"Next," said the man at the table.

I then stood before the table, naked.

"Thigh," he said.

I turned sideways, so that he might see my left thigh.

"Common Kajira mark," he said, and made an entry on a sheet. "Face me, Girl," he said.

I did.

"Arrived sheared," he said, and made another entry. "what is your name?" he asked.

"Whatever Master wishes," I said.

"what have you been called?" be asked. "Quick!"

"I have been called Tiffany," I said.

"You are now "Tiffany,'" he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. He wrote something down, presumably the name. He seemed to have beard it before, unlike the drivers. Some other "Tiffany" had perhaps, at some earlier time, stood where I stood. I also realized that I had now been named. I had lost the name "Tiffany Collins" a few Ahn ago, when I had been marked, when I had become slave. That name was gone, as soon as the iron, hissing, curling smoke, had been lifted from my flesh. A free person had been locked in the branding rack. A mere animal was released from it.

The name "Tiffany" had now been put on me as a mere slave name, a name which might be removed or changed at the whim of masters. I wore the name "Tiffany" now as Susan had worn the name "Susan," now merely as a named animal, merely by the will and decision of masters.

"Have you had experience in a mill, Tiffany?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

"Come around to the side of the table and kneel here," he said. I did so. He then bent over and, cupping his left hand under my left breast, held it steady and, with a grease pencil, across it, above the nipple, inscribed four characters. "That is your mill number, Tiffany," he said, "four thousand and seventy-three."

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Now, go there," he said, indicating another table, several yards away, near the wall.

"Yes, Master," I said. Tenrak and Durbar, at the office of the man of Mintar, outside the gate, had received ten copper tarsks for me. This did not seem to me much but it was, of course, enough to give them each five nights of pleasure in a paga tavern. I recalled that Drusus Rencius had thought I might go for something between fifteen and twenty tarsks. I had gone for only ten. On the other hand it had not been all open sale. Too, of course, I was shorn and being considered in terms of utilization in the mills. Some girls, Tenrak had assured me, go for as little as five copper tarsks. Ten copper tarsks, he assured me, was a good price for a mill girl.

I now stood before a man near the wall Behind him was a table, on which there were, aligned, several collars, all seemingly identical in appearance and design. He had an aide with him.

The man looked at my left breast, reading the characters written there.

"Four-zero-seven-three," he said. He was then handed a collar, the next in a series of diminishing rows.

"Name?" he asked.

"Tiffany, if it pleases Master," I said.

"Can you read?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

He then showed me the collar, indicating the engraving on it. "This is a company collar," he said. "It says, "I belong to Mintar of Ar. I work in Mill 7. My number is four-zero-seven-three.'"

"Yes, Master," I said. The collars would die then, only in the Girl Numbers. "Lift your chin, Tiffany," he said.

I did so, and the collar was placed about my neck and snapped shut. The first collar I had worn had been a color-coded transfer collar, put on me at the holding area outside the gate, probably primarily to comply with the ordinance that female slaves in Ar must wear a visible token of their bondage; otherwise we might simply have had our destinations written on our bodies. This was my first owner collar.

The laws of Ar, incidentally, do not require a similar visible token of bondage on the bodies of male slaves, or even any distinctive type of garments. The historical explanation of this is that it was originally intended to make it difficult for male slaves to make contact with one another and to keep them from understanding how numerous they might be. On the other hand, male slaves are not numerous, at least within the cities, as opposed to the great farms or the quarries, and they are, in fact, usually collared. Some, however, depending on the whim of the master or mistress, may wear a distinctive anklet or bracelet. A consequence of this ordinance from the point of view of a female slave is that she cannot now even permit herself to be taken for a free woman by accident; her bondage is always manifest; it is helpful from the man's point of view, too; he always knows the status of the woman to whom he is relating; one relates to free women and slaves quite differently, or course; one treats a free woman with honor and respect; one treats a slave, commonly, with condescension and authority.

"Kneel and kiss the whip of Mintar," he said. He took a Whip from the table and held it before me. "Again and again," he said, "tenderly, lingeringly." I did so. I trembled, thrilled, forced to kiss a man's whip, and in the intimate manner of a slave. I supposed that I would never see the man whose whip I was kissing.

"what is your name?" he asked. "Tiffany," I said.

"In what mill do you work?"

"Mill 7."

"What is your girl number?"

"4073," I said.

"Whose collar do you wear?"

"The collar of Mintar of Ar."

"Who owns you?"

"Mintar of Ar."

"Who do you love?"

"Mintar of Ar."

"Welcome to Mill 7, Tiffany," he said.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

He then replaced the whip on the table and handed me, from a basket, two tunics. They were folded, and washed, and brown. "Thank you, Master," I said. I held them close to me. I would later discover that they were rather common slave tunics, brief, with no nether closure. Too, they were sleeveless, slit at the sides, and with a plunging neckline. Oil the front of the left shoulder there was a design, in white and yellow, bearing what I would later learn was an inscribed "Mu." This was a design, I would later learn, which was common to many of the different enterprises of Mintar. "Mu" is the first letter of the name Mintar. White and yellow, or white and gold, are the colors of the merchants. The tunic had nothing specific to the mills, of Mill 7. Such a tunic might have been worn by girls laboring or serving in almost any of his holdings. It was thus, in a broad sense, a company tunic. I wondered how many girls Mintar owned, or were owned by the enterprises of Mintar.

"Go now, over there," he said, pointing, "and get in that line, where you see that small yellow flag. You wrn be in the chain of Borkon. He will be your whip master."

"Yes, Master," I said. Borkon, I realized, whoever he was, was he whom I must now strive to please. "Is that all, Master?"

"Yes," he said. "Did you expect to be intricately measured, to be toe-printed, and such? You are not a high slave. You are a low slave, a mill girl." "Yes, Master," I said. "Forgive me, Master." I then leapt up and ran to stand in the indicated line. In a few Ehn I was joined there by Emily and Luta. The other girls were being sent to other lines.

In a few Ehn more we were approached by a short, muscular man in a half tunic. He came walking towards us, across the yard. He had emerged from one of the mill buildings. His arms were extremely thick. There was a whip at his belt.

When he stopped near us, we knelt, a common behavior for slave girls in the presence of a free man.

"Stand," he said.

We stood. We straightened our bodies. He walked about slowly.

"So," he said, "it is the usual collection of she-urts and she-tarsks. Strn, I see at least two of some interest. What is your name?"

"Tiffany, Master" I said, frightened.

"We are going to get on well, aren't we, Tiffany?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said, shuddering. He felt me.