Witness of Gor

by John Norman

  "Sit," said Aynur.

  I sat down.

  "Cross your ankles," said Aynur.

  I did so and Aynur, in the darkness, bound them together.

  A moment or so later a fire-maker was struck in the room and a man, masked, lit a tiny lamp on a table. There was another man in the room, as well, also masked.

  Near the table, on the floor, there was a slave box.

  "This is the slave," said Aynur. "I deliver her to you, Masters."

  I struggled suddenly with the bonds, but could not free myself.

  The men regarded me, bemused.

  I tried to speak but was prevented by the gag. I could utter only small sounds, pleading sounds, questioning sounds, sounds of misery and fear.

  "You have done well, slave," said one of the men.

  "Thank you, Master," she said.

  Then Aynur turned to me. "Do not fear, barbarian slut," said she, "but after today, sooner or later, I would have found a way to get you out of the garden! Do not think to lie again, filthy little slave, in the arms of my Camillus!"

  I supposed that guards might be sometimes suborned, with the promise of the gift of dangerous, delicious, clandestine favors, and such, to cooperate in such matters. Intrigues in the gardens, in the slave quarters, can be quite fearful.

  "See her struggle," said Aynur to the guards. Then she again addressed herself to me. "One of the guards, one who leaves the city tonight," she said, "will be thought to have stolen you from the slave quarters, doubtless for your golden collar."

  I looked at her, angrily, over the gag. Did she truly think I might be stolen only for my golden collar?

  "I myself will return to the quarters, locking the door behind me. How surprised, how horrified, will we all be in the morning!"

  Again I struggled, but Aynur had tied me quite well.

  "But I have been saved the trouble of arranging these matters," she said, "for others, it seems, are interested in you. Tonight's events have been planned, it seems, for some time, but only this evening was I contacted by a guard, he who leaves the city this night. You can imagine with what joy I attended his proposals."

  I looked to the men. It was hard to read their eyes. I did not think they were guards in the house.

  One thing unnerved me, terribly. Though I was stripped and bound before these men, I did not seem to find myself regarded with the interest, curiosity, or relish I might have anticipated, that which one might expect to be accorded to such as I, a naked, bound slave. I hoped, of course, that this might prove to be an ordinary, if unusually daring, case of slave theft. Stealing slaves, as you might expect, is a not unusual practice on this world. Among many young men the theft of slaves, and even of free women, from enemy cities is regarded as a sport. Among slavers it is regarded as a business. The prevention of slave theft is one reason for the presence of slave rings in public places, for the fastening of slaves to the foot of couches at night, and so on. I did not much fear slave theft as it would extract me from the boredom, if security, of the garden. Indeed, I welcomed the prospect for I hoped that it would, sooner or later, bring me within the grasp of a master who would know how to handle me, and would do so, with audacity and command. But I did not think these men were simply interested in picking up a pleasure-garden girl, even one who might be of unusual interest, either for their own house or to put on the block in some foreign city, hopefully turning a tidy profit on her. I might be beautiful or not, but I did not think these men were interested in that sort of thing. They did not seem to regard me with an interest which suggested they wanted me for themselves, nor, as far as I could tell, did I find in their gaze any speculations as to how I might appear to possible buyers, or to an unknown principal.

  "Put her in the box," said Aynur.

  I was lifted up and put in the box. For a moment I was sitting up, wildly, within it, but then, by one hand in my hair, pulling back and down, and the other, lifting my ankles, and forcing them back, I was brought down in the box, on my back. I tried to rear up, but I was pressed down, rudely, uncompromisingly, just under my throat, by the hand which had governed my ankles. My bound ankles were then pulled forward and down, in such a way that the soles of my feet were on the floor of the box. I whimpered, frenziedly, pleadingly. I lay in the box then, on my back, my knees drawn up. It was small. I was cramped within it. The lid was shut. I heard bolts snap. It was a sturdy metal box, and is, in itself, its own security device. Its occupant need not be bound. It had four sets of perforations, for the admission of air. One was to my left and one to my right, where my head was. The others were to the left and right, near my ankles, as I lay. In this fashion, whether a girl's head is to the left or right, as she is inserted into the box, there will be breathing holes in the vicinity of her face. I could see out through the perforations, by turning my head one way or the other. These perforations, in each set, were so arranged as to form a cursive kef, which is the first letter in the word 'kajira'. The cursive kef, in variations, is also used as the common slave mark for kajirae. On my left thigh, just below the hip, I bore the same mark, put there by a slave iron.

  "Bury it deep!" laughed Aynur. "Cast it into the foulest carnarium!"

