“I give her to you!” cried Flaminius. “I do not want her! She is only a slut and a slave!”
“Do you do so, freely,” I asked, “without obligation on my part, your gift having no pertinence to what now may, or may not, be done to you?”
“Of course!” he said. “Of course!”
“I accept your gift,” I said. The girl gasped at my feet. I now owned her.
“Kneel,” I said to her, “to hear my will with respect to you.”
Swiftly she knelt before me, trembling, straightening her body.
“Hear this, too, Flaminius,” I said.
“Yes,” he said, “yes!”
“She is to be delivered to my holding, the holding of Bosk of Port Kar, in Port Kar,” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“And she is to be delivered in the following fashion,” I said.
“Yes?” he said.
“She is to be drugged with Tassa powder,” I said, “and packed in a barrel with parsit fish.”
“It will be done as you wish,” said Flaminius.
It was in this fashion that she had smuggled me, and several others, out of Port Kar. She would now be returned to the city in the same fashion, only as a slave.
“Do you object, Yanina?” I asked.
“No, Master,” she said.
“If this is not done,” I said to Flaminius, “I will not be pleased. Think, too, that someday, somewhere, we might meet again. Consider even the possibility that I, displeased, might come to seek you out.”
“The matter will be attended to,” said Flaminius, “I assure you, exactly according to your instructions.”
“You may kiss my feet, slave,” I said.
Swiftly Yanina put her head down, and did so.
“You remember, do you not,” I asked her, “the scarf of the favor, that from the carnival in Port Kar, that by means of which you tricked me, that which identified me for your colleagues, and that which you wore later at my pleasure in the camp, though you were a free woman, as a slave strip?”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
“It is that which you will wear in Port Kar as my slave,” I said, “if I see fit to permit you clothing.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Do you think it will be sufficiently revealing?”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Afterwards,” I said, “if you are sufficiently pleasing, you may be granted a slave tunic.”
Her head was down, over my feet. I felt again her soft lips, pressed against them in obeisance, in moist gratitude. “I shall endeavor to be pleasing—fully pleasing,” she whispered, “—Master.”
I then left.
“Untie me, Slave!” I heard, harshly, behind me. “The knots are too tight, Master,” she wept. “I cannot undo them.” “Chew through the thongs then,” he said, “Hurry! Hurry!” “Yes, Master!” she wept. “Yes, Master!” I heard the movement of her chain on the tiles. Outside, in the garden, off in the distance, on one of the bridges, I saw some men approaching. They had not yet seen me. I did not even know if they would. I looked at the slender, swaying tarn wire. I took the small, flanged metal wheel, with its protruding axlelike spindle, from my pouch. I also put the thick leather gloves on my hands.
22
What Occurred on the Coast of Thassa;
It Has Begun
“We were afraid!” cried Boots. “What kept you?”
“Attentions delivered upon a female slave,” I said, “having primarily to do with her training.”
“Of course!” said Scormus.
“Do we know her?” asked Chino.
“She was once the Lady Yanina,” I said.
“Superb!” said Chino.
“She is now mine,” I said.
“Excellent,” said Chino.
“She is to be delivered to Port Kar,” I said, “to my holding, packed in a barrel with parsit fish.”
“Excellent,” said Lecchio. Rowena and Telitsia clapped their hands with pleasure, delighted that the once-proud Lady Yanina now shared their condition, that of the helpless and abject slaves of strong masters. Bina, I saw, kneeling near Scormus, had eyes only for him. No longer was his use bracelet on her wrist, but his collar was now on her neck. I had little doubt that yesterday morning she would have been whipped, for having spoken without permission, as he had informed her in the hall of Belnar. This morning, however, it did not seem that she had felt a whip, other than, doubtless, the whip of the furs, at the hands of her gifted, imperious master. I had no doubt but what she had now rendered ample proof to him that she was worth far more than the golden tarn disk he had arrogantly paid for her. If she had not yet done so, I did not doubt but what he, in the manner of the Gorean master, would see to it that she soon did.
