chair, and held his arms. He wiggled, kicked, screamed, cried, and begged through the first ten lashes. Konti watched in stoic silence. But enough was enough.

"If you don't shut up, I'll give you another twenty myself!"

So Kirk lapsed into silence, but still managed to convey fear and dread through his body language. When they were all finished, he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Konti turned to the crowd. "I trust this sufficiently demonstrates my point. He'll be completely useless for hours. Good day, gentlemen."

He kicked Kirk, who stumbled to his feet and preceded Konti out the door. Silence prevailed in the flitter all the way home. With Khlat in the pilot's seat, neither felt free to discuss what had happened. At home, Konti turned to face Kirk in the middle of the main room.

"Look at me."

Kirk's gaze was steady.

"Khlat, be so good as to fetch the whip."

Kirk didn't quite openly grin, but his eyes were full of amusement. Khlat returned.

"Do me a favor, and add a few marks to his back."

"With pleasure, sir."

Khlat applied the whip vigorously half a dozen times. Kirk did not even twitch.

"That's enough, thank you. Dismissed. I won't need you until tomorrow at 0900."

"Yes, sir." Khlat's disappointment and resentment of Kirk were obvious.

Alone in Konti's room, Kirk faced him and waited for instructions. Konti sat in the chair and regarded Kirk in silence. A long silence.

Finally Konti spoke. "Sit down. Look at me." Kirk did. "Talk to me now. Supper can wait."

"What would you like to talk about? Last night we were discussing the belief in one God versus many gods."

"That can wait, too." Konti stared at Kirk. "I think you're teasing me!"

Kirk grinned openly. "Yes, I am. I know perfectly well that you want to discuss this afternoon's outing. You seem surprised. Did you think I couldn't, or wouldn't?"

"Well, wouldn't, certainly. It never occurred to me to wonder whether you could. You were absolutely amazing. I would never have believed it if I hadn't seen it. I was so disgusted and repulsed by your behavior that by the time it was over, I didn't want to bring you home. If you'd kept it up in the flitter, I'd have been tempted to throw you out.

"When we got here, I sent Khlat for the whip partly to reassure myself of reality, though I could see it in your eyes, and partly to replace that disgusting memory with something I could admire. You do know the biggest reason I like you is your ability to tolerate any level of torment without complaint?"

"How do you know which is the real me?"

"Because of what I see in your eyes, and the fact that you're calmly sitting here talking to me, ignoring the agony in your back. Everything I've seen these last weeks tells me this is normal and what I saw this afternoon was not normal. What I do not understand is why you did it."

"When you told the tale of how you conquered me, did you know they would ask for a demonstration?"

"No, that was a complete surprise."

"I thought so. What would have happened to you if I had proved you a liar?"

"They would have turned the whip on me. After a thorough thrashing, they would have expelled me from the club. I would be permanently disgraced. Which is not to say that no one lies, but to be caught at it is unforgivable."

"That is why I did it. To preserve and enhance your reputation is of prime importance to me. That it is at the expense of my own is of no consequence."

"Why?"

"Because the Lord Jesus Christ loves you."

"That's no answer!"

"Nevertheless, it's the truth."

Konti sat pondering for several minutes.

"Could you, and would you, do it again?"

"Yes. When?"

"I have a dinner party planned for tomorrow evening. Normally Khlat would serve. I can tell them you are still useless. It's a small group. Koh will be here, and Khlat, and two of those who were at the club today, and one other who hasn't seen you. It will not surprise me if they ask for a repeat of today's performance."

"I don't mind doing it again. Apparently it was sufficiently believable. However I do have a couple of concerns. Can you inform Koh and Khlat in advance, and if not, can they conceal their reaction? Also, how long will it be before someone makes a comparison between my reaction to the whip and the brand on my forehead? Were any of the twenty among those at the Assembly?"

"Yes, they were all there. And you're right, the question will come up. But your performance was so believable, they will doubt what they saw at the Assembly."

"Branding day is the day after tomorrow. Does this one have to be in public too? I don't mind messing it up, but I got the impression you wouldn't be pleased to have to do it over twice."

Abruptly, Konti stood up. "No! Don't you dare pull the coward act during branding! You absolutely must not do that!" He took a couple of steps and towered over Kirk.

Kirk ignored the physical threat. "Well, I won't then. But the only other solution I see is to create an environment where the whip is more emotionally devastating than the branding iron. Otherwise, it just doesn't make sense."

Konti took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, and returned to his seat. "This branding doesn't have to be public, although it's customary to have one or two witnesses."

