by John Norman
“Hand me another paddle,” I said to the first girl in the canoe. She was crouching, trembling, head down, in the bottom of the canoe.
“Perform, Slave,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered. She handed the paddle back to the blond-haired barbarian who, half in shock, numb, handed it back to me. She looked at me, frightened, and then looked away. I think she knew that she again belonged to me. I pulled the paddle from her fingers and passed it back to Kisu, who took it calmly. Kisu and I then began to propel the canoe eastward. Tende, wrists bound beneath her body, lay shuddering between Kisu and myself, in the bottom of the canoe. Ayari then threw bits of fish into the water, where the tharlarion must swim to them, to obtain them. He threw successive tidbits further and further away, behind the canoe. Then he scattered several scraps of fish at one time, in an arc behind the tharlarion. Kisu and I continued to propel the canoe from the vicinity. The tharlarion, distracted and feeding, did not follow.
After a quarter of an Ann Kisu laid aside his paddle. He put Tende to her back, crouching beside her. He untied her hands.
She looked up at him.
“It is right, is it not,” he asked, “to enslave a rightful and natural slave?”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
He then, gently, removed her clothing.
“You are beautiful,” he said.
“A girl is pleased, if Master is pleased,” she said.
“It is too bad you are only a slave,” he said.
“Yes Master,” she said.
I then removed the white shells and cord from the throat and left ankle of the blond-haired barbarian, and snapped the two cords in half. I then retied shells on her throat and left ankle. The two remaining pieces of cord, with their shells, I gave to Kisu. He then tied them on the throat and left ankle of Tende.
“You have ornamented me as a slave, Master,” said Tende.
“It is fitting, Slave,” said Kisu.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
She then saw her clothing, with the exception of a silken strip, a foot in width and some five feet in length, ripped from an undergarment, dropped overboard into the marsh. Kisu carefully folded the silken strip into small squares and slipped it between his waist and his loincloth’s twisted-cloth belt. It could serve her as a brief, wrap-around skirt, similar to those of the other girls, if he later saw fit to clothe her.
“Your slave lies naked before you, Master,” said Tende.
“I have always desired you, Tende,” he said.
She lifted her arms to him.
“You are a slave, aren’t you, Tende?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said. She put her arms down. She looked up at him.
“Since I was a little girl,” she said, “I wanted to be your slave. But I never thought you would be strong enough to make me your slave.”
“In Ukungu,” he said, “it was not possible.” He looked down at her, his hands hard on her arms. “Here,” he said, “it is possible.”
“Here,” she said, “it is reality.” Then she winced, for his hands, in his desire, tightened more upon her anus. “oh,” she said, “you’re hurting me.”
“Be silent, Slave,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
He looked at her, fiercely. She could not meet his eyes. I think she had not known before that a man could so desire her. She had not before been a slave.
“I name you Tende,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said, now wearing that name like a collar, it having been put upon her as a slave name.
“To whom do you belong?” he asked.
“You, Master,” she said.
“Do you think you will have an easy slavery with me?” he asked.
“No, Master,” she said.
“You are right,” he said. “Your slavery will be a full slavery.
“I desire no other,” she said, turning her head to face him. I could smell the heat of her. “Are you now going to claim me, as your slave?” she asked. They seemed oblivious of the others in the canoe. Yet had they not been, it would have made no difference, for the girl was only a slave.
“I claim you, Tende,” said he, “as my slave.”
“Are you going to take the rights of the Master?” she asked.
“When, and as I please,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Oh!” she said, forced down, roughly, in the canoe.
“I claim you, Tende, daughter of my hated enemy, Aibu,” he said, “as my slave, and now, for the first time, I assert over you the full and uncompromising rights of my mastery.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Yes, Master.”
Ayari and I, and the two bare-breasted, lovely white slaves, property girls, each of us now with a paddle, not speaking, propelled the long canoe quietly eastward.
25. We Reach The Sill; I Am Not Pleased With A Slave
“Look,” said Ayari, in the bow of the long canoe, pointing forward.
“At last,” said Kisu, in the stern, resting his paddle.
The two white slaves, kneeling one behind the other, before me, lifted their paddles from the water, laying them across the sides of our narrow vessel.
Behind me, directly, before Kisu, Tende withdrew her paddle, too, from the water. Kisu kept her in the canoe immediately before him. He wanted her within his reach. She knew herself constantly under his scrutiny. She dared not shirk, no more than the other slaves, in the heavy work set her. More than once Kisu had struck her across the shoulders with his broad-bladed, ornately carved paddle when she, weary, arms aching, had faltered in the rhythm of the stroke.
We had come to the sill, that place where the marsh gives way to the waters of Ngao.
Kisu and I slipped into the water and, wading, slipping in the mud, thrust and hauled the canoe forward.
Then the marsh reeds parted and I saw, before us, sparkling in the sun, broad and shining, the waters of Lake Ngao.
