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Witness of Gor coc-26

Page 51

by John Norman


  “It is not yours to look,” I said, “but yours to be found, if any should regard you of interest.”

  “Oh!” she said.

  I was hitching her head back, by the leash and collar, close to the slave ring.

  “Please, Janice!” she said. “Not so close!”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “I want to be able to put my head down,” she said. “I want my lips to be able to touch the very tiles of the terrace!”

  I looked at her. I did not think it was the tiles of the terrace that she wanted to kiss.

  “Please, Janice,” she begged.

  “So you have already reached that phase, have you?” I said.

  “Yes!” she said, defiantly, earnestly.

  I gave her the slack she required.

  “Thank you, Janice!” she said. “Thank you!”

  :I will be back shortly,” I said.

  “Do you see him?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, looking about. “Do not get up!” it is customary for slaves not to stand at slave rings. Usually they kneel there, or sit there, or lie there.

  “Yes, Mistress!” she said. How naturally, how quickly, how easily, I thought, had that expression escaped her! To be sure, it was part of her disguise, so to speak.

  There are still people hurrying over the bridge. There was already a crowd at the docking area, mostly near the warehouses.

  I checked the bracelets, and the leash lock, of the Lady Constanzia.

  “You have been so kind to me, Janice!” she exclaimed. “I am sorry that I had you whipped!”

  That had occurred in my first day in the depths, when she was still the occupant of a dangling slave cage, suspended over a pool to which large aquatic rodents, one variety of urt, had access.

  “Do not concern yourself with the matter,” I said. “I may have your clothing removed and have you whipped.”

  “Janice!” she said.

  “Then you can see for yourself what it is like,” I said.

  “Please do not whip me, Janice,” she said.

  I could do this, incidentally, she was in my keeping. On the other hand, I had no intention of doing so. I was really rather fond of the Lady Constanzia. She did not seem to me to be a bad sort, considering that she was a free woman.

  “Perhaps I shall,’ I said, lightly.

  “No!” she begged.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “I want my first beating to come from the hands of a man,” she said. “After that, you may do with me what you want.”

  “I will be back shortly!” I assured her.

  I did turn back, at the bridge, to see her kneeling there, in the accustomed place, by the slave ring.

  I could also see, now, the scarlet-clad figure for whom she had been waiting making his way across the terrace, toward her. At almost the same time she may have seen him because, when I glanced back, she was kneeling beautifully, modestly, head down, at the ring. Perhaps she would lift her head, seeming surprised, and pleased, when his shadow fell across her body. Some days ago, upon my suggestion, following her urgent request for it, the pit master had permitted her slave wine. Who knew, after all, what might occur in the streets or markets? There were many byways in such a city, narrow alleylike streets, dark doorways, and such, into which a slave, ordered to silence, might be drawn.

  “That is what we must drink,” I had informed her, noting with satisfaction the expression on her face as she had lifted up the bowl, filled with the foul brew, and had smelled it. “It is not like the delicious beverages quaffed by free women for such purposes, is it?” I asked.

  “No,” she had whispered.

  “I am told, however,” I said, “that the releaser is delicious. When we are given that we know that we are to be bred.” This form of mating, as one might suppose, is carefully controlled and takes place under supervision. The slaves selected for breeding are generally unknown to one another, normally hooded and commonly forbidden to speak. In this way it is felt that certain complications may be avoided.

  She looked down at the foul brew.

  “You need not drink it,” I said to her.

  “No,” she whispered. Then she lifted the bowl to her lips. She put back her head. Then, scarcely pausing to take a breath, she drained the bowl.

  “Oh!” she cried, her entire body shuddering.

  “That is slave wine,” I said, “free woman.”

  I regarded her with some satisfaction. I thought that she might now understand, a little bit better than before, what it might be to be a slave.

  “How can you drink it?” she asked.

  “Do you think we are given a choice?” I asked she put the bowl down, unsteadily.

  “Will it work with a free woman?” she asked.

  “If she is a female,” I said. “Where do you think slave girls come from?”

  “Bracelet me now, Janice,” she asked. “Leash me. Take me above now.”

  The scarlet-clad figure had no reached the Lady Constanzia. I saw her lift her head, timidly, to him. How very much she looks like a slave at his feet, I thought. But then, of late, I reminded myself, how much the Lady Constanzia seemed to be like a slave at the feet of any man.

  She had had her slave wine. I did not fear now, to leave her at the ring. On the other hand, I thought she would, indeed, be safe in such a place. It was not merely that she was chained there, for safekeeping, but that it was a very public place. Also, the scarlet-clad figure had visited her there several times before and had never, in spite of what I suspected were certain provocations, forced her. It would not have been wise to have done so, of course, for he was not of this city. The forcing of a slave, indeed, even the use of an unoffered slave, by a stranger, an outlander, so to speak, might be taken as some form of presumption or insult. Furthermore, even within a city, such things are often regarded as incivilities, unless taken, perhaps, as legitimate portions of a free man’s punishment of an errant slave, say, perhaps, one who might have been regarded as being insufficiently deferential. These men have many ways of reminding us that we are slaves, and one of them is our use. But I thought there might be an even more grievous reason for the scarlet-clad figure’s restraint in the matter of lovely, fetching “Tuta.” I conjectured that he was the sort of man who would want to won a slave, one who would want to have her fully his, before putting her to his pleasure. I did not know on what business, incidentally, the scarlet-clad figure was in the city. Doubtless it must be soon concluded. I would not have advised him to dally beyond his welcome. Suspicion of strangers, of outlanders, seems to come very easily to the men of this world. Too, neither the Lady Constanzia nor I knew the name of the stranger, nor even his city. She, as a putative slave, and I, as an actual slave, would not dare to inquire into such matters. One does not wish to be kicked or cuffed. Curiosity, it is said, is not becoming in kajirae.

