Norman, John - Gor 19 - Kajira of Gor.txt

by Kajira of Gor [lit]

  doubtless, far more beautiful than I. She was exquisite. It had been, no mistake

  on the part of slavers that she had been brought to Gor. I then thought that

  tonight I might whip Susan. She could not resist. She was a slave. I could have

  her take off her clothes and then tie her to a ring. I could then whip her.

  That would teach her to be more beautiful than I! Then I thought how absurd that

  was. It was not Susan’s fault if she were more beautiful than I, or my fault if

  I might not be, objectively, as beautiful as she. I felt ashamed of my

  hostility, my jealousy. But Susan’s beauty, I realized, then, was not a matter

  merely of features and figure, exquisite though these might be. Her beauty had

  to do more intimately and basically I thought, somehow, with matters which were

  more psychological and emotional; it had to do, somehow, in its softness and

  femininity, with the slavery of her. I wondered if I might become more beautiful

  than I was. I wondered if I might become as beautiful, someday, as the women

  cited by Miles of Argentum as being so superior to me. I wondered if I might one

  day be so beautiful that he might see nothing to choose from, between me and

  them. I wondered if I might not, one day, even be their superior! But then I put

  such thoughts from my mind. Where was my pride and freedoml

  “Let us see,” insisted Ligurious, “what Claudius has sent us

  Of course,” said Miles of Argentum. He handed his helmet to one of the men about

  him. With a great key be unlocked the largest chest.

  The other chests and coffers, too, by others, were then unlocked.

  Ligurious, and I, and the others, leaned forward, to i.h glimpse the contents of

  these chests and coffers.

  “In. suit for the favor of Corcyrus, in deference and tribute to Corcyrus,

  Claudius, Ubar of Argentum,” said Miles of Argenturn, “sends this!”

  He flung open the great chest, and turned it to its side. The other chests and

  coffers, by his fellows, were similarly treated.

  ‘Nothing!” cried Ligurious. “There is nothing in them!”

  ‘And that,” said Miles of Argenturn, “is what Claudius, Ubar of Argenturn, sends

  to Corcyrusl”

  “Insolence!” cried Ligurious. “Insolence!”

  Cries of rage broke out from those about me.

  Miles put out his hand and his helmet was returned to him. He put it again in

  the crook of his left arm. His great furred cape, by one of the men behind him,

  was adjusted on him.

  “I now leave Corcyrus,” he said. “When I return, I shall have an army at my

  back.”

  “You have insulted our Tatrix,” said Ligurious.

  “Your Tatrix,” said Miles, “belongs in a cage, a golden cage.”

  There were further cries of rage from those about me. I did not understand,

  clearly, the nature of this insult, or the meaning of the reference to a golden

  cage.

  Here,” said Miles, reaching into a pocket on his belt, “if you of Corcyrus are

  so eager for the silver of Argenturn, I will give you some.” He held tip the

  coin. “This is a silver tarsk of Argentum,” be said. He flung it to the foot of

  the dais. “I give it to you,” he said. “It is about the worth of your Tatrix, I

  think, in so far as I am now able to assess her. It is, I think, about what she

  would bring in a slave market.”

  Blades flashed forth from sheaths. I saw Drusus Rencius restrain one man from

  rushing upon Miles of Argentum. In the small retinue of Miles blades, too, had

  leapt from sheaths.

  “Strip him, and chain him to the slave ring of the Tatrixt” cried a man.

  I shuddered. I would be terrified to have such a man chained at my couch. It

  would be like having a lion there.

  Too, I thought, surely it would be more fitting for women, in their softness and

  beauty, with their dispositions to submit and love, irreservedly and wholly, as

  king nothing, giving all, holding nothing back from the dominant male, their

  master, to be chained to a slave ring. This, in its way, is a beautiful symbol

  of her nature and needs. On the other hand, symbolic considerations aside, it

  must be noted that the chain is quite real. She is truly chained there.

  Miles turned about and, followed by his retinue, left the great hall.

  Those about the throne, most bf them, began to take their leave.

  “Do you think there will be trouble?” I asked Ligurious.

  “No,” he said. “Argentum, upon reflection, will think the better of her rash

  decision. Even Claudius knows that behind’ us stands the might and weight of

  Cos.”

  The ambassador, he, Miles, the general of Argentum,” I said, “seemed very,

  firm.”

  “He is a hothead,” said Ligurious. “In time, have no fear, when there is a more

  objective assessment of realities, cooler wisdoms will prevail.”

  “I would not like for there to be trouble,” I said.