“You escaped from the city without incident?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Boots, “and, later, so, too, did Andronicus, with Chino, Lecchio, and Petrucchio.”
“Where is Andronicus?” I asked. “Where is Petrucchio?”
“They are at the side of the wagon, over there,” said Boots. The wagons of the troupe of Boots Tarsk-Bit were drawn up on the height of a hill, amidst trees, overlooking Thassa. It was now morning. We could see Brundisium in the distance.
“They are all right, are they not?” I asked. I had not seen them. They had not come to greet me.
“Well,” said Boots, evasively.
I hurried about the wagons, until I came to that place, near the edge of the trees, on a clifflike projection of the hill, rearing above Thassa, where was the wagon of Andronicus. There I saw Petrucchio, lying propped up, amidst bags and blankets. A great bandage was wrapped about his head. He looked in worse condition than he had when he had experienced the thrust of Flaminius. Andronicus was near him.
“Ho!” called Petrucchio, weakly, lifting his hand, greeting me.
“Greetings,” said Andronicus.
“Greetings, fellows,” I said.
“We would have joined the others, coming forth to bid you welcome,” said Andronicus, “but Petrucchio is feeling a bit low today, and I am tending him.”
“That is all right,” I said.
“Too, we were discussing the movements of the head,” said Andronicus. “I believe I may have discovered a new one. Have you ever seen this?”
“I do not think so,” I said, startled, “at least not very often.”
“It is, at least, one not mentioned explicitly in the texts, such as those of Alamanius, Tan Sarto and Polimachus.”
“If it should be accepted as genuine, and win accreditation, being entered into the catalogs,” said Petrucchio, “that would come out to one hundred and seventy-four. Although I myself am not strong on theory, I am very proud of Andronicus.”
“We all are,” I said.
“The theater is not a purely empirical discipline,” said Andronicus. “It proceeds by theory, too.”
“I am sure of it,” I said. “Petrucchio, how are you?”
“Let a great pyre be built,” said Petrucchio.
I looked carefully under the bandages.
“Let it contain a hundred logs!” said Petrucchio. “No, a thousand!”
“That is a very nasty bump,” I said, replacing the bandages, “but it is nothing serious.”
“Oh?” asked Petrucchio.
“Yes,” I said.
“I will live?” inquired Petrucchio.
“Yes,” I said.
“I suppose it is just as well,” mused Petrucchio.
“I think so,” I said.
“You must live, dear friend,” averred Andronicus.
“Very well,” said Petrucchio, convinced.
“Logs are very expensive,” said Lecchio.
“How did Petrucchio receive this injury?” I asked. “Did he perhaps slip on the steps of your wagon?”
“No,” said Andronicus. “He was struck, unexpectedly, from behind.”
“And what craven sleen struck such a blow?”
I asked, angrily. There was, perhaps, a matter of vengeance to be seen to.
“Well,” said Andronicus, “if it must be known, it was I.”
“You?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “He was preparing to set forth for Brundisium again, once more to rescue you.”
“Well struck,” I commended Andronicus.
“Thank you,” he said.
“How did your escape from the city proceed?” inquired Lecchio.
“Very well,” I said.
“Splendid,” said Lecchio.
“To be sure,” I said, “I did not realize the descent on the tarn wire, with the flanged wheel, would be that swift. I struck the wall of a building with great force.”
“The most difficult part of the journey, of course,” said Lecchio, “would be the section where the tarn wire, from the lower roofs, stretches over to the wall, that section where you could not simply use gravity and the flanged wheel.”
“Some might have found it so,” I admitted.
“Fortunately,” said Lecchio, “it was a matter of only a hundred feet or so.”
“A mere nothing,” I admitted.
“Did anyone see you?” asked Lecchio.
“I did hear a couple of fellows shouting,” I admitted.
