Witness of Gor coc-26

by John Norman

  “You are a pathetic spectacle, Earth girl,” said he in the great chair.

  “Forgive me, Master,” I said. “Forgive me, Master!”

  “In the future,” said he, “you will be concerned to be more pleasing, will you not?”

  “Yes, Master,” I said. “Yes, Master!”

  “Tenrik,” said the man in the chair.

  “Yes, Captain,” said huge Tenrik.

  “Lift up the state slave,” said he.

  Tenrik lifted me up, in his arms. My weight was as nothing to him.

  “She is to be sent below, into the keeping of the pit master.”

  “The Tarsk?” asked a man.

  “What a waste,” said a man.

  “It seems a pity,” said one of the men, oddly enough the one who had just used the whip on me.

  “This one is pretty,” said a man. “And I think she will learn quickly to serve. Choose another.”

  “This one has not been particularly purchased because she is pretty,” said the man in the chair, “though I do not expect the Tarsk will object to her particular configuration of visage and curves.”

  “I should think not,” said a man.

  “The Tarsk is a lucky beast,” said a fellow.

  “She has been purchased primarily for her ignorance,” said the man in the chair.

  “She is not as ignorant now as she was a few moments ago,” said a man.

  “No,” laughed another.

  “What are her duties?” asked a man.

  “She will be one of the pit slaves,” said the man in the chair, “kenneled like the others, serving like them, as the Tarsk directs.”

  “Beyond that, what are her special duties?” asked a man.

  “These have been made clear to the Tarsk,” said the man in the chair.

  “I see,” said the fellow.

  “The Tarsk will see to it that she performs them,” said the man in the chair.

  “And doubtless others as well,” said a man.

  “Yes,” smiled the man in the chair.

  There was laughter.

  “The descent is cleared, to the depths,” said the man in the chair.

  I understood very little of this. I was miserable. I lay on the stones. I was a bound, lashed slave. I knew only that I must strive to be more pleasing to the masters. I would so strive! I would so strive! Please Masters, I thought, I will, I will try to be better! Please, Masters, do not lash me further! I will obey! I will try to be more pleasing!

  A hood was put over my head and buckled shut under my chin.

  Why was this done?

  The jailer turned about with me in his arms. He walked about for a bit, turning this way and that, at one angle or another, proceeding for one distance or another. Sometimes he reversed himself. At other times he spun about, accomplishing various numbers of rotations and partial rotations. I was totally disoriented. I no longer knew where I was with respect to the dais, even whether near it or not. I might have been somewhere near the center of the of the surface; I might have been at an edge; I did not know.

  I heard a lifting of stone, almost at our feet, one or more of the tiles, or flaggings, apparently having been moved. I then heard what sounded like a wooden trap being lifted, one which had perhaps been hidden beneath the flaggings.

  The jailer set me down on stone.

  I felt a rope passed before me and then under my arms, the loose ends behind me. It was drawn back, tight against me.

  “What of her tunic?” asked a man. I had put the tunic aside, a few feet before the dais, shortly after I had come to the surface of the tower. It had been the desire of the man in the great chair that the slave be bared. Too, he had had her turn before him, slowly. In this fashion may a woman be assessed. There are many names for this sort of performance. It is sometimes called the “dance of the displayed slave,” though it is not really a dance; sometimes it is called “block movements” or “circle movements,” from the fact that such movements are sometimes called for on the salves block or within the exhibition circle; sometimes they are called “cage movements,” from the necessity of performing them upon request in the exhibition cages, and so on. If the man “calls” the movements, the activity is sometimes spoken of as putting the girl “through her paces,” and so on. Perhaps the easiest way of thinking about them is to think of them simply as display movements or exhibition movements. Their most obvious purpose is to help make clear the beauty of a slave, by displaying it in a variety of movements, attitudes, and poses.

  “It will be given to another,” said a man.

  “The Tarsk will now decide whether or not she is to be permitted clothing,” said another man.

  “True,” laughed another.

