night I am a purple urt.â€
“It is lucky for you then,†said the newcomer, concerned “that indeed I
neglected to slumber.â€
“Are you in a condition to fly?,†asked a man.
“I shall sleep in the saddle,†said the man.
“You have a long flight, of several stages,†said a man.
“I shall be well rested then by the time of my arrival Ar,†said the newcomer.
“I am sure the paga slaves will be pleased,†said a ra “all several hundred of
them.â€
“Do not neglect to fasten your safety strap,†said a man.
“I shall do so, unless perhaps I chance to fall asleep fir the newcomer assured
the fellow.
“What is that sound?†asked a man.
“It sounds like an alarm bar, back in the south part of camp,†said a man.
“I wonder what is wrong,†said another.
“Will I see Bemus in Ar, or Torquatus?†asked the new I comer.
“No, luckily for the paga slaves,†said a man.
“It is an alarm bar,†said a man, “clearly.â€
“I hear another, too, now,†said a man.
“I wonder what is going on,†said the newcomer.
“You will rendezvous with us in ten days, on the south bank of the Issus,†said
a man. “You will be bringing another shipment of Ka-la-na for the officers.â€
“I wonder what is going on,†said the newcomer.
“You are late,†said a man, with a rustle of papers.
“I am never late,†said the newcomer. “It is only that sometimes it takes me
longer to be on time than others.â€
“I bear other alarm bars, too, now,†said a man.
“Do you think the camp is under attack?†asked a man.
“No,†said a man.
“It is probably a fire,†said a man.
“I do not see any smoke,†said a man.
“Perhaps Lady Sheila has escaped,†suggested a fellow, lightly.
This suggestion was greeted with raucous laughter. The little vulo, doubtless,
was still safe in her cage.
It is probably a fight between companies or platoons,†said a mJr,
“probably over gambling or a slave.â€
“I think I will go see,†said the newcomer.
“Into the saddlel†said a man.
“But a fightl†said the newcomer.
“Venaticus,†cautioned the man.
“Very well,†he said.
“It must be important,†said a man. “Hear the alarm bars low.â€
“If it were only a fight, there would not be that many alarm bars, said a man.
“Indeed, there probably would not be any. It would not be necessary to alarm the
whole camp over an incident of that sort.â€
“It is probably a drill,†said a man.
“That is it,†said another. “It must be a drill.â€
Suddenly there was a storm of wings and the basket, a moment later, was jerked
forward, slipping along the leather Uds and then, in another instant, taking my
breath away for n instant, it was lofted like the others high into the air.
through tiny cracks between the woven fibers of the deep, sturdy basket I could
see the ground slipping away beneath
s. Wind seemed to tear through the fibers of the basket. I clutched the blanket,
it being torn in the wind, more closely about me. The ropes and the basket
creaked. The rider took the tarn once about the camp, doubtless to satisfy his
curiosity. He could make out little, however, I suspected, from the r. I could
see men below moving about in the camp, emerging from tents and such, but there
seemed to be no clear pattern to their activity. Certainly the camp was not
under attack, nor did there seem to be any fire. The absence of a clear pattern
to the activity, too, suggested that a drill, or at least a general drill, was
not in progress. Perhaps it was merely a testing of the crews of the alarm bars.
He then turned the tarn about and began to take his way toward the northwest. I
lay in the bottom of the basket. I pulled my legs up, and pulled the blanket
about me. I was cold. I hoped that I would not freeze. I was frightened. I saw
the camp disappearing in the distance. Only faintly now could I hear the ringing
of the alarm bars. The fiber of the basket would be temporarily imprinting its
pattern on my skin. I hoped that the ropes would hold.
16 I Am on the Viktel Aria, in the Vicinity of Venna
I felt a hand on my shoulder. It shook me, gently. I could also feel the warm
sun on my back. There was grass under my belly. I had been awakened on an
incline. There was muddy water about my feet.
