by John Norman
That would teach her to be more beautiful than I! Then I thought how absurd that was. It was not Susan’s fault if she were more beautiful than I, or my fault if I might not be, objectively, as beautiful as she. I felt ashamed of my hostility, my jealousy. But Susan’s beauty, I realized, then, was not a matter merely of features and figure, exquisite though these might be. Her beauty had to do more intimately and basically I thought, somehow, with matters which were more psychological and emotional; it had to do, somehow, in its softness and femininity, with the slavery of her. I wondered if I might become more beautiful than I was. I wondered if I might become as beautiful, someday, as the women cited by Miles of Argentum as being so superior to me. I wondered if I might one day be so beautiful that he might see nothing to choose from, between me and them. I wondered if I might not, one day, even be their superior! But then I put such thoughts from my mind. Where was my pride and freedom!
“Let us see,” insisted Ligurious, “what Claudius has sent us.”
“Of course,” said Miles of Argentum. He handed his helmet to one of the men about him. With a great key he unlocked the largest chest. The other chests and coffers, too, by others, were then unlocked.
Ligurious, and I, and the others, leaned forward, to glimpse the contents of these chests and coffers.
“In suit for the favor of Corcyrus, in deference and tribute to Corcyrus, Claudius, Ubar of Argentum,” said Miles of Argentum, “sends this!”
He flung open the great chest, and turned it to its side. The other chests and coffers, by his fellows, were similarly treated.
“Nothing!” cried Ligurious. “There is nothing in them!”
“And that,” said Miles of Argentum, “is what Claudius, Ubar of Argentum, sends to Corcyrus!”
“Insolence!” cried Ligurious. “Insolence!”
Cries of rage broke out from those about me.
Miles put out his hand and his helmet was returned to him. He put it again in the crook of his left arm. His great furred cape, by one of the men behind him, was adjusted on him.
“I now leave Corcyrus,” he said. “When I return, I shall have an army at my back.”
“You have insulted our Tatrix,” said Ligurious.
“Your Tatrix,” said Miles, “belongs in a cage, a golden cage.”
There were further cries of rage from those about me. I did not understand, clearly, the nature of this insult, or the meaning of the reference to a golden cage.
“Here,” said Miles, reaching into a pocket on his belt, “if you of Corcyrus are so eager for the silver of Argentum, I will give you some.” He held up the coin. “This is a silver tarsk of Argentum,” he said. He flung it to the foot of the dais. “I give it to you,” he said. “It is about the worth of your Tatrix, I think, in so far as I am now able to assess her. It is, I think, about what she would bring in a slave market.”
Blades flashed forth from sheaths. I saw Drusus Rencius restrain one man from rushing upon Miles of Argentum. In the small retinue of Miles blades, too, had leapt from sheaths.
“Strip him, and chain him to the slave ring of the Tatrix!” cried a man.
I shuddered. I would be terrified to have such a man chained at my couch. It would be like having a lion there.
Too, I thought, surely it would be more fitting for women, in their softness and beauty, with their dispositions to submit and love, irreservedly and wholly, asking nothing, giving all, holding nothing back from the dominant male, their master, to be chained to a slave ring. This, in its way, is a beautiful symbol of her nature and needs. On the other hand, symbolic considerations aside, it must be noted that the chain is quite real. She is truly chained there.
Miles turned about and, followed by his retinue, left the great hall.
Those about the throne, most of them, began to take their leave.
“Do you think there will be trouble?” I asked Ligurious.
“No,” he said. “Argentum, upon reflection, will think the better of her rash decision. Even Claudius knows that behind us stands the might and weight of Cos.”
“The ambassador, he, Miles, the general of Argentum,” I said, “seemed very firm.”
“He is a hothead,” said Ligurious. “In time, have no fear, when there is a more objective assessment of realities, cooler wisdoms will prevail.”
“I would not like for there to be trouble,” I said.
“Do not worry about it in the least,” said Ligurious. “Put all such matters from your mind. I assure you that there will be no trouble whatsoever. You have my word on it.”
“You relieve my mind,” I said. “I take great comfort in your words.”
“What did you think of Miles of Argentum?” asked Ligurious.
“I thought he seemed very strong, and handsome,” I said.
“I see,” smiled Ligurious. “Incidentally,” he said, “would you like for me to have Susan whipped for you?”
“Why?” I asked. At the words of Ligurious there was a small sound from the chain of Susan. She shrank back, cowering beside the throne.
“Surely you saw her,” said Ligurious, “when she knew herself to be under the gaze of the sleen from Argentum. She was dripping to the tiles before him. Forgive me. I did not I mean to offend your sensibilities.”
“She is only a slave,” I said, lightly. Surely I could not admit to Ligurious that I, too, had been made uneasy by the presence of the ambassador from Argentum.
“True,” laughed Ligurious. “I must take my leave now. Drusus Rencius will see you to your quarters.”
I nodded, permitting Ligurious to take his leave.
“Thank you, Mistress,” said Susan to me, kneeling beside the throne, “for not having me whipped.”
“Is it true,” I asked her, “that you might possibly have experienced feelings of a sexual nature before Miles of Argentum?”