  I was moved slightly, and my feet suddenly slipped downward. I drew my feet back up, quickly. My body was thrust forward a bit. Again my feet slipped downward. I whimpered. I pulled my feet back a little. I could feel something like wood against my lower right calf. The hood was unbuckled, but not removed from me. I felt the rope which had passed before my body and then under my arms tighten even more. As it pulled inward against me both the ends, behind me, must have been in the hands of one man. I felt a hand reach to the hood, to its top, which would doubtless draw it away. I was then suddenly, without warning, thrust forward, and, as I cried out with alarm, I descended, in which descent the hood, by my motion downward and the grip on the hood was removed from me, which descent, after a yard or so, was arrested by the rope. I looked up, wildly. I could see, putting my head back, through a trap above me, the sky, the two ends of the rope behind me, and some of the men. I did not have the least idea where the trap opened on the surface. I was within some sort of sectioned metal tube, perhaps a yard in diameter. I could see riveted seams here and there. Had I been free I might have controlled my descent in such a device but I was bound. “Masters!” I cried. I saw one of the ends of the rope released and it whipped downward under my left arm, across my body, half turning me, back under my right arm and upward. “Please, no!” I shrieked. I was descending in the tube and the rectangle of sky above me shrunk and disappeared, and, in a moment, even the dimness of light was gone, and I spun about, turning, crying out in misery, spiraling downward though the darkness. The descent had been cleared, I had heard, to the “depths.” Thus, it seemed, there might be different levels accessible from this tube. Its major purpose presumably had to do with the rapid, perhaps secret deployment of troops among levels. Too, obviously it might serve for an emergency evacuation of the surface. It was more protected and less susceptible to fire than ladders and stairwells. It gave a possibility, too, for the immediate securing of loot. Suppose a pursuit was hard-pressed. Might not treasures be safely herein committed? Perhaps a captive free woman dared entertain hopes of rescue, but she then finds herself, clad only in her slave bracelets, whirling helplessly downward, toward what fate she knows not, in the very bowels of the city. Too, most easily by means of ropes, the tube might be ascended, and, in such a way, defenders might appear unexpectedly on any given level. Even the surface might be regained.

  “Masters! Masters!” I wept.

  I plunged, and spun and slid downward. I was in utter darkness. The tube tended to spiral. Sometimes the descent was relatively slow, and sometimes it was more precipitous. After a little I was gasping, buffeted and weeping, seemingly struck from one side to another. I tried to catch my breath. I wept. I do not know how long the descent took. Doubtless it did not take long, but sometimes it seemed as though it would never end. There was the darkness, the movement, the terror. It is difficult to judge time in such matters. Then I felt myself plunge into a stout, yielding, reticulated surface. Closely meshed cords were now all about me. They were tight. I swung back and forth. The device had been closed, it seemed, by my weight.

  12

  I swung back and forth.

  About me the cords were tight. It was dank in this place, and utterly dark.

  I lay very quietly in the cords, moving only
a little to change my position, to twist a bit to my side, to ease the attitude of my bound limbs.

  I could see so little that I might as well have been hooded.

  I thought I heard, several feet below me, a movement, as though in water.

