by John Norman
When he was finished he mixed several powders in three or four goblets, adding water to them and stirring them. These I was ordered to drink. The last was peculiarly foul.
"She requires the Stabilization Serums," said the physician.
The guard nodded.
"They are administered in four shots," said the physician. He nodded to a heavy, beamed, diagonal platform in a corner of the room. The guard took me and threw me, belly down, on the platform, fastening my wrists over my head and widely apart, in leather wrist straps. He similarly secured my ankles. the physician was busying himself with fluids and a syringe before a shelf in another part of the room, laden with vials. I screamed. The shot was painful. It was entered in the small of my back, over the left hip.
They left me secured to the table for several minutes and then the physician returned to check the shot. There had been, apparently, no unusual reaction. I was then freed.
"Dress," the physician told me.
I gratefully donned the camisk, fastening it tightly about my waist with the double loop of binding fiber.
I wanted to speak to the physician desperately. In his house, in this room, I had seem instrumentation which spoke to me of an advanced technology, so different from what I had hitherto encountered in what seemed to me a primitive, beautiful, harsh world. The guard, with the side of the butt of his spear, pressed against my back, and I was thrust from the room. I looked over my shoulder at the physician. He regarded me, puzzled.
Outside the other four girls and their guard were waiting. I was leashed, given a burden, and, together, we all returned to Targo's compound.
I thought I saw a small man, garbed in black, watching us, but I was not sure. We returned, similarly, to the physicians house on the next four days. On the first day I had been examined, given some minor medicines of little consequence, and the first shot in the Stabilization Series. On the second, third and fourth day I received the concluding shots of the series. On the fifth day the physician took more samples.
"The serums are effective," he told the guard.
"Good," said the guard.
On the second day, after the shot, I had tried to speak to the physician, in spite of the guard, to beg him for information.
The guard did not beat me but he slapped me twice, bringing blood to my mouth. Then I was gagged.
Later, outside, the guard looked at me, amused.
I stood facing him, head down, gagged.
"Do you wish to wear your gag home to the compound?" he asked. I shook my head vigorously, No. If I did wear it back Targo would surely inquire, and I would doubtless be beaten. I had seem him, once or twice, tell a girl to ask a guard to beat her. The girl is then strung up by the wrists. And the guard uses not the handful of leather strap with which Lana, only with her woman's strength, had struck me, but the five-strap Gorean slave whip, wielded with the full, terrible strength of a man. I had no desire to feel it. I would be compliant, swift to obey and be pleasing in all things. No, I shook my head, no!
"Does the little slave beg her guard's forgiveness?" he asked, teasing me. I nodded vigorously. Yes. It was hard to be a slave girl. Men tease you, but, in an instant they may change, and their eyes grow hard. You must be careful what you say, what you do. They hold the power of the whip. I knelt to him, putting my head down to his feet. Then, as I had seen Lana do once, I gently took his leg in my hands and put my cheek, head down, against the side of his leg. "All right," he said.
He untied the gag. I looked up at him, gratefully, my hands at his hips, as I had seen Lana do.
He suddenly seized me by the arms and lifted me to face him.
Suddenly, with terror, I realized I was going to be raped.
"Ho!" said a voice, that of the other guard. "It is time to return to the compound."
Angrily, my guard released me and I staggered back.
"She is white silk!" said the other guard, laughing uproariously.
The other girls, leashed behind him, were laughing.
My guard, however, with a great laugh, seized me and, like a naughty child, threw me across his knee. He then beat me, soundly, with the stinging flat of his hand, until I cried for mercy and wept.
I was only too happy to be leashed again and carry a burden.
The girls, even Ute, were laughing.
I was annoyed, humiliated. "She's a lovely, isn't she?" said the guard who had interfered. "She is learning the tricks of the slave girl," said my guard, grinning, breathing heavily.
The other guard looked at me. "Stand straight," he said. I did so. "Yes," he said, "she makes a lovely wench." And he added, "I would not mind owning her." I walked back to the compound, proudly, with the deliberate, taunting, insolent grace of the slave girl. I knew then that men wanted me, the leashed animal carrying her burden, Elinor Brinton.
I did not, of course, try to speak again to the physician.
On the fourth day I received the last in the Stabilization Series. On the fifth day the physician had taken his tests and pronounced the serums effective. When I left his house on the fifth day I heard him tell the guard, "An excellent specimen."