“How beautiful it is,” breathed the blond-haired barbarian, in English.
It had taken us fifteen days to reach the sill.
We had lived by spear fishing, and drinking the fresh water of the marsh.
The sun shone on the wide, placid waters.
Shaba, I recalled, had been the first of civilized men, or outlanders, to have seen this sight.
“It is beautiful,” I thought to myself. Unfortunate, I thought, that the first civilized person to have seen this sight had been the treacherous Shaba.
“Ukungu,” said Kisu, “lies to the northeast, on the coast.” Ukungu was a country of coast villages, speaking the same or similar dialects. It was now claimed as a part of the expanding empire of Bila Huruma.
“You are no longer welcome there,” I said to Kisu.
“True,” said he.
“Is it your intention to return,” I asked, “in an attempt to foment rebellion?”
“That is not a portion of my current plan,” he said.
“What is your current plan?” I asked;
“I shall speak to you of it later,” he said.
“I am seeking one called Shaba,” I said, “one with whom I have business to conclude. My task takes me to the Ua.”
“I, too,” smiled Kisu, “am on my way to the Ua River.”
“That is a part of your plan?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, “it is a part of my plan.”
“I myself,” I said, “may perhaps find it necessary to enter upon the Ua River itself.”
“I, too, may find that necessary,” he said.
“The country of the Ua, I suspect,” I said, “is a perilous country.”
“I am counting on that,” said Kisu.
“Is that, too,” tasked, “in accord with the plan you guard so secretively?”
“It is,” grinned Kisu.
“Are you familiar with the Ua?” I asked.
“No,” said Kisu. “I have never seen it.”
I steadied the canoe. It floated fre
e now, fully, at the outer edge of the Ngao waters.
“Let us be on our way,” I said.
Kisu, the water now again to his thighs, reached into the canoe. He took a narrow, short length of leather and bound Tende’s wrists, tightly, behind her body. He then, similarly, crossing them and lashing them together, secured the girl’s ankles.
“Why does my Master bind me?” she asked, kneeling helplessly in the canoe.
“I do not expect to see canoes of Ukungu,” said Kisu, “but if we do, you will, thus bound, perhaps not be tempted to leap into the water and swim to safety.”
“Yes, Master,” she said, putting her head down.
“These other slaves, too,” I said, “might be tempted to seek an easier slavery within the collar of the empire.”
“Let us then discourage them, too, from foolish thoughts of escape,” said Kisu.
I then bound the other two girls as Kisu had bound Tende. We then, with two long lengths of leather, fastened them, all three, together, one strap putting them in throat coffle, the other in left-ankle coffle.
“Do not tie me with white slaves, Master,” begged Tende, but Kisu laughed at her, and it was done to her.
Kisu and I re-entered the canoe and took up our paddles. We then set forth, paddling calmly, on the broad, shining waters of Ngao.
We paid no attention to Tende, who was weeping with the degradation which had been inflicted upon her.
The proud daughter of Aibu, high chief of the Ukungu district, was now well learning that she was only a slave.
“You there,” I said, “crawl to my arms.”
I lay in the canoe, on one elbow, under the moons of Gor, the canoe like a tiny bit of wood in the vastness of the shimmering lake.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
The blond-haired barbarian, her body pale in the light of the moons, carefully, moved toward me. I heard the shells about her neck click softly together.
“Nestle,” I told her.
“Yes, Master,” she said. She nestled obediently in the crook of my left arm.
We had kept the girls in high-security ties only for the first two days upon Ngao. Then we had been far out on the lake, much farther away from the shores than any canoe would be likely to travel. After the first two days we had, for another two days, kept them merely in left-ankle and throat coffle. On the fifth day they were merely in throat coffle. On the sixth day we had relieved them of even that bond.
“Kiss me,” I said.
She did so. And then she lay with her head on my left shoulder.
“You are frightened,” I said. She had lost much ground since Schendi. “Do you not remember the beautiful girl you saw in the mirror, in Schendi?” I asked.
“She was a slave,” whispered the girl.
“Of course,” I said.
“I fear her,” she said.
“She is the slave beauty within you,” I said. “Indeed, she is the true you, glimpsed but for an instant, your true self, seen but for a moment, begging to be freed.”
“I dare not free her,” she said. “She is too beautiful, and sensuous.”
“You do not dare to be what you are?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “If that is what I am, I dare not be it.”
“Why?” I asked.
“It is too beautiful, and sensuous, and helpless and yielding.”
“And yet, in your heart,” I said, “you ache to be it.”
“No,” she said, “no.”
I said nothing.
“I am in conflict,” she said, miserably.
“Resolve the conflict,” I told her. “Free the slave within you, she who is suppressed, your true self.”
“No, no,” she said, pressing her cheek against my shoulder. I felt tears.
“You will never achieve happiness,” I told her, “until you have acknowledged her.”
“No,” she whispered.
“She must be freed,” I said, “that lovely girl, the slaves yearning for a collar within you, your truest and deepest self.”
