by John Norman
“Yes,” he said, “I am also fond of you.”
“May I speak?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“It is a long time since I was brought to Gor with steel on my ankle.”
“Yes,” he said. That band of steel had been removed from me in Corcyrus. It was, I gathered, a device by means of which slavers, or those in league with Beasts, or those opposed to Priest-Kings, marked women brought to Gor for their purposes.
“The major purpose for which I was brought to Gor, I gather,” I said, “was to serve as a precautionary double for Sheila, one who might then, particularly in the event of the failure of your plans, serve to confuse or deceive enemies, one who might, say, divert attention from her true whereabouts, one who might even, perhaps, be caught and sentenced in her place, that she might then make good her escape.”
“Yes,” said Ligurious, “that sort of thing, precisely, and well would you have served such purposes had you not managed to escape from the camp of Argentum.”
“Do you begrudge me my escape, Master?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “for had you not escaped I would still be not as a master to a woman but as, in effect, her slave.”
“If there was a major purpose for which I was brought to Gor,” I said, “then it seems evident, and I think you have stated or implied as much, that there must have been a minor purpose, or purposes, as well.” I recalled I had gathered something of this sort even from the agents I had met on Earth.
“Yes,” he said, “of course, and to understand it, and well, you would need only to regard yourself, and closely, in the mirror. In particular, note the beauty of your face, its intelligence and sensitivity, and your softness and femininity, so different from that of more masculine women, those with larger amounts of male hormones, and the lusciousness of your slave curves. There was indeed a minor purpose for which you were brought to Gor, that purpose which I called to your attention in the throne room, here in Argentum, that purpose which you now, you little she-sleen, obviously wish to hear explicitly reiterated.”
“Oh?” I asked, innocently.
“That purpose for which most women are brought to Gor,” he said.
“And what purpose might that be?” I inquired, innocently.
“That purpose which you now, from your hair to your toes, manifest so perfectly,” he said.
“Oh?” I asked.
“That purpose?” he said. “Is it not obvious? It was to be made a female slave.”
“Yes, Master,” I said, and kissed him.
For a time we lay quietly side by side, not speaking. Each of us, I think, had our thoughts.
“Master,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he said.
“May I speak again?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“Sheila and I have our collars,” I said. “We must go where masters wish, heeding them and doing their bidding. But what of you? Tomorrow you will have your freedom. What will you do? Where will you go?”
“Away,” he said. “I do not really know.” He kissed me, softly, and I kissed him back, gently.
Then he fell asleep.
I lay there for a time. Sheila was owned by Hassan, whom she loved. I, like many women, was owned by Miles of Argentum, whom I admired and respected, and feared, and to whom I could not help but yield helplessly and promptly, but whom I did not love. Tears sprang into my eyes.
Then, after a time, I, too, fell asleep.
Chapter 35 - I AM PROVEN A NATURAL SLAVE BEFORE DRUSUS RENCIUS, WHOM I LOVE; THE SILVER TARSK
“Here,” said Drusus Rencius, angrily, to Publius, of house of Kliomenes.
I jerked the bit of slave silk tightly, defensively, about body, and backed from the soldier.
I could not help responding as I had!
“It is as I told you, long ago, in Corcyrus,” smiled Publius.
“Yes,” said Drusus Rencius. He then placed a silver tarsk in the hand of Publius.
“Do not withdraw, Slave,” said Publius to me.
“Yes, Master,” I said, and knelt on the broad stair leading up to the serving dais in the private dining room in the palace at Argentum.
“It is not wise to wager against a slaver in such matters,” said Publius. “We can tell such matters at a glance.”
“I had thought, then, at least, that she was different,” said Drusus Rencius.
“She is too vital and healthy, and has too strong drives to be different,” said Publius.
I knelt on the broad stair, embarrassed, holding the slave silk about me. On this same stair, and on the floor below, and on the surface of the dais itself, before the long, low, small table, I had been ordered to writhe, to the music. Then I had been ordered to stand, my knees flexed, with my hands clasped behind my neck. Then a soldier had been ordered feel me. I had jerked and almost screamed from his touch.
The man had smelled his hand, and laughed.
“You are right,” had said Drusus Rencius to Publius, “a slave, and a natural one.”
Such things may be told from movements, dispositions, and reflexes.
“Yes,” had said Publius.
I put down my head and stared, angrily, at the carpeting on the stair. I had known for months, of course, that I was a natural slave. It is not hard for a woman to know this. It can be made clear to her in many ways, for example, from dreams and fantasies, and from wishes, desires and needs. It is one thing for a woman to know this, of course, and quite another for her to find it made the subject of a public demonstration.
“You see,” said Publius, “is it not as I told you?”
“Yes,” granted Drusus Rencius, good-naturedly.
I looked down, almost in tears, a proven natural slave. How unworthy I was of Drusus Rencius!
“May I withdraw, Masters?” I asked.
“No,” said Publius. “Continue with your service, Sheila.”
“Yes, Master,” I said, and rose to my feet. In a few moments, again, I was serving the men, bringing them food and drink, seemingly as though nothing had happened.
