Norman, John - Gor 25 - Magicians of Gor.txt

Norman, John - Gor 25 - Magicians of Gor.txt Page 61

by Magicians of Gor [lit]

  traveling with one of the most fabulously desirable and beautiful women on Gor

  in my train.”

  “She is certainly that,” agreed Marcus. “You could always keep her in a box, or

  sack.

  “I am certainly eager to see this slave,” said Boots.

  “Despite the convictions and the enthusiasm of Marcus in this matter,” I said,

  “well warranted though they doubtless are, I should make clear to you that they

  might not be shared, at least to his extent, by all casual observers.”

  “I suppose that is possible,” said Marcus, reflectively, in a mood of uncommon

  charity.

  “This is not to deny that the girl is an exquisite slave,” I said, “and Marcus

  is training her very well.”

  “What would she sell for?” asked Boots, bluntly.

  “In a common market,” I asked, “with nothing specials knows about her?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I would guess for something like two or two and a half silver tarsks,” I said.

  “She is quite lovely then,” he said.

  “Yes, but there are thousands upon thousands like her on Gor,” I said, “and it

  is not like armies of tarnsmen would be launched to acquire her.”

  “I see,” said Boots, relieved.

  “What do you think Telitsia would sell for?” I asked.

  “Probably about the same,” he said.

  “But you would not sell her?”

  “No,” smiled Boots, “She is not for sale.”

  “Then it is the same,” I said.

  “Not really,” said Boots. “Telitsia makes an excellent Brigella, and she is

  excellent about one’s feet and thighs. She is devoted, and loving, and it is

  hardly ever necessary to whip her now.”

  “It is seldom necessary to whip Phoebe now,” said Marcus.

  (pg. 411) “Yes, yes,” I said. “I am sure they are both excellent slaves.”

  “I trust,” said Boots, “that the purse I have received, which was unusually

  heavy, contains the equivalent of at least a gold piece.

  “Surely you trust me,” I said.

  “I trust you,” said Boots. “It is only that I am wary of your mathematics.”

  “Have no fear,” is said. To be sure, there was more to what Boots was saying

  then might be evident at first sight. It was not that I had difficulty in adding

  and subtracting, of course, but rather that I was not always as knowledgeable as

  I might be about the relative values of various coins, of numerous cities,

  which, of course, depended on such things as compositions and weights, and

  exchange rates, which might fluctuate considerably. For example, if a city

  debases its coinage, openly or secretly, perhaps as an economy measure, to

  increase the amount of money in circulation, or there is a rumor to that effect,

  this will be reflected in the exchange rates. Many Gorean bankers, not only the

  fellows sitting on a rug in their booth on a street, their sleen about, but also

  those in the palaces and fortresses on the “Streets of Coins,” work with scales.

  Too, sometimes coins are literally chopped into pieces. This is regularly done

  with copper tarsks to produce, usually, the eight tarsk bits equivalent in most

  cities to the copper tarsk. Every year at the Sardar Fair there is a motion

  before the bankers, literally, the coin merchants, to introduce a

  standardization of coinage among the major cities. To date, however, this has

  not been accomplished. I did not feel it was really fair of Boots to call

  attention to my possible lack of expertise in these matters. I was not, after

  all, of the merchants, nor, among them, of the coin merchants.

  “The purse contains no copper tarsks,” I said.

  “What?” said Boots.

  “Of the hundred gold pieces we acquired in the north, we had only some ninety

  left,” I said. “I am sorry. You must understand, however, we have had expenses,

  a long journey, that prices in Ar are high, particularly for decent food and

  rented lodging, that we have needed money for bribes, for example, to obtain

  information, and such, that we have given some away, and so on. I have put half

  of those, forty-five pieces of gold in the purse. They are yours.”

  “I do not understand,” said Boots.

  “I have kept the other forty-five,” I said, “because I may need them, tomorrow.

  I do not know.”

  “That is too much money,” said Boots.

  “Do not be concerned for us,” I said. “We have other (pg. 412) moneys, as well,

  from donations received, so to speak, from a fellow, or so here and there,

  usually met in remote areas in dark places, and from fees taken in service.”

  “We agreed on two pieces of gold,” said Boots, “at most.”

  “So we now break our agreement,” I said.

  “You would do that?” he asked.

  “We might,” I said.

  “Scoundrels,” he said.

  “Simply suppose that we are mad,” said Marcus. “Just take them, and with them,

  our undying gratitude, and that of Ar’s Station.”

  “I cannot take so much,” said Boots.

  “You are Boots Tarsk-Bit?” I asked.