  I struggled inside the box. I whimpered madly. It would be only too easy, in the dead of the night, to bury the box somewhere outside the walls, in some remote place, or to cast it into one of the carnaria, the refuse pits outside the wall, into which garbage, and excrement, and all filth, as from the emptying of the giant vats of the insulae, might be thrown. But could they not, if this were their intent, strangle me first, utilizing some convenient string or cord, or smother me with a blanket or cushion, one easily found, perhaps one almost at hand, or even enter a blade swiftly, mercifully, into my heart? Surely that would not be difficult. They were armed!

  "Before such things are considered," said one of the men, "we must make certain that she is the correct slave."

  I turned my head to the right, in misery, looking wildly through the tiny perforations at Aynur.

  "She answers the description," said Aynur. "She had a private sale. She came to the house at the time in question."

  "One not of the house was within the house today," said one of the men to the other. "He may have spoken with her."

  "He was alone with her in the garden," said Aynur, angrily. "He undoubtedly spoke with her!"

  "Not necessarily," said one of the men.

  Aynur looked down, angrily.

  Sometimes the masters use us in silence, neither permitting us to speak, nor, for their part, deigning to speak to us. This is a very humiliating way in which to be handled, but in it we are left in no doubt as to the fact that we are mastered. Human speech does not pass between us. We are put in one position or attitude, or another. We must obey the slightest signs and indications. It helps to remind us that we are animals.

  "I think we should assume words passed between them," said the other man.

  "Not necessarily," said the first. "It is sometimes amusing to treat a pleasure-garden girl, or a high slave, as though she might be a low slave, or even the most worthless of common slaves."

  I supposed this was true. The difference between a high slave and a low slave, of course, is only the whim of the master. It is they who decide on which step of the dais, so to speak, we may kneel, or even if we may approach the dais at all.

  "Surely we are not prepared to take the risk," said the other.

  "No," said the first. "It has been resolved that we shall not wait."

  "I have delivered her into your hands," said Aynur. "Pay me."

  "Are you standing?" asked one of the men.

  Aynur fell to her knees, angrily. Then she put out her hand, palm up.

  "Pay me!" she said.

  I sensed that one of the men removed some coins from his wallet. I heard the clink of metal.

  Aynur seemed quite pleased. Her hand was out.

  I saw a hand poised over hers, as though to drop coins into her opened palm.

&nbs
p; "You are certain," asked the man, "that you wish these coins to touch your hand?"

  "Master?" asked Aynur, pulling back her hand suddenly, as though it might have been burned.

  "It is nothing to me," said the man. "But I thought it might be something to you."

  Aynur, suddenly, angrily, fearfully, held her hands behind her back. They might have been braceleted there.

  Aynur, though she was first amongst us, was nonetheless a pleasure-garden girl. Pleasure-garden girls are commonly forbidden to touch coins. Reasons for this are obvious, for example, that they might receive gratuities from guests and hide them; that they might take money from guards, or others, to further intrigues or to attempt to influence masters; that they be denied the power which coins might bring, in bribing guards or tradesmen, and so on. Indeed, slaves are commonly forbidden to touch money except under certain conditions, as when being sent to the market, and so on. In this house, as in many others, slaves, at least those of the pleasure garden, were not permitted to touch money. It can be a capital offense to do so, hands may be cut off, and such. Legally, of course, the slave can own nothing, not even as little as a tarsk-bit. It is, rather, she who is owned.

  "No!" said Aynur, suddenly. "I do not want the money!"

  "As you wish," said the fellow. I saw the hand, presumably holding coins, withdrawn. I heard them clinking again, presumably being returned to a wallet, falling in with others. Aynur was furious.

  But she was a slave. She was slave helpless. Even so little as a word, or a veiled hint, to the house master, by someone, might call attention to her. Would it be worth her life, say, to retain the coins? Could she successfully hide them, if they were sought for? Could she dispose of them, without being found out? Would her denials be credited, if it were stated by some authority that she had taken them? Who were these men? Did they, perhaps, have the confidence of the master? Might they not even be his agents?

  "I shall, with Masters' permission," she said, angrily, "return to the rest area."

  "You may find that difficult," said one of the men.

  "Masters?" she asked, frightened.

  "I think you will find that the guard has closed the door, after you," said the man.

  "No!" cried Aynur, in horror.

  The door, of course, locked automatically.

  Certainly a guard had left the door open, and certainly he might have closed it later, following our exit. It would presumably be the same guard who had contacted her earlier, and who had left the door open for our exit, he who had apparently been suborned, he who might even, by now, have left the house, to depart the city.

  "Masters!" protested Aynur.

  Her terror was fully justified. She could not return to the rest area. She was locked out, and within the house. In the morning she would be found in the hall. She would then be punished, perhaps by being thrown to leech plants, perhaps by being fed to sleen.

  "Yes?" said one of the men.

  "What am I to do?" she begged.

  "You may do whatever you wish," he said, "but if I were you, I would accompany us."

  "You have arranged things thusly!" she said.

  "Yes," he said. "If you remain here you will surely die, and thus you would be wise to come