“Ah,” said Kisu.
In the box, jumbled, were rolls of wire, mirrors, pine and knives, beads, shells and bits of colored glass.
“Trade goods,” said Kisu.
“Doubtless from one of the vessels of Shaba,” said Ayari.
“Doubtless,” I agreed.
We put the goods in one of the sacks we had had and saved from the fishermen’s village, and threw the broken lock and opened box again into the river.
“Let us proceed with caution,” said Kisu.
“That seems to me wise,” I said.
29
Bark Cloth And Beads
We sat about the small fire, some half pasang inland from the river, in the rain forest.
A great spined anteater, more than twenty feet in length, shuffled about the edges of the camp. We saw its long, thin tongue dart in and out of its mouth.
The blond-haired barbarian crept closer to me.
“It is harmless,” I said, “unless you cross its path or disturb it.”
It lived on the white ants, or termites, of the vicinity, breaking apart their high, towering nests of toughened clay, some of them thirty-five feet in height, with its mighty claws, then darting its four-foot-long tongue, coated with adhesive saliva, among the nest’s startled occupants, drawing thousands in a matter of moments into its narrow, tubelike mouth.
She drew a bit further away, trembling. She was a naked woman, and a slave, on the barbaric planet of Gor. Perhaps she did not relish being dependent on men, and their protection, for her very life, but she was, and she knew it.
We had brought certain goods with us from the canoe to our camp.
“Oh!” cried the girl, startled. A grasshopper, red, the size of a horned gim, a small, owllike bird, some four ounces in weight, common in the northern latitudes, had leaped near the fire, and disappeared into the brush.
She restrained herself from approaching me more closely. She put her head down, embarrassed.
Kisu, with a knife, was cutting a length from the rough, red-dyed cloth, plaited and pounded, derived from the inner bark of the pod tree, which we had obtained in trade some days ago at the fishermen’s village. It has a cordage of bark strips resembling a closely woven burlap, but it is much softer, a result in part perhaps due to the fact that the dye in which it is prepared is mixed with palm oil. Tende was watching him closely.
I chuckled to myself.
“Do I amuse Master?” asked the blond-haired barbarian, irritably.
“I was thinking about this afternoon,” I said.
“Oh,” she said.
This afternoon, late, when we had come inland, almost in the dusk, she had become entangled in the web of a rock spider, a large one. They are called rock spiders because of their habit of holding their legs folded beneath them. This habit, and their size and coloration, usually brown and black, suggests a rock, and hence the name. It is a very nice piece of natural camouflage. A thin line runs from the web to the spider. When something strikes the web the tremor is transmitted by means of this line to the spider. Interestingly the movement of the web in the air, as it is stirred by wind, does not activate the spider; similarly if the prey which strikes the web is too small, and thus not worth showing itself for, or too large, and thus beyond its prey range, and perhaps dangerous, it does not reveal itself. On the other hand, should a bird, such as a mindar or parrot, or a small animal, such as a leaf urt or tiny tarsk, become entangled in the net the spider swiftly emerges. It is fully capable of taking such prey. When the blond-haired barbarian stumbled into the web, screaming, trying to tear it away from her face and hair, the spider did not even reveal itself. I pulled her away from the net and slapped her to silence. Curious, as she, sobbing, cleaned herself with leaves and saliva, I located the gentle, swaying strand which marked the location of the spider. It, immobile on the ground, was about a foot in diameter. It did not move until I nudged it with a stick, and it then backed rapidly away.
“You need not have struck me,” she said reproachfully.
“Be silent, Slave,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said. That a slave has irritated one in the least particular is, of course, more than enough reason for striking her. Indeed, one does not need a reason for striking, a slave. One may do so at one’s purest caprice. The girls know this. This helps in their discipline. In this particular instance, of course, aside from my irritation at her outburst, I did not want her cries to mark our position in the forest. We did not know who, or what, besides ourselves, might trek, perhaps at our side, in that lush habitat.
“Master,” said the girl
“Yes,” I said.
“You need not have struck me, earlier this afternoon,” she said. “But I suppose that you are the judge of that, for you are the Master,” she added, airily.
I looked at her.
“Surely one needs a reason for striking a slave,” she said.
“No,” I said.
“I see,” she said, putting her head down. She trembled.
“Come here,” I said. “Kneel before me, back on your heels.”
She did so, looking at me. “Master?” she asked.
Suddenly I struck her, a fierce blow which flung her, mouth bloodied, to her side in the dirt.
I stood up. “Do you see?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered, looking up at me, horrified.
“Now kneel before me and kiss my feet,” I said, “and thank me for having struck you.”
Tremblingly, she crawled to me, and knelt before me. She put her head down. I felt her lips on my feet. “Thank you for having struck me, Master,” she whispered. She looked up at me.
“Do you now understand that you are a slave?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Do you still think that a master requires a reason to strike you?” I asked.
“No, Master,” she said.
“And why is that?” I asked.
“Because I am a slave,” she said.
