Magicians of Gor

by Norman, John;

  "It is nothing," Marcus assured him.

  "No, no!" said the fellow. "On the rack, and under the fiery irons and burning pincers, should such be my fate, I shall derive much comfort from it."

  "I think you are the most courageous man I have ever known," said Marcus.

  "Twice this evening," said the fellow, turning to me, "it seems my well-wrought sham of craven timidity, carefully constructed over the period of a lifetime, has been penetrated."

  "Do you plan to seize the Home Stone by trickery or magic?" asked Marcus.

  "I haven't decided," said the fellow. "Which would you prefer?"

  "If it does not the more endanger you," said Marcus, grimly, "I would prefer trickery, human trickery."

  "My sentiments, exactly," said the fellow. "What do you think?"

  "Whatever you wish," I said.

  "By using trickery," said Marcus, earnestly, "we are outwitting Ar, making fools of them, accomplishing our objective within the rules, winning the game honestly."

  "True," said the fellow. "I have nothing but contempt for those magicians who stay safe in the towers of their castles, consulting their texts, uttering their spells and waving their magic wands about, spiriting away valuable objects. There is no risk there, no glory! That is not fair. Indeed, it is cheating."

  "Yes," said Marcus. "It would be cheating!"

  "You have convinced me," said the fellow. "I shall use trickery and not magic."

  "Yes!" said Marcus.

  "There is danger," I said to the ponderous fellow.

  "Not really," he said.

  "I am serious," I said.

  "If I thought there were the least bit of danger involved in this, surely you do not think I would even consider it, do you?"

  "I think you might," I said.

  "It all depends on the fellow involved," he said. "If you were to attempt to accomplish this, with your particular subtlety and skills, there would indeed be danger, perhaps unparalleled peril. Indeed, I think I would have the rack prepared the night before. But for me, I assure you, it is nothing, no more than a sneeze."

  "He is a magician," Marcus reminded me.

  "But he is only planning on using trickery," I reminded Marcus, somewhat surlily.

  "True," said Marcus, thoughtfully.

  "Would you wait outside, Marcus?" I asked.

  "Certainly," he said, exiting.

  "A nice lad," said the fellow.

  "There are serious risks involved," I said to the fellow.

  "For you perhaps," he said. "Not for me."

  "We have gold," I said, "obtained in the north."

  "And you do not know better than to try futilely to force this wealth upon me, even against my will?" asked the fellow.

  "I would like you to consider it," I said.

  "That is the least I can do for a friend," he said.

  "It will help to defray the expenses of the troupe in the north," I said.

  "It is then a contribution to the arts?" asked the fellow.

  "Certainly," I said.

  "And you would be grievously offended if I did not accept it?"

  "Certainly," I said.

  "Under those conditions you leave me no choice."

  "Splendid," I said.

  "The amount, of course, I leave to your well-known generosity."

  "Very well," I said.

  "It should be commensurate, of course, as you are the patron, with your concept of the risks involved and not mine."

  "So much gold," I said, "is not on Gor."

  "Really?"

  "Yes."

  "Then I trust that my estimate of the risks involved is a good deal more accurate than yours."

  "It is my fervent hope," I said.

  "Do you think an entire gold piece, say, a stater, or a tarn disk, would be too much in a cause to perpetuate and enhance the arts on an entire world?"

  "Not at all," I said.

  "What about two gold pieces?"

  "It can be managed," I assured him.

  "In that case perhaps you can return the young fellow's wallet to him." He handed me Marcus' wallet. I felt quickly for my own. It was still in place.

  "It is all there," he said, "what there was."

  "Very well," I said. Marcus and I did not carry much money about with us.

  "Be careful," I said to him.

  "If I were not careful," he said, "there would be a great deal more than eleven warrants out on me, and I would have a great deal more creditors than the twenty-two who know where to find me."

  I was silent.

  "I must go upstairs now," he said, "and content Telitsia. Since she has become a slave she is quite different from the free woman you once knew."

  "I am sure of it," I said.

