Plunder of Gor

by Norman, John;

  “I was not aware of all this,” said Decius Albus.

  “I suspected you might have been provided with a different account of the proceedings,” said Kurik.

  “Somewhat,” said Decius Albus.

  The hand of Tyrtaios slipped within his robes, where I glimpsed a sheath fastened athwart the left shoulder. His hand was on the hilt of the housed dagger. He removed his hand from the hilt, responding, however reluctantly, to a slight, dismissive, admonitory gesture from Decius Albus.

  “I trust he refused to accept his fee,” said Kurik.

  “But, happily,” said Decius Albus, “things seem to have turned out well, even splendidly.”

  “Due to the independent action of others,” said Kurik.

  “Perhaps we shall meet, anon,” said Tyrtaios, to Kurik.

  “I am sure you look forward more eagerly than I to such a pleasure,” said Kurik.

  “Come now,” said Decius Albus. “We are all friends here.” He then turned to the free woman who had accompanied Drusus and Tyrtaios into the room. She, too, as Tyrtaios, wore white and gold. She was blond, and unveiled. I knew her well, from a wharf in Victoria, from a street in Ar. I looked up at her, as a slave looks upon a free woman, with awe, trepidation, and fear, but also with a slave’s speculation, and appraisal. Is she truly so great, and important? What would she bring, stripped, on the block? Would she be worth bidding on? The particular nature of these speculations may be most germane to slaves, whose chains and collars have well accustomed them to thinking of themselves as properties and merchandise, and other members of their sex, as well, but I suspect similar speculations are not unknown to men. What free man, looking upon a free woman of possible interest, does not, in his imagination, consider her as a slave, how she might look, barefoot in a tunic, a collar on her neck? Does he not idly ponder how she might look, bellied and bound before him? Does he not wonder, sometimes, what might be the feel of her small tongue, licking his feet? What free woman, one of possible interest, has not, in the imagination of a thousand men, been a thousand times undressed and put upon a block? After all, even in the glory of her freedom, she is a woman, and a member of the slave sex. “May I present my lovely colleague, the noble Lady Alexina, of the House of Portia, in Victoria?”

  “I am delighted, but puzzled,” said Kurik, bowing.

  “Puzzled?” asked Decius Albus.

  “I do not believe I am known to the noble lady, or she to me, and yet she, though certainly to my gratification, chooses to appear before me, a stranger, unveiled,” said Kurik.

  The Lady Alexina smiled.

  She was rather lovely.

  I hated her.

  “Not a stranger,” said Decius Albus. “We are all friends here.”

  Free women, of course, play games with their veils, with their adjustings and slackenings, and raisings, and lowerings, much as might be done with fans, or even a parasol. Too, to my interest, and amusement, I fear, the Lady Alexina carried, even here, indoors, within the House of a Hundred Corridors, that parasol I had seen her carry first on a street in Ar. Was the sun so bright in this room? Did she fear a sudden torrent of rain might fall from the ceiling, from which a parasol, even so improbable a defense, might serve to protect her?

  “Tenrik, of Siba,” said Decius Albus.

  “I am delighted,” said the Lady Alexina. I saw the switch was still fastened at her belt.

  “The House of Portia is well known for its jewelries,” said Kurik.

  “I am flattered that you are familiar with the house,” said the Lady Alexina, I thought somewhat apprehensively.

  “Moderately so,” said Kurik. “I have sold more than one display slave to the Lady Portia,” said Kurik.

  “And they were lovely indeed,” she said.

  “Does the Lady Portia still ship from the wharf of Terence?” he asked.

  “Less frequently now,” she said.

  “It is a famous house,” said Kurik to Decius Albus. “It is one of the few houses this far north where one can hope to obtain jewelries fashioned in the shops of Schendi and Turia.”

  “We import work from a hundred cities,” she said.

  “This is all very interesting,” said Decius Albus, “but let us attend to business.”

  “By all means,” said Kurik.

  The free persons then took seats about the round table, and I knelt near my master, a bit behind him and to the left.

  “I see Lord Grendel did not come himself,” said Decius Albus.

  “Are you surprised?” asked Kurik.