“Did you resist the temptation to do a somersault on the wire for them?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“It is probably just as well,” he said.
“I think so,” I said.
“I am pleased you did so well,” he said.
“I fell off seven times,” I said. “Fortunately I managed to seize the wire each time. Finally I finished the journey hand over hand.”
“You are probably not yet ready to do that sort of thing professionally,” he said.
“No,” I said. “I do not think so.” I was pleased that I had not broken my neck. The descent from the wall, once I had reached it, was simple. I had looped coiled wire about a parapet projection and, protected by the leather gloves, had descended to the ground, some sixty feet below.
“Did you hear what happened to Temenides, and his men?” asked Boots.
“No,” I said.
“They were found in the city, with their throats cut,” he said. “Apparently their murder was to have been blamed on us, as such a rumor seems to have been intentionally spread. But others, perhaps not privy to the plot, cleared our name, noting the papers recording our departure from the city, papers signed at an Ahn when Temenides and his men were still alive. We found this out through Andronicus. He learned it when he was coming back out of the city, with Chino and Lecchio, with Petrucchio as his supposed prisoner.”
“I see,” I said. I recalled I had seen Belnar give orders to a fellow upon the departure of Temenides from the great hall. It had been their misfortune, it seemed, to have displeased him. He had, too, it seemed, intended to settle the blame for the projected murder on the company of Boots Tarsk-Bit. This stratagem would permit him not only to take action against plausible suspects, given the hostility between those of Ar and Cos, this perhaps diverting attention from the true murderers, those in the pay of the ubar, but would give him a convenient pretext for ridding himself of possibly dangerous strangers, strangers who might, sooner or later, inopportunely comment on the anomaly of one from Cos, Temenides, a mere player, seated at the high table in Brundisium. Belnar, of course, had not realized that the troupe of Boots Tarsk-Bit would not return to its quarters in the palace but, instead, would immediately flee the city.
“Even though your names may be cleared,” I said, “I do not think I would revisit Brundisium in the near future.”
“No,” said Boots, “we shall, for the time, cross it off our itinerary.”
“Good,” said Andronicus.
“It is their loss,” said Boots.
“True,” agreed Lecchio.
“I trust you are all well, and are soon to be about your business,” I said.
“Yes,” said Boots, “but I suspect we may soon have to find another brawny fellow, another chap of great strength and modest talent, to help us set up the platform and tents.”
“I think so,” I smiled.
“Perhaps I could take over the knife-throwing act,” said Boots.
Rowena and Telitsia turned white.
“But who would pay to see knives thrown at a slave?” asked Chino.
“That is true,” said Boots.
The slaves visibly relaxed.
“We shall miss you,” said Andronicus.
“I shall miss you, too, all of you,” I said.
“Doubtless we shall have to locate another player, too,” said Boots.
“Yes,” smiled Scormus of Ar. “I am returning to Ar.”
“And doubtless a Bina, too,” moaned Boots.
“Yes, Master,” said Bina, kneeling beside Scormus.
“Do you think you will enjoy wearing your collar in Ar?” he asked her.
She looked up at him. “As long as you are my master,” she said, “I would wear it joyfully in Torvaldsland or Schendi.”
“Rowena! Telitsia!” said Boots.
The two slaves immediately knelt before us.
I regarded them, Rowena, with her long, yellow braids, and dark-haired, shapely Telitsia, once of the scribes, now merely a girl of Boots Tarsk-Bit.
“Are they not lovely?” said Boots.
“Yes,” I said.
“Rowena,” said Boots, “has the makings of a marvelous Golden Courtesan and Telitsia, here, I am certain, will become my finest Brigella.”
“Thank you, Master,” said Rowena.
“Thank you, Master,” said Telitsia.
“This slave, here,” said Boots, “the well-formed brunet,” indicating Telitsia, “has begged permission to record our plays, to write them down. Is that not absurd?”
“Why would it be absurd?” I asked.