  In bondage, the once proud, arrogant Telitsia, of Asperiche, had learned slave arousal. I could imagine her upstairs now, probably chained by the neck to a ring, probably stripped, given the heat of the higher apartments, probably lying on the floor, where she had been put, near the ring, her small hands on her neck chain, or her fingers on the ring, now and then moaning, and turning about, or squirming, with a movement of chain, awaiting the return of her master.

  "I wish you well," I said.

  "I wish you well," he said.

  He then turned about and, with considerably less speed than he had manifested in his descent, began to climb the stairs. In a moment or two, as he was not carrying a light, he had disappeared in the darkness. I listened, however, for some time, to his climbing. I then went outside and rejoined Marcus.

  "Do you know who that was?" I asked.

  "A magician," he said.

  "Here is your wallet," I said.

  "Ai!" said Marcus, slapping at his belt.

  "Supposedly its contents are unrifled, or at least intact."

  "It was wafted away by magic," said Marcus.

  "Sometimes I believe him to be more light-fingered than is in his own best interests," I said.

  "No," said Marcus. "I felt nothing. It was magic. He is a true magician!"

  "Perhaps he is a bit vain of his tricks," I said.

  I could well imagine many Goreans leaping upon him with a knife under such circumstances, or, at any rate, looking him up later with that in mind, having discovered their loss in the meantime.

  "Perhaps we should encourage him to use magic in his attempt on the Home Stone," said Marcus. "I would not wish him to be torn to shreds on the rack."

  "His mind is made up," I said. "He would not hear of it."

  "Such courage!" cried Marcus.

  "Do you know who he is?" I asked.

  "Renato the Great," said Marcus.

  "That is not his real name," I said.

  "What is his real name?" asked Marcus.

  "In an instant you would know it, if I told it to you," I said. "You would be astonished that such a fellow has deigned to help us. He is known far and wide on Gor. He is famous. His fame is spread throughout a thousand cities and a hundred lands. He is known from the steaming jungles of Schendi to the ice packs of the north, from the pebbly shores of Thassa to the vast, dry barrens east of the Thentis range!"

  "What is his name?" inquired Marcus, eagerly.

  "Boots Tarsk-Bit!" I said.

  'Who?" asked Marcus.

  "Put your wallet away," I said.

  "Very well," he said.

  I also checked my own wallet, again. It was in place, and its contents were in order.

  19

  The Field Slave

  "That is she," I whispered to Marcus.

  We were astride rented tharlarion, high tharlarion, bipedalian tharlarion. Although our mounts were such, they are not to be confused with the high tharlarion commonly used by Gorean shock cavalry, swift, enormous beasts the charge of which can be so devastating to unformed infantry. If one may use terminology reminiscent of the sea, these were medium-class tharlarion, comparatively light beasts, at least compared to their brethren of the contact cavalries, such cavalries being opposed to
the sorts commonly employed in missions such as foraging, scouting, skirmishing and screening troop movements. Rather our mounts were typical of the breeds from which are extracted racing tharlarion, of the sort used, for example, in the Vennan races. To be sure, it is only select varieties of such breeds, such as the Venetzia, Torarii and Thalonian, which are commonly used for the racers. As one might suppose, the blood lines of the racers are carefully kept and registered, as are, incidentally, those of many other sorts of expensive bred animals, such as tarsks, sleen and verr. This remark also holds for certain varieties of expensive bred slaves, the prize crops of the slave farms. Venna, a wealthy town north of Ar, is known for its diversions, in particular, its tharlarion races. Many of Ar's more affluent citizens kept houses in Venna, at least prior to the Cosian war. To date, Venna, though improving her walls and girding herself for defense, had not been touched in the Cosian war. This is perhaps because it is not only the rich of Ar who kept properties within her walls, but those of many other cities, as well, perhaps even of Kasra and Tentium, in Tyros, and of Telnus, Selnar, Temos and Jad, in Cos. We were some pasangs outside Ar. We wore wind scarves. Dust rose up for feet about us. The season was dry. Where our beasts trod the prints of their feet and claws remained evident in the dust. In places the earth cracked under their step.

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "I saw her only once before," he said, "on a fellow's shoulder, in Ar, in our district, carried in slave fashion, her upper body wrapped closely in the toils of a net."

  "Helpless," I said.

  "Utterly," he said.

  "She had been taken," I said, "only moments before."