  I quickly turned about and hurried over the bridge, toward the docking area.

  19

  There were some folk still crossing the bridge, though fewer now that the tarns had alighted. Some slave girls, too, scurried across the bridge, doubtless eager to see the return raiders, the mighty mounts, the harvested riches of the venture’s predations. I joined them. Slave girls often have the run of the city. On the other hand, male slaves seldom do, for obvious reasons. An exception is the male silk slave, usually the male pleasure slave of a rich woman, but sometimes one belonging to a female entrepreneur, in whose brothel, one specializing in the tastes of women, he serves. Some men are brought from Earth here for such purposes I have heard, but I do not know if it is true. There were certainly no males in my group. We were all women. Had there been males in our group I think they would have soon been spoiled for such an application. Seeing women like us, in the power of men, they would doubtless have soon assumed the whip and become masters.

  More than a hundred and fifty tarns had landed in the docking area. Guards held the crowds back. Loot was being unloaded. There was music in the do
cking area, adding to the celebration. In the city, to my right, the bars, which normally signify times and alarms, were sounding in jubilation.

  “See! See!” cried men in the crowd.

  Vessels of gold were lifted by raiders, displaying them to the crowd.

  Children squirmed in and out among the people.

  Many were the colorful robes.

  Boxes were being lifted down to waiting hands.

  Some of the might saddle birds, like gigantic, crested hawks, they are called “tarns,” moved about uneasily. Sometimes wings would snap and the air would rush about. Once or twice one or another of these mighty creatures put back its head and screamed to the clouds. The music continued. The bars continued to sound, rejoicing.

  I saw some of the captives, stripped women, hooded, being led forth, in their chains, from cage baskets, slung to the harnesses of the mighty birds. The women moved uncertainly, unsteadily. Doubtless they were bewildered, confused. Incidentally, even free men, brought to this city on diplomatic missions, on commercial ventures, and such, are brought here hooded. The location of the city is supposedly a secret, known only to its citizens. Only they can come and go unhooded. Naturally, too, there are numerous out posts of the city in the mountains, at which tarnsmen are always on the alert. It is the mission of these men to keep the secret of the city. Such outposts constitute the nodes of an extensive system of reconnaissance and surveillance. From them frequent, randomized patrols are mounted. From them companies of tarn cavalry may be launched to intercept and destroy intruders. Unauthorized strangers risk their lives by even approaching such places. Cleared entrants, usually cleared in their own cities, flying under appropriate passage banners, report to them, for hooding and transport. Few, incidentally, except in the armed parties, traverse the mountains on foot. It is difficult and dangerous to do so. They are not only rugged and precipitous, but are apparently alive with animals, such as rock panthers and sleen. It is said that none may pass unauthorized the lines of interdiction, and that, of those who do, none are to return.

  I was jostled in the crowd, but none, it seemed, took note of me. Free and slave were there in zest commingled.

  “Stay back! Stay back!” called a guard.

  One raider, still mounted on the tarn, reached into a saddle sack and hurled a handful of jewels high over the crowd. They rained down. People reached and scrambled for them, laughing. It would not do, of course, for salves to see such stones. They are not for us. We would not wish our hands cut off. In many cities we are not permitted to touch money. In many it is a capital offense for us to touch a weapon.

  It is hard for me to see in the crowd, for the robes and hoods.

  “Oh!” I said, pinched by someone.

  I heard a course male laugh.

  One does not complain, of course, as one is slave. Such small attentions, a pinch, a touch, a stolen kiss, pressed perhaps to the side of one’s neck, as one is briefly held, helplessly, must be expected. Indeed, in their way, they are flatteries. The slave who does not elicit such attentions, who is not deemed of sufficient interest to warrant them, may suspect that she will soon be placed by her master upon the block.

  I squirmed to a new place in the crowd.

  The crowd surged about me.

  I could see very little, for the men and, indeed, most of the boys, were much taller than I. The women were muchly of my own size, but even there, the ornateness of the robes, the height of the hoods, sometimes made it difficult to see. I was irritated with them, the free women. They were so ornately, so complexly robed, whereas I had only my slave frock, that scandalously brief, muchly revealing, single piece of cloth, and my collar. But I did not think they were so different from me, really, they, such proud things, so gorgeously bedecked, so smug under those layers of cloth. Beneath the protective, shielding casings of those stiff brocades were there not terrains and latitudes which, shorn of their armor, would prove as vulnerable and soft as mine?