This matter went back to the time when I was a free woman, and had been taken for a tour to the house of Kliomenes by Drusus Rencius. In Publius’s office he had made the wager, while I knelt in the light to one side. Drusus Rencius had accepted it.
“Cakes, Masters?” I asked, kneeling near them, proffering them the tray.
“Yes,” said Drusus Rencius.
“Yes,” said Publius.
Drusus Rencius and Publius did not have slaves of their own in Argentum. Susan and I had been volunteered by our master, Miles of Argentum, to serve them. With a movement of Publius’s finger, I was dismissed from the side of their table.
I replaced the tray of tiny cakes on the nearby serving table.
Susan then approached the diners. “Black wine, Masters?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Drusus Rencius.
“Yes,” said Publius.
Susan then turned to me and snapped her fingers. “Sheila,” she called.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. I took the vessel of black wine, removing it from its warmer, and put it on its tray, that already bearing the tiny cups, the creams and sugars, the spices, the napkins and spoons. I then carried the tray, with the black wine, hot and steaming, to the table and put it down there. Susan then, as “first slave,” took the orders and did the measuring and mixing; I, as “second slave,” did the pouring. Afterward I returned the tray to the serving table, and the vessel of black wine to its warmer. I then joined Susan, kneeling beside her in the vicinity of the serving table.
“When it comes time to serve the liqueurs,” said Susan, “you will serve those of Cos and Ar, and I will serve those of Turia.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. The liqueurs of Turia are usually regarded as the best, but I think this is largely a matter of taste. Those of Cos and of Ar, and of certain other cities, are surely very fine.
I had little doubt that Drusus Rencius, of Ar, and
Publius, at least once of Ar, would prefer those of their own city. Susan, I suspected, knowing my feelings for Drusus Rencius, was trying to be kind, giving me the liqueur that he was almost certain to choose. On the other hand, did she not know that now I could scarcely bear to face him, that I, only Ehn ago, had been proven before him to be a natural slave!
“You are not a free woman,” whispered Susan. “Suppose the men look this way. Get those knees apart!”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said. Susan was younger and smaller than I but she, having seniority over me among the women of Miles of Argentum, was dominant over me. I must obey her as though she owned me, as though she was my Mistress. In such ways is order kept among slaves. It is in accord with the precisions and perfections of Gorean discipline. But the men did not soon call for their liqueurs. Twice more, rather, talking and sipping, did they call for black wine, and twice more did two slaves, Susan and Sheila, serve it to them. Eventually it grew late, and the musicians were permitted to withdraw.
Still the men drank and talked.
“Why are you crying?” asked Susan.
“It is nothing,” I said. I gasped, and half choked. I held back sobs. I restrained my tears. I wiped my eyes with slave silk.
Before the man I loved I had been stripped to the core. The one thing I had desired most fervently to conceal from him, above all men, had been made clear to him. My secret was revealed. My deepest and most secret self had been casually disrobed and displayed for his consideration. I had been publicly proven, before the man I loved, to be utterly worthless. I had been publicly proven to be a natural slave.
“They are ready for their liqueurs,” whispered Susan.
We then brought them to them, on the two small trays.
“Liqueurs, Masters?” asked Susan.
“Liqueurs, Masters?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Drucius Rencius.
“Yes,” said Publius.
Publius, to my surprise, selected a liqueur of Turia. “Those of Turia are the best,” he said to Drusus Rencius, smiling, almost apologetically.
“Perhaps,” smiled Drusus Rencius, “but I prefer those of Ar.”
“In the judgment of liqueurs,” said Publius, “patriotism is out of place.”
“I have never confused objectivity with municipal pride,” responded Drusus Rencius.
“Perhaps,” said Publius. “But you also thought that this woman was not a natural slave.”
“That is true,” laughed Drusus Rencius.
I looked at the silver tarsk on the table near Publius. It seemed very large and very heavy. It glinted softly in the light. I could see, in the light, a dark, crescent-like shadow on one side about its rim, on the wood. He had not yet placed it in his pouch. He had won it from Drusus Rencius.
“Look at me, Slave,” said Drusus Rencius.
I struggled to lift my head. I met his eyes. Then I lowered my head, ashamed.
“I was wrong about you,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I whispered.
“You are indeed a natural slave,” he said, “and an obvious one.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
I looked again at the coin near Publius. Drusus Rencius had made a wager. He had lost the wager. He had lost the bet.
“You may leave, Slaves,” said Publius.
“Thank you, Master,” said Susan.
“Thank you, Master,” I said. Then I turned and fled from the room, sobbing.
Behind the I heard Publius laughing, a great, roaring laugh. He was well pleased, it seemed. Doubtless he should have been. He had won his bet.
Chapter 36 - IN THE QUARTERS OF MY MASTER
I was thrust, laughing and stumbling, down the hall before Drusus Rencius. I wore nothing but a steel collar locked on my neck.
I preceded him, pushed and thrust toward his quarters. I laughed with joy. He was not gentle with me. He was angry.
“To your belly!” he snarled, at the entrance to his quarters.