“It is true,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
I then sat down again, cross-legged, and turned my attention to Kisu. He was displaying the strip of cloth, about a foot wide and five feet in length, to Tende.
I hoped that the blond-haired barbarian had learned her lesson. It might help her to survive on Gor. A girl does not question what her master does to her. She is slave.
Tende knelt before Kisu and put her head to the dirt. “I beg clothing, Master,” she said.
“Earn it,” said he to her.
“Yes, Master,” she said, eagerly, and then well did she earn it. When she was finished Kisu threw her the strip of cloth which she then, delightedly, wrapped about her hips, tucking it closed. He then, from a sack brought from the canoe, threw her two strings of colored wooden beads, blue, and red and yellow, which we had obtained in trade from the fishing village earlier.
“Thank you, my master,” breathed Tende, and she then displayed herself before him, the brief bark cloth, scarlet, snug about her hips and the beads about her lovely throat.
“It is now time to tie you for the night,” said Kisu.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
The first blond, Alice, gazed enviously upon Tende. She then crept to me, head down. “I beg clothing, Master,” she whispered.
I looked upon her.
“I am a humbled, naked slave,” she said. “I beg clothing of my master.”
“Are you prepared to earn it?” I asked her.
“Yes, Master,” she said, smiling.
“Whore!” cried the blond-haired barbarian.
I took Alice in my arms, kissing her, and she put her head back, with her eyes closed.
“Whore! Whore!” cried the blond-haired barbarian.
“What do you think slave girls are for,” laughed Alice, her eyes still closed, delightedly, “you silly girl?”
“Whore! Whore!” cried the blond-haired barbarian.
I kissed Alice.
“Gather some wood for the fire. Build it up a little,” I said to the blond-haired barbarian.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
Alice looked up at me. “Your touch is masterful,” she said. She smiled up at me. “The Earth woman yields to her Gorean master,” she said.
The fire had now burned low.
It was some two Ahn before dawn.
Alice, her wrists bound now behind her, tethered by them to a tree, to which Tende lay similarly secured, lay asleep. About her hips was the wrap-around skirt, tucked shut, of scarlet bark cloth, which she had well earned. I had cut the skirt for her following her performance. I had also given her, as Kisu had Tende, two strings of wooden beads. They were attractive on her. She, too, now, like Tende, was a clothed, ornamented slave. Tende was asleep. So, too, were Ayari and Kisu.
I looked over to the blond-haired barbarian who sat by the fire. She poked at the fire with a green stick.
“Go sit by the slave post,” I said to her, referring to that slim tree to which the other girls were secured, which served us as slave post, “and cross your wrists behind you.”
She did so.
“Oh,” she said, as I, with the end of a long, narrow strip of leather, fastened her wrists, tightly, together. I then tied the free end of the tether about the slave post, or tree, fastening her to it.
“Master,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Am I not to be given clothing?” she asked.
“Are you ready to earn it?” I asked.
“If you command me,” she said, “I must obey. I am slave.”
“And if I do not command you?” I asked.
“Master?” she asked.
“Would you beg for the opportunity to earn clothing?’ I asked.
“Never!” she said. “Never!”
“It is time now to go to sleep,” I said.
“I want clothing,” she said. “Please, Master!”
“Lie down,” I said. “It is time to sleep.”
She lay down on her side. “I cannot beg clothing,” she sobbed. “I am an Earth woman.”
“So, too, is Alice,” I said.
“She is a slave,” said the blond-haired barbarian.
“And you?” I asked.
“Yes,” said the blond-haired barbarian, sobbing. “I, too, am a slave.”
“Beg, if you wish,” I said.
“I cannot,” she wept.
“Go to sleep now,” I said. ‘The day will be long and hard tomorrow.”
“Master,” she whispered.
“Yes,” I said.
“You taught me a lesson this evening, did you not?”
“Perhaps,” I said.
“That a master requires no reason, to put me under even the harshest of disciplines.”
“That is true,” I said.
“In your cruel way, are you not kind,” she asked, “to a girl who is a slave?”
“Do you wish to be whipped?” I asked.
“No, Master,” she said.
“Your slavery will be of little use to men,” I said, “if you, through your ignorance, must be soon thrown alive to sleen or tharlarion.”
“I see,” she said, bitterly. “You are not kind.”
“No,” I said.
“You are merely training an animal to know her station in life.”
“Yes,” I said. I smiled. I resisted an impulse to tenderness. I resisted, too, an Impulse to seize her fair ankles, turn her to her back by means of them, throw them apart, and then rape her in the dirt.
She struggled up to one elbow. She looked at me. “What do men want of a slave girl?” she asked.
“Everything,” I told her.
She lay back in the dirt, miserably.
“Master,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“A man may do to me whatever he wants, at any time, may he not?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“He needs no reason,” she said.
“No,” I said.
“But a man, commonly,” she asked, “would not hurt me or abuse me without a reason, would he?”
