Norman, John - Gor 25 - Magicians of Gor.txt

by Magicians of Gor [lit]

  “But you, too, are a naked slave,” he said.

  “But you think me the most beautiful woman on all Gor!” she said.

  “No,” he said.

  “But you said such things!” she said.

  “Did you believe me?” he asked.

  She regarded him, in helpless rage.

  “Who is more beautiful than I?” she demanded.

  “Lavinia,” said he.

  “Master!” breathed Lavinia, radiant.

  “That slave!” cried Talena.

  “That other slave,” he said.

  “Preposterous!” cried Talena.

  “It is she who is the most beautiful woman on all Gor,” he said.

  “Master jests,” laughed Lavinia.

  “To be sure,” he granted her, “I have not seen all the women on Gor.”

  Lavinia laughed, delightedly.

  “But of those I have seen,” he said, “it is she who is the most beautiful!”

  “Really, Master,” said Lavinia, shyly, chidingly.

  “It is true!” he said.

  “But at least I will do?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said he, softly, “you will do, beautiful slave.”

  “I love you, Master!” she cried.

  “Am I not beautiful?” demanded Talena.

  “You are not unattractive,” said Milo.

  “ ‘Not unattractive’!” she said.

  “No,” he said.

  “I am beautiful!” she said.

  “You would probably bring your master a satisfactory selling price,” he said.

  “Thousands of gold pieces!” she said.

  “For your femaleness alone, in chains?” I asked, skeptically.

  “Of course!” she said.

  “Are you trained?” I asked.

  “Of course not!” she said.

  “Probably you would go for something in the neighborhood of two or three silver

  tarsks,” I said. That seemed about right, given the condition of the current

  markets.

  “Absurd!” she said.

  “Remember,” I said, “they are only buying a female, and what you are good for.”

  (pg. 472) “Sleen!” she said.

  “Milo had best be on his way,” said Marcus.

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  “You would truly prefer this chit of a slave to me?” asked Talena of Milo,

  unbelievingly.

  “Yes,” said Milo.

  “To the other chit of a slave,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Milo.

  “Sleen!” said Talena.

  “Another has been chosen over you,” I said.

  She looked at me, in rage.

  “Do not be distressed,” said Lavinia to her. “We are only slaves, and men may

  look upon us, and pick us, and sort amongst us, as they please. In another time,

  in another place, their choices might be different.”

  “She-sleen!” hissed Talena.

  “We must go,” said Milo.

  “I am unclothed, Master,” said Lavinia.

  “Dress,” I said. “Take the garments you wore here, and those, too, of the former

  Ubara of Ar.”

  Talena looked at me in anger.

  “Consider them paid for with moneys from the gold piece returned to me,” I said.

  “Excellent,” said Milo.

  Lavinia scurried to gather up garments.

  “Do not neglect the tunic with the disrobing loop!” Milo called to her.

  “Yes, Master!” she laughed, snatching it up.

  “It would probably be good for her to disguise herself as a free woman,” I said.

  “Yes,” agreed Milo. He pointed to the garments near his feet, which had been

  removed earlier by the former Ubara. Lavinia, from the side of the couch,

  hurried to them, and fell to her knees, to sort through them. This put her,

  again, of course, on her knees, at Milo’s feet. She looked up at him, happily,

  in her place. Then she bent again to her work.

  “There is a purse here!” she said.

  “It is mine!” cried Talena.

  “It is heavy,” said Lavinia.

  “Give it to your master,” I said.

  He regarded me.

  “Keep it,” I said.

  “It is mine!” said Talena.

  “Slaves own nothing,” I said. “It is they who are owned.”

  Milo dropped the purse inside his tunic. Some numerous (pg. 473) coins, of

  smaller denomination than gold pieces, I thought, might be useful to him.

  “And do not forget this,” I said, lifting up the small, capped leather capsule

  on its thong which the former Ubara had worn about her neck, which contained the

  compromising note, which had given her such power over him when he was a slave.

  “My thanks!” said he.

  Talena struggled a little, helplessly, futilely.

  The capsule disappeared in his tunic.

  “And what of the note you received?” I asked. “I trust that it was destroyed.”

  “It was too beautiful to destroy,” he said. “I tied a thread about it and

  inserted it between two stones at the theater. I can retrieve it by the thread.”

  “Do so,” I said.

  “I will not leave it in Ar,” he said.

  “Lavinia composed the note, and wrote it out,” I said.

  “I had gathered during the events of the morning,” he said, “that it had not

  been written by Talena of Ar.”