"If one of your dinner guests asks to witness it, would you refuse him?"

"No. They are politically important people. I cannot afford to offend them."

"Then we better come up with something that's believable."

They talked another two hours, invited Koh to supper, and talked some more. By bedtime they had what they hoped was a workable plan. Konti would have skipped the usual bedtime routine, because it was late, but Kirk said he would sleep better with the bath and massage.

"You're getting me thoroughly spoiled."

Kirk laughed.

"But tell me, what do you do after I go to sleep at night?"

"I get myself something to eat. I could not continue to function day after day without anything. I pray - that is, I talk to God. Then I sleep on the floor in the corner."

"You expect to sleep tonight?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"Possibly the condition of your back, possibly dread of tomorrow night."

Kirk laughed. "It's only supposed to look as if I dread it. Konti, will you do two things for me? First, no matter what it looks or sounds like, remember that I do not fear it. Secondly, come and tell me when it's safe to quit. I will be making too much noise to hear them leave, and Khlat will be enjoying himself too much to be inclined to tell me."

Konti nodded grimly, slightly affronted by Kirk's casual unconcern. "Yes, I will."

xxxx

The next morning Kirk pointed out that they had to create marks on his skin as evidence. He also wanted to test the hook to make sure it wouldn't break.

"We need rope burns on my wrists, and my back needs to look like we've been at it for hours. But if we do it first thing this morning, hopefully no one but Koh will notice the difference between eight-hour-old wounds and eighteen-hour-old wounds. Also I'd like to spatter blood on the floor and walls, and soak the rope in it.

"Do you think between you, you and Khlat could keep up a constant application of the whip for thirty minutes? It'd be better if you had two whips. I want as many welts in thirty minutes as you'd normally see in two hours. The reason we can't take two hours is that my hands would be so swollen as to be useless. But thirty minutes should be enough to produce the rope burns with minimal swelling."

When Khlat arrived, Kirk began explaining the situation, unconsciously taking charge. Konti just let him. Khlat was furious, but he listened, intrigued in spite of himself. When Kirk asked his advice on a couple of points, Khlat was almost civil. However he was clearly surprised when Kirk accepted his judgment without question. Kirk grinned at him.

"Don't start liking me now. Your job tonight will be much easier if you can keep on hating me. Besides, I'm going to give you the desire of your heart. You get to watch me fall apart under your whip. But understand this, Khlat: what I do tonight is not mocking you. To pull this off, we need your help. Can you act as though I've done this so often, it's almost boring? A touch of gloating contempt would be fine, too.

"Just so you're not completely surprised tonight, I'm going to give you a demonstration, complete with sound effects and body language. Unless you think it will distract you from speed, because I need that lash just as fast as you can possibly manage it."

"I can handle it," Khlat replied sullenly, annoyed that Kirk dared question his competence.

"Konti, you don't have to watch this."

"I'm going to anyway."

"Two things you can do then: keep time for us, and check the volume level. I'd like to know if it can be heard from the main room. Any questions, either of you?" Silence. "Let's get started then."

Khlat's jaw dropped in astonishment at the sudden transformation into a sniveling coward. It took him all of thirty seconds to adjust. He grabbed Kirk, threw him onto his back, and put a knee at his throat while he tied Kirk's wrists. Ignoring Kirk's cries for mercy, he hauled him to the hook, hung him by the wrist rope, and raised the hook until his feet barely touched the floor.

Glancing briefly at Konti, Khlat started in with the whip. He had vetoed the idea of two whips because without a lot of practice, they would get tangled. But to do what Kirk wanted with just one whip was going to take everything he had. He ignored the sound effects and concentrated on the job.

Grimly, Konti watched Kirk wiggle, squirm, kick, and howl. He marveled at Kirk's ability to get Khlat to do what he wanted in spite of the enmity between them. It seemed to Konti that there was little correlation between the lash, Kirk's movement, and the sounds he made. Abruptly he remembered Kirk wanted a sound check.

Stepping into the main room, he discovered that even with the door shut, he could clearly hear the sound of the lash as well as Kirk's howls. But even here, he could tell it wasn't quite in sync. Shortly after he returned to the back room, Kirk changed the howl to a whimper. Konti repeated the sound check, but could not hear the whimper from the main room.

When Konti called time, Khlat dropped to the floor in exhaustion. Kirk hung motionless and silent. Konti lowered the hook until Kirk's feet were planted on the floor. Kirk lifted his hands free of the hook and held them out for Konti to untie. He glanced at Khlat who was picking himself up off the floor.

"Thank you, Khlat. I'm impressed with your stamina."