“I cannot help myself, Mistress,” she said. “Before such a man I begin to secrete the oils of submission.”
“The oils of submission?” I said.
“Yes, Mistress,” she said.
“I have never heard them called that,” I said.
“It is what they are,” she said, “at least in a slave.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Does Lady Sheila wish to return to her quarters now?” inquired Drusus Rencius.
“What of the treasures here,” I asked, “and Susan, and the other slaves chained here?”
“Scribes from the treasure rooms will be along shortly,” he said, “to gather in and account for the cloths and coins. The palace slave master will be along later, too, to release the girls and put them back about their more customary duties.”
I then began to precede Drusus Rencius to my quarters.
“Miles of Argentum is an arrogant knave, isn’t he?” I asked Drusus.
“So it would seem, Lady,” said Drusus.
I remembered the sight of the silver tarsk from Argentum, in the hand of Miles of Argentum, and the way it had looked, on the soft carpeting of the dais, on one of the broad steps leading up to the throne.
“Do you think,” I asked, lightly, “that I might bring a silver tarsk in a slave market?”
“It would be difficult to say, without assessing Lady Sheila naked,” he said.
“Oh,” I said.
“Does Lady Sheila wish me to assess her naked in her quarters?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “No, of course not!”
We continued to walk along the carpeted, ornamented corridors toward my quarters.
“But, from what you know of me,” I said, “do you think that I might bring a silver tarsk?”
“As a Tatrix,” he asked, “or only as another woman in the market, another mere female, up for vending, one about whom there is nothing politically or socially special, one who, like most others, will be priced and sold only on her own merits?”
“Like that,” I said, “one whose price is determined merely by what she is, and nothing else.”
“Are you serious?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, “as one whose value is determined only by herself.”
“I would think, then,” he said, “the price would be too high.”
“Oh?” I said, angrily. “And what do you think I would go for?”
“Lady Sheila must remember,” said Drusus Rencius, “that even if she might prove to be quite lovely, she is still untrained.”
“Untrained!” I cried.
“Yes,” he said.
“You speak as if slaves were mere animals!” I said.
“They are,” he said.
I turned to face him, angrily. “And if I were such an animal, and for sale, what do you think I would bring?” I asked.
“May I speak with impunity?” he inquired, smiling.
“Yes,” I said, “of course!”
“My remarks,” he said, “will be based on the hypothesis that Lady Sheila’s figure is acceptable, that her curvatures fall within suitable slave tolerances.”
I looked at him.
“Am I entitled to assume this?” he asked.
“I suppose so,” I said. I had no idea what these tolerances might be. I did regard myself as being rather pretty.
“We shall further assume,” he said, “that Lady Sheila’s figure is not merely acceptable, but quite lovely. This, I think, from what I know of her, would be a fair assumption. In any event, it will enhance the speculation.”
“Very well,” I said.
“Your face, for example,” he said, “is quite delicate and lovely. If your body matches it, I think you would clearly have the makings of a superb slave.”
“Proceed,” I said. It pleased me to have received this compliment from Drusus Rencius. Too, I had little doubt but what my body, which is slender and lovely, and not overly developed, well matched my face. Surely I would bring a high price.
“Let us, further assume,” he said, “that your beauty had been enhanced considerably, by being branded and collared.”
“Very well,” I said. I was beautiful. I would bring a high price indeed!
“Even so,” he said, “you have had no previous owners, as I understand it.”
“That is correct,” I said.
“Having been unowned,” he said, “it seems natural, then, to assume that you are inexperienced and untrained.”
“Yes,” I said.
“And there are many beautiful women,” he said. “There is no dearth of them in the slave markets.”
“And what, then,” I asked, “do you think I would bring?”
He looked at me, smiling.
“What?” I asked.
“I would think,” he said, “that you would bring somewhere between fifteen and twenty copper tarsks.”
“Copper tarsks!” I cried.
“Yes,” he said.
“Beast!” I cried. “Beast!”
“But remember,” he said, smiling, “it is slaves who are assessed and have prices. Free women are priceless.”
“Yes,” I said, somewhat mollified, stepping back. “Yes!” I must remember that I was priceless. I was a free woman.
“Shall we continue on to your quarters?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, and then, turning about, once more preceded him down the corridor toward my quarters.
I had had matters out with Ligurious earlier, about such things as the barring on my door. My door, now, was no longer barred. The guards remained outside but that, of course, was an understandable precaution, one clearly in my own best interests, one pertinent to my personal security. Furthermore I was now free, almost whenever I wished, to go forth from my quarters. The only restriction was that I must be accompanied by my guard, Drusus Rencius.
Chapter 6 - THE SIRIK
“There are places you have not taken me in Corcyrus,” I reminded him.
We stood on the height of the walls of Corcyrus, on a stone riser behind the parapet, which permitted us to look out over the parapet, rather than through its apertures, on the surrounding fields.
“Not all places in Corcyrus,” he said, “are safe, particularly at night, and not all are suitable for the sensibilities of a free woman.”
There was a breeze blowing toward us, over, the wall. It was welcome. I felt it move my veils back against my features. I reveled in its lightness and freshness.