  "You are sure it is she?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Her head was completely enclosed in a slave hood, buckled shut," he said.

  "It is she," I said. "I saw her before, in the room. I recognize her."

  "I am not sure I understand your plan," he said.

  "Let us approach," I said.

  We had left Ar early in the morning, and had circled the remains of her walls to the west and then took smaller roads into the hills to the northeast. We then, after noting the travelers on the road, particularly on the more isolated roads to the northeast, running through the villa districts, doubled back. In this fashion one tends almost automatically to cancel through the large numbers of coincidental travelers and detect those whose relationship with you is likely to be more purposeful, those who are following you. The likelihood of a given individual following you in both directions is small. Similarly, there is small likelihood of having someone or other constantly behind you on isolated roads. This helps to compensate for the possibility that the trackers might be acting in relays or shifts, one picking up where another turns aside.

  We turned the tharlarion toward the fields where the girl was filling a vessel with water.

  Her figure, extremely female, exquisitely curved, was rather like the figure of another girl we had encountered earlier in the morning, some pasangs to the northeast of the city, on one of the isolated roads winding through the hills, among which, nestled back, almost out of sight, were set a number of small, white-washed villas. Apparently she had come from some stream or rivulet, or public place, where she had been laundering, for she had had in her possession a basket filled with dampened clothes. Her hair, too, which she had apparently recently washed, was wet. This sort of thing would normally be done at a cemented pool within the walls of the villa, to the back, but, I had gathered, given the dryness of the season, the contents of the villa well or reservoir, from which such a pool might be filled, might be being reserved for drinking water. It is not unusual, incidentally, for villas to be both walled and have within themselves a well or reservoir. In this way, many are like small holdings, or, if you like, fortresses. Some of the great villas, owned by wealthy landowners, and such, are, in effect, with all their buildings, retainers, slaves, and such, tiny cities.

  We had come upon her as she was about to turn into the path leading toward one of the small villas.

  "A pretty one," commented Marcus.

  "Hola," had called I, "slave!"

  She immediately stopped and put down the basket, and hurried to the side of the road where we waited.

  "Yes," I said. "She is indeed a pretty one."

  She did not dally in kneeling. I noted with approval the position of her knees.

  Clearly, despite her homely task, laundering for her master, and perhaps others, she was, and knew herself, a pleasure slave. I approved of putting even the most exciting and beautiful of pleasure slaves regularly to such domestic employments. It gives a master pleasure to see his slaves engaged in such homely, useful tasks. He is pleased to put them to them. They look well performing them. Too, interestingly, the slaves themselves often find such tasks rewarding and reassuring. It seems fit to them as slaves that they should perform such tasks. It is a way of showing their love and serving their masters. To be sure, they have no choice in the matter, and this, too, interestingly, pleases them. This makes it clear to them that they are the rightless, choiceless property of a demanding, uncompromising, dominant male, as they are, of course, and as they wish to be. Abject, necessary, enforced submission to the will of a dominant male, a master, is sexually arousing to the female. Being owned by, and being obedient to, a strong male stimulates helpless passion in a woman. They hope to please him, and to be taken in his arms, to be relished and ravished as the properties they are. There seems to be an interesting anomaly or paradox here. If the slave had the option of choice, which she does not, it would be her choice to have no choice. She wishes to be given no choice. She, a slave, finds fulfillment in her servitude. She desires to be his slave. She is happy to be his, and to be so claimed. She is grateful for the collar he has put on her. But to return to the matter of domestic employments. Rich free women, and women of the upper castes, on the whole, do not perform such tasks, viewing them as beneath them. It is quite common for a recently enslaved free woman, particularly one of the upper castes, to be put immediately and lengthily to domestic tasks, cleaning, laundering, cooking, sewing, and such, that she may begin as soon as possible to learn her collar. Perhaps a point might be made in passing. Whereas slavery can surely be an onerous burden, and a terror, particularly in the beginning, it would be a mistake to say, for example, that the slave is "reconciled" to her collar; it would, statistically, be far more accurate to say that she rejoices within it, and loves it. In it she finds fulfillment. In it she is commonly vital and beautiful. She has the subservience she has been bred for, being a woman, and has her submission to, and mastery by, a dominant male, which is essential to her fulfillment. Too, it must be understood that the collaring is a token of a woman’s beauty and desirability. On the whole it is only the best and most beautiful who are collared. Indeed, there is a Gorean expression ‘slave beautiful’. In this way being selected for the collar is a great compliment to a woman. It is a tribute to her desirability, and a badge proclaiming her delicious, superior womanness. It is no wonder that so many slaves are radiantly happy, and are often so despised and envied by lesser women, in a way, free women. Nor is it surprising that men respect free women but seek, and lust after, slaves. To be sure some masters use certain domestic tasks as a way of distributing status amongst slaves. For example, in my holding in Port Kar I had a slave named Vella, a shapely brunette, acquired in the Tahari. I had my kitchen master put her lengthily to the lowliest of tasks. It was pleasant to see her, for example, on her hands and knees, naked, chained, scrubbing the tiles of the corridors of my holding, under switch discipline. Twice she had displeased me. When I recollected her, occasionally, I would have sent, brushed and combed, bathed, perfumed and crawling, to my furs.