Khlat did not reply. Kirk examined his hands and wrists.

"That's what I was afraid of. The swelling's not going to be a problem, but the wrists don't look nearly bad enough. We'll have to fix that. Khlat, how exhausted are you? Maybe Konti can do this."

"What do you want?" Khlat growled.

"Grab the ends of this rope and run it back and forth over my wrist just as fast as you can, and don't stop until I tell you to."

Five minutes later Kirk's wrists were a bloody mess. They used the rope to scatter blood over the floor and walls. Finally Kirk was satisfied.

"Okay, Phase I is complete. Let's leave the rope hanging on the hook to dry. Phase II is dinner preparation. Khlat, you're a key player in this phase too. In fact the whole thing hinges on you. Konti said you could pull this off. Here's what we need.

"I want to create an atmosphere of increasing tension and anxiety. I want you to give me a series of incorrect instructions so that as I'm serving this dinner, I make mistake after mistake. Every time I do something wrong, Konti says, 'Five more' or 'Ten more' or whatever fits the magnitude of the error. By the end of the meal, I'm positively frantic, at which point I make a really colossal blunder. Konti throws a fit, doubles the total punishment, I fall apart completely, and you drag me out of the room.

"Choose your mistakes carefully. We don't want to ruin their dinner. And if we get to throwing food around, we want it to land on Koh, not one of the three important guests. It would be best if no one but you and I know that it's your fault. They may guess, but we don't want it so blatantly obvious that Konti looks like a fool for not catching on. Don't tell Konti where the mistakes will be. Don't tell me either. That way, all the responses will be genuine.

"After we get to the back room, I will make so much noise that Konti will have to come and increase the punishment again in an effort to get me to shut up. And he may have to do that more than once. The idea is to make this look so unbearably awful that they will believe I really can't stand it, in spite of the fact that I can tolerate the branding ceremony without moving a muscle.

"I expect it to go on for several hours, so pace yourself. We don't have any relief crew. Konti, can the lash be heard out there?"

"Yes it can. So can your howling, but I couldn't hear the whimpering."

"Thanks. So we can't just stand here and pretend. Also, any of the guests may come in to inspect at any time. So it's got to be the real thing. But you don't have to actually count lashes. We're not quitting until after the guests leave. Konti will give us the all clear.

"Any questions?"

"Just one. Why are you giving the orders?"

Startled, Kirk glanced at Konti, who regarded him in silence.

"A very good question. I shouldn't be. Such improper and presumptuous behavior should be punished."

Kirk reached for the whip and held it out to Khlat. Khlat slowly took it, and Kirk dropped to his hands and knees. Khlat turned to Konti, who was staring at Kirk's back.

"How many, sir?" Khlat couldn't quite keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"Ten."

Konti watched Kirk flinch at the first lash. Khlat seemed to swell with pleasure. As the second and third lashes produced the same reaction, Khlat began to strut, actively teasing and tormenting Kirk with a highly irregular rhythm. Kirk had no idea when to expect the next lash. His body became rigid with tension; his hands clawed the floor.

Lashes 7, 8, and 9 were practically on top of one another, and Kirk groaned, then shook his head, as if angry at himself. Khlat was inordinately pleased at having forced a groan from Kirk. Finishing up with a flourish, he placed the whip back on the shelf, and turned to Konti.

"Your orders, sir?"

"You will do everything Kirk said to do. But first, I'd like to discuss the menu and certain other arrangements."

They left Kirk on the floor. After the door closed behind them, Kirk slowly got to his feet. His back felt like it was on fire, his wrists only marginally better. He reflected wryly that both would be feeling considerably worse before the day was over. Meanwhile, he'd better keep moving or things would stiffen up.

Konti returned to find him doing stretching exercises.

"Don't you ever quit?"

"No, sir. I don't know how."

Kirk stopped exercising, stood quietly with lowered eyes, and waited.

"Look at me." Kirk's gaze was steady.

"Khlat is gone. He's running errands and won't be back for an hour or more. From now on, whenever we are alone, you will stop acting like a slave. I liked you better this morning."

Kirk visibly relaxed, grinning. "I forgot."

"I know. You're a natural-born leader. Khlat responds to you in spite of himself. You laugh at his hatred, goad him into doing what you want, and then reward him in the coin of his choice. You did do that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Yes. I need his cooperation tonight, and I'm quite willing to pay for it. This was just a down payment. He gets several hours tonight. And don't be in any hurry to rush your guests out of here. They need to come away with the pervading impression that it's simply unbearable."

"That reminds me: what I heard this morning didn't seem to be in sync. There was no connection between the lash and your sound effects."

