The free woman stopped wailing. “Do you think so?” she asked.
“Twenty gold pieces, I’d say,” appraised Elizabeth.
“I’d give twenty-three,” said one of the men watching, the same fellow whom Elizabeth had slapped.
In fury the free woman turned about and slapped him again, it not being his day in Ko-ro-ba.
“What do you think?” asked Elizabeth of the cringing slave girl.
“Oh, I would not know,” she said, “I am only a poor girl of Tyros.”
“That is your misfortune,” said Elizabeth. “What is your name?”
“Rena,” said she, “if it pleases Mistress.”
“It will do,” said Elizabeth. “Now, what do you think?”
“Rena?” asked the girl.
“Yes,” snapped Elizabeth. “Perhaps you are a dull-witted slave?”
The girl smiled. “I would say twenty-five gold pieces,” she said.
Elizabeth, with the others, inspected the free girl. “Yes,” said Elizabeth, “Rena, I think you’re right.” Then she looked at the free girl. “What is your name, Wench?” she demanded.
The girl blushed. “Relia,” she said. Then she looked at the slave girl. “Do you really think I would bring so high a price—Rena?”
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“Yes, Relia,” corrected Elizabeth.
The girl looked frightened for a moment. “Yes—Relia,” she said.
Relia laughed with pleasure.
“I don’t suppose an exalted free woman like yourself,” said Elizabeth, “drinks Ka-la-na?”
“Of course I do,” said Relia.
“Well,” said Elizabeth, turning to me, who had been standing there, as flabbergasted as any on the bridge, “we shall have some.” She looked at me. “You there,” she said, “a coin for Ka-la-na.”
Dumbfounded I reached in my pouch and handed her a coin, a silver Tarsk.
Elizabeth then took Relia by one arm and Rena by the other. “We are off,” she announced, “to buy a bottle of wine.”
“Wait,” I said, “I’ll come along.”
“No, you will not,” she said, with one foot kicking Relia’s discarded Robes of Concealment from the bridge. “You,” she announced, “are not welcome.”
Then, arm in arm, the three girls started off down the bridge.
“What are you going to talk about?” I asked, plaintively.
“Men,” said Elizabeth, and went her way, the two girls, much pleased, laughing beside her.
I do not know whether or not Elizabeth’s continued presence in Ko-ro-ba would have initiated a revolution among the city’s free women or not. Surely there had been scandalized mention of her in circles even as august as that of the High Council of the City. My own father, Administrator of the City, seemed unnerved by her.
But, long before such a revolution might have been successfully achieved, Al-Ka, from the Nest, arrived in the city. For this mission, he had permitted his hair to grow. I almost did not recognize him, for the humans in the Nest commonly, both men and women, though not now always, shave themselves completely, in accord with traditional practices of sanitation in the Nest. The hair caused him no little agitation, and he must have washed it several times in the day he was with us. Elizabeth was much amused by the forged slave papers prepared for her, giving in detail an account of her capture and exchanges, complete with endorsements and copies of bills of sale. Some of the information such as Physicians’ certifications and measurements and marks of identification had been compiled in the Nest and later transferred to the documents. In my compartment, Al-Ka fingerprinted her, adding her prints to the papers. Under a section on attributes I was interested to note that she was listed as literate. Without that, of course, it would be improbable that Caprus could have justified adding her to his staff. I kissed Elizabeth long one morning, and then, with Al-Ka, she, hidden in a wagon disguised to resemble a peddler’s wagon, left the city.
“Be careful,” I had said to her.
“I will see you in Ar,” she had said to me, kissing me. Then she had lain down on a flat piece of rain canvas which Al-Ka and I had rolled about her, and, concealed in this fashion, we had carried her to the wagon.
Beyond the city, the wagon would stop, drawing up in a secluded grove. There Al-Ka would release Elizabeth from the rain canvas and busy himself with the wagon. He would set a central bar, running lengthwise in the wagon, in place, locking it in. Then he would change the white and gold rain canvas to a covering of blue and yellow silk. Meanwhile Elizabeth would have built a fire and in it burned her clothing. Al-Ka would then give her a collar to snap about her throat and she would do so. She would then climb into the wagon where, with two ankle rings, joined by a foot of chain looped about the central bar, she would be fastened in the wagon. Then, whistling, Al-Ka would pull the wagon out of the grove and Elizabeth would be on her way to Thentis, for delivery to the House of Clark, only another slave girl, naked and chained, perhaps lovelier than most but yet scarcely to be noticed among the many others, each day, delivered to so large and important a house, the largest in Thentis, among the best known on Gor.