  About the table were six curule chairs, five of which would be occupied, those by Decius Albus; Drusus Andronicus; Tyrtaios; Kurik of Victoria, my master; and the Lady Alexina. The sixth chair, I gathered, was intended to be largely honorary, representing a place for the absent Lord Grendel. Surely it was too small for such a beast to crouch within it.

  “No,” said Decius Albus.

  “Nor in attendance,” said Kurik, “are certain allies of yours.”

  “Are you surprised?” asked Decius Albus.

  “No,” said Kurik.

  “Our friends might attract attention in the streets,” said Decius Albus. “Too, our friends commonly have short tempers, and I think we might do better without them. Certainly, we need no ring challenges in the house.”

  I did not understand this remark.

  “No,” said Kurik.

  “Are you authorized to negotiate?” asked Decius Albus.

  “No,” said Kurik, “merely to convey proposed arrangements to Lord Grendel, and return to you his responses.”

  “That is what I supposed,” said Decius Albus. “You are well aware, I trust, that the Lady Bina, whom we suppose to be of interest to Lord Grendel, is in our power.”

  “I intend no impugning of your honor,” said Kurik, “but my principal, understandably, might wish to be assured on that point.”

  Tyrtaios made an angry noise.

  “And wisely,” said Decius Albus. “Lady Alexina,” he said.

  The Lady Alexina drew forth, from within her robes, a veil, a house veil, I think, and handed it to Kurik, who put it in his pouch.

  “Lord Grendel,” said Decius Albus, “will doubtless recognize the veil, and, I suspect, will by scent, as well, verify its authenticity.”

  “I am sure of it,” said Kurik.

  “The terms of my principal—,” said Decius Albus.

  “Lord Agamemnon,” said Kurik.

  “Quite,” said Decius Albus, “are simple—we will return the Lady Bina to the care of your principal, Lord Grendel, well and unharmed, in exchange for his oath, that he will be a loyal and active servitor to Lord Agamemnon, obedient and zealous in his service.”

  “And if he refuses to give his oath?” asked Kurik.

  “Then the Lady Bina will suffer the consequences,” said Decius Albus.

  “Torture?” asked Kurik.

  “More likely, she would be run for our friends,” said the Lady Alexina. “They enjoy such sport, taking prey in flight, and then feeding.”

  “Lord Grendel fought against Lord Agamemnon,” said Kurik.

  “An indiscretion that will be overlooked,” said Decius Albus.

  “What if he should give his oath, and then betray it?” asked Kurik.

  “He will not,” said Decius Albus, “he is Kur, or much like a Kur.”

  “Honor is stupid,” said Tyrtaios, “but it is a useful device for controlling and manipulating fools.”

  “Too,” said the Lady Alexina, “the Lady Bina remains vulnerable. Acquired once, she may be acquired again.”

  “I shall convey your proposal to Lord Grendel,” said Kurik, beginning to rise.

  “No, tarry, be here a bit, a moment,” said Decius Albus, placing his hand gently on Kurik’s arm.

  Kurik resumed
his seat.

  “I am distressed,” said Decius Albus, drawing back his hand, as though in disappointment. “You do not seem pleased.”

  “Forgive me, noble Albus,” said Kurik, “but I find little here in which to rejoice.”

  “You are a realist,” said Decius Albus. “I am a realist. One does what one can, in what conditions obtain. The world is as it is. You may like it or not. It does not care. You may be happy or not. It is up to you. It is more pleasant to be happy. Let us all be friends.”

  “Dally, handsome Tenrik, noble citizen of Siba,” said the Lady Alexina, gracefully placing her dropped veil over her left shoulder, “an exquisite ka-la-na, from the terraces of Cos, waits to be served.”

  Kurik inclined his head, politely.

  “From the terraces of Naxos, on Cos,” she said.

  “Ah!” said Kurik, lifting his head.

  I gathered this beverage might be of some special interest.

  They looked into one another’s eyes. Free persons may do this with impunity.

  She dared to place her small hand on his.

  I hated her. I hated her!

  How could I compete with her, half-naked, in a tunic, collared, on my knees?

  “A single bottle,” said Decius Albus, “may cost as much as a golden tarsk.”

  Drusus Andronicus, who had remained discreetly silent, then rose to his feet, and clapped his hands together, sharply, twice.

  The portal behind the dais then opened again, and a slave entered, bearing a tray, on which were five, and only five, small glasses, and a small decanter of some ruby beverage, which, I gathered, must be that to which the Lady Alexina had alluded.

