Conspirators of Gor

by John Norman

  Let her hope then that she will not find herself hooded and returned to a market.

  “I would make test of your attractiveness to men,” said the Lady Bina.

  “Mistress?” I said, puzzled.

  “It is one thing for which you were purchased,” she said.

  “There are no men in the house,” I said.

  “There are many here, in the market,” she said, “large men, strong men.”

  “Mistress?” I said, frightened.

  “Have you had what they call Slave Wine?”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said, “in the house of Tenalion.”

  “I shall give you ten Ehn,” she said.

  “My head was shaved!” I said.

  “You now have less than ten Ehn,” she said.

  “Surely Mistress jests,” I said.

  “You were purchased for twenty copper tarsks,” she said. “I am sure, now that you are cleaned up, and such, I could get at least twenty-five for you, if I sold you to a butcher, for sleen feed.”

  “Surely Mistress would not do so,” I said.

  “I could then purchase another girl, perhaps again at the Tarsk Market, one more attractive,” she said.

  “I do not want to die,” I said.

  “You are a slave,” she said. “You are supposed to want sex, even need it.”

  “Please, Mistress!” I protested.

  Certainly I had felt uneasiness, and, from time to time, after I had been collared, I had felt it acutely.

  But, from the lingering effects of my Earth conditioning, and my newness to the state of bondage, I was not yet the helpless victim of the raging slave fires which so frequently tormented and dominated the bellies and bodies of many slaves.

  Had I been I would have begged on my knees, or belly, for sex.

  “Something like nine Ehn now,” said the Lady Bina.

  “Please, no!” I cried.

  The blue eyes of the Lady Bina regarded me, over the street veil, seemingly pleasantly, seemingly impassively. I did not sense that she was angry, or cruel. Again the mystery of her background alarmed me.

  I cried out in misery and fled away, a few yards, and put myself to my knees before a stallsman.

  I put down my head and pressed my lips to his sandals. “I am a slave vessel for your pleasure!” I said. “I am docile. I will be obedient. I am sure your touch would heat me, and well!”

  “Are you mad?” he said.

  “No, Master!” I said. “I beg use!”

  “Here?” he laughed.

  “Anywhere,” I said. “But soon, soon!”

  “Where is your coin box, your pan?” he asked.

  “I have none!” I said.

  “What do you want?” he said.

  “A copper tarsk!” I said. I thought it well to say something, that I might be more believable.

  He laughed.

  “A tarsk-bit, a tarsk-bit!” I said.

  “No,” he said. “And how do I know you would give it to your master.”

  “I have no master,” I said.

  He regarded my tunic. “You are a woman’s serving slave?” he said.

  “Yes, Master!” I said.

  “No coin, no coin, nothing!” I said.

  “On your way,” he said. “I am selling.”

  “Master!” I begged.

  He then pushed me with his foot to the stones, and turned to a customer, a free woman.

  “How disgusting,” said the free woman.

  The stallsman shrugged. “She is a slave,” he said.

  I looked back, to where the Lady Bina was watching.

  I then leapt up, and looked wildly about.

  I next approached a fellow of the Leather Workers, or so I supposed, for he had several loops of harness slung about his shoulders. I barely noticed that several of harnesses slung about his shoulders were slave harness, a form of ingenious harnessing in which a slave might be variously, pleasingly, constrained and exhibited. In such fastenings, easily and conveniently applied, attractive and adjustable, a slave is well apprised of her bondage, as would be any who might care to look upon her.

  “Please, Master!” I begged.

  “Why are you wearing a kerchief?” he asked.

  Tears sprang to my eyes, and he jerked it away. I heard men laugh. I put down my head, shamed.

  When I looked up, he had gone.

  Quickly I put the kerchief once more about my head.

  “A mill girl,” I heard a fellow say.

  “She has a serving-slave tunic,” said another.

  “Probably she looked at a man,” speculated another.

  There was more laughter.

  I had no better fortune with two others.

  I rushed back to my Mistress, and knelt and wept, “No one wants me! I am shorn! I am shorn!”

  “I am disappointed, Allison,” said the Lady Bina. “It seems to me that you would be of interest to men, not that I am a likely judge in such matters.”

