"Keep hold of her wrist!" Priscilla cried.
But Tamis had vanished!
VIII
The delivery truck resembled a dog catcher's wagon as it rolled up behind the governor's palace. It was Joel's first glimpse of Priscilla's home—a towering plastic structure in the style of the symbolists.
After the girl had bought him, guards had whisked him from the slave block. He'd been hauled through the streets like a wild beast.
Joel was led inside an office where the major-domo, a tall, tremendously fat man in a white slave tunic, signed the receipt for him. Alpha Centauri A had set. An angry orange light streamed through the windows from Alpha Centauri B.
The major-domo grunted, heaved himself to his feet. He was staring fixedly at Joel's arm.
Joel glanced down. The tattoo mark was fluorescing a vivid green!
"So!" said the major-domo.