Rigg saw at once that the man was blustering to hide some kind of shame. There was something he didn’t want to get caught at. At first Rigg thought it might be that the man was unkind to many other servants, and only this one had the courage to come forward. But it would actually be strangely to his credit if he was equally rude to everyone, instead of singling this one out.

“If you don’t mind sitting here for a moment,” said Rigg, “I’d like to think about something.”

“No, no, I don’t mind,” said the overseer, because what else could he say to a Wallman?

Rigg kept his eyes calmly fixed on the overseer’s face, but in fact his attention was directed elsewhere. He followed the overseer’s path backward in time. The little factory that he managed was only half a kilometer away, and Rigg studied his pattern of movement through the past day. Two days. Three.

“You’re not a very hardworking man,” said Rigg. It had taken him only about a minute to do this examination, because the facemask made everything go so much more quickly.

“I work as hard as I should!”

“It seems to me that you hardly visit the factory floor.”

“What did she say about me!” the man said, outraged. “That’s not her business. She doesn’t own me, the master gave me charge over her.”

Rigg felt Ram Odin’s touch on his forearm. So instead of answering, he smiled and turned to Ram.

“My friend,” said Ram Odin, “do you think that Wallman Rigg came here without first inquiring of the Lord of Walls whether he had any concerns?”

The man settled down at once. “She only has a right to complain about how I treat her,” he muttered.

“Do you think Wallman Rigg doesn’t know that?” asked Ram Odin. “He knows what he knows—that slave only complained about your rudeness.”

“You’re not a hardworking man,” said Rigg. “You walk through the factory in the morning when you arrive—but work has already been going on for some time. If anyone tries to ask you anything or tell you anything, you brush them aside. Too busy for their problems, is that it?”

“They should do their work and not bother me with endless nothing.”

“But the slave who complained—she insisted, didn’t she? She came to your door and knocked.”

“My door is always unlocked.”

“But your rudeness is the same as a lock—designed to teach people to leave you alone. She complained that the equipment kept breaking, and some of it couldn’t be repaired. Three spinners are idle all the time, because their wheels don’t work.”

“Then they should call for the repairman!”

“He doesn’t answer to them, though, does he? When they send for him, he doesn’t come, because it isn’t you sending for him.”

The man opened his mouth to say something, then looked furtively away. He had been about to lie. “I didn’t realize it was so serious. You’re right, I should have summoned the repairman myself.”

“There are a lot of things you should have done yourself,” said Rigg. “What do you do, alone in your office, since you aren’t doing any of your work for the factory?”

The overseer seemed as if he wanted to protest, but again, he shied away from a quibbling lie. “I sleep,” he said.

“I know,” said Rigg. “Why don’t you sleep at home?”

The man leaned his elbows on the table, put his head in his hands, and began to weep.

“You walk up and down in your rooms. Your children are asleep—why aren’t you?”

The man finally mastered himself enough to speak. “She’s a good woman, my wife. My master chose very well for me.”

“I’m sure he did,” said Rigg. “Yet something keeps you from sleeping.”

The overseer leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes and rocking his head back as if he were looking for something on the ceiling. “She snores,” he said at last.

Rigg did not laugh. The man’s misery was so sincere that Rigg did not want to make light of it. And this much he knew was true: He was getting no sleep at night.

“Tell me about her snoring.”

“Great ronking snores, sir. As if she were calling to geese to come back from their migration. As if she were sawing through great trees. And then in mid-snore, she stops. Stops breathing. And I wait. Because if she doesn’t start soon I have to waken her. Then she starts, and the noise is horrible. If she’s breathing I can’t sleep, if she’s not breathing I can’t sleep.”

“Yet you’ve said nothing to anyone.”

“Because I know how my master will solve the problem,” the man said. “I’m not complaining, he’s a fair master, but he goes straight to the obvious solution.”

“Separate bedrooms so you can sleep?”

“That would be such a bad example!” he said. “If he gives me a separate bedroom because of snoring, every woman he owns will be asking for a separate bedroom because her husband snores. Too expensive.”

“And I think you don’t want to tell anyone about your wife for fear of shaming her.”

“I love her,” said the man. “My master would split us up if he knew.”

“Split you up?”

“She already has three children, which my master thinks is enough for any of his women. But not for his best men. He’ll give me to another woman who doesn’t snore, and put her in my wife’s place. Everyone will be taken care of, but he can’t have me become . . . an unproductive male. His policy is that his best men should make six babies.”

“That seems a little imbalanced,” said Rigg.

Ram Odin touched his arm.

“Not said as a criticism, just as an observation,” said Rigg.

“It’s actually very sensible,” said the overseer. “Women put their lives at risk with every baby they have. Each one weakens them. But a man puts nothing at risk. It’s good to have a father to help with the little ones, good to have a marriage where people care for each other. But when a woman wants to stop, any time after three, he lets them move out right away. Just like that.”

“Divorce at the wife’s option,” said Rigg.

“Most women that love their husband, they stay out the six,” said the overseer. “But some die, just as the master fears. His policy is a wise one.”

“So if you complain to him about the snoring, he’ll assume that you want a divorce.”

“He won’t care what I want, sir,” said the overseer. “Why should he?”

Rigg curbed his anger at this foolish system. “Why doesn’t her snoring keep the children awake?”

“The doors are good and solid, sir,” said the overseer. “And they sleep like babies, because they are. They had that snoring the whole time they were in the womb, sir.”

“And you don’t really want to sleep in a separate room because of the times she stops breathing.”

“I don’t want her to die, sir,” and he burst into tears again.

“My first decision,” said Rigg, “is that you must go immediately into the room where that spinner is waiting.”

“But she’ll see me like this,” he said.

“I want her to,” said Rigg. “Don’t you see that she’ll think I must have rebuked you severely, to reduce you to tears? That may satisfy her completely, don’t you think? Don’t show her your tears. Try to conceal them. She’ll see. Now go.”

The man got up at once and went through the door that led to the room where the woman was waiting.

“So you start with the illusion of having punished him,” said Ram Odin.

“I don’t have any idea what to do.”

“One thing you’ve done is quite remarkable,” said Ram Odin. “You got to the heart of the matter. The woman is going to feel remorseful for having made the overseer weep. It’s obvious she only complained about his rudeness because the factory is falling apart and she only has a right to complain about how he treats her.”

“I know that,” said Rigg. “This is a terrible system, you know?”

“Because in Ramfold, free workers and free managers are never in a situation where the employees are terrified to complain to the owner about how the manager is doing his job?”