  “I am sure I could be of interest, Mistress,” I said.

  “I am sure some would find you of interest, Allison,” she said.

  “Yes Mistress!” I said.

  “Perhaps sleen,” she said. “Would you like to be thrown, naked and bound, into a sunken sleen cage?”

  “No, Mistress!” I said.

  “Five Ehn,” she said.

  I rose up, again, and ran a few feet away. I tried to tear the collar from my neck. It read, “I belong to the Lady Bina, of Emerald Street, of the house of Epicrates.” It was locked on my neck.

  I did not want to die!

  “Four Ehn, Allison,” called the Lady Bina.

  Then I straightened by body, and, carefully adjusted the collar on my neck, the lock directly at the back. Too, I adjusted the kerchief. I put back my shoulders. I recalled my instructresses from the house of Tenalion. “Remember,” they had told me, “you are a female slave, and the female slave is the most helpless, vulnerable, exciting, and desirable of all women.” I put up my head, and walked, unhurriedly, in the measured saunter of the slave, proud of her collar, and proud of her womanhood, and well demonstrating it, toward the buildings at the edge of the market. Thus I could be pinned against them. Thus I would have nowhere to run. In its way was this not an invitation? Might it not suggest to someone a convenience, an opportunity? I recalled how the instructresses had drilled me in that gait, at once arrogant, vulnerable, and ready, a gait that said, in effect, “I am a slave, what will you make of that, Masters?” When they were satisfied, they had invited two guards into one of the large training rooms. In this exercise I had been permitted a house tunic. One must learn to wear, and move well within, tunics, camisks, gowns, slave strips, ta-teeras, and such, of various sorts. “Walk,” had said the leader of the instructresses, “walk, Allison, in the third walk of the slave.”

  There are, of course, a repertory of behaviors, walks, postures, prostrations, obeisances, and such, with which a slave is trained.

  They are, after all, intended to be sold as dreams of pleasure to men.

  “Aii!” had cried one of the fellows, leaping up.

  In a moment I had been seized by both. I struggled in their arms. I felt myself being lifted from the floor.

  “No, no!” laughed the chief instructress. “She is white-silk, white-silk!”

  I was much shaken by this experience, but I had learned something of the power of the slave, for she is not without her power.

  The two guards left, disgruntled. Doubtless they felt cheated. I am sure they made the instructresses pay later in the “coin of the furs,” not that the instructresses would much mind that. Indeed, I suspected I might have unwittingly figured in their plans.

  “Disgusting slut, disgusting, half-naked slut!” hissed a free woman. At least she did not order me to kneel, to be beaten. They so hate us! Or so envy us? She was then away, somewhere. Actually, I was not really half-naked, as many men put their slaves into the streets, but reasonably modestly garbed, as I wore the tuni
c of a woman’s serving slave, to be sure, one rather more revealing than most.

  I walked at the edge of the market, the walls of buildings to my right.

  I had been told that larls stalking tabuk would sometimes delay their charge until their prey grazed beside a cliff, a wall of stone, a dense thicket. Indeed, sometimes they would herd, and drive, their prey against such barriers.

  It was not so strange then that tabuk commonly grazed in open, or lightly wooded, areas.

  The walls were at my right, at my right shoulder.

  I gave as little evidence as I could of my fear.

  I did not know how many Ehn might be left, perhaps two, perhaps three?

  Suddenly an arm, abruptly, startling me, blocked my way, the palm of its hand on the side of the building.

  “Serving slave,” pronounced a voice, a harsh, masculine voice. The arm before me, and the hand, were large.

  “Master?” I said, stopped.

  “Where is your Mistress?” asked the man.

  “Somewhere,” I said.

  “You do not walk like a serving slave,” he said.

  “Forgive me, Master,” I said.

  “Are you running away?” he asked.

  “No, Master!” I said, frightened.

  I was well aware there was no escape for the Gorean slave girl.

  “But you have slipped away,” he said.

  “Perhaps, Master,” I said.

  He removed his hand from the wall, so it no longer blocked my passage. But he now stood before me. I did not try to move about him, or turn, or run away. I was a slave.