  That there were only five glasses on the tray suggested that either Lord Grendel’s presence had not been expected, from the beginning, or that the number of free persons to be served had been discreetly ascertained, perhaps by means of a viewing panel. Had I known more of Gor, a more frightful interpretation might have occurred to me. It is extremely dangerous to serve paga, or ka-la-na, or other such beverages, to a Kur. Would one, say, give paga to a larl or sleen?

  “Paula!” I thought to myself.

  She was sandaled, even indoors. The sandals had golden straps. Her collar was a fine one, close about her neck. Her tunic was of yellow silk, brief, low-cut, and slashed at both hips. There was no doubt it garbed a slave. Her dark hair was knotted at the back of her neck. When such a knot is undone by a master, and the hair, loosened, falls about her shoulders, the slave is in little doubt that she will soon serve to slake, and well slake, her master’s lusts, and as the obedient, comely beast she is.

  She, head down, placed the tray on the table, at the empty place. I do not think she had seen me, kneeling, near my master.

  Clearly Decius Albus was perusing the slave.

  I supposed that Paula might not be all that plain, really, all things considered. Certainly some men had seemed to find her of interest.

  “I do not recall this girl,” he said. “Perhaps I have not seen her before. She is lovely enough to be a display slave.”

  I did not care for the notion of a display slave. What slave does not wish to be the single slave of one master?

  “She has been a display slave,” said Drusus Andronicus. “She is now in the common bondage of a house slave.”

  “How long have we owned her?” inquired Decius Albus.

  “Since the Curulean sales of En’Kara,” said Drusus.

  The En’Kara sales are associated with the time of the vernal equinox on Gor, which, too, is when the Goreans, rather as nature, begin their new year. The Curulean is the major auction house in Ar. It is regarded as a great honor for a girl to be sold in the Curulean, even from a minor block. I recalled that Paula had been marketed from the central block. I was not, however, in the least bit, jealous of her in this respect. Men may do as they wish with us. We are slaves. The harvesters of slaves on Earth, as I understand it, often coordinate their operations with the Gorean calendar. For example, spring tends to be an attractive time to buy livestock, including slaves. Accordingly, the actual acquisitions of earlier-selected merchandise are often timed to allow for transportation and training prior to a given, projected sale, at one time or another, in one market or another. A girl, in the view of the slavers, becomes a slave when she is placed on a harvesting list. Her actual acquisition may not take place for months. Thus, interestingly, from this point of view, a girl may be a slave and not know she is a slave. Perhaps you are such a girl. Then she finds herself naked in a Gorean pen, with chains on her fair limbs. Should she remain in doubt, the collar, and her brand, will make the matter clear.

  “What do we call her?” asked Decius Albus.

  “‘Paula’,” said Drusus Andronicus.

  “A barbarian name,” said Decius Albus.

  “She is barbarian, noble Albus,” said Drusus.

  Paula, humbly, head down, placed the first tiny glass before Decius Albus, who was her master.

  “Next, dear,” said Decius Albus, “our noble guest, Tenrik of Siba.”

  The Lady Alexina drew back, angrily. She held the shaft of her parasol in two hands. Her knuckles were white.

  “Forgive me, lady,” said Decius Albus, “he is our honored guest.”

  “Of course,” smiled the Lady Alexina.

  As a free woman, she had expected to receive precedence, after the master. And what slave girl would dare not serve her master first?

  Paula put one of the small glasses before my master. She saw me, I think then for the first time. Her hand shook. The glass touched the table twice, rather than once, gently.

  “Careful,” whispered Drusus.

  How shaken Paula seemed, to see me here.

  “Yes,” I thought. “It is I, on my knees, while you are standing.”

  “What is wrong, Paula?” asked Drusus.

  “She is surprised,” said Kurik. “These two knew one another on the Slave World. They were brought here in the same lot.”

  “What a difference,” said Decius Albus.

  I did not care for this observation.

  Paula then placed the third glass before the Lady Alexina.

  “Her tunic is a bit short, is it not?” inquired the Lady Alexina.

