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."
Thorby was silent for a long moment. "You're going to sell me, Pop?"
"Not exactly. Well . . . yes and no."
Thorby's face held no expression. At last he said quietly, "It's one or the other, so I know what you mean . . . and I guess I oughtn't to kick. It's your privilege and you've been the best . . . master . . . I ever had."
"I'm not your master!"
"Paper says you are. Matches the number on my leg."
"Don't talk that way! Don't ever talk that way."
"A slave had better talk that way, or else keep his mouth shut."
"Then, for Heaven's sake, keep it shut! Listen, son, let me explain. There's nothing here for you and we both know it. If I die without freeing you, you revert to the Sargon --"
"They'll have to catch me!"
"They will. But manumission solves nothing. What guilds are open to freedmen? Begging, yes -- but you'd have to poke out your eyes to do well at it, after you're grown. Most freedmen work for their former masters, as you know, for the freeborn commoners leave mighty slim pickings. They resent an ex-slave; they won't work with him."
"Don't worry, Pop. I'll get by."
"I do worry. Now you listen. I'm going to arrange to sell you to a man I know, who will ship you away from here. Not a slave ship, just a ship. But instead of shipping you where the bill of lading reads, you'll --"
"No!"
"Hold your tongue. You'll be dropped on a planet where slavery is against the law
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