  He pulled off the kerchief, and freed it of its knot.

  “I see this is not the first time you have slipped away,” he said.

  I did not respond to him. I let him think that my shearing was a punishment shearing, perhaps from some indiscretion, for which a woman’s serving slave might be punished.

  “Perhaps,” he said, “you were also well lashed.”

  “Perhaps, Master,” I said.

  My kerchief dangled in his right hand.

  “Turn about,” he said, “and place your hands, crossed, behind your back.”

  “Master!” I protested.

  “Now,” he said.

  My hands were then tied behind my back. He tied them tightly.

  “Kneel down, and put your head to the stones,” he said.

  I obeyed, a slave, but I expected my Mistress, at any moment, to intervene.

  Surely she was about!

  “Aii!” I cried, startled. “Oh, please, oh!” Then I cried, “Master! Master!”

  He then turned me about, and tore my tunic down, to the waist.

  I was then thrown forward, on the stones.

  “Is this your slave?” asked the man.

  I looked up, from my belly.

  “Yes,” said the Lady Bina.

  “I return her to you, for the lashing she deserves,” he said.

  I gathered the fellow had a righteous, proper streak. I was, after all, a woman’s serving slave.

  “Did you find her attractive?” asked the Lady Bina.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Did you find her attractive?” asked the Lady Bina. “Could you conceive of men wanting her? Willing to buy her? Do you find her well shaped? Did she squirm well?”

  I kept my head down. I had been given little opportunity to squirm.

  “What are you asking me?” he asked.

  “You are a man,” she said. “I am asking for your assessment of the girl.”

  “She was made for the collar,” he said.

  “Good,” she said.

  “But she is to be as a woman’s serving slave, is she not?” he asked.

  “No matter,” she said.

  “I do not understand,” he said.

  “She is a barbarian,” said the Lady Bina. “Does that dismay you, or give you pause?”

  “No,” he said. “Barbarians make excellent slaves.”

  “Good,” she said.

  “They kick and juice as well as any other woman,” he said. “Forgive me, Lady, as well as any other slave.”

  “Of course,” she said. “I now bid you good-day.”

  “May Tor-tu-Gor warm you,” said the man.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Come along, Allison.”

  “My tunic, Mistress,” I said, “and I am bound.”

  “No matter,” she said, “come along.”

  So I followed her through the market, my head down, until we reached a stall, where the Lady Bina, I standing beside her, bargained for a stone of suls. It was late in the day, and the prices tend to be lower at such a time.

  “I will need you,” she said, “to carry the suls.”

  She looked about. “You,” she said to a tall, strapping fellow, in the gray and black of the Metal Workers, “untie this slave.”

  He came to stand before me, and I felt his eyes, Gorean eyes, peruse me. I lifted my head, and turned away, angered. He looked at me as though I might have been on a block.

  “You are in the presence of a free man,” he said. “Get on your knees.”

  I suppose few women of Earth had heard such commands, but, hearing them, and in such a tone, I expect there would be few who would not obey.

  I, collared, a slave, knelt immediately, frightened.

  I looked up at him, from my knees, and our eyes met. I suddenly had the strange feeling that I was kneeling before my master.

  I turned aside my head, no longer daring to look into his eyes.

  Was I before my master?

  “Untie her,” said the Lady Bina.

  “I do not free slaves,” he said. “I bind them.”

  Then he turned away.

  I sensed he was a master who would well know what to do with a slave.

  “You,” said the Lady Bina to the stallsman. “Untie her.”

  He looked at her.

  “The knots are tight,” said the Lady Bina. “I am a woman, with only a woman’s strength.”

  “Surely,” said the stallsman, and freed my hands.

  I rose to my feet, and tied up, as I could, the torn tunic, and replaced the kerchief. I then, carrying the suls, heeled my Mistress from the market.

  “May I speak?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “You have, as of now, a standing permission to speak.”

  “Thank you, Mistress,” I said.

  “So speak,” she said.

  “Is Mistress pleased?” I asked.

  “You may put that differently,” said the Lady Bina.

  “Is Mistress pleased with Allison?” I asked. I feared that the Mistress was learning more of Gor each day, perhaps, in part, from Delia, the companion of Epicrates.

