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Nothing and nobody -- He had a blinding image of an old, old nightmare . . . standing on the block, hearing an auctioneer chant his description, while cold eyes stared at him. But he pulled himself together and was merely quiet the rest of the day. It was not until the compartment was dark that he bit his pillow and whispered brokenly, "Pop . . . oh, Pop!"
The Guards uniform covered Thorby's legs, but in the showers the tattoo on his left thigh could be noticed. When this happened, Thorby explained without embarrassment what it signified. Responses varied from curiosity, through half-disbelief, to awed surprise that here was a man who had been through it -- capture, sale, servitude, and miraculously, free again. Most civilians did not realize that slavery still existed; Guardsmen knew better.
No one was nasty about it.
But the day after the null report on identification Thorby encountered "Decibel" Peebie in the showers. Thorby did not speak; they had not spoken much since Thorby had moved out from under Peebie, even though they sat at the same table. But now Peebie spoke. "Hi, Trader!"
"Hi." Thorby started to bathe.
"What's on your leg? Dirt?"
"Where?"
"On your thigh. Hold still. Let's see."
"Keep your hands to yourself!"
"Don't be touchy. Turn around to the light. What is it?"
"It's a slaver's mark," Thorby explained curtly
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