It was one day to Thentis by tarn, but in the wagon we knew the trip would take perhaps the better part of one of the twenty-five day Gorean months. There are twelve twenty-five day Gorean months, incidentally, in most of the calendars of the various cities. Each month, containing five five-day weeks, is separated by a five-day period, called the Passage Hand, from every other month, there being one exception to this, which is that the last month of the year is separated from the first month of the year, which begins with the Vernal Equinox, not only by a Passage Hand, but by another five-day period called the Waiting Hand, during which doorways are painted white, little food is eaten, little is drunk and there is to be no singing or public rejoicing in the city; during this time Goreans go out as little as possible; the Initiates, interestingly enough, do not make much out of the Waiting Hand in their ceremonies and preachments, which leads one to believe it is not intended to be of any sort of religious significance; it is perhaps, in its way, a period of mourning for the old year; Goreans, living much of their lives in the open, on the bridges and in the streets, are much closer to nature’s year than most humans of Earth; but on the Vernal Equinox, which marks the first day of the New Year in most Gorean cities, there is great rejoicing; the doorways are painted green, and there is song on the bridges, games, contests, visitings of friends and much feasting, which lasts for the first ten days of the first month, thereby doubling the period taken in the Waiting Hand. Month names differ, unfortunately, from city to city, but, among the civilized cities, there are four months, associated with the equinoxes and solstices, and the great fairs at the Sardar, which do have common names, the months of En’Kara, or En’Kara-Lar-Torvis; En’Var, or En’var-Lar-Torvis; Se’Kara, or Se’Kara-Lar-Torvis; and Se’Var, or Se’Var-Lar-Torvis. Elizabeth and I had arrived in Ko-ro-ba in the second month, and she departed on the second day of the Second Passage Hand, that following the second month. We estimated that she would surely be in the House of Clark by the Third Passage Hand, which precedes the month of En’Var. If all went well, we expected she would be in Ar, and perhaps in the House of Cernus, by the end of En’Var. It is true that if she, with other girls, were shipped by wagon to Ar, this schedule would not be met; but we knew that the House of Clark, in the case of select merchandise, under which category Elizabeth surely fell, transported slaves by tarn caravan to the markets of Ar, usually binding them in groups of six in slave baskets, sometimes as many as a hundred tarns, with escort, flying at once.
I had decided to wait until the Fourth Passage Hand, that following En’Var, and then take tarn for Ar, where I would pose as a mercenary tarnsman seeking employment in the House of Cernus, but when the Warrior from Thentis, who resembled me, was slain early in En’Var, I decided to go to Ar in the guise of an Assassin, by High Tharlarion, for Assassins are not commonly tarnsmen. Besides, it s
eemed desirable to let those in Ar think that Tarl Cabot had been killed. Further, I did have the business of vengeance to attend to, for there was a Warrior from Thentis who had died on a Koroban bridge, whose blood surely required the justice of the sword. It was not simply that Thentis was an ally of Ko-ro-ba, but also that this Warrior had been, it seemed, slain in my stead, and that thus his life had been given for mine, and was thus mine to avenge.
* * * *
“I’ve got it now,” said Elizabeth, who, kneeling before the slave ring, had been practicing my signature knot, using the ring as a post.
“Good,” I said.
I myself had been spending some time mastering the knot she had invented, which, I was forced to admit, was suitably ingenious. I examined her knot, which I had tied about the handle of one of the chests near the wall.
It is perhaps surprising, but I think there would have been little difficulty telling which knot had been tied by a man and which by a woman; moreover, though this was much subtler, Elizabeth’s knot did, in its way, remind me of her. It was intelligent, intricate, rather aesthetically done and, here and there, in little bendings and loopings, playful. In such a small thing as these knots I was again reminded of the central differences in sex and personality that divide human beings, differences expressed in thousands of subtleties, many of which are often overlooked, as in the way a piece of cloth might be folded, a letter formed, a color remembered, a phrase turned. In all things, it seemed to me, we manifest ourselves, each differently.
