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Kajira of Gor coc-19

Page 42

by John Norman


  “Yes,” he said.

  “I am not the Tatrix of Corcyrus,” I said.

  “I am sure you are not,” he said. “I have been a dupe and a fool, as I am sure so, too, have been many of us.”

  “Where is Ligurious?” I asked, frightened.

  “He is with his cronies from Corcyrus, those pretending to be envoys from Turia,” he said.

  “Fortunately they did not see me. I recognized them, of course. Indeed, I have been keeping a close eye on Ligurious ever since I discovered he was in the palace. I saw him, for example, enter the throne room, and saw you enter later. I then, later, saw him leaving the throne room with the other woman, she whom, after he left his quarters, I took the liberty of replacing in the sack where she belongs. He was in his banquet robes when he left his quarters. Accordingly I do not think he will discover her new whereabouts until the sack is opened.”

  “It is intended,” I said, “that the cohorts of Ligurious detain Hassan, and prevent him from attending the banquet.”

  “Hassan, I am sure,” said Drusus Rencius, “can take care of himself.”

  I looked at him, wildly.

  “Stand,” he said.

  I did so.

  “I believe this is yours,” said Drusus Rencius, lifting skimpy tunic which, doubtless but shortly before, he had removed from Sheila, probably binding and gagging her.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “Put it on,” he said, throwing it against my body.

  I caught it. “Yes, Master,” I said. In a moment I was in it. It does not take long to don such a garment. I adjusted it on my body. Then I straightened up. I saw I was being inspected, as a slave.

  “Turn, slowly,” he said.

  I did so, displaying as well as I could one of the properties of Miles of Argentum.

  “Have you been named?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “‘Sheila,’ Master,” I said.

  He smiled. “That would seem appropriate,” he said, “at least from the point of view of Miles of Argentum. That too, incidentally, is the name of the slave in the sack. It was put on her in Ar by her master, Hassan, the Slave Hunter.”

  I nodded. I had not known that. He could have named her anything, of course. Daphne, Jean, Wanda, Marjorie, Tarsk Nose, Excrement, whatever he pleased. It had apparently amused him, however, perhaps as an irony, to put her name back on her, this time, of course, as a mere cognomon in bondage, a convenience by means of which to refer to the animal she now was, a slave name.

  “You are very pretty, Sheila,” he said.

  “Thank you, Master,” I said. That was my current slave name.

  “The other Sheila, too, is very pretty,” he said. “It will interesting, tonight, to compare you, when you are both naked and in chains, side by side, presented to Claudius and the high council.”

  “Doubtless, Master,” I said. In such a situation, men might, I supposed, make their appraisals and determinations under almost ideal conditions. The conditions would be almost as favorable as those of a slave market. We might even be measured and posed. When I was exhibited before him this fashion it was my hope that Drusus Rencius would like what he saw.

  He held me by the upper arms and looked down, into my eyes. “It is a long time since Corcyrus,” he said.

  “Yes, my master,” I said.

  His hands tightened, mercilessly, on my arms.

  “Forgive me, Master,” I said. “I meant, ‘Yes, Master’!” The expression ‘my master’ is not an uncommon one among Gorean slave girls but it is almost invariably reserved for use with a legal master. How naturally and inadvertently it had slipped out in my response to him. But I was not his slave. I was another man’s slave!

  “You are clever,” he said.

  I looked at him with tears in my eyes.

  “Perhaps you are the Tatrix of Corcyrus,” he mused. “Could it be?”

  “No, Master,” I said. “No!”

  “It is a long time since you tortured me as a free man,” he said.

  “Forgive me, Master,” I begged.

  “Doubtless you have been less successful at that sort of thing since being collared.”

  “Yes, Master,” I sobbed. I was now a slave.

  He spun me about, rudely, and thrust me towards the door. “What are you going to do with me?” I sobbed.

  “I will see that you safely reach the slave quarters of your master, Miles of Argentum,” he said.

  “I was not the Tatrix of Corcyrus!” I said.

  “Tonight,” said he, grimly, “a determination will be made on that matter.”

