Rigg rolled his eyes. “That’s different.”

“It’s the same,” said Ram Odin, “under different names. They are both owned by the same master. In Ramfold, they would both work for the same employer. But both would be terrified of losing their position.”

“In Ramfold, the owner of the factory can’t divorce a man from his wife because he complains about her snoring.”

“But in Ramfold,” Ram Odin said mildly, “the owner would demand that he explain why he’s sleeping during the hours he’s paying him to work. If he doesn’t fire him out of hand, he’ll demand that the manager find a way to sleep or quit his job. So the manager is right where this overseer is—does he act to protect his wife from her apnea? What good will it do her if he loses his position and can’t get a good recommendation? They’ll lose everything. Out on the street. Disaster. In all likelihood, reduced to poverty and—”

“I get the point. But it still doesn’t help me figure out what to do.”

“I think you should let me sit with the wife tonight. Let him sleep in my quarters. I’ll have the ship listen to her breathing and evaluate her medically and tell me whether the apnea is life-threatening.”

Rigg looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“Apnea. Stopping breathing from time to time. It affects a lot of people but very, very few die of it. If we can tell him that she’s not going to die, he can go sleep in the children’s room.”

“Oh,” said Rigg.

“And if she really is in danger, then we tell the owner that the overseer is torn between protecting his property—the wife—and managing the factory.”

“The owner will still make them divorce,” said Rigg.

“Not if you forbid him to do that,” said Ram Odin. “Remember, the owner is also a slave, and his owner is owned by someone who is owned by the Lord of Walls.”

“I really hate Gathuurifold.”

“No, you’re just barely coming to understand it, that’s all. You’ll find that people are still people and find a way to carve out a life for themselves within whatever rules their culture imposes on them. This master’s rules about marriage are actually derived from his religion—the ship was telling me this while you were listening to the overseer. It’s a very practical religion, not a lot of ritual but plenty of rules of life and most of them make sense. But as with all rule sets, there are unintended consequences. Like the women who have six babies so they don’t have to leave their husbands.”

“You’re saying that the whole wallfold doesn’t have that rule.”

“Most people who practice the religion don’t actually follow that rule. My guess is that rather than obey you about not forcing a divorce on them, the owner will sell the factory to someone else.”

“Come on,” said Rigg. “Sell a factory because your overseer’s wife snores and the Wallman said you couldn’t split them up?”

“Remember that the factory’s in a bit of a mess. Broken equipment. Badly managed.”

“So the new owner will get rid of the overseer.”

“Probably sell him,” said Ram Odin. “He shouldn’t be in this line of work anyway. He’s a terrible manager.”

“Only because he doesn’t sleep at night!”

“Oh, Rigg, please. It would take him ten minutes to listen to the woman’s complaint and send for the repairman. He hates his job. Probably never asked for it. So yes, he’s desperate for sleep, but he’s also desperate not to do his job.”

“How do you know that?” asked Rigg.

“Experience, my lad,” said Ram Odin. “I’ve known plenty of managers like that. They hate their job, they hate their lives. If I owned the man, I’d make some effort to find out what he actually likes to do, and then find a way to let him earn his keep by doing it. But then, I’m probably too soft to be a really effective slaveowner.”

“You? Soft?” Rigg shook his head. “I know you better than that.”

Ram Odin didn’t argue. “Do you agree that I should offer to sit up with the wife tonight and listen to her breathe?”

“Don’t you need your sleep?” asked Rigg. “If you fall asleep during tomorrow’s conversations, I’ll have to sell you to somebody else.”

“Did you notice something else?” asked Ram Odin. “Something personal about their response to you?”

“Yes,” said Rigg. “Nobody looks away from my face. I’m apparently much prettier here.”

“You’re a Wallman,” said Ram Odin. “Power and authority make any man handsome.”

“I liked being a Finder of Lost Things much better.”

Rigg went ahead and held the next conversation. He put in a full day and was exhausted by suppertime. He and Ram Odin ate a pretty good meal, considering that slaves normally didn’t have much choice about what they ate, so the culinary arts had no financial incentive to improve.

At breakfast, Ram Odin looked perfectly well rested. “She’s not in danger at all,” said Ram Odin. “Half an hour in, the ship gave me a full prognosis, and I went in to where the poor fellow was busily trying to sleep in the room with his two boys. I took him into the hall, told him the good news. Of course, I had to phrase it as your decision based on my medical expertise—that’s part of the reason you bring me along. Just in case anyone asks.”

“Now you’re a doctor.”

“I have been a doctor, more or less, when I started up the colony in Odinfold. Of course, with the ship’s equipment, anybody could be a doctor.”

“He believed you?”

“I didn’t leave till he was really asleep in the boys’ room.”

“Now if the wife dies of a heart attack . . .”

“He can’t complain,” said Ram Odin. “He’s a slave. And we did nothing wrong, because we had the best available medical advice. Did you have a better plan?”

“I had no plan at all,” said Rigg.

“So what are you thinking? How you ought to shut down the Wall and bring the rampaging Sessamoto legions to do away with this whole repulsive system?”

“Bad as this system is,” said Rigg, “I know enough about ­history—and about the Sessamids—to be skeptical about bringing about any actual improvement. As you pointed out, the system is no worse than the people running it, which is you.”

“Indirectly,” said Ram Odin.

“And there’s a serious danger of the Sessamids liking the idea of universal slavery and importing it to Ramfold.”

Ram Odin chuckled. “I hadn’t thought of that. They’d fail, but they’d be envious of the idea of owning everybody.”

“I think what matters here is that they’ve accommodated slavery to human proportions. They’ve adapted it so people can bear to live with it.”

Ram Odin gestured for him to go on.

“Slaves owning property, including other slaves. That means that nobody’s a pure owner—they’re all accountable to somebody above them. With the Lord of Walls and the Wallmen as a court of last appeal. It’s a check on the power of ownership.”

“But it’s still ownership,” said Ram Odin.

“Yes. People have surrendered a huge amount of personal choice. But not economic choice. They still decide what to spend their money on.”

“That’s why there’s still an economy,” said Ram Odin. “Very good.”

“Economic freedom means that relative prosperity is still ­possible—even for the slaves at the bottom of the ownership heap. They can aspire. And slavery itself appeals to people who don’t want the risks of freedom. If their lives go bad, there’s always someone else to blame. They don’t have to think and decide and bear the consequences of their own choices.”

“Very good,” said Ram Odin. “I think of slavery in Gathuurifold as a kind of climax feudalism. As feudalism was supposed to work but never did. And this system did not work well when there was a small ownership class and bribery was rampant. Corruption sapped all prosperity out of the system and the owners did what they wanted, spreading misery and havoc.”

“But that would have led to revolution, eventually,” said Rigg. “A revolution that you eliminated by instituting this benign Lord of Walls.”