But she shrugged a white shoulder and went to stand by the cell bars
while he ate. When he was done, she took his tray and wooden bowl and
mug, and walked off with them, unlocking the cell door with a key that
hung from her wrist, attached to a thick metal manacle.
Her hips wriggled as she went, and she threw a glance at him over her
shoulder. Her voice was music as she carolled a farewell.
She left the McCanahan with a fever of impatience in him. He strode
back and forth in his cell. His hands tested the Mollystil bars a
hundred times. He told himself that the Senn did not love the sfarri
overmuch, that the Senn, being descended from animal ancestors, had no
common ground with a race of robot men. He asked himself where in this
pile of giant masonry Herms Borkus had hidden Flaith. If he could get
away, if he could use this yellow-haired slave girl to unbar these cell
doors for him, he would find Flaith and flee.
Flee?
Where on all Senorech was there sanctuary for Kael McCanahan?
The slave girl told him when next she brought his food. This time, he
was awake and restless, and her soft, quick tread was like music to his
ears.
* * * * *
She came close to him, with only the width of the little tray between
his chest and her breasts that stirred gently to her quickened
breathing. Her brown eyes were full of gentle pity as they studied his
haggard face and sunken eyes.
"Lord, you were never meant for prison bars! If only you would trust
me, I know a way that leads from the palace."
"Trust you, Slyss? I'd love you for a chance at freedom."