第16节

ed low as soon

as she saw YamaShita, then knelt on a mat to his left, between her

escorts.

Facing her across the deck were six more red-stripes, their left hands

resting on the hilts of their gently curving swords. Twelve

white-stripes armed with whipping canes stood guard over the prisoners;

Lord Yama-Shita was accompanied by his usual guard of high-ranking

samurai - all wearing the ferocious metal masks that had caused the

Mutes to christen them 'dead-faces'. Those worn by the reds and whites

were more modest affairs made of lacquered papier which6, like

Clearwater's, the sole decoration being a band of colour 'running down

the middle from forehead to chin.

On Yama-Shita's command, his interpreter turned to Clearwater. 'My

lord wishes you to choose a male and female from among these slaves."

After several painful lessons, Clearwater knew better than to ask

why.

The interpreter waved her to her feet and, after she had bowed once

again to YamaShita, directed her over to the lineup.

All eight Mutes looked utterly wretched. They had already been afloat

for nine days and, like most of their kin-folk, had been suffering from

motion-sickness.

Clearwater had been sick several times during the first half of the

outward journey, but since then had only experienced bouts of

queasiness. It was a very different feeling that gripped her now; a

feeling that something awful was going to happen. She selected a young

man and woman at random, then returned to her place on the mat as the

couple were brought out and made to kneel before the raised decking.

They were both strangers: their clothes, which would have identified

their clan group - She-Kargo, D'Troit, San'Paul, M'Waukee - had been

replaced by a cotton loincloth. Neither looked as if they gave much

for their chances of surviving beyond the next few minutes, but they

faced the prospect with the stoicism that was the hallmark of the

Plainfolk.

Through his interpreter, Yama-Shita asked, 'Are you satisfied you have

picked the strongest."?"

Clearwater bowed humbly. 'I believe so, sire."

'Lord Yama-Shita wishes to make certain,' said the samurai

interpreter.

'A person of your importance deserves only the best." He barked out a

brief, unintelligible command.

With terrifying suddenness, the red-stripes facing Clearwater burst

into action, hurling the chosen couple back into line. The red and the

lower-ranking whites then waded into the shackled Mutes, flailing away

with their whips, brandishing their swords, and screaming Iron Master

gobbledygook. They were like a frenzied pack of coyotes yapping and

snarling at a group of cornered fast-foot. The pointing swords and

canes made it clear what they wanted, but several of the masked guards

spelt it out in fractured Basic.

'up! Up!" - 'On wheel!" - 'Now! Now' - 'Monkey go for ride on

merry go-roun'!"

The eight Mutes were forced up on to the paddle wheel and were made to

stand in a line along the blade that had stopped in a horizontal

position: women on the left, men on the right, with an arm's length

between them, faces to the wheel. The paddle blade was broad, but

their foothold was precarious. The wood was dripping wet and their

movements were hampered by

the chains around their wrists and the heavy metal collar

around their right ankles. Those who glanced nervously over their

shoulder to see what was going to happen next received several whip

lashes on the backs of their thighs.

Clearwater's feeling of dread deepened as she realised what Yama-Shita

was proposing to do. The domain-lord waved brusquely to a subordinate,

who shouted to another minion standing by an open hatch. The order was

promptly relayed below. There was a loud hi ss of escaping steam, then

the deck trembled as the two huge wooden beams which drove the paddle

wheel took up the strain, one pushing as the other pulled the wheel