  “Yes, Master,” I sobbed.

  Chapter 33 - THE INQUIRY; THE OUTCOME OF THE INQUIRY; I AM THE SLAVE OF MILES OF ARGENTUM

  The dancers had now scurried away with a jangle of bells. The musicians were quiet. The floor, between the tables was cleared. The feast slaves had drawn back, behind the tables. At these tables were Claudius, the Ubar of Argentum, and members of the high council.

  There were numerous other dignitaries there, as well, both from Argentum and from other cities. Miles of Argentum was there, and Drusus Rencius, and Ligurious. Interestingly enough, Aemilianus of Ar, who had once been my master, was there, and Publius, who had been the house master in the house of Kliomenes, in Corcyrus. Hassan, the Slave Hunter, I noted, however, was not present.

  Toward the back of the room, at one of the lesser tables, there was a hooded guest, a medium-sized man. I did not know who it might be. It was much too small to be Hassan.

  I was naked, in slave chains, behind a beaded curtain. I would be produced when Miles of Argentum, my master, wished it. Because of my proximity to the narrow, linear spaces between the beading, I had little difficulty in seeing well into the hall. The guests, on the other hand, given the closeness of the beading and their greater distance from it, could detect my presence there only with difficulty, and, even then, presumably, they would be able to tell little other than the fact the individual there, as might be discerned from the vaguely detectable form, was a stripped or scantily clad female, probably a slave.

  “It is now time,” said Claudius, the Ubar of Argentum, “to come to the major business of the evening. Let the golden sack be brought forth.”

  Two soldiers, from a side room, dragged the golden sack across the floor and put it before the center table, that table where sat Claudius, the members of the high council and other significant guests. At this table, too, sat Ligurious, Miles of Argentum and Drusus Rencius.

  “This feast,” said Claudius, “is one of victory, one of triumph. Months ago the unprovoked aggression of Corcyrus, seeking the silver of Argentum, was repelled. Further, to ensure our security, and to prevent a repetition of this form of aggression, we fought our way to, and through, the gate of Corcyrus itself. There, abetted by the people of that city, we defeated the forces of the Tatrix of Corcyrus and overthrew her tyrannous regime.”

  There was Gorean applause at this point; the striking of the left shoulder with the palm of the hand. Even Ligurious, I noted, politely joined in the applause. “The ties of Corcyrus with Cos have now been severed,” said Claudius. “She, now, like Argentum, is a free ally of glorious Ar.”

  Here there was more applause.

  “And fortunate is this for her,” said Claudius, “for Ar, as she has demonstrated, stands by her allies!”

  Again there was applause.

  “As her allies stand by her!” he added. There was more applause.

  Ar, of course, had substantial land forces. She had, doubtless, the largest and best-trained infantry in known Gor. The land forces of Cos, on the other hand, were probably not superior to those of a number of Gorean city states, even much smaller in their populations than the island Ubarate. These balances tended to be reversed dramatically in sea power. Cos had one of the most powerful fleets on Gor. The sea power of Ar, on the other hand, was negligable. It consisted largely of a number of ships
on the Vosk river, largely wharfed at Ar’s Station.

  “The villainess in this matter, the culprit, the instigator of all these hostilities, was Sheila, the cruel and wicked Tatrix of Corcyrus.”

  “Yes, yes!” cried several men.

  “She was captured in Corcyrus but, en route to Argentum escaped. A great search was organized and conducted. A handsome reward was posted. Still, for months she eluded us. Then Hassan, the Slave Hunter, he of Kasra, consented to take up her trail. Her days of freedom were then numbered. In Ar, not two weeks ago, she fell to his bracelets.”

  There was applause.

  “He then saw fit to bring her to us in his own inimitable fashion, in a wagon, like a common girl, tied naked in a slave sack.”

  There was laughter. “This time,” laughed Claudius, “she did not escape!” There was more laughter. I saw Ligurious smile.

  “It is now time,” said Claudius, “to have Sheila, the former Tatrix of Corcyrus, presented before her conquerors, to await their pleasure!”

