“Why don't you run away?” he said.
“Oh, done that,” said the slave. “Ran away to Tsort once. Didn't like it much. Came back. Run away for a fortnight in Djelibeybi every winter, though.”
“Do you get brought back?” said Brutha.
“Huh!” said the slave. “No, I don't. Miserable skinflint, Aristocrates. I have to come back by myself. Hitching lifts on ships, that kind of thing.”
“You come back?”
“Yeah. Abroad's all right to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there. Anyway, I've only got another four years as a slave and then I'm free. You get the vote when you're free. And you get to keep slaves.” His face glazed with the effort of recollection as he ticked off points on his fingers. “Slaves get three meals a day, at least one with meat. And one free day a week. And two weeks being-allowed-to-run?away every year. And I don't do ovens or heavy lifting, and worldly-wise repartee only by arrangement.”
“Yes, but you're not free, ” said Brutha, intrigued despite himself.
“What's the difference?”
“Er . . . you don't get any days off.” Brutha scratched his head. “And one less meal.”
“Really? I think I'll give freedom a miss then, thanks.”
“Er . . . have you seen a tortoise anywhere around here?” said Brutha.
“No. And I cleaned under the bed.”
“Have you seen one anywhere else today?”
"You want one? There's good eating on a-
"No. No. It's all right-
“Brutha! ”
It was Vorbis's voice. Brutha hurried out into the courtyard and into Vorbis's cell.
“Ah, Brutha.”
“Yes, lord?”
Vorbis was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at the wall.
“You are a young man visiting a new place,” said Vorbis. “No doubt there is much you wish to see.”
“There is?” said Brutha. Vorbis was using the exquisitor voice again-a level monotone, a voice like a strip of dull steel.
“You may go where you wish. See new things, Brutha. Learn everything you can. You are my eyes and ears. And my memory. Learn about this place.”
“Er. Really, lord?”
“Have I impressed you with my use of careless language, Brutha?”
“No, lord.”
“Go away. Fill yourself. And be back by sunset.”
“Er. Even the Library?” said Brutha.
“Ah? Yes, the Library. The Library that they have here. Of course. Crammed with useless and dangerous and evil knowledge. I can see it in my mind, Brutha. Can you imagine that?”
“No, Lord Vorbis.”