I had been three days the unsuspected guest of the tarnsman from the camp of
Miles of Argentum. On the first two nights he had camped in the open. On the
first night I had crept forth and, from his pack, after he was asleep, stole
some meat and Sa-tarna bread. I also took a drink from his canteen. I partook
sparingly in these things for fear of being discovered. If he detected any tiny
shortages in his supplies perhaps he put them to the accounts of straying
vagrants. On the second day I noticed, to my uneasiness, more dwellings below
us. Too, I noted more tended fields. On the second night I stole fruit from an
orchard and drank from a pool. I decided to risk a third day in the basket, to
put even more hundreds of pasangs between me and Argentum and Corcyrus. On this
third day, however, to my dismay, I could see roads below, and many dwellings
and fields. We passed over, even, two towns. On the third night, frightening me,
he landed within the palisade of a fortified inn. The tarn basket was left
within the palings of a special enclosure within this general palisade. Now it
was time, I knew, to take my leave. Surely I was not interested in being
delivered to Ar, the very ally of Argentum, where, presumably, it would be
impossible to escape detection. I could not, however, to my consternation, climb
the palings of the enclosure or find a space between them to squeeze through. I
hid among the tarn baskets, of which there were several there. When a new
basket, that of a late arrival, unhitched from its tarn, was being dragged
within the palings from the landing area outside, within the larger palisade,
while it was being put in its numbered space, I slipped out. I hid among garbage
boxes behind the inn. No sleen patrolled the inner yard, probably because of the
danger to guests. I fed from the garbage, ravenously. It had rained recently and
there was water in various discarded containers and lids. I drank greedily.
Muchly did I envy the people in the inn, with their viands and beverages, their
clean rooms, their clothing and warm beds. I envied even the slaves that might
be within. They, at least, were secure and well fed. What had they to worry
about, other than being pleasing to their masters? I cried out, suddenly,
softly, as the fur of a scurrying urt brushed my leg. I crawled about the inn,
keeping to the brush at its side.
I moved leaves out of the way with my hand. L
eaves brushed my back.
Then I could see the main gate of the palisade. A wagon, drawn by a tharlarion,
was entering. It tipped to the left, its wheels sinking into the ruts, on the
left almost to the hubs, in the soft ground, from the rains.
The driver cracked the whip and called out to the tharlarion. “Do not make so
much noise,†he was cautioned by the porter. “People are sleeping.†The porter
then went to the tharlarion and pushing at it and striking it, urged it forward.
The great beast grunted and threw itself forward, against the harness. The wagon
was drawn through the gate, water from the ruts dripping from its wheels. To my
dismay I then saw the porter close the gates and thrust the great beam across,
through its brackets, behind them. This he secured in place with a lock and key.
He then accompanied the teamster to the stables. I hurried forward and ran to
the gate. I felt under the palings of the gate. I began to dig there in the
softness of the ground, and in the muddy water pooled -n the ruts. I tried to
thrust my body down, under the gate. There was not enough room. I heard the
creaking of another wagon, this one coming about the inn. I hid back in bushes
to the side. In moments the porter had returned to the gate.
I was in misery. I could not slip under the gate, or dig out under it, if the
porter was there. He was a man and would simply stop me, and capture me. I did
not know when, or if, another wagon would arrive before daylight, one that might
take the porter again from his post, giving me time to dig out under the gate.
Risking much I slipped back to the enclosure where the tarn baskets were. Xs I
feared, it was now once more locked. I hurried back about the inn. The porter
was engaged in a discussion, and not a particularly amiable one, with the
driver. The driver had apparently criticized the porter for not being at the
gate, and the porter, in response, was being officiously careful about checking
the driver’s ostrakon of payment. “I am not sure that is the mark of Leucippus,â€
said the porter. “It does not look much like his mark.â€
“Awaken him, then,†said the driver “and certify that it is so.†“I do not care
to awaken him at this Ahn.†“I am to be on the road by dawn.†“You will have to
wait.†“I do not have time to wait!†In the end the porter opened the gate-and
let the man proceed. By that time I was in the back of the wagon. An Ahn or so
later, when it was nearly dawn, I eased myself silently from the back of the
wagon and crouched down on the road. It continued on its way. I then left the
road and ran across the fields.
“Are you awake?†asked a voice.
The hand on my shoulder shook me again, again gently.
My body stiffened. “Yes,†I whispered.
I lay on the slope of a ditch, as it ascended to a road.
There was a trickle of water at my feet. The grass was very green here, because
of the water.