  There was applause.

  “Ligurious,” said Claudius, turning to him.

  Ligurious rose, and walked about the table, to stand before it, and near the sack.

  “Many of you know me,” said Ligurious, “if only by reputation, as the former first minister of Corcyrus. What many of you may not know is that I was also the secret leader of the resistance in Corcyrus to the rule of Sheila, the Tatrix. For months within her very government I strove to dissuade her from endeavors hostile to the great state of Argentum. I attempted to assert a persistent influence in the directions of harmony and peace. Alas, my efforts were frustrated, my counsels were ignored. The best that I could hope for was to prepare the way for the victorious forces of Argentum, which I managed to do. You may recall the ease with which you took the city, once the great gate was breached.”

  Drusus Rencius was smiling.

  “In this time, of course, I was often in close converse with the Tatrix. In my efforts to convince her of the futility and madness of her policies I was in almost constant proximity to her. I think it may well he said that there is no man on Gor better qualified than I to recognize her, or to identify her for you.”

  “Thank you, noble Ligurious,” said Claudius. “Now,” said he, “let Sheila’s captor, the noble Hassan, of Kasra, have the honor of presenting her before us, that she may await our pleasure.” It was quiet. Men looked about. “Where is Hassan?” asked Claudius.

  “He is not here,” said a man.

  Ligurious looked down, smiling.

  Claudius shrugged. “He is perhaps indisposed,” he said. “Let the sack be opened!”

  Ligurious looked about himself, pleased. He scarcely bothered to note the opening of the sack, and the drawing forth of its helpless, gagged, bound, stripped occupant. She was knelt then, bound hand and foot, naked and gagged, before Claudius and the council.

  Ligurious looked about. “Yes,” he said, “I know her well. There is no doubt about it.” He pointed at the kneeling figure, dramatically, but scarcely looking at her, directing his attention more to the audience. “Yes,” he said, “that is she! That is the infamous Tatrix of Corcyrus!”

  She uttered wild, tiny, desperate, muted sounds, shaking her head wildly. How well Goreans gag their prisoners and slaves, I thought.

  “Do not attempt to deny it, Sheila,” said he, scarcely noting her. “You have been perfectly and definitively identified.”

  She continued to make tiny, desperate, pleading noises. She continued to shake her head, wildly.

  Tears flowed from her eyes.

  Ligurious then, perhaps curious, regarded her closely. Even then, for a time, I do not think he recognized her. I think this was because of our very close resemblance, and, too, perhaps, because he found it almost impossible to believe that I was not the woman who had been drawn forth from the sack, who now knelt helplessly before Claudius and the council. Then, suddenly, he turned white. “Wait!” he cried. He crouched down, then, and took the woman’s head in his hands. Her eyes looked at him wildly, filled with tears. “No!” he cried, suddenly. “No! This is not she!”

  “I thought,” said Claudius, “that you identified her as Sheila, perfectly and definitively.”

  “No, no!” said Ligurious. He was shaking. There was sweat on his forehead. “I made a mistake! This is not she!”

  “Then where is she?” asked Claudius, angrily.

  “I do not know!” said Ligurious, looking wildly about.

  “Hassan, of Kasra!” called the feast master, from near the door, announcing the arrival of Hassan in the hall.

  “I am sorry I am late,” said Hassan. “I was temporarily retained. I was attacked by two men. They are now outside my quarters, where I put them, tied back to back. Their arms and legs are broken.”

  “See that the assailants of Hassan are taken into custody and attended to,” said Claudius.

  “Yes, Ubar,” said two soldiers, and swiftly left the room.

  I saw Sheila, at the appearance of Hassan in the hall, immediately put her head down to the tiles. Hassan trained his women perfectly.

  “Is this the woman you captured in Ar?” asked Claudius pointing to Sheila.

  Hassan walked over to her, pulled her head up by the hair and then, holding her by the arms, put her to her belly, and then turned her from one side to the other, examining her body for tiny marks.

  “Yes,” he said, “this is she.”