  I was apparently in a net of some sort. With my thigh, and my shoulder, pressing against it, and with my fingers, behind me, I tried to ascertain its nature. It was a stout net. Its cords were perhaps a half inch in thickness. It would doubtless have served to confine something much larger, much heavier and stronger than I.On the other hand, the cords were not coarse. I, or things such as I, would not likely to be burned or cut in it, even if we struggled. It was not woven of those terrible ropes, sometimes used in punishment ties, in which a disobedient slave might find herself swathed from head to foot, ropes within which, in misery, she scarcely dares to move. Its mesh was apparently woven in a regular pattern, either of diamonds or squares, I suppose, depending on one’s axis of viewing it. The sides of these regular diamonds, or aligned squares, were some four inches in length. This mesh was thus capable not only of holding things of my size, and larger, but also things which might be considerably smaller. The softness of the cords doubtless had to do with the fact that some of the net’s catches might be expected to be such as I. I did not think particular consideration would be shown, say, to male prisoners. Our prettiness, obviously, tends to figure in our value. We are seldom, if ever, marked unless there is a purpose to it, as, say, when we are put under the hot iron and branded, say for purposes of identification. It is thought to be stupid to gratuitously mark a slave. Such things may lower her value. Even the dreaded five-bladed slave whip is designed in such a way as to avoid marking the slave in permanent fashion. One need not fear any lessening in discipline, of course, for there is, well within the parameters of protecting the master’s investment, more than enough, far more than enough, I assure you, and from personal experience, which may be done with us. Perhaps a brief remark on nets might be order. I was now enclosed, it seemed, in a general-purpose net, one of a sort which might serve many purposes, perhaps even the transfer of supplies from one side of a chasm to another, or cargo from one ship to another in a net of the soft in which I was now enclosed, it is easy to inspect the contents, to see what is held. This is different from many slave nets, which are often so closely woven that one can scarcely put one’s fingers though the mesh. The point of such nets seems to be to impress on the slave her helplessness, and, as well, to excite the curiosity of passers-by, say, prospective buyers or such, as to the nature of its contents. Similarly some auctioneers like to bring women to the block clothed, which vesture may then, as the bidding intensifies, be pregressively removed. There is also a variety of capture nets, designed with different animals in mind. I confine myself to those which are designed to net slaves. To be sure, they function quite effectively with free women, as well, who, it must be noted, unless surprised in the boudoir or bath, are often impeded by the cumbersome robes of concealment. Interestingly the very robes which are supposed to discourage predation upon them render them more vulnerable to it. Accordingly, ironically, in a given situation, a lightly clad slave, in her fleetness, might elude a captor to whom a free woman would fall easily. And when the “free woman” is capable of matching the slave’s flight, she, too, perhaps being then bedecked in less inhibiting garmenture, it will be too late for her, for, by that time, she, too, will be a slave. The nets I have in mind then are capture nets designed for the taking of slaves, or, perhaps better, more generally, women. They are light, easily cast and weighted. They are commonly circular, with a diameter of some eight to ten feet. The cords are commonly of silk and the mesh is normally fastened in diamonds or squares, some two inches, or so, in width. They swirl, twisting, though the air. It is like a sudden, odd cloud come between you and the sun. One is first aware of the reticulated shadow which seems to descend and then one has it all about one. One is suddenly caught. Usually one is running, and, in an instant, one falls, tangled, helpless. Sometimes one leaps up, only to find it all about one. One tries to tear it away. One forces it in one direction to be the more helplessly grasped by it in another. Then, commonly one falls, or one’s feet may be kicked away, from beneath one. One looks up through the mesh and sees one’s captor. In an instant then one may find the net secured about one, tied closed. One is its prisoner. Or one may be pulled from the net, and bracelted, or secured as the captor wishes. It is up to him, as you are then his. I have suggested that the slave, given her garmenture, is more likely to elude a captor then a free woman, which is surely true, but it is necessary to add that it is, of course, a relative matter, and one of degree. Neither the slave nor the free woman has much hope once, in a suitable situation, the hunter-has decided upon her. We are smaller than he. We are weaker then they, we are less swift than they. It is thus that we find our place, and have our place, in the design of nature, whatever may be her mysterious purposes. Nets are, of course, buy one way of acquiring women. Looped ropes, for example, are extremely common. Bolas are not unknown, too. Indeed, in the southern hemisphere, I understand that they are extremely common. I think I would fear to be taken by such a thing, it whipping about my legs, pinning them together. More cruelly the women is sometimes stunned by a throwing stick, a method which is used, I have heard, in a place called the delta of the Vosk. The Vosk, I gather, is a body of flowing water, a stream, or river. Similarly, chains, hoods, and such, too, have their purposes.

  I lay very still in the net.

  It was damp, and cold, in this place.

  The free woman does have one advantage, of course, over the slave, in eluding capture, which is that she is not a domestic animal. For example, let us suppose that a given city has fallen, and that effective resistance within it is at an end. In such a situation, where a male might expect to continue the pursuitof a free woman, who is, after all, at that point, still a free person, he might not wish to tire himself pursuing a slave. He might simply, rather, instruct her to halt, and command her to him, ordering her to present herself for his chains, or his bracelets or binding fiber, and thong and nose ring. The slave might then, if she is wise, hurry obediently to her new master. Has she not been commanded? Does she dally at the wall, against which she has been trapped? Does she hesitate in the room, within which she has been cornered? Is she not a slave? Must a command be repeated? She kneels at his feet, putting her head down, humbly licking and kissing his feet, perhaps his dusty, ash-stained, bloody boots, in timid, tender obeisance. Does she not now have a new master? And is it not he? Must she not hasten to her place at his feet, summoned even as might be another form of domestic animal, perhaps by a mere word, or whistle? She dares not disobey. She knows what might be the penalties for such. She is a domestic animal. She now, merely, has a new master. She kneels before him, submitted. She accepts, unquestioningly, as she must, her new bonds.

  I heard again a movement below me, something like a twisting, a stirring, in water. It was, I conjectured, several feet below me.

  I conjectured that I might be suspended over what might be the sump of a fortress.

  I did not know.