When I had left the wagon, by means of which I bad accomplished my escape from
the inn, I had fled across the fields. I had run and walked until perhaps noon,
and bad then, fearful of discovery, hidden near a small pool in a brake of ferns
until nightfall. I had washed in the pool and drunk from it. I had set out again
in the moonlight. I had eaten almost nothing and I was terribly hungry. I had
been a field for only an Ahn or so when the winds had risen and clouds had
obscured the moons. Rain had begun to fall, as it apparently had the night
before. I stumbled on through the darkness, my legs lashed to the thighs by the
knives of the wind-whipped grass. I soon grew weak and exhausted. I sought a
dwelling, or a road, which I might follow to a dwelling, that I might there,
like an urt, skulk about and, as at the inn, piteously seek some sustenance from
their refuse. Twice I fainted, probably from hunger. The second time I recovered
consciousness the storm had worsened and the sky was bursting with lightning and
thunder. As I crouched in the grass I saw, in a valley below me, in a flash of
lightning, like a wet stone ribbon, a road. I crawled toward it. At its edge
there was a deep ditch. Had I not been crawling, I might, in the darkness,
between flashes of lightning, have come on the ditch unawares and fallen into
it. As it was I lowered myself down its slope with the intention of then
climbing the other side and attaining the surface of the road. In the bottom of
the ditch there was, at that time, a flow of water some six inches deep, from
the storm. I knelt in this, the cold fluid rushing about my legs, and, cupping
my hands, drank from it. I then started to climb toward the road. I was suddenly
frightened. The incline was steeper than I had anticipated. I slipped back, into
the water. I tried again, inching myself upward. Grass pulled out of the slope,
clutched in my hands. I slipped back. I was weak and miserable. I waded at the
bottom of the ditch and, in two or three places, again tried to climb out of it.
I was not successful. The storm, meanwhile, had subsided. I could now see the
moons. In the moonlight I found an ascent which I, though with difficulty, could
manage. Gasping, holding at the grass, inching my way upward, I drew my body
from the grass to the road. I looked at the road, from my belly. I felt out with
my hands. It seemed constructed of large, square stones. It was not an ordinary
road, I thought. Like most Gorean roads, however, a single pair of ruts marked
its center. Gorean vehicles, commonly slow moving, tend to keep to the center of
a road, except in passing.
In the distance I heard the sound of bells, harness bells. It might be a wagon,
or a set of wagons, which had pulled to the side of the road during the storm
and now, with the passing of the storm, had resumed its journey. It must be near
morning, I thought, that they are on the road. Gorean roads are seldom traveled
at night. The bells were coming closer. I moaned and slid back from the road,
again into the ditch. I slipped back a yard or so down the grassy slope, and
then, clinging to grass, held my position. I could not see the surface of the
road. I would wait here until the wagons had passed. They would not, I was sure,
at night, in the moonlight and shadows, detect my presence. I clung there until
the first wagon had passed. I could hear others approaching, too. I let myself
slip down further in the ditch. I must not be discovered. I put my cheek against
the wet grass. I was very tired.
It was a good hiding place, the ditch. In the darkness, in the moonlight and
shadows, I would not be detected. I was safe.
I dreaded the climb again to the surface of the ‘road. The ditch was so steep. I
did not understand the need for such a ditch at the side of the road. But I was
safe now. There were other wagons, too, coming. There must be many wagons. I
must wait. I would rest, just a little bit. It would not hurt to close my eyes,
only for a moment. I was so hungry. I was so tired. I was so miserable. I would
rest, just for a little bit. I would close my eyes, only for a moment.
“What are you doing here?�
� asked a voice.
“I am a free woman,†I said.
I lay on the incline, the grass under my belly. It was warm now. The sun felt
hot on my back. Muddy water was about my feet. A man was behind me. At least one
other, I could hear him moving about, was above and in front of me, up on the
surface of the road.
“I was attacked by bandits,†I said. “They took my clothes.â€
“Hold still,†said the voice behind me. a
I heard the clink of a chain.
My body stiffened, my fingers clutched at the grass.
A chain was looped twice about my neck and padlocked shut.
“What are you doing?†I whispered.
“Hold still,†said the voice.
The chain was then taken under my body and down to my ankles. My ankles were
crossed and the chain was looped thrice about them, holding them closely
together. Another padlock then, its tongue passing through links of the chain,
was snapped shut. My ankles were now chained tightly together. I could not even
uncross them. It is common to run a neck chain to the ankles in front of a
woman’s body, rather than behind it. In this fashion any stress on the chain is
borne by the back of her neck rather than her throat. It is also reguarded as a
more aesthetic chaining arrangement than its opposite, the neck chain, for
example, with its linearity, and its sturdy, inflexible links, affording a
striking contrast with the softnesses, the beauties, of her lovely bosom. This
arrangement is also favored for its psychological effect on the woman. As she
feels the chain more often on her body in this arrangement, brushing her, for
example, or lying upon her, she is less likely to forget that she is wearing it.
It helps her to keep clearly in mind that she is chained. It reminds her,
rainatically and frequently, of that fact.
“What are you doing?†I asked. “I am a free woman!â€
“How is it, did you say,†asked the man behind me, “that on are unclothed?â€
“Bandits took my clothes!†I said.
“And left you?†he asked.
“Yes,†I said.
“If it had been up to me,†said the fellow behind me, “I think I would have
taken you along and left the clothes.â€
Norman, John - Gor 19 - Kajira of Gor.txt Page 27