“Because they constantly change, being continually improved and refined, and because they are often being adapted to different venues and are often topical,” he said. “Too, how could a mere literary image capture the essence of the living drama?”
“Too, they are not worth writing down,” said Lecchio.
“I know you do not value my opinion in these matters,” I said, “but I must disagree with Lecchio.”
“You are more inclined to agree with me, then?” asked Boots.
“Yes,” I said.
“Your opinion, then,” said Boots, “is not without value.”
“Even if these plays are not great dramas,” I said, “of the sort of which perhaps Andronicus dreams, they are a genuine part of the vital and living theater. They are a place, whether at a crossroads or in a ubar’s hall, where theater exists. In this sense they are not only a part of its tradition and history, but are, humanly, for all their vulgarity and bawdiness, rich and precious. It would be a tragedy if they were not, in one sense or another, however unworthily or inadequately, remembered.”
“It is impossible that they should be lost,” said Boots.
“I know of a world where they were,” I said.
“At any rate,” said Boots, “I did give her permission, and the materials, too, to make at least a few jottings pertinent to these matters.”
“Excellent,” I said.
“Do you think me weak?” asked Boots.
“No,” I said. “It is a good idea.” I looked to Telitsia, kneeling with Rowena before us. “Why did you want to do this?” I asked her.
“I have learned to love them,” she said. “I found them precious. I did not want them to perish.”
“If giving her your permission in this matter bothers you,” I said, “seeming to you perhaps a bit too indulgent, there exists an obvious remedy wherewith you may assuage your qualms.”
“What is that?” asked Boots, interested.
“Simply command her,” I said. “As she is a slave, she must then obey promptly and perfectly, and will be subject to any disciplines which you might care to
impose on her.”
“A very good idea,” said Boots. “Telitsia!”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Keep some notes, or jottings, or records of some sort, now and then, on some of our plays, or some of those of others, as you might come on them, that sort of thing,” he said.
“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master,” said Telitsia, once of the scribes.
I looked down at Rowena and Telitsia, and though they were slaves, they lowered their eyes, blushing at my glance. “An excellent brace of sluts,” I said.
“Yes,” agreed Boots, proud of his chattels.
“You are fortunate,” I said. “Not only do you have two fine actresses here but two superb tent girls.”
“True,” said Boots. He was indeed fortunate. Both girls were so beautiful that the mere sight of them, chained by the ankle to the stake in their tents, could drive men mad with desire. And how fortunate those who paid their coins for such women for they found them slaves, true slaves, and in them they would find a helpless female passion, vulnerable and pleading, matching, in its way, as its reciprocating female complement, their own, a wholistic passion, mental and physical, that of a slave, that of an overwhelmed, surrendering, submitting, pleading, grateful, ecstatic slave, a passion answering in nature to their own imperious and predatory needs.
Goreans believe that women belong to men.
In this belief they do not question the decrees of nature.
What true man, I wondered, has not wished to have his collar on the neck of some woman.
“I shall miss them, as I will all of you,” I said.
“We, too, will miss you, all of us,” said Chino.
“Scormus,” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“I gather that Andronicus gave you the papers from Brundisium, the keys to certain ciphers,” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“I hope they proved pertinent to the other papers I left with you, those originally obtained from she who was once the Lady Yanina.”
“They did,” he said, “as we had surmised they would.” He handed me a sheaf of papers. “I have written out the decipherings for you. There was no difficulty, given the keys. I did them last night. They are all here.”
I took the papers. “I am grateful,” I said. To be sure, my primary motivation in entering Brundisium had been to investigate my own business, to try and discover who or what it was that had been responsible for the attack on me in Port Kar. I had learned, of course, to my surprise, that it had been neither Priest-Kings nor Kurii, but Lurius of Jad, Ubar of Cos. This information, and I did not doubt but what it was sound, I had had from Flaminius, he of Ar, though seemingly traitor to that city. “What is their purport?” I asked.
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