“You might check this knot,” said Elizabeth.
I went over to her knot and she went over to mine, and each began, carefully, movement by movement, to check the other’s knot.
Elizabeth’s knot was a fifty-five-turn knot. Mine was fifty-seven.
She had threatened to invent a knot with more than fifty-five turns but when I had threatened to beat her she had yielded to reason.
“You have done it perfectly,” I told her.
Upon reflection, it did seem to me there might be some purpose in Elizabeth’s having her own knot, apart from her delight in inventing and utilizing one. For example, sometime on Gor, she might have her own compartment or her own chests, and such, and might have a use for her own knot. She could have used mine, of course, even in such cases, but, seeing her knot and how it differed from mine, I had little doubt she would find her own more felicitous, more pleasing, it being more feminine, more personal to her. Also, as she was, legally, having submitted in the House of Cernus, a slave girl, any small thing she had or could do which was her own was doubtless rather precious to her. Some slaves, I knew, were even intensely jealous of so little as a dish or a cup which, probably because of use, they had come to regard as their own. Further, having her own knot might have some occasional value, even in our present circumstances. For example, passing the door and seeing her knot in place I would know that she was not in the compartment. This sort of thing was trivial, but one never knew when something less trivial might perhaps be involved. It seemed to me, all things considered, though it was a bother for me, a good thing that Elizabeth had her own knot. Besides, perhaps most importantly, she had wanted her own knot.
“Every girl,” she had informed me, loftily, “should have her own knot. Moreover, if you have a knot, I should have a knot.”
In the face of such logic, smacking of the contaminations of Earth, there had been little to do but capitulate, bother though it might be.
“Well, Kuurus,” said she, from the side of the room, “it seems you have tied my knot correctly, though perhaps somewhat more clumsily than I would have done.”
“The important thing,” I said, “is that it is done correctly.”
She shrugged. “I suppose so,” she said.
“Your tying of my knot,” I said, a bit disgruntled, “if one is to be critical, was somewhat daintier than I myself would approve.”
“I do not tie dainty knots,” Elizabeth informed me. “What you mistook for daintiness was mere neatness, simple, common everyday neatness.”
“Oh,” I said.
“I cannot help it,” she said, “if I tie your knot more neatly than you.”
“You seem to like knots,” I remarked.
She shrugged.
“Would you like me to show you some others?” I asked.
“Signature knots?” she asked.
“No,” I said, “simple knots, common Gorean knots.”
“Yes,” she said, delighted.
“Bring me a pair of sandal thongs,” I told her.
She did so and then knelt down opposite me, while I sat cross-legged, and took one of the thongs in my hands.
“This is the basket hitch,” I told her, gesturing for her to put out one hand. “It is used for fastening a carrying basket to hooks on certain tarn saddles.”
I then illustrated, she cooperating, several other common knots, among them the Karian anchor knot, the Pin hitch, the double Pin hitch, the Builder’s bend and the Builder’s overhand.
“Now cross your wrists,” I said.
She did so.
“So you think your knots are neater than mine?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, “but then you are only a man.”
I flipped one of the thongs about her wrists, then again, then turned a double opposite overhand, with a twist following the first overhand.
“My,” she said, wiggling her wrists, “you tied that quickly.”
I did not tell her, of course, but Warriors are trained to tie that knot, and most can do it in less than three Ihn.
“I wouldn’t struggle,” I said.
“Oh!” she said, stopping, pinched.
“You will tighten it,” I said.
“It is an interesting knot,” she said, examining her bound wrists. “What do you call it?”
“It is a Capture Knot,” I said.
“Oh,” she said.
“It is used for binding slaves and such,” I remarked.
“I see,” she said.
I took the second thong and flipped it about her ankles, securing them together.
“Tarl!” she said.
“Kuurus,” I reminded her.
She sat there. “You tricked me,” she said.
“There is even more security,” I said, “in this tie,” untying her wrists and flipping her on her stomach, crossing her wrists behind her and using the same knot, with an additional knot, binding her wrists behind her back.