  “Do not worry about it in the least,” said Ligurious. “Put all such matters from

  your mind. I assure you that there will be no trouble whatsoever. You have my

  word on it.”

  “You relieve my mind,” I said. “I take great comfort in your words.”

  “What did you think of Miles of Argentum?” asked Ligurious.

  “I thought he seemed very strong, and handsome,” I said.

  “I see,” smiled Ligurious. “Incidentally,” he said, “would you like for me to

  have Susan whipped for you?”

  ords of Ligurious there was a

  “Why?” I asked. At the small sound from the chain of Susan. She shrank back,

  cowering beside the throne.

  “Surely you saw her,” said Ligurious, “when she knew herself to be under the

  gaze of the sleen from Argentum. She was dripping to the tiles before him.

  Forgive me. I did not I mean to offend your sensibilities.”

  “She is only a slave,” I said, lightly. Surely I could not admit to Ligurious

  that I, too, had been made uneasy by the presence of the ambassador from

  Argenturn.

  “True,” laughed Ligurious. “I must take my leave now. Drusus Rencius will see

  you to your quarters.”

  I nodded, permitting Ligurious to take his leave.

  “Thank you, Mistress,” said Susan to me, kneeling beside the throne, “for not

  having me whipped.”

  Is it true,” I asked her, “that you might possibly have experienced feelings of

  a sexuW nature before Miles of Argentum?”

  “I cannot help myself, Mistress,” she said. “Before such a man I begin to

  secrete the oils of submission.”

  “The oils of submission” I said.

  “Yes, Mistress,” she said.

  “I have never heard them called that,” I said.

  “It is what they are,” she said, “at least in a slave.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Does Lady Sheila wish to return to her quarters now?” inquired Drusus Rencius.

  “W
hat of the treasures here,” I asked, “and Susan, and the other slaves chained

  here?”

  “Scribes from the treasure rooms will be along shortly,” he said, “to gather in

  and account for the cloths and coins. The palace slave master will be along

  later, too, to release the girls and put them back about their more customary

  duties.”

  I then began to precede Drusus Rencius to my quarters.

  “Miles of Argentum is an arrogant knave, isn’t he?” ; I asked Drusus.

  “So it would seem, Lady,” said Drusus.

  I remembered the sight of the silver tarsk from Argenturn, in the hand of Miles

  of Argenturn, and the way it had looked, on the soft carpeting of the dais, on

  one of the broad steps leading tip to the throne.

  “Do you think,” I asked, lightly, “that I might bring a silver tarsk in a slave

  market?”

  “It would be difficult to say, without assessing Lady Sheila naked,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Does Lady Sheila wish me to assess her naked in her quarters?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “No, of course notl”

  We continued to walk along the carpeted, ornamented corridors toward my

  quarters.

  “But, from what you know of me,” I said, “do you think that I might bring a

  silver tarsk?”

  “As a Tatrix,” he asked, “or only as another woman in the market, another mere

  female, up for vending, one about whom there is nothing politically or socially

  special, one who, like most others, will be priced and sold only on her own

  merits?”

  “Like that,” I said, “one whose price is determined merely by what she is, and

  nothing else.”

  “Are you serious?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, “as one whose value is determined only by herself.”

  “I would think, then,” he said, “the price would be too high.”

  “Oh?” I said, angrily. “And what do you think I would go for?”

  “Lady Sheila must remember,” said Drusus Rencius, “that even if she might prove

  to be quite lovely, she is still untrained.”

  “Untrained!” I cried.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “You speak as if slaves were mere animalsl” I said.

  “they are,” he said.

  I turned to face him, angrily. “And if I were such an animal, and for sale, what

  do you think I would bring?” I asked.

  “May I speak with impunity?” he inquired, smiling.

  “Yes,” I said, “of coursel”

  “My remarks,” he said, “will be based on the hypothesis that Lady Sheila’s

  figure is acceptable, that her curvatures fall within suitable slave

  tolerances.”

  I looked at him.

  “Am I entitled to assume this?” he asked.

  “I suppose so,” I said. I had no idea what these tolerances might be. I did

  regard myself as being rather pretty.

  “We shall further assume,” be said, “that Lady Sheila’s figure is not merely

  acceptable, but quite lovely. This, I think, from what I know of her, would be a

  fair assumption. In any event, it will enhance the speculation.”

  “Very well,” I said.

  “Your face, for example,” he said, “is quite delicate and lovely. If your body

  matches it, I think you would clearly have the makings of a superb slave.”

  “Proceed,” I said. It pleased me to have received this compliment from Drusus

  Rencius. Too, I had little doubt but what my body, which is slender and lovely,

  and not overly developed, well matched -my face. Surely I would bring a high

  price.’