  “I think so,” he said. “At least that is what I have suspected for years.”

  “Then take the money,” I said.

  “Give me a moment,” he said. “Let me collect myself. Let me recall myself to

  myself. I did not expect this. Give me time. My greed has been taken unawares.

  It staggers. It reels. Such generosity would give pause to even the most robust

  avarice.”

  “We obtained the money with little effort,” I said. “It is not as though a

  village of peasants had hoed suls for it, for a century, or anything.”

  “I am relieved to hear it,” said Boots. “I had been much concerned with that.”

  “Indeed,” I said, “it is, in a sense, purloined treachery money, from traitors

  in Ar.”

  “It is my duty to accept it?” asked Boots.

  “Certainly your right,” I said.

  “Perhaps I might be persuaded to accept it,” he said, “for the arts.”

  “Be persuaded then,” I said, “for the arts.”

  “Done!” said he.

  “Excellent,” I said.

  “The arts and I thank you,” he said.

  “You are welcome,” I said, “all of you.”

  We clasped hands.

  “I can double this overnight at the gaming tables,” he said.

  “But do not do so until after delivering the Home Stone to Port Cos,” I said.

  He looked at me, stricken.

  “Yes,” I said, sternly.

  “Very well,” he said.

  We then again clasped hands. In a moment Boots had hurried off.

  (pg. 413) “The Home Stone must reach Port Cos,” said Marcus.

  “You can help to assure it,” I said. “You will travel with them,
as I once did,

  as a roustabout, leaving tomorrow evening.”

  “I am pleased,” said Marcus, “that we managed to persuade him to accept the

  money.”

  “It was difficult,” I said. “But we won out.”

  “Largely,” said Marcus, “it was due to your persuasive powers.”

  “Come now,” I said. “You were quite persuasive yourself.”

  “Do you think so?” he asked.

  “Certainly,” I said.

  “I was afraid for a time he would refuse to accept the fortune we urged upon

  him.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “It was nip and tuck for a time.”

  “But that business about the arts,” said Marcus. “That is what did it.”

  “Yes,” I said. “That is his weak spot.”

  “What now?” he asked.

  “I must arrange for a message to be delivered to Appanius,” I said, “tomorrow

  morning.”

  24 Staffs and Chains

  “You understand what to do?” I asked her.

  “Yes, Master,” said Lavinia, kneeling beside me. She trembled, slightly.

  I looked down at her. She was now in a short cloak, held about her neck, and,

  under it, in a tiny, loose, beltless rep-cloth tunic, fastened only at the left

  shoulder. The cloak, held as it was, concealed her collar. She was now in the

  collar that read “RETURN ME TO TARL, AT THE INSULA OF TORBON.” She was thus now

  well identified as my slave. The tunic’s fastening at her left shoulder was a

  disrobing loop. That was important. I wished her to be able to disrobe on an

  instant’s notice.

  “The timing of these events is extremely important,” I said.

  “Yes, Master, she whispered.

  “If you do not do well,” I said, “I will have you fed to sleen.”

  She looked at me, white-faced.

  “I will,” I said.

  (pg. 414) “I will do my best, Master,” she said.

  I had made certain, in my rehearsals, that she could remove both cloak and tunic

  expeditiously.

  Marcus, sitting to one side, sharpening his sword, lifted his head.

  “That is the fifth Ahn,” he said.

  I nodded. We could hear the bars, even at a distance of over a pasang.

  We were in a room in the Metellan district. I had sealed the shutters, and

  blocked them, on the inside, so that no one might, from the outside, through the

  cracks, observe what occurred in the room. In the center of the room there was a

  large couch, a round couch, some seven or eight feet in diameter. It was well

  cushioned, and covered with furs, and was soft and inviting. At one point, in

  its sides, there was a slave ring. We had set a small table near the couch,

  bearing a decanter of wine, with glasses, and a small, tasteful array of sweets.

  The room was lit with a small tharlarion-oil lamp. I had already tested the

  apparatus in the adjoining room. It was activated by a simple wooden lever, and

  the weights would do the rest. I had also brought along some other articles,

  which I thought might prove useful.

  “You informed the slave,” I said to Lavinia, “that the plan had been advanced,

  and that he was now to be here at half past the fifth Ahn?”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “He thinks that is the new time of the assignation?”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “And he has not had time to convey this information to his master, as far as you

  know.”

  “I should not think so, Master,” she said.

  “He will then presumably regard it as his work to keep the free woman, whoever

  she turns out to be, here until Appanius and the magistrates arrive.”

  “I would think so, Master,” she said.