“You should adjust your hood,” said Drusus Rencius.
I had thrust it back, a few moments ago, to better revel in the breeze. To be sure, it was now possible to detect the color of my hair.
Angrily I readjusted the hood. Drusus Rencius was so protective!
He looked about, nervously. Why, I wondered, should be seem so tense or uneasy here?
I could smell the tarns, gigantic, crested saddlebirds, on their perches some hundred feet away, to our right. There were five of them.
“Do not approach them too closely,” I had been warned by him.
“Do not fear,” I had laughed. I had a terror of such things.
But why, then, if he were so wary of them, or fearful for my safety, had he wanted to come to this portion of the wall? It was he who had suggested that we come this close to those fearful monsters.
“I can still see your hair,” said Drusus Rencius.
I drew the hood angrily even more closely about my features. Little more now could be seen of me, as is common with the robes of concealment, but a bit of the bridge of my nose and my eyes. It was five days ago that I had suggested we come to the height of the wall, that I might look out. He had originally been reluctant to bring me here, but then, almost too suddenly, it had seemed to me, had finally agreed. Now, here on the walls, he seemed nervous.
“You are still angry with me,” I said, “about the Kaissa matches.”
“No,” he said.
“They were boring,” I said.
“Centius of Cos was playing,” he said. “He is one of the finest of the players on Gor.” The appearance of a player of the stature of Centius of Cos at the matches in a city such as Corcyrus, I gathered, had to do with the alliances between Cos and Corcyrus. Otherwise it did not seem likely to me that he would have graced so small a tournament with his presence. He had won his games easily with the exception of one, with a quite minor player, which he had seemed to prolong indefinitely, as though attempting to bring about some obscure and particular configuration on the board. Then, apparently failing to achieve this, almost as though wearily, he had brought the game to a conclusion in five moves.
“You are still angry with me,” I said.
“No,” he said.
“Yes, you are,” I said.
He did not respond.
“They were boring,” I said. I had asked to be brought home early.
He did not respond.
The most exciting thing about the matches from my point of view was going in and out of the grounds. There were several slave girls there, just outside the grounds, fastened to various rings and stanchions. They had been chained there, to wait like dogs for the return of their masters.
“After you returned me to my quarters, I wager,” I said, you returned to the matches.”
“Yes,” he said. “I did.”
“And did you get to see your precious Centius of Cos finish his final games?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“Please do not be angry with me, Drusus,” I said.
“I am not angry with you,” he said.
I wondered why I had spoken as I had. I was a Tatrix. Authority was mine, not his. He was only a guard, a mere guard. Yet I did not want him to be angry with me. There was something in me, something deep, I did not know what, that wanted to be pleasing to him.
I continued to look out over the fields. They were lovely.
In a Gorean city it was not difficult for a woman to travel incognito. By the robes of concealment this is made easy. I wore the robes of a woman of high, caste, today the yellow of the Builders. Drusus Rencius wore a nondescript tunic and a swirling maroon cap
e. The only weaponry he carried, that I could detect, was his sword. He might have been any mercenary or armed servant, in attendance on a lady. I was pleased to travel incognito in the city, in this fashion. Otherwise, had I gone abroad in the robes of the Tatrix, we would have been encumbered by guards and crowds; we would have had to travel in a palanquin; we would have been forced to tolerate the annunciatory drums and trumpets, and put up with all the noisy, ostentatious, dreary panoply of office. To be sure I sometimes found such accouterments stimulating and gratifying but I certainly did not want them every time I wished to put my foot outside the palace gate.
I thought I heard a small noise, as of metal, from within the cloak of Drusus Rencius.
He had glanced to our right, to the tarns on their perches.
They were saddled, and their reins were upon them. They were ready for investigatory excursions or, if the randomly selected schedules were appropriate, for routine patrols. The left foot of each tarn, by a spring clasp, which could be opened by hand, and a chain, was fastened to the perch. The birds, thus, for most practical purposes, could be brought to flight almost immediately. Their riders, or tarnsmen, were not in the immediate vicinity, but were, as is common, quite close, in this case in a guard station at the foot of the wall. In a matter of Ihn, given a command or the sounding of an alarm bar, they could be in the saddle.
Drusus Rencius looked back from the tarns. I heard again the small sound of metal from within the cloak.
He looked about, uneasily. This nervousness did not seem typical of him.
“Have you heard aught of the sleen of Argentum?” I asked. It had been several days now since the return of Miles of Argentum to his city.
“No,” said he.
“It is nice of you to bring me here,” I said. “It is a lovely view.”
He said nothing.
“I enjoyed the song drama last night,” I said.
“Good,” said he.
To be sure it had been difficult for me, at my present level in Gorean, to understand all the singing. Too, the amplificatory masks, sometimes used in the larger of the tiered theaters, somewhat distorted the sound. Some of the characters had seemed unnaturally huge. These, I had been informed, wore special costumes; these costumes had expanded shoulders and had exaggerated hemlines, long enough to cover huge platform-like shoes. These characters, thus, were made to appear larger than life. They represented, generally, important personages, such as Ubars and Ubaras.