  “Yes,” she said, “I am pleased. I think you did very well, Allison. I am quite pleased. I think you will do very nicely.”

  I was not clear as to Mistress’ intentions.

  I followed behind her, carrying the suls.

  I could not forget the Metal Worker, who ordered me to his feet. I thought I had seen him before, and more than once.

  How strange had been the moment when our eyes had met.

  Could I be, I wondered, his slave?

  I was sure that, in his collar, I would indeed be his slave, and might not any woman?

  In him I sensed a strange sense of power. I had the feeling that if I knelt before him I would lift my wrists to him, closely together, that they might be braceleted. Was his the leash, I wondered, which belonged on my neck?

  How his eyes had roved me, my tunic half gone from me! What a beast, and monster, he was! How I scorned him, the large, callous, appraising, imperious brute! What could a woman be to such a man but a slave! His collar would be well locked on a woman’s neck! How he had looked upon me as a mere object, and yet, I sensed, as an object which he might find of some interest, slave interest. How I loathed him!

  Then I dismissed these thoughts, for we had turned onto Emerald, and would soon be at the domicile.


  * * * *

  As the sheets were now folded, and readied for delivery, I put the kerchief about my head.

  I then lifted the bundle, and held it on my head, steadying it with both hands.

  It was in this fashion that I had seen tunic-clad girls bearing burdens.

  It was my impression that my Mistress, and her guard, the beast, Grendel, had come to Gor, and, later, to Ar, with considerable resources, and might still retain an ample portion of these. These were in the form, I gathered, of jewels, in particular, rubies. I had accompanied the Lady Bina to the Street of Stones, actually a tiny district, only a few establishments, near the Street of Coins which, in effect, is itself not truly a street, but a district, where banking is done, credit extended, loans made, moneys changed, and such. In this “Street of Stones” she had exchanged a single ruby, which she had earlier shown to me, proud of its size, cut, luster, and hue. “This would purchase ten or more of you,” she said, “even if you were a silver-tarsk girl.” “Yes, Mistress,” I had said. I supposed it true, and that her estimate might well have been conservative. I do not know what she received for the stone, as I was not permitted in the shop. I must kneel outside, in the sun, head down, chained by the neck to a public slave ring. Such things are apparently common in Gorean cities, at least in the high cities, the tower cities, for the convenience of masters and mistresses. As slaves are animals it is easily understood that there are many places in which they are less than welcome. One would scarcely, for example, bring a kaiila into a shop. In particular, slaves are not permitted within the precincts of temples, lest these edifices be considered defiled by their presence. A free person might seek sanctuary in a temple, but a slave might be killed, if found within one, after which the temple must be purified.

  I avoided, whenever possible, the bridges. This was usually possible as, in times of peace, one may enter most towers at the level of the street, and use the stairwells within them, to gain access to the various levels, with their corridors, from which one might reach apartments, ranging from simple one-room cubicles to large, elegant suites. Laundering is done variously in the cities. Most cities have public laundries to which garments, sheets, linen, and such, may be taken, weighed, and washed, and, for an additional fee, ironed. On the other hand, the public laundries do not deliver. There are, in addition, public laundering troughs, which are divided into those reserved for free women and those accessible to slaves. Women of high caste seldom launder, but women of low caste often do. If a household contains a slave or slaves they will do the laundry, as well as other domestic tasks. Many lower-caste households do not contain slaves. There are two primary reasons for this. Whereas slaves are abundant and cheap, it costs to keep them. Most obviously, they must be fed and, to some extent, clothed. Secondly, if the household is small, and a free companion is in the household, she may not care to have a slave on the premises. For example, Delia, the companion of Epicrates, was such a woman. In the towers there are often “tower slaves,” most often owned by the management of the tower. These slaves will launder, amongst attending to other domestic duties, sweeping, dusting, polishing, cleaning, scrubbing, and such, but there is an additional charge for such services. Accordingly, some residents in the towers rent work slaves whose services, being more intermittent and casual, are less expensive. Advertisements for such may be found on certain of the public boards. It was through Delia that the Lady Bina was first apprised of such matters.