  The Gorean master commonly knows the bodies of his women. They are, after all, not independent contractual partners, who may simply walk away, but treasured possessions. They receive, accordingly, careful attention. Many women, indeed, are never truly looked at by a man until after they are owned.

  He then put Sheila again on her knees before the council.

  “Do you believe her to be the Tatrix of Corcyrus?” asked Claudius.

  “I believe that she was the Tatrix of Corcyrus,” said Hassan, “yes.”

  “He has never seen her!” shouted Ligurious.

  “She was identified by sleen,” said Hassan.

  “But from false clothing!” cried Ligurious. “She is not the true Tatrix of Corcyrus! But the true Tatrix of Corcyrus is here, somewhere! I am sure of it!”

  “How do you know?” asked Claudius.

  Ligurious looked down, confused. He could not very well inform the assemblage of the exchange he had attempted to effect earlier in the throne room. “I have seen her here in the palace, somewhere about,” he said quickly. “It was she whom I thought was to be withdrawn from the sack.”

  “My Ubar,” said Miles of Argentum, rising to his feet, “reluctant as I am to agree with the former first minister of Corcyrus, and doubtless one of the finest liars on Gor, I think it not impossible that he may have seen Sheila about in the palace, perhaps on her hands and knees scrubbing tiles in a corridor, the type of task to which it has amused me to set her.”

  Men looked about, wildly, at one another.

  “With your permission, my Ubar,” said Miles of Argentum. Then, suddenly, sharply, he struck his hands together twice. “Sheila!” he snapped. Forth!”

  Startled, frightened, I parted the beaded curtain with my chained hands and, with the small, measured, graceful steps of a woman whose ankles are chained, hurried to him. I knelt on the tiles before the table, before his place, my head down.

  “Lift your head,” he said.

  I heard cries of astonishment.

  “Go, kneel beside the other woman,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “There,” cried Ligurious in triumph, “that is the true Sheila, the true Tatrix of Corcyrus!”

  “Do you not think you should examine her somewhat more closely?” asked Drusus Rencius.

  Ligurious threw him a look of hatred and then came closer to me. He made a pretense of subjecting me to careful scrutiny. Then he said, “Yes, that is the true Sheila.”

  “Let them be identically chained,” said Claudius.
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  Miles of Argentum gestured to an officer. He had apparently anticipated this request.

  In moments Sheila, freed of the gag and cords, wore chains. We now knelt naked and identically chained, side by side, before Claudius, the Ubar of Argentum. Each of us had our wrists separated by some eighteen inches of chain. Each of us, too, had our ankles separated by a similar length of chain, only a little longer. Another chain, on each of us, ran from the center of our wrist chain to the center of our ankle chain. This central, or middle, chain was about three and a half feet in length.

  “It is a remarkable resemblance,” said Claudius, wonderingly.

  “They could be twins,” said a man.

  “You can tell them apart,” said a man. “One has shorter hair.”

  “That is not important,” said another.

  “There are other differences, too,” said a man, “subtle differences, but real differences.”

  “Yes,” said the man, “I see them now.” That was he who had suggested that we might be twins.

  Had we been twins we, at least, would not have been identical twins. Fraternal twins, separate egg twins, two boys, two girls, or a boy and a girl, are not likely to resemble one another any more closely than normal siblings, except, of course, in age.

  “If you did not see them together, however,” said a man, “it would be extremely difficult to tell them apart.”

  “Yes,” said another.

  “I submit, my Ubar,” said Miles of Argentum, “that the woman on your left, she with the shorter hair, is she before whom I appeared in Corcyrus, when I brought, at your request, the scrolls of protest to that city.”

  “Are you certain?” asked Claudius.

  “Yes,” said Ligurious. “That is true. She is Sheila, the former Tatrix of Corcyrus.”

  “That is not the one whom the sleen selected,” said Hassan.

  “I have witnesses who will identify her,” said Miles. “I myself am the first such witness. She is Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus.”

  “How do you know?” asked Drusus Rencius, rising to his feet.

  I was startled. How dared he speak?

  “The captain from Ar is out of order,” said Claudius.

 

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