“He may do so, if he wishes,” I said, “particularly in your training, but, of course, normally he would not do so. There would simply be no point to it. There are better things to do to a woman, once she is trained, than hurt her.”
“If I please my master, he will not hurt me, will he?” she asked.
“He will, if it pleases him,” I said.
“But if I am totally pleasing to him, fully, and as an abject slave girl,” she pressed, “he will not be likely to be pleased to hurt me, will he?”
“No,” I said, “of course not. You must understand, of course, that if you are displeasing in the least particular that will be a sufficient reason for him to put you under whatever discipline he desires.”
“I understand that, clearly,” she said. “But I will try to be pleasing to my master.”
“Totally pleasing, and fully, and as an abject slave girl?’ I asked.
“Yes,” she said, “I shall strive with all my might to be pleasing in that way to my master.”
“Masters,” I said.
She swallowed hard. “Yea, Masters,” she said. She knew she might have many masters on Gor.
I saw that the slave girl in her was near the surface.
“Are you now ready,” I asked, “to beg to earn your clothing?”
“I cannot do that,” she said, horrified. I saw that the slave girl in her was again thrust back. Again the iron door of her prison, like a heavy hatch, was flung shut over her and the bolt thrust shut The slave, lying on the narrow stairs, leading from her dungeon, wept. She pressed her small fingers against the damp wall to her left, and against the heavy iron door, bolted shut, obdurate above her, which confined her. The lovely slave lying on the narrow, damp steps, hidden beneath the iron door, shut out again from the sun, cried in the lonely, quiet darkness, her existence once again denied.
“Very well,” I said. “Remain naked.”
“Very well,” she said. “I shall.”
“You have had the opportunity to beg to earn clothing,” I told her. “You refused it. It is possible that that opportunity may not be again offered.”
She looked at me, frightened.
“Sleep now,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
I then went to sit by the small fire. I would watch for a time, and then awaken Kisu. In this fashion, he then taking the watch, I would have some sleep before dawn.
I was interested in the fauna of the river and the rain forest. I recalled, sunning themselves on exposed roots near the river, tiny fish. They were bulbous eyed and about six inches long, with tiny flipperlike lateral fins. They had both lungs and gills. Their capacity to leave the water, in certain small streams, during dry seasons, enables them to seek other streams, still flowing, or pools. This property also, of course, makes it possible for them to elude marine predators and, on the land, to return to the water in case of danger. Normally they remain quite close to the water. Sometimes they even sun themselves on the backs of resting or napping tharlarion. Should the tharlarion submerge the tiny fish often submerges with it, staying close to it, but away from its jaws. Its proximity to the tharlarion affords it, interestingly, an effective protection against most of its natural predators, in particular the black eel, which will not approach the sinuous reptiles. Similarly the tiny fish can thrive on the scraps from the ravaging jaws of the feeding tharlarion. They will even drive one another away from their local tharlarion, fighting in contests of intraspecific aggression, over the plated territory of the monster’s back. The remora fish and the shark have what seem to be, in some respects, a similar relationship. These tiny fish, incidentally, are called gints.
I poked the fire.
I wondered if I should give the blond-haired barbarian an opportunity again to beg to perform, that she might earn a bit of cloth and a handful of beads. I would make that decision
later.
“Kisu,” I said. “Wake up. Take the watch.”
He stirred himself and I lay down. I thought about the river, and was soon asleep.
30
We Make Further Progress Upon The River
“Do not permit the canoe to be swept away!” screamed Kisu, straining to be heard over the rushing water.
We had been two weeks upon the Ua. We had come to another of its cataracts.
It is impossible to paddle against these currents as the river, descending rapidly, plunges in torrents among a jungle of rocks.
I and Kisu. and the blond-haired barbarian and Tende, waded beside the canoe, thrusting it ahead of us. On the shore, each with a rope, one extending from the bow, one from the stern, stumbled Ayari and Alice. Ayari held the bow rope and Alice the rope extending from the stern. We could port the canoe but only with great difficulty. It was an eight-man raiders’ canoe.
“Do not lose your footing, Naked Slave!” cried Tende to the blond-haired barbarian.
“Yes, Mistress,” she cried, over the water, struggling to remain upright.
We had made Tende first girl. She had been, after all, the former mistress of the two white slaves.
They would obey her with perfection. If they did not we would beat them. If Tende, for her part, did not do well as first girl Kisu and I had agreed that Alice should have the opportunity. Tende, we were sure, fearing to be at the mercy of one of her former slaves, would strive to be a good first girl.
Tende and Alice had taken to calling the blond-haired barbarian ‘Naked Slave’. She had, among us, no other name. We had not given her one. Calling the blond-haired barbarian by that descriptive and accurate appellation made clear the distinction between her and the others. She was low girl. We all used her to fetch and carry, and perform the most servile of our tasks. The blond-haired barbarian would weep at night, but we paid her no attention, unless it be to order her to silence.
Norman, John - Gor 13 - Explorers of Gor.txt Page 35