The fourth and fifth days I was permitted to carry wine back to the compound. It was true that I had never felt as healthy in my life as I did then, nor had the air seemed as clear and pure, the sky so blue, the clouds so sharp and white. I suddenly realized, climbing the ramps of Laura toward the compound, leashed, under guard, carrying a jar of wine on my head, balancing it with my right hand, among my sisters on bondage, breathing the fantastic air of Gor, that I was happy. Through barefoot, though thonged by the throat, though branded, though clad in a camisk, though a degraded slave, at the mercy of men, I felt, perhaps for the first time in my life, paradoxically, vitally and joyously happy. I now thought more often of men. I knew now that they found me attractive. And, startlingly for the first time in my life, I, too, began to find them attractive, deeply and sensuously attractive, even excitingly so. One would carry his head in a certain way' another laughed well, openly, heartedly; another had sturdy legs; another had long, fine arms and strong hands, a fine chest and head. I found I wanted to look upon them, to stand near them, as if by accident, to touch them, as if inadvertently, perhaps in brushing past them. Sometimes they would discover me looking upon them, and I, responding to their grin, would look down, swiftly, shyly, sometimes I would be pleases when, among the other girls, they would throw me their leather or sandals to clean. I did so, excellently. I did not object either, at the stream on stones, near the compound, to washing their garments. I liked to handle them, to feel the strong fabric that had clung to their sweet strength. Once Ute caught me holding the tunic of the guard who had watched me at the physician's against my cheek, my eyes closed. She squealed with delight and leaped to her feet, standing between the flat rocks in the water, pointing at me. The other girls, too, looked, laughing, slapping at their knees. "El-in-or wants a master!" squealed Ute. "EL-in-or wants a master!" I pursued her into the stream splashing water at her, and she fled away, stumbling, and then turned and fled back to the bank. Ute, and the others, stood there, laughing and pointing at me. I stood knee deep in the swift stream. "El-in-or wants a master!" they cried. Laughing. I stood in the stream, furious, fists clenched. "Yes," I cried, "I want a master!"
Then, angrily, I returned to my laundry, and so, too, did the other girls. But I felt there was now something different. I listened to them chat gaily together, pounding and rinsing the fabrics, in the sunlight, at the edge of that swift stream. And I, too, Elinor Brinton, worked with them. My hands were in the cold water, immersing the fabric, and lifting it and wringing it, and pounding it on the rock, and immersing it again, in simple, ancient rhythms. What was it that was different? I wore my camisk, belted with binding fiber, naught else. I knelt as they. I worked as they. There was no penthouse here, no Maserati, no wealth, no mighty buildings, no roar and drone of engines, no screams of planes, no clouds of choking smoke. There was only the laughter of the girls,
the bubbling of the stream, the work, the blue sky and white clouds, the wind and the bending grass, clean air and, somewhere, the call of a tiny horned gim, the tiny purplish owl.
I stopped working for a moment and took a deep breath. I was no longer angry. I felt the binding fiber, in its double loop, tight against my body. I stretched. I felt my body luxuriously protesting the rough fabric of the camisk. I wonder what man would tear it from me.
"Work," said a guard.
I returned to my work, Elinor Brinton, one slave girl among others, primitively washing the clothes of masters at the edge of that swift stream on a beautiful, distant world.
I knelt there on the flat rock, pounding and rinsing the fabric, in the fresh air with the bright blue sky overhead. I listened to the sound of the stream. I looked up and saw the sky. I put down the wet fabric and suddenly stood up on the rock, throwing my arms into the air and laughing. The girls looked at me, bewildered. "Yes! Yes," I cried. "I am a female!"
I stood on the rock in the sun before the rushing stream, my arms raised, eyes closed.
Then I opened my eyes to the blue skies.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" I cried, to all the skies of Gor, and all the stars and all the worlds. "I want a master! I want a master!"
"Return to your work," said a guard.
Swiftly, lest I be beaten, I knelt again on the rock and returned to my washing. I laughed.
The other girls, too, laughed.
I was happy.
Ute, slapping fabric on the flat rocks and rinsing it in the cold water, began to sing.
I was happy. I was one with them.
I found myself looking forward eagerly to my sale. I found myself wondering, curiously, what it would be like to be owned by a man. Sometimes, when the other girls were not looking, I put my hand to my throat, as though his collar were there. I pretended to trace the lettering on the collar, which proclaimed me his. I did not even have an objection to being sold in Laura. It seemed to me a simple, wild, lovely place, with the glorious air and sky, the forest to the north, the river to the south. I loved its ramps going down to the river and winding among the warehouses, the painted, carved wood on its buildings, the black shingles, the smell of bosk on the ramps and the creak of wagons, the smell of fish and salt, and glistening tharlarion, from the river, the smell of hides and fur, and sawed lumber, at the docks. And her men I liked, in their rough cloaks and tunics, vital, supple, strong men, large-handed and laughing, men who worked with their hands and backs in the clean air and on the river. I wondered if he would take me with him on journeys and sometimes, where no one could see, walking in the fields, though I were slave, hold my hand. I had seen a master and his girl kissing in a doorway in Laura. I had seen her eyes. How I had envied her! She loved him. I hoped, for her sake, that he would not sell her. It is strange. Not until I had become a slave girl, and understood that men might own me, did I become so devastatingly, thrillingly, aware of them, the rude beauty and strength of their bodies, and their power. Interestingly, for the first time in my life, I found that I was not displeased to be a woman. I was pleased, rather, indeed, thrilled, that they were men. It is joyous to be a woman on Gor, even though slave, with such men. I would not have exchanged my sex, though I was only a girl in bondage, for the throne of Ar.