Then, in a moment, as I lay on the tiles I felt my hands jerked behind my back and tied there, tightly. In another moment, I felt his strong hands cross my ankles and loop them with binding fiber. Then, by the loops, they were drawn closely together. Through my ankles I felt the jerking tight of the knots. I then lay there at his feet, helplessly trussed. He flung open the door, angrily. He then scooped me up as though I might weigh nothing and threw me over his shoulder. I was then, as a capture and a slave, carried helplessly over the threshold. Within, he put me on the floor, on the tiles, near the foot of the couch, near the slave ring. He then closed and locked the door behind us. He then came and stood near me, looming over me, looking down at me.
This morning, early, I had been sent stark naked, even collarless, to the courtyard, that I might bid farewell to my friends of Feast Slaves, who were now leaving for Ar. I had spoken with them, and kissed them, shedding tears. My favorites among them were Claudia, Crystal and Tupa, with whom I had been close friends. I watched them all, one by one, naked, ankle-chained, then climbing into the wagon, threading their chains about the opened central bar, then taking their places. Many times had I, too, similarly secured, en route to various destinations, usually in the city of Ar itself, been similarly secured and transported. Then the wagon was creaking away. The canvas had not yet been put in place, to be tied down, stretched over the frame, to its rings on the outside of the wagon bed. It was cool, and early. That could be done later to protect the girls from the sun. They, rising to their knees in the wagon, lifted their hands, waving me farewell.
One girl was not with them, Emily. Two days ago she had bidden me farewell. She was leaving early with her master, Aemilianus, for Ar. We had thought that he had come to Argentum on business, or perhaps to observe the performances of his Feast Slaves in this allied city. On the other hand, it now seemed clear that he had come to Argentum, astoundingly enough, on the account of a mere slave, that he had come to Argentum merely to reclaim Emily, to get her again in his personal collar. I did not think he would be likely to let the lovely slave, once from the mills, go again. Much did it seem they loved one another She went with him happily, helpless in his bracelets.
I watched the gates to the palace being opened for the passage of the slave wagon.
Speusippus had left Argentum on the day after the banquet, that in which the identity of Sheila had been determined.
Five days ago Ligurious had left. The next day Hassan, of Kasra, his men and sleen, and the slave, Sheila, had left. At the suggestion of Menicius who, at the same time, had returned to Corcyrus, Hassan was to take Sheila to Port Kar, for interrogation in the house of Samos, this with respect to matters having to do with Priest-Kings and beasts. I had little doubt but what she, now in a collar, would prove eager and cooperative. If she survived the interrogation, as I expected she would, she was then to be taken back to Kasra by Hassan. In that city, near the Tahari, on the Lower Fayeen, I had little doubt she would learn her collar well, and love.
The wagon went through the palace gates. They were then closed behind it.
I lowered my hand.
I stood, tears in my eyes, naked, collarless, on the flat stones of the courtyard.
I felt much alone.
“Do not kneel,” said a voice behind me.
I almost knelt, my knees flexing, It is common for girls such as I to kneel automatically, immediately, upon being addressed by a male voice.
“You are naked,” observed the voice.
“Yes, Master,” I said. The voice was that of Drusus Rencius.
I had not been given permission to turn.
“Where is your collar?” he asked.
“I do not know, Master,” I said. “It was removed from me this morning.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I do not know, Master,” I said. “I suppose it is to be changed.”
“That is true,” said the voice.
“Master?” I asked.
“You are going to be put in a new collar,” he said
.
“Master?” I asked.
“I have it here,” he said.
“You, Master?” I inquired.
He stepped about, in front of me. He showed me an opened collar, graceful and slim, and of inflexible steel.
“Read it,” he said, indicating the legend which, in small, graceful letters, was incised in the metal.
“I cannot read, Master,” I said. “I have never been taught.”
“Oh, splendid,” he said, irritably. “An illiterate slave!”
“Some men think they are the best kind,” I said, not a little irritated myself. I was not illiterate in English, of course, only in Gorean. I had not been taught to read in Corcyrus, probably in order to better keep the politics of the city from me, and in order to guard against my better understanding my position there.
Many Gorean slaves, of course, are illiterate, and deliberately kept so. In that fashion, for example, she may be used to carry messages about, even having to do with herself. The common way in which a girl carries a Gorean message is on foot, with her hands braceleted behind her. The message is then inserted in a capped leather tube tied about her neck. Given the braceleting, of course, even a literate girl may be used to carry messages in this fashion, which may or may not have to do with herself.
Some men feel that if a woman is taught to read and write, particularly after she has been made a slave, she may come to think that she is important. This delusion, of course, may be swiftly removed from her by the whip. For what it is worth, literacy commonly increases the value of a slave. It may usually be depended upon to add a few copper tarsks to her value, much like the ability to play a musical instrument or to dance, or to cook and sew. Some men enjoy owning educated slaves and some do not. Needless to say, the slave, when she is in the power of a Gorean master, whether she is educated or not, will serve as a full slave. Indeed, most men expect far more of an educated slave than of one who is not educated.
He then went behind me, again.
“Lift your hair,” he said.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“Must a command be repeated?” he inquired.