  Perhaps, rather, it was some sort of pool or reservoir.

  I did not know.

  Certainly it must be deep beneath the fortress, or city.

  I twisted a little. My ankles were bound, tightly, to one another. My wrists were still secured behind my back. I was helpless. I had no hope of freeing myself. When men such as those of this world tie a woman, she remains tied. I had learned that weeks ago in the pens.

  One of my first lessons in the pen was to have been bound hand and foot, and then ordered to free myself. I had then, while watched, twisted and struggled from more than an Ahn. Then at last I had wept, in futility, “Forgive me, Masters! I cannot free myself!”

  “Do not forget it,” said a guard.

  “No, Master,” I wept.

  I had then expected to be freed, but they had left me as I was, helplessly bound, p
ast the time of the evening meal and throughout the night. They freed me in the morning and I was permitted to relieve myself and crawl on all fours, as I could, my muscles and limbs stiff and aching, with the other girls, hungry, to my pan of morning gruel.

  What was I doing here, I wondered.

  I was to be a pit slave, it seemed, whatever that might be.

  “the “pit master” was spoken of as “the Tarsk.” I did not understand the allusion.

  Given the length of my descent, from which my body was still sore, I must be far beneath the fortress, indeed, or perhaps far beneath the city, as the descent had often seemed an oblique one. I could be hundreds of yards from the vertical axis of the tower.

  The “pit” or “pits,” I thought, must be near here. Surely I was at least in their vicinity.

  It was dark here, and cold.

  what was I doing here?

  Why had I been purchased, and by men who, it seemed seldom bothered to purchase women, preferring, it seemed, to acquire them in other manners?

  Why did they wish a girl here who was ignorant, or muchly so?

  I did not want to be here.

  I was supposedly beautiful. But of what use would be my beauty, if beauty it was, in this place, in the pits?

  Too, I was supposedly quite vital, unusually so, it seemed, even for this world. My vitality, my sexuality, had, of course, been disparaged, belittled, denied, and starved on my own world. I had kept it concealed, hidden. I had even tried to be ashamed of it.How strange was my world, one on which one was expected to pretend to numbness and insensitivity, one on which one was conditioned to be ashamed of health. Women who had feelings such as mine for men were to be denounced with all the epithets available to the anesthetic, to the perverted, to the freaks and frustrates. Did we really constitute such dangers, I wondered, to the pervasiveness and mightiness of their eccentric conditioning programs? Was it not enough for them to exercise an almost perfect control over media and education? Did they fear a tiny whisper of truth so much? Was it truly so dangerous? Must all reflection, all inquiry, all thought be suppressed? Was it truly required that the “free marketplace of ideas” be closed, except in name? What a tiny, small thing were the genetic codes of an organism! One could scarcely detect the traces of such things with the most awesome instruments. What a frail straw was truth! So a blade of grass grew between the paving stones, one tiny, green blade of grass among the stones? Did they fear that so much? Grass is so beautiful. It did not seem to me that feelings such as mine were really so threatening to prescribed “movements.” Did it really make it so difficult for them to continue to present their particular interest as though it were the general interest? Surely I was not stopping them from doing that. Could they not even find little truths amusing, they so weak and tiny, lost among all the littering, massive lies? Who could fear them? They were so tiny, those little truths. But perhaps they were right. Perhaps even little truths are dangerous. A match may be seen from far off in the darkness. The tiniest of sparks might imperil a mountain of straw. So, too, perhaps even a modest truth, no stronger to eons of history, might undermine the myths of a world. Did the moons of Jupiter not shatter the crystalline spheres? Destroy telescopes then, for they might see the truth. They see too far, and too clearly. They look too deeply into reality. Did not a handful of fossils overturn a world? Let men then not examine the earth beneath their feet, for they might learn on what it is that they truly stand. How insidious the modest, recurrent elements of a healthy organism, the components of a natural biological development. How subtle, how insistent and quiet, and yet how tenacious a foe of promulgated perversions are the whims of nature,that she should choose to be so constituted. But nature cannot read. Thus she does not know what she is supposed to be. She is content to let others read her, if they dare. How odd if we should truly be the end of history, if our tiny grasp of things, our demands flung into the void, should be the finality of the universe. Are we, familiar with the rise and fall of empires, who have witnessed the building of the pyramids and walked the streets of Babylon and Nineveh, who have heard the tread of the legions and watched the armada set forth, to take our moment, our brief afternoon, to be the summit and meaning of eternity.