That afternoon, Targo called me aside. "Slave," he called. I, frightened, not knowing what I might have done, ran to him and knelt at his feet, head down. I trembled.
"Lift your head," he said.
I did so.
"When the display chain is put forth again," he said, "you are Eleven Girl." I could not believe my ears. "Thank you, Master," I whispered. There were sixteen girls in the chain now, for Targo had sold four before coming to Laura. The hundred village girls were not included in the display chain. They were to be sold in Ar.
"You are high on the chain now," said Targo.
I put my head down.
"You are almost beautiful," he said.
When I lifted my head he had gone.
I was much pleased.
I ran to the barred gate of the compound and the guard unlocked it, and I went inside, and then he closed the gate, relocking it.
He did not make me remove my camisk before entering. We were now permitted to wear our camisks in the compound. Even the village girls, yesterday, under the eyes of guards, had cut and sewn camisks for themselves. They wore them happily. It was the first clothing they had been permitted since they had been taken by the marauders of Haakon of Skjern. I do not know why, for certain, we were permitted clothing in the compound. It may have been, of course, because the weather had now cleared and the compound was no longer muddy, but I do not really think so. I think it was rather because Targo was, simply, rather pleased with the lot of us. His older girls, among whom I numbered myself, were excellent goods. His new girl, the Lady Rena of Lydius, would net him fifty-five gold pieces if she could be delivered in Ar to her captain from Tyros. And his hundred village girls, bought for only two gold pieces a girl, could well stand to make him rich, if they could be brought to Ar before the Love Feast. Targo was in a good mood. That is why, I think, Targo permitted us clothing in the compound.
I ran to tell Ute and Inge that I was now Eleven Girl. We hugged and kissed one another.
Lana was high girl, of course, Sixteen. Inge was second, even though she had been of high caste, Fifteen. Ute was Fourteen. It was not only prestigious to be high on the chain, but, of course, then one's price is commonly higher as well, and, accordingly, one's master is somewhat more likely to be well fixed.
I strutted before Ute and Inge, in the rough camisk. "I do not object," I told them, loftily, "if my master chooses to dress me in silk."
We laughed.
"Let us hope," said Inge, "you are not purchased by the mast of a paga tavern." I looked at her, irritably.
"They can often afford fine girls," said Inge, "paying more than many private masters can."
I swallowed.
"Of all the slave girls sold, however," observed Inge, "very few are purchased for taverns."
I looked at her gratefully.
"Perhaps you will be purchased for a serving slave or a tower slave," said Inge. I stretched luxuriously in the camisk. "No," I said, lazily, "I think I will be purchased for a pleasure slave."
Ute clapped her hands with pleasure.
"But you are untrained," pointed out Inge.
"I can learn," I informed her.
"All of us, I have heard," said Ute, "will receive training in the pens of Ko-ro-ba."
I had heard this, too.
"I will doubtless train superbly," I told them.
"How different you are," exclaimed Ute, "since you have come to us!" "Do you think, El-in-or," asked Inge, "that I, though of the Scribes, might give pleasure to a man?"
"Take off your camisk," I told her, "and I will assess you."
She laughed.
"What of me?" howled Ute.
We laughed at her. Neither of us had the least doubt that Ute would be a treasure for any man.
"You will be superb," I told her. "Yes," said Inge, warmly, "superb!"
"But what," wailed Ute, "if we are all purchased by the same master?" I leaned forward, menacingly toward them. "I will scratch your eyes out!" I cried.
We all laughed and hugged and kissed again.
Later that afternoon there was an entertainment at the compound. A mountebank, with pointed hat, with a tuft on it, in silly robes, with his painted clown's face, leading a strange animal, arrived at the compound. For a copper tarn disk he would give a performance at the compound. We all begged Targo, even the village girls, that he be permitted to do so. Targo consented, to our delight, and the small mountebank with the strange animal cleared a small space near the bars on the far side of the compound, away from the bars forming the common wall with the compound of Haakon of Skjern. We, and the hundred village girls, delighted, pressed against the bars to watch. Vaguely, the small mountebank, in his swirling, silly r
obes, with his painted face, seemed somehow familiar, but I knew he could not be. How absurd that would be! He danced and turned somersaults, and sang silly songs, before the bars. He was a small, thin man, agile. He had quick eyes, and hands. And he told funny stories and jokes. He also performed magic tricks, with silks and scarves, and juggled colored hoops he wore at his belt. Then he would reach through the bars and pretend to find coins in the hair of the girls. From my hair, to my delight, he seemed to draw forth a silver tarsk. The girls cried out in envy. It was the most expensive coin he found. I blushed with pleasure. Lana was not much pleased. I laughed. We laughed and clapped our hands with pleasure. During this time his beast slept, or seemed to sleep, behind him, curled on the grass, a guard holding its chain. Then the mountebank, with a bow, turned to the animal and, taking its chain from the guard, spoke to it, abruptly and authoritatively. "Awaken, Sleepy One!" he said. "Stand straight!" The beast frightened us. We were pleased it was so tame, so much under the control of its master.