  "Quite pretty," I said.

  She looked up. Perhaps free men wished to inquire directions of her? Then she looked down. I saw that she would be quite lively in a man's hands. She had a common band collar, flat, close-fitting. She wor
e a brief tunic of white rep-cloth. She was barefoot.

  "You are a girl of this house?" I asked, indicating the villa behind her.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "You have the look of a woman who is well and muchly mastered," I said.

  She smiled suddenly, charmingly, gratefully, in embarrassment.

  "It seems you have been laundering," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "I see that the water source is not far away," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "Your tunic is still damp," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said, shyly.

  "And it seems you are a careless laundress," I said.

  "Master?" she asked.

  "The tunic is quite wet," I said.

  She lifted her right hand a bit from her thigh, as though she might cover herself, but quickly returned it to position.

  "The wet tunic sets you off well," I commented.

  "Forgive me, Master," she said, frightened.

  "Perhaps your master will notice it," I said, "as you return flushed from your labors, delighted, your hair washed, your body freshened."

  She put down her head, quickly.

  "But doubtless it is not the calculated act of a scheming slave girl, one cleverly aware of what she is doing," I said. "Doubtless it is a mere inadvertence, a merely accidental calling to your master's attention of your beauty, a totally unintentional, never-dreamed-of reminder to him of the promise of its delights."

  She would not raise her head.

  "What a clever little slut she is," said Marcus.

  "But she did not plan on meeting two strange fellows on the road," I said. "Did you, slave?" I asked.

  "No, Master!" she said.

  "Do you fear our armbands?" I asked.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "Do not do so," I said.

  "Thank you, Master," she whispered. Some apprehension on her part was not irrational. Those of Cos, and in the pay of Cos, could do much as they pleased in Ar and its environs, and particularly in the case of slaves. Who would have the courage, or foolishness, to gainsay them the use of such an object, to challenge the employments to which they might put such a mere fair article of property? Too, she was barefoot and slave clad. And in the garmenture of female slaves, even in spite of its customary scandalous brevity, nether shielding is almost never provided. In this way the girl is kept aware of her vulnerability and is immediately available to the attentions of the master. Also, out here, in the vicinity of the villa of her master, I doubted that she was in the iron belt. Also I did not detect, beneath her dampened tunic, any sign of the close-fitting apparatus, no sign of either its horizontal component, usually a bar or metal strap tightly encircling the waist, nor of its vertical component, usually hinged to the horizontal component in front and swung up, then, between the girl's legs, to the back, where the whole is usually fastened together, there, at the small of the back, with a padlock. She blushed, perhaps sensing the current purport of my scrutiny. She was lovely, and much at our mercy. Her apprehension was not irrational, as I have mentioned. It would not have been difficult to have her and then, with a few horts of binding fiber, leave her behind in the ditch, bound hand and foot, at the roadside. More alarmingly, we might have confiscated her, in the name of reparations, or such, bound her and put a rope on her neck and led her off, at my stirrup. In the last few months that sort of thing had happened to hundreds of slaves in Ar who had happened to catch the eye of one fellow or another. Too, if one tired of them, they could always be sold afterwards.