"There will be tonight," Kirk promised grimly. "I'm sorry you have to listen to it, but I don't see any way to avoid it."

"I'll survive."

xxxx

The evening went pretty much as Kirk expected. Khlat had the mistakes well planned and well timed, with each occurring about five minutes apart. Konti played the irritated host very well. The tension in the room could be felt by all. Kirk got so involved with his part that at one point, he wasn't sure he could hold it together until the end of the meal. Before it was over, they were up to 95 lashes.

The last thing to serve was a hot alcoholic beverage, sort of like coffee with whiskey added. Kirk carried the pot and mugs to the table on a tray. The mugs rattled because his hands were shaking so badly. Making his hands shake was easy. Engineering a fall that would look real, but hurt no one but himself, was much more difficult. It was time for the finale, but he didn't see how Khlat could do anything given where he was sitting.

Suddenly Konti was on his feet, yelling. "He's going to drop it! Khlat, do something!"

They both converged on Kirk. Khlat managed to tip the tray out of his hands under cover of trying to rescue the pot. The scalding liquid spilled all over Konti's legs and spattered on the expensive rug. Kirk stood in horrified silence, while Konti hurled a variety of verbal abuse. Khlat did his best to clean up the mess, though the rug would never recover.

Konti reached the climax and pronounced the punishment, doubling the total number of lashes. Kirk crumpled to the floor, sobbing that he couldn't stand it. Konti had turned away, but at this outburst, he turned back.

"And not a sound out of you, or I'll triple the total."

Kirk lapsed into silence, but every ounce of body language continued to beg for mercy. Konti turned away in disgust.

"Get him out of here, Khlat. I hate to cut short your dinner, but it's going to be a long night. You'd better get started."

"Yes, sir."

Khlat threw Kirk toward the door, and kicked him until he picked himself up and stumbled out. Unable to ascertain for certain that they were alone, Kirk kept up the act and did not try to talk to Khlat. Instead he focused on his response to the lash. Dividing the evening into half-hour segments, he planned his strategy.

At first he would maintain silence. But as Khlat provided opportunities - and Kirk was sure he would - Kirk would begin making noise. By the end of the first hour, the noise would be substantial and Konti would come to silence him. He would again be silent for a time. Towards the end of the second hour, he would lose all control, kicking and screaming without regard for consequences. If Konti didn't come back to shut him up, he would gradually become exhausted. Anything after the third hour would be animal-like whimpering.

Meanwhile Konti had excused himself to change, asking Koh to pour drinks for the guests. He returned to find Koh had also cleared the table and brought out the cards. They played amiably for almost an hour, by which time the noise from the back room was becoming a serious distraction. After another fifteen minutes, Konti excused himself, but they all trailed him to the back room to watch.

Konti studied Kirk for several minutes. He had no idea whether Kirk knew they were there, but his performance was superb. Konti would never have guessed that it was not real. Just the right level of attempt to control. Visible frustration at his lack of success. And every time Khlat raised the intensity, a marked increase in hysteria. Kirk should have been an actor, Konti thought.

"Kirk!" Instant silence.

"I told you to be quiet. You're disturbing my guests. You're up to 300 lashes as of now. Unless you want to be here all night, I'd suggest you control yourself."

Konti led the way back to the main room, but the card game was forgotten. He spent the remainder of the evening answering questions about Kirk. Koh held his peace, only answering direct questions, and those with a version of the truth that gave nothing away. The two who'd been at the club readily believed what they saw, hanging on Konti's every word.

The third guest was very reserved, occasionally asking a pointed question, but keeping his opinions to himself. Several times he went to the back room and watched Kirk. He returned each time neither disgusted nor moved, but thoughtful. He was the one who brought up the branding. Kirk had just let loose a scream that signified a complete loss of control. Konti just shook his head.

"With this kind of response to the whip, it's difficult to imagine how he could be disciplined in the branding ceremony. I know he's done it three times already, but it won't surprise me if he falls apart tomorrow. On the other hand, it is a lot shorter, so maybe he can hold himself together long enough."

"I'd like to witness it, if you've no objections."

"Of course."

They were at it for almost four hours before Konti gave the all clear. As expected, Kirk's hands were swollen to twice their normal size. His skin was covered with welts, many of them bleeding. But his cheerful spirit was intact. Konti dismissed Khlat, then asked Kirk how he was.

"Tired." Kirk grinned. "This takes a lot more energy than just accepting it. But my question is: did they believe it?"