  “Which arrival, as he understands it, will be in the neighborhood of a half past

  the sixth Ahn?”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “Good,” I said. The original time of the assignation, conveyed to the slave,

  which he, in turn, would have conveyed to his master, was the seventh Ahn.

  Accordingly the master, and presumably two magistrates, who would act as

  official witnesses and be officers versed in certain matters, would wish to

  arrive early, presumably about half past the sixth Ahn, or, at any rate, at a

  decent interval before the seventh Ahn. The free woman (pg. 415) might very

  well, of course, not appear precisely at the seventh Ahn. She might prefer to

  let her putative lover wait, perhaps torturing himself with anxieties and doubts

  as to her intent to appear at all. This is very different from a slave, of

  course. The slave must be instantly ready to serve the master, and at so little

  as a whistle, a gesture or a snapping of the fingers.

  “But,” I said, “I have sent a message to Appanius myself, an anonymous message,

  on which I think he will act. He should, then, if all goes according to my

  plans, not arrive at half past the sixth Ahn, as the slave expects, but shortly

  after the slave himself arrives, which should be shortly.”

  “I think,” said Marcus, “we should consider withdrawing.”

  “True,” I said.

  Marcus put away his sharpening stone.

  He wiped the blade on the hem of his tunic.

  “Do you expect to use that?” I asked.

  He sheathed the blade. “I do not know,” he said.

  “The slave is likely to enter through the main door?” I asked Lavinia.

  “I do not know,” she said.

  “He was here when you arrived?”

  “Yes,” she smiled. “I made him wait.”

  “But you entered through that door?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “That is the door by means of which I was entered into this

  room. Appanius, and the magistrates, and others, apparently had entered through

  the back, or some side entrance.”

  “There is such an entrance,” I said. “It lets out into an alley, a little

  further down the street. One then comes back to the street between buildings.”

  “That is, I believe,” she said, “the way I left the premises. To be sure, once

  out in the street I was almost instantly disoriented.”

  I nodded.

  “I did not even know where I was,” she said, “until I was unhooded, and found

  myself chained by the neck in a magistrate’s cell.”

  “Good luck,” I said to the girl.

  Marcus preceded me. We would leave through the back. “Remember the sleen,” I

  said.

  “Yes, Master!” she said.

  How marvelous she looked, slave, the collar on her neck!

  In a moment or two Marcus and I were on the street, outside the room.

  “There!” said Marcus.

  (pg. 416) “The hooded fellow, in the robe?” I said.

  “That is our friend, I am sure!” said Marcus.

  “It is his size, at any rate,” I said. The golden sandals, too, suggested it was

  he for whom we were first waiting.
<
br />   “He is going between the buildings,” said Marcus. “He will use the side

  entrance.”

  “I trust that Lavinia will not be too disappointed,” I said.

  “Why should that be?” asked Marcus.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “He will think he has at least an Ahn alone with her,” said Marcus.

  “Even if he is not in the least interested in her,” I said, “Lavinia knows what

  to do.”

  “Why should he not be interested in her?” asked Marcus. “She is a well-curved

  slave.”

  “It is just an apprehension,” I said.

  “You certainly went into it in great enough detail,” said Marcus.

  “It is important to be thorough,” I said.

  “I never saw a woman get undressed so fast,” he said.

  “It may have to be done between the sound of a footstep and the bursting open of

  a door,” I said.

  “I myself prefer a more graceful, sensuous disrobing on the part of a female

  slave,” he said.

  “I would generally agree,” I said, “if there is time.” It is a delight, of

  course, to have a slave disrobe before one, gracefully, sensuously, displaying

  herself, revealing her master’s property to him. Women are excellent at this

  sort of thing. They seem to have an instinct, or a natural sense, for it. And I

  think that they are not always averse to noting the effects of their unveiling

  upon the master, to note how they, in this revelation of their beauty and

  loveliness, can drive him wild with desire. In such things I think a slave has

  great power. Yet, in the end, it is still she who is owned. In slave pens,

  incidentally, girls are trained to disrobe, and, indeed, robe gracefully. Slave

  girls are not permitted to shortchange their beauty. They must fulfill its

  promise. There is something to be said in favor of the swift disrobing in

  certain contexts, of course, aside from its more unusual employments, as in

  plans such as mine. For example, a master, whip in hand, may order a slave,

  usually a new slave, to disrobe instantly, and then robe, and then disrobe, and

  so on. This may be done fifteen or twenty times in a row. This is useful in

  teaching her that she in now a slave. It also, of course, gets her used to

 

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