"Just bad luck," Lysla told him. "A few months ago I was on top of the world, in New York. I've no parents. My father left me a trust fund, but it ran out unexpectedly. Bad investments, I suppose. So I found myself broke and needed a job. There weren't any jobs for unskilled labor, except a secretarial position in Venus Landing. I was lucky to get that."
"You've got nerve," Vanning said.
"It didn't help. The North-Fever hit me, and the next thing I knew, I was ... here. A slave."
"How many Earthmen are there here?"
"About a hundred. Not many are strong enough to reach the pass. And about the same number of Venusian natives."
"How many Swamja?"
"A thousand, more or less," Lysla explained. "Only the highest classes have slaves. Most of the Swamja are trained for the military."
"So? Who the devil do they fight?"
"Nobody. It's a tradition with them—part of their religion. They believe they're gods, and the soldiers serve as the Valkyries did in the Norse Valhalla."
"Two hundred slaves.... What weapons do the Swamja have?"