"The two who'd been at the club, yes - lock, stock, and barrel. Kadat? I'm not sure - maybe, and maybe not. And he wants to witness the branding tomorrow."

"I'll play it whichever way you want. What happens to you if Kadat doesn't believe us?"

"That's difficult to say. Possibly nothing. But just as likely, everything. No one seems to know his true position or level of power and influence. But come to my room. I have a story to tell you that will explain how I feel about branding."

"Are you sure? I don't want to bleed all over your rug. Which reminds me, did you plan that bit with the spilled pot, or was that all Khlat's idea? And how are your burned legs?"

"My legs are doing as well as yours, probably better. At least I'm not bleeding. I'll get a towel to protect the rug. And yes, I planned it. Khlat would have spilled it all over you. I didn't think that was fair."

"What does fair have to do with it?"

"Besides, it made a more believable excuse for my being furious."

"I'll grant you that, but I'm with Khlat. I would have spilled it all over me. I just hadn't quite figured out how to make it look accidental, when you and Khlat took it out of my hands."

They had moved to Konti's room, with Kirk sitting on the floor as usual.

"Before you tell your story, I have a question. Why don't you lock me up at night? That back room would function quite well as a prison cell. Yet you seem equally unconcerned about my escape or an attack on your person. Also, you tell me to stop acting like a slave, yet I sit naked on the floor, while you sit clothed in a chair."

"Does the lack of clothes bother you?"

"No, I've gotten used to it. I'm merely pointing out some inconsistencies."

"The dynamics of our relationship are definitely complex. Perhaps it will be clearer to you after you hear my story. When I was a child, I had a playmate. J'Keth was his name. He was Orion, but I was oblivious to race differences. We were the same age, well-matched in interests and abilities. He was my constant companion; we were the best of friends.

"I knew he was a slave. My father had several. But it didn't seem to effect us. Once a year, he was gone for a week. When he came back, the brand was fresh, but he never talked about it, and life went on as normal. Until the year we were twelve, when we came of age.

"For a slave, that meant no more anesthetic. Also the schedule of repetitions I told you about begins anew with each ownership transfer. Not all slaves are sold at age twelve, but many are. So J'Keth was facing a painful ordeal and test of his courage, as well as an uncertain future. Neither of us knew what Father planned.

"When I found out, I was horrified. I was to take possession of J'Keth by performing the branding ceremony myself. Father thought he was doing us a favor. He knew how close we were. This was his way of allowing us to stay together. We survived the branding ceremony, many of them in fact. And he is as good at it as you are. But our friendship did not survive." Konti stared at the floor pensively.

Kirk was a little confused. "Didn't you say you'd never had a personal slave?"

Konti shrugged. "So I lied," he readily admitted. "Something else I neglected to tell you about branding is the required eye contact. Slave and owner are to maintain eye contact throughout the branding. The owner establishes dominance through the power in the eyes as much as the branding itself. Also rebellion can be most easily seen at this time in the eyes of the slave. I didn't tell you because that is the part of branding that I hate the most. But you did it anyway without being told.

"I still don't understand what I see in your eyes, but I know it's very different from J'Keth's eyes. His were full of accusation, betrayal, and hatred. Over the next several years, they became hard and unreadable, but that first time, they were full of emotion. He says that was the day he grew up. For me, it was the day I lost my best friend.

"Things were never the same afterwards. He could never forget that I owned him. The system wouldn't let us forget it. At first we argued over whether he was going to act like a slave. Then he wouldn't even argue with me. It wasn't that he was afraid of me. I never exerted dominance over him. He knew it, I knew it, and Father knew it. Father took over his training because I wouldn't.

"When I entered the service at fifteen, I gave J'Keth back to Father. I have not owned a slave since, until you came along. From that first day in the transporter room, I knew you were different. You accepted the position of slave while retaining equality of person. And nothing I have done to you has changed that sense of equality between us. You put on slave-like behavior as if it's a coat; and you shed it just as easily.

"The biggest difference between you and J'Keth is the lack of anger. Even though everything you've suffered has been directly or indirectly my fault, you don't blame me. You just laugh and say, 'let's be friends anyway'. When I exert dominance over you, you freely yield, but it never erodes that sense of equality between us.

"Every time you accept the branding without hating me, it erases a little of the memory of those awful years. If you fell apart, I don't know what I'd do. Even knowing you were doing it on purpose, I don't think I could stand it. Your performance is so believable, I cannot distinguish act from reality. So, Kadat may think what he likes, and I'll risk the consequences." Konti cracked his knuckles and stared at Kirk, daring him to call him a coward.

Kirk smiled, nodded, and said nothing.