  “Let us, further assume,” he-said, “that your beauty had been enhanced

  considerably, by being, branded and collared.”

  “Very well,” I said. I was beautiful. I would bring a high price indeed I

  “Even so,” ‘ be said, “you have had no previous owners, as I understand it.”

  “That is correct,” I said.

  “Having been unowned,” he said, “it seems natural, then, to assume that you are

  inexperienced and untrained.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “And there are many beautiful women,” he said. “There is no dearth of them in

  the slave markets.”

  “And what, then,” I asked, “do you think I would bring?”

  He looked at me, smiling.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I would think,” be said, “that you would bring somewhere between fifteen and

  twenty copper tarsks.”

  “Copper tarsksl” I cried.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Beastl” I cried. “Beastl”

  “But remember,” he said, smiling, “it is slaves who are assessed and have

  prices. Free women are priceless.”

  “Yes,” I said, somewhat mollified,’ stepping back. “Yesl” I must remember that I

  was priceless. I was a free woman.

  “Shall we continue on to your quarters?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, and then, turning about, once more preceded him down the corridor

  toward my quarters.

  I had had matters out with Ligurious earlier, about such things as the barring

  on my door. My door, now, was no longer barred. The guards remained outside but

  that, of course, was an understandable precaution, one clearly in my own best

  interests, one pertinent to my personal security. Furthermore I was now free,

  almost whenever I wished, to go forth from my quarters. The only restriction was

  that I must be accompanied by my guard, Drusus Rencius.

  We stood on the height of the walls of Corcyrus, on a stone riser behind the

  parapet, which permitted us to look out over the parapet, rather than through

  its apertures, on the surrounding fields.

  “Not all places in Corcyrus,” be said, “are safe, particularly at night, and not

  all are suitable for the sensibilities of a free woman.”

  There was a breeze blowing toward us, over, the wall. It was welcome. I felt it

  move my veils back against my features. I reveled in its lightness and

  freshness.

  “You should adjust your hood,” said Drusus Rencitis. ff

  I had thrust it back, a few moments ago, to better revel in the breeze. To be

  sure, it was now possible to detect the color of my hair.

  Angrily I readjusted the hood. Drusus Rencius was so protectivel

  He looked about, nervously. Why, I wondered, should be seem so tense or uneasy

  here.

  I could smell the tarns, gigantic, crested saddlebirds, on their perches some

  hundred feet away, to our right. There were five of them.

  “Do not approach them too closely,” I had been warned by him.

  “Do not fear,” I had laughed. I had a terror of such things.

  But why, then, if he were so wary of them, or fearful for my safety, had he

  wanted to come to this portion of the wall?


  It was he who had suggested that we come this close to those fearful monsters.

  “I can still see your hair,” said Drusus Renclus.

  I drew the hood angrily even more closely about my features. Little more now

  could be seen of me, as is common with the robes of concealment, but a bit of

  the bridge of my nose and my eyes. It was five days ago that I had suggested we

  come to the height of the wall, that I might look out. He had originally been

  reluctant to bring me here, but then, almost too suddenly, it had seemed to me,

  had finally agreed.

  Now, here on the walls, he seemed nervous.

  “You are still angry with me,” I said, “about the Kaissa matches.”

  “No,” he said.

  “They were boring,” I said.

  “Centius of Cos was playing,” he said. “He is one of the finest of the players

  on Gor.” The appearance of a player of the stature of Centius of Cos at the

  matches in a city such as Corcyrus, I gathered, had to do with the alliances

  between Cos and Corcyrus. Otherwise it did not seem likely to me that he would

  have graced so small a tournament with his presence. He had won his games easily

  with the exception of one, with a quite minor player, which he had seemed to

  prolong indefinitely, as though attempting to bring about some obscure and

  particular configuration on the board. Then, apparently failing to achieve this,

  almost as though wearily, he had brought the game to a conclusion in five moves.

  “You are still angry with me,” I said.

  “No,” he said.

  “Yes, you are,” I said.

  He did not respond.

  “They were boring,” I said. I had asked to be brought home early.

  He did not respond.

  The most exciting thing about the matches from my point of view was going in and

  out of the grounds. There were several slave girls there, just outside the

  grounds, fastened to various rings and stanchions. They had been chained there,

  to wait like dogs for the return of their masters.

  “After you returned me to my quarters, I wager,” I said, you returned to the

  matches.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I did.”

  “And did you get to see your precious Centius of Cos finish his final games?” I

  asked.

  “Yes,” he said.