She struggled to sit up. “Yes,” she said, “I imagine that this tie does provide greater security.”
“And this,” I said, “provides even greater security,” lifting her to the foot of the couch, sitting her down there and snapping the heavy chain and collar, attached to the slave ring fixed there, about her throat.
“Yes,” admitted Elizabeth, “I would agree.” She looked at me. “Now untie me please,” she said.
“I shall have to think about it,” I said.
“Please do so,” said Elizabeth, wiggling a bit.
“When you returned to the House of Cernus,” I asked, “and told the Keeper what had theoretically happened to you, as I instructed you, what happened?”
Elizabeth smiled. “I was cuffed about quite a bit,” said Elizabeth. “Was that part of your plan?”
“No,” I said, “but I am not surprised.”
“Well, that’s good,” she said. “I certainly would not have wanted you to have been surprised.” She looked up at me. “Now,” she said, “please untie me.”
“I am still thinking about it,” I told her.
“Please,” she wheedled, “—Master.”
“I am now thinking more seriously about it,” I informed her.
“Good,” she said.
“So you think your knots are neater than mine?” I inquired.
“It is a simple matter of fact,” she said. “Now please untie me,” she said.
“Perhaps in the morning,” I said.
She wiggled about angrily.
> “I wouldn’t struggle,” I said.
“Oh,” she cried in frustration, “oh, oh!” Then she sat quietly, looking at me with anger. “All right,” she said, “all right! Your knots are very neat, Master.”
“Better than yours?” I inquired.
She looked at me irritably. “Of course,” she said. “How could the knot of a mere girl, and one who is only slave, compare with the knot of a man, and one who is free, and even of the Caste of Warriors?”
“Then you acknowledge my knots are superior to yours in all respects?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” she cried, “yes, Master!”
“Now,” I said, satisfied, “I think I will untie you.”
“You are a beast,” said she, laughing, “Tarl Cabot.”
“Kuurus.”
“Kuurus, Kuurus!” she said.
I bent to Elizabeth’s bonds to free her when suddenly there came a loud knock on the door of the compartment. We looked at one another quickly.
The knock came again.
“Who is it?” I called.
“Ho-Tu, Master Keeper,” came the response, muffled, scarcely audible, behind the heavy beams of the door.
I gave Elizabeth a swift kiss and then jerked the slave livery to her waist and turned her about, putting her on her side at the foot of the couch, facing away from the door. She lay there on the stones, half-stripped, turned away, bound hand and foot, her throat fastened to the slave ring by the heavy collar and chain. Drawing her knees up and almost touching her chin to her chest she managed to look about as abject and abused as a poor wench might. Satisfied, I went to the door and removed the two heavy beams, opening it.
Ho-Tu was a short, corpulent man, broad-shouldered, stripped to the waist. He had quick black eyes set in a shaven head, the threads of a mustache dangled at the sides of his mouth. About his neck he wore a rude ornament, a loose iron chain bearing, also in iron, a medallion, the crest of the House of Cernus. He had a broad leather belt, with four buckles. To this belt there hung the sheath of a hook knife, which was buckled in the sheath, the strap passing over the hilt. Also, clipped to the belt, was a slave whistle, used in issuing signals, summoning slaves, and so on. On the other side of the belt, there hung a slave goad, rather like the tarn goad, except that it is designed to be used as an instrument for the control of human beings rather than tarns. It was, like the tarn goad, developed jointly by the Caste of Physicians and that of the Builders, the Physicians contributing knowledge of the pain fibers of human beings, the networks of nerve endings, and the Builders contributing certain principles and techniques developed in the construction and manufacture of energy bulbs. Unlike the tarn goad which has a simple on-off switch in the handle, the slave goad works with both a switch and a dial, and the intensity of the charge administered can be varied from an infliction which is only distinctly unpleasant to one which is instantly lethal. The slave goad, unknown in most Gorean cities, is almost never used except by professional slavers, probably because of the great expense involved; the tarn goad, by contrast, is a simple instrument. Both goads, interestingly, emit a shower of yellow sparks when touched to an object, a phenomenon which, associated with the pain involved, surely plays its role in producing aversion to the goad, both in tarns and men.
Assassin of Gor Page 9