  I was momentarily blinded by a flash of light, the sun reflected from a huge silver plate, perhaps a yard in width, held over his head by a mounted raider. The flash was not unlike that from mirrors used as signal devices in the mountains. I had seen such flashes occasionally from the balustrade, presumably the routine signals of guards. Smoke signals, too, are apparently sometimes used, but I had not seen them from the balustrade. At night, beacon fires, which may be shielded and then unshielded, in codes,may be used. The flash of the mirrors, the sight of the smoke signal, the glimpse of a fire, such things, it might be recollected, convey their message at the speed of light, far faster than a tarn can fly, incomparably more swift, even, than the flighted sound of a distant bar.

  There were exclamations of astonishment from the crowd. Such a plate might have come from a palace.

  Raiders such as these are often gone several days, sometimes even for a season. They have concealed loot camps, many times actually within enemy territory. Then, sooner or later, after they have conducted their raids, they gather together their booty and return home. To be sure, much of the booty may have been disposed of earlier, in other places, but one suspects, the vanity of the men of this world being such, that enough will be retained for a goodly showing on the docks. And, of course, in any event, the saddlebags bulge with gold obtained from the earlier dispositions of loot. One form of booty, on the other hand, does tend to be brought to the city, and that is female booty. This city serves as a clearinghouse for a great deal of such merchandise. In it there are many markets in which such goods are disposed of, on both a wholesale and retail basis.

  Some men, somewhere, began singing.

  Men from the city were near the front of the line of tarns, conferring there with one who may have been the expedition’s leader, and certain others. Such expeditions are seldom purely acquisitive in nature. They may also gather information of political or strategic interest. Even tiny bits of information can be significant, and a number of bits of information, each seemingly insignificant and unrelated to others, sometimes, properly organized and understood, like a suddenly assembled jigsaw puzzle, may yield a picture which is not only clear but meaningful. But now, I supposed, they were engaged in only general inquires. Indeed, they might be doing little more now than congratulating the leader, and his officers, on their successful return. Full reports could be later rendered.

  I saw a fellow standing in the stirrups and swinging a huge double strand of pearls about his head, again and again, and then he flung it out, far over the crowd. It was seized by a dozen hands. It burst. It showered about.

  I supposed some of this casting of loot to the crowd was no more than the overflow of good spirits, a manner of celebration, of contributing to the general jubilation. But, too, I suspect, that of some, at least, it represented a release of tension, and constituted a form of relief. It might have been, too, something of an offering of thanks, so to speak, to the fates, or the gods, or the Priest-Kings, whoever they may be, for a safe return. More than one of these fellows had knelt down and kissed the tiles of the docking area, stones of his native city. It is not always the case, you see, that everyone returns from such expeditions. Indeed, sometimes the expedition, itself, does not return.

  Captives were now being knelt in lines, perpendicular to the long docking area, facing the warehouses.

  They were still hooded.

  They were being chained together, by the neck, beginning, of course, at the back of the lines. That is customary. It was in such a way that, I, in the corridor of the pens, had first been added to a neck chain. This produces apprehension in a girl, and she is not permitted to turn her head. Then the collar is on her. But, too, she is less likely to bolt. Some other chains, too, were being rearranged. The hands of those who had been front-shackled were now being back-shackled, shackled behind their backs. No longer, as they now were, would they be able to use their hands to feed themselves. Too, back-shackling better impresses her helplessness on a captive. There were several such lines of captives. In each line there
were fifteen to twenty captives. As each ling was completed, the captives, now beads on the “slaver’s necklace,” would be unhooded.

  “Beautiful!” called a man. Perhaps he saw one which he intended to bid.

  Captives trembled in their chains.

  Interestingly they were all free women. At that time I did not realize how unusual that was, not knowing at that time that “slave strikes” are almost always directed against slaves. This was the result, as it turned out, I would later learn, of a special situation. It was a response to a presumed insult on the part of an administrator of a distant city, something to the effect that those of this city, whose name I did not yet know, were at best cowards and petty thieves, capable of no more than making off with an occasional slave. Accordingly that city, smug in its supposed security, had been saved for last, for the final strike of the expedition. The result of the administrator’s indiscreet remark was that now more than four hundred of that city’s free women, almost all of high caste as it turned out, were now on their knees, shackled, on the docking area. A considerable amount of plunder, presumably for good measure, had been acquired, as well. If slaves had been taken, they had been disposed of elsewhere. That is not hard to do, as there is always a market for them. Too, what room would there have been for slaves? The numerous baskets, the arrayed booty rings, the varieties of saddle straps, and such, were already “taken,” so to speak-by free women. I doubted that the administrator of the offending town would again be so bold, so unguarded, in his remarks on those of this city. Too, the nature of the strike had been intended as an insult, saying, so to speak, “You must understand that your women are ours, whether slave or free, if we deign to take them. We usually take your slaves for they are far better than your free women, but, this time, we will make an exception. We will take, you see, what women of yours we please. You cannot stop us.”

  Involved, it seems was a matter of umbrage, one of offended pride, indeed, a matter construed somehow, correctly or incorrectly, as one of honor.

 

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