“I dare not free her,” she said.
“Is honesty so terrible?” I asked.
“A woman must have dignity,” she said.
“Are self-deceit, and lies and hypocrisy, so noble?” I inquired.
“I dare not free the slave,” she said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“I fear that I may be she,” she whispered.
“You are she,” I said.
“No, no,” she whispered.
“Yes,” I said.
“I am not a Gorean girl,” she said.
“The women of Earth, collared and broken to the whip,” I said, “make superb slaves.”
“Oh,” she said, as I touched her.
“You are dry and tight,” I told her.
“Forgive me, Master,” she said, bitterly.
“You are not now on Earth,” I told her. “Here no one will chide you for being lovely and sensuous. Here you need not feel guilty for being loving and feminine.”
“I am not a Gorean slut,” she said.
“Do you think that I am patient?” I asked.
“If Master wishes to use his girl, please do so,” she said, “and then let me crawl back to my place.”
I took her head between my hands.
“Please, you’re hurting me,” she said.
“Do you think that I am patient?” I asked.
“I am ready to obey, Master,” she said, tensely, frightened.
“Do you think that I am patient?” I asked holding her.
“I do not know, Master,” she whispered, strained.
“There is a time to be patient, and a time not to be patient,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Beware,” I said, “of the time when I decide not to be patient.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
I released her.
She lay on her side in the canoe, her body tense, beside me. “Do you want me now, Master?” she asked, frightened.
“No,” I told her. “Return to your place.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. She crawled back to her place.
I lay on my back, looking up at the stars, and the moons.
I beard her fingernails dig at the wood of the canoe. She had been a rejected slave.
26. We Enter Upon The Ua; We Hear Drums
The blond-haired barbarian dipped her paddle into the water, and drew it backwards.
“Is the lake endless?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
We had been twenty days upon the lake, living by fishing, drinking its water.
I could see brownish stains in the lake. I could smell flowers. Somehow, the mouth of the Ua must lie ahead.
“Do you carry slaves into danger?” asked the blond-haired barbarian.
“Yes,” I told her.
She trembled, but did not lose the stroke of the paddle. She had tried to speak to me at various times during the past few days, but I had responded little to her, usually confining my responses to curt utterances. Once I had gagged her, with her own hair, and leather.
She continued to peddle, miserably, knowing herself to be in disfavor with her master.
“Surely, by now,” said Ayari, speaking from the bow, “we must be hear the Ua.”
“Observe the water,” said Kisu. “Smell the flowers and the forest. I think that already we may be within its mouth.”
I was startled. Could its mouth be so wide? Already we were perhaps within the Ua.
Kisu pointed overhead. “See the mindar,” he said.
We looked up and saw a brightly plumaged, short-winged, sharp-billed bird. It was yellow and red.
“That is a forest bird,” said Kisu.
The mindar is adapted for short, rapid flights, almost spurts, its wings beating in sudden flurries,: hurrying it from branch to branch, for camouflage in flower trees, and for drilling the bark of such trees for larvae and grubs.
“Look!”
said Ayari, pointing off to the left.
There we saw a tharlarion, sunning itself on a bar. As we neared it it slipped into the water and swam away.
“We are within the river,” said Kisu. “I am sure of it.”
“The lake is dividing,” said Ayari.
“No,” laughed Kisu, pleased. “That is an island in the river. There will doubtless be many of them.”
“Which way shall we go?” I asked.
“Go to the right,” said Kisu.
“Why?” I asked. I am English. It seemed to me more natural to pass on the left. That way, of course, one’s sword arm faces the fellow on the other side of the road who might be passing you. Surely it is safer to keep a stranger on your right. Goreans generally, incidentally, like the English, I am pleased to say, keep to the left of a road. They, too, you see, are a sensible folk. They do this, explicitly, for reasons quite similar to those which long ago presumably prompted the English custom, namely, provision for defense, and the facilitation, if it seems desirable, of aggression. Most Goreans, like most men of Earth, are right-handed. This is natural, as almost all Goreans seem to be derived from human stock. In Gorean, as in certain Earth languages, the same word is used for both stranger and enemy.
“In entering a village on the Ngao coast,” said Kisu, “one always enters on the right.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“One thus exposes one’s side to the blade of the other,” said Kisu.
“Is that wise?” I asked.
“How better,” asked Kisu, “to show that one comes in peace?”
“Interesting,” I said. But, for my part, I would have felt easier in passing to the left. What if the other fellow does not desire peace? As a warrior I knew the value of an eighth of an Ihn saved in turning the body.
“Thus,” said Kisu, “if there are men in these countries and their customs resemble those of the Ngao villages, and Ukungu, we shall make clear to them our peaceful intentions. This may save us much trouble.”
“That sounds intelligent to me,” I said. “If there are men in these countries, they may then be encouraged to leave us alone.”
“Precisely,” said Kisu.
