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intervals
    about its perimeter, about every four or five feet, or so. Beneath these,
    however, there lay - no chains. I fled to the window, which was narrow, about
    fifteen inches in width. It was set with heavy bars, spaced about three inches
    apart, reinforced with thick, flat, steel crosspieces, spaced at about every
    vertical foot. I shook the bars. They did not budge. I hurt my hands. I stood
    there for a moment, the shadows of the bars and crosspieces falling across my
    face and body. Then I fled back to the couch and, fearfully, crawled onto it.
    There seemed something different, frighteningly so, about this place in which I
    now found myself. It seemed almost as though it might not be Earth. This did not
    have to do primarily with the room, and its appointments and furnishings, but
    rather with such things as the condition of my body and the very quality of the
    air I was breathing. I supposed this was the result of the lingering effects of
    the substance with which I had been sedated or drugged. The gravity seemed
    different, subtly so, from that of Earth. Too, my entire body felt alive and
    charged with oxygen. The air itself seemed vivifying and stimulating. These
    things, which appeared to be objective aspects of the environment were doubtless
    merely subjective illusions on my part, resulting from the drug or sedative.
    They had to be. The obviously suggested alternative would be just too
    unthinkable, just too absurd. I hoped I had not gone mad.
    I sat on the bed, my chin on my knees. I became aware that I was very hungry.
    One thing, at least, assured me that I had not gone mad.
    That thing supplied a solid reference point in this seemingly incredible
    transition between environments. It had been locked on me in my own kitchen. It
    was a steel anklet. I still wore it.
    I looked over to one of the mirrors. I looked small, sitting on the great bed. I
    was nude. I wondered in whose bed I was.
    I then heard a sound at the door.
    Terrified I knelt on the bed, snatching up a portion of the coverlet on which I
    knelt, and held it tightly, defensively, about me.
    The door opened, admitting a small, exquisite, dark-haired woman. She wore a
    brief, whitish, summery, floral-print tunic, almost diaphanous, with a plunging
    neckline. The print was a tasteful scattering of delicate yellow flowers,
    perhaps silk-screened in place. The garment was belted, and rather snugly, with
    two turns of a narrow, silken, yellow cord, knotted at her left hip. She was
    barefoot. I noted that she did not wear an anklet, such as I wore. There was
    something on her neck, however, something fastened closely about it, encased in
    a silken yellow sheath or sleeve. I did not know what it was. It could not be
    metal, of course. That would be terrifying. I noted that the door, which now
    closed behind her, wag some six inches thick.
    “Oh,” said the girl, softly, startled, seeing me, and knelt.
    She put her head down, and then lifted it. “Forgive me, Mistress,” she said. “I
    did not know whether or not you were yet awake. I did not knock, for fear of
    disturbing you.”
    “What do you want?” I asked.
    “I have come to serve Mistress,” she said. “I have come to see if Mistress
    desires aught.”
    “Who are you?” I asked.
    “Susan,” she said.
    “Susan who?” I asked.
    “Only Susan,” she said.
    “I do not understand,” I said.
    “That is what I have been named,” she said.
    “Named?” I asked.
    “Yes, Mistress,” she said.
    “I am Tiffany,” I said. “Tiffany Collins.”
    “Yes, Mistress,” she said.
    “Where am P” I asked.
    “In the city of Corcyrus,” she said.
    I had never heard of this city. I did not even know what country it was in. I
    did not even know in what continent it might be.
    “In what country is this?” I asked.
    “In the country of Corcyrus,” she said.
    “That is the city,” I said.
    You are then in the dominions of Corcyrus, Mistress,” she said.
    “Where is Corcyrus?” I