  “By that slave over there?” I asked.

  “When she was Talena of Ar,” he said.

  Talena looked away, angrily.

  “I am pleased to learn,” said Milo to Lavinia, “that you did the note.”

  “I am pleased, if master is pleased,” she said, shyly.

  “It is beautiful,” he said.

  “I meant every word of it,” she said, looking up at him.

  “It was exquisite,” he said.

  “In it,” she said, “I poured out my heard to you. I bared my thoughts, my

  dreams, my hopes, my feelings, my emotions, my heart, to you. I made myself

  naked before you. I put myself at your feet, at your mercy.”

  “It was like the letter of a slave girl to her master,” he said.

  “That is what it was,” she said, softly.

  “Dress, slave,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,’ she said.

  In a bit Lavinia was bedecked in the robes which had been worn by Talena.

  “That is my clothing!” said Talena. “Tell that slave to take off my clothing!”

  “I think she will attract little attention in the streets,” I said. “indeed, I

  do not think that the great Milo in the company of a free woman in the streets

  will come as any great surprise to passers-by. To be sure, the woman would

  presumably take great pains to make certain that she was discretely veiled.”

  (pg. 474) “I shall, Master!” said Lavinia.

  “She-sleen!” said Talena.

  “And if any know the tricks of Appanius,” I said, “they will pre
sumably smile to

  themselves, thinking that this mysterious free woman may find herself, perhaps

  even in a short while, clad somewhat more revealingly, indeed, perhaps in little

  more than a slave collar.”

  Lavinia laughed. Already, of course, within the robes, she was in a slave

  collar.

  “And if anyone saw the new slave enter here earlier, when she was a free woman,

  they will presumable believe it to be her exiting, as well.”

  Talena sobbed with fury.

  Lavinia stood before us. She was clothed now, save for her veiling, and the

  adjustment of the hood.

  “How do you like your free woman, Master?” she asked Milo.

  “You are not my free woman,” he said. “You are my slave.”

  “But I am in the robes of a free woman,” she said.

  “I shall enjoy removing them from you later,” he said.

  “I shall look forward to it,” she said.

  “You must leave,” said Marcus to Milo.

  He nodded.

  Lavinia then knelt before me. It seemed paradoxical to see a woman in the robes

  of concealment kneeling. “Thank you for giving me to Milo, Master,” she said to

  me. She then, softly, in gratitude, kissed my feet. She then kissed those of

  Milo, her master. “I love you, Master,” she said to him.

  “Veil yourself,” he said.

  Then, kneeling at our feet, she veiled herself, and then adjusted the hood.

  “I wish you well,” I said to Milo.

  “I wish you well,” said Marcus to him.

  “My thanks for everything,” said Milo.

  “It is nothing,” I assured him.

  We looked down at Lavinia. She, over the veil, from within the hood, looked up

  at us.

  “Do not forget to buy a whip,” I said.

  “I will not,” he said.

  “If I do not please you,” she said to Milo, “punish me so terribly that I know I

  must please you.”

  “I will,” said Milo.

  She lowered her head, in submission.

  “You are both wished well,” said Milo to us. We then, in turn, Milo and I, and

  Milo and Marcus, clasped hands.

  “Do not leave me here with these men, alone!” called Talena.

  (pg.475) But Milo, followed by his slave, was gone.

  We then turned to face Talena.

  She shrank down a little, in her chains.

  “You will never get away with this,” she whispered.

  “I have already gotten away with it,” I said.

  “I do not understand,” she said.

  “You belong to me,” I said. “You are now my slave.”

  She looked at me with fury.

  “Hail Talena,” I said, “Ubara of Ar.”

  “Yes!” she said.

  “No,” I said.

  “No?” she said.

  “No,” I said. “Do you not know you are mocked, slave?”

  “It is a technicality!” she said.

  “Not at all,” I said. “You are my slave, in full legality.”

  She looked at me, in fury.

  “Your slavery is complete,” I said, “by all the laws of Ar, and Gor. Your

  papers, and certified copies thereof, will be filed and stored in a hundred

  places.”

  “You will never get me out of the city!” she said.

  “That can be arranged in time,” I said, “when I come for you.”

  “When you come for me?” she said.

  “Yes,” I said. “Tomorrow I will have your whereabouts conveyed to Seremides by

  courier.”

  “I do not understand!” she cried.

  “He will not know that you have been enslaved,” I said. “He will think only that

  you were foolish enough to leave the Central Cylinder without guards and perhaps

  fell in with brigands and were robbed. Surely you can invent some plausible

  story.”