  I was pleased that she was as exposed as she was. I had rather resented the modest tunic she had worn in the streets. She was a slave. Let her be exposed as one, as others! To be sure, she was now in the house. Perhaps she should have been grateful to have been permitted clothing. Then I scorned myself. We were slaves, not free women. How excited and pleased we were to be slaves, free to rejoice in our attractiveness, free to revel in our beauty and its power, well aware of its effect on ourselves and others, no longer permitted, lest we be whipped, the curbs and checks, the ten thousand constraints and inhibitions, of the free woman. The collar freed us, giving us no choice but to be ourselves, slaves. Then I remembered that a free woman was present.

  “Forgive us, fine lady,” said Decius Albus, “but our guest, the esteemed Tenrik of Siba, is male.”

  “I fail to understand,” said the Lady Alexina, clutching the parasol, so anomalous an accoutrement under the circumstances, “what men can see in slaves. What useless, worthless things they are.”

  “They do have their purposes,” said Decius Albus.

  “Undoubtedly,” she said.

  Paula glanced at Drusus, who indicated that Tyrtaios would be the next before whom a glass would be placed. After this, she placed the last glass before Drusus, as though he might have been her master, which behavior, happily, was not noted by Decius Albus.

  In any event, Paula, happily, was not subjected to the attentions of the Gorean slave lash.

  Paula then, in the same order in which she had placed the glasses, filled each, something like a third full.

  How precious then, I thought, mu
st be the beverage!

  “I shall not propose a toast,” said Decius Albus, “as I am unsure we share a common sentiment, but let us drink, as might friends.”

  My master swirled the tiny ruby lake enclosed within its crystal shores, observed it, and then took its scent, as though it might have been a tiny bouquet of dinas. He then barely touched it to his lips.

  “How is it?” inquired Decius Albus.

  “I have heard of the ka-la-na of Naxos,” said Kurik. “This is the first time I have tasted it.”

  “I trust you find it satisfactory,” said Decius Albus.

  “It is exquisite,” said Kurik.

  “I once, in Venna,” said Decius Albus, “exchanged five girls for a bottle.”

  “A bargain,” said Kurik.

  I rather doubted that. Still, who is to say what slave girls are worth? Men, of course.

  “Drink again,” said Decius Albus. “One would not ruin a ka-la-na of this rarity by mixing it with poison. Too, we need you to convey our offer to Lord Grendel.”

  “My thinking, exactly,” said Kurik.

  “Join with us,” said Decius Albus, “and you may swill the ka-la-na of Naxos with the same abandon as vat paga.”

  “That,” said Kurik, “would be desecration, like uprooting flowers.”

  “True,” smiled Decius Albus, “but it would be a desecration well within your means.”

  “There is another slave here,” said the Lady Alexina. “I would be served a second glass, by that slave.”

  “I am sure she is not a trained serving slave,” said Decius Albus, “and she belongs to our guest.”

  “I would be served by her,” said the Lady Alexina.

  “Surely not,” said Decius Albus.

  “It is quite all right,” said Kurik. “I am more than pleased. Phyllis, be about it. Serve the noble mistress.”

  I rose to my feet, and saw that Paula, now kneeling near Drusus, was frightened. I was muchly unsettled by this. Why should she be frightened? I glanced at the Lady Alexina, and then, swiftly, lowered my head. What I had seen there, in her eyes, was not reassuring. It had not been difficult to detect the interest of the Lady Alexina in my master. Perhaps Paula, too, had noticed that, glances, subtle movements, proximities. Too, free women and slave girls, as is well known, are rivals. The free woman has her freedom, her place in society, her influence, her connections, her resources, her position and power, all that she can offer a man, while the slave has little more than her helplessness, her collar, and her needs. The advantages are clearly with the free woman. It is she who holds the whip. And yet men will seek the slave, worthless as she is, to have her at their feet. I was apprehensive. Certainly I knew I was not a trained serving slave. I had been taught, as any slave will be taught, something of the serving of ka-la-na or paga to men, but I muchly doubted that the same protocols would be appropriate in the serving of a free woman. Indeed, even the hint of such might, I supposed, bring the switch or lash. Then I remembered Paula. She had served the Lady Alexina, and then, as the Lady Alexina was present, a free woman, had served the men, similarly. I would then, to the best of my ability, do as she did. Stand, wait for the nod, and then pour, deferentially, and carefully, very carefully, and then step back, head down, lest one’s eyes meet those of a free person, in particular those of a free woman.