  “He will rescue me!” she said.

  “You will then resume your role as Ubara of Ar,” I said. “Things will seem much

  the same, but they will be, of course, quite different. You are now, you see, my

  slave.”

  “You are mad!” she said.

  “And you will not know when I will come for you.”

  She looked at me, frightened.

  “And I will come for you,” I said. “I promise you that.”

  “No!” she said.

  “Yes,” I said. “I will come to claim my slave.”

  “I will be in the Central Cylinder!” she said. “I will be surrounded by guards!”

  “You will know that one day I will come for you,” I said.

  “Why will you not keep me now?” she asked.

  “My work in Ar is not yet finished,” I said.

  “Your work in Ar?”

  (pg. 476) “Cos must be cast out of Ar,” I said.

  “Seremides will hunt you down! I will see to it!” she said.

  “The downfall of Seremides,” I said, “had already been arranged.”

  Marcus looked at me, puzzled.

  I nodded to him. “Myron will accomplish it,” I said.

  “I do not understand,” he said.

  “You will see,” I said.

  “Kaissia?” he asked.

  “Of a sort,” I said.

  “Guardsmen will turn Ar upside down for you!” she said.

  “There is one place I do not think it is likely that they will look,” I said.

  “What place?” she said.

  “Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira,” I said.

  She jerked at the bracelets, angrily.

  That place, of course, would be within their own ranks.

  “Cos can never be cast out of Ar!” she said. “Cos is too strong! Cos is

  invincible!” she said.

  “Ar was thought to be invincible,” I said, “once.”

  “Ar will wear continue to wear the yoke of Cos!” she said.

  “Do not be too sure of that,” I said, “and, too, as you are a slave, it is you

  who may find herself in a yoke.”

  “I am not a slave!” she said.

  “Amusing!” I said.

  “Recall the papers!” she said. “I shall buy my freedom.”

  “You have nothing,” I said.

  “Seremides can arrange for their recall,” she said.

  “You would let him know that you are a slave?” I asked.

  She blanched. Then she said, “Yes, if necessary!”

  “But it does not matter,” I said.

  “I do not understand,” she said.

  “You are not for sale,” I said.

  “Sleen!” she wept.

  “She is going to be here until sometime tomorrow,” I said to Marcus.

  “Accordingly, I will now feed and water her.”

  “Feed and water me?” she said, angrily.

  “Yes,” I said. “By tomorrow, at noon, I am sure you will be grateful to me for

  having done so.”

  “You are kind,” she said, aci
dly.

  “On the whole,” I said, “if a slave is pleasing, and is striving to serve with

  perfection, I believe in treating her with kindness.”

  “I hate you!” she cried.

  (pg. 477) I went to the table and picked up the tray of dainties. “The wine is

  gone,” I said to Marcus. I had poured it out on her, to rouse her. “Would you

  fill the decanter with water, from the back?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  I, then, in a moment, crouched beside Talena.

  “Do not touch me!” she said.

  “You are not interested in offering me your favors, to buy your freedom?” I

  asked.

  She looked at me, suddenly, sharply.

  I regarded her.

  “Perhaps,” she said, coyly.

  I put the tray of dainties on the floor to my left. The makings of the gag I had

  prepared for her were a bit behind her, to her left.

  She inched forward, toward me, on her knees. She put her head forward, toward

  me, her lips pursed, her eyes closed.

  I did not touch my lips to hers.

  She opened her eyes.

  “I had once thought,” I said, “that Marlenus had acted precipitately in

  disowning you, but I see now that he, though your father, understood you far

  better than I. He recognized that his daughter was a slave.”

  She drew back in her bonds, in fury.

  “You look well as a slave,” I said. “It is what you are.”

  “I hate you!” she cried.

  “And as for your favors,” I said, “do not concern yourselves with them. They are

  mine to command, as I please.”

  She shook with rage.

  “She belongs in a collar,” said Marcus.

  “You have been watching?” I said.”

  “Yes,” he said. He had the wine decanter with him, now filled with water.

  “And eventually I will have her in one,” I said. “And then it will be clear to

  all the world, and not just to us, that she is a slave.”

  “You are both sleen!” she wept.

  “Open your mouth,” I said. “Eat.”

  She looked at me.

  “Yes,” I said, “you will be fed as what you are, a slave.”

  I then out one of the tidbits into her mouth, and, in a moment, angrily, she had

  finished it. It is not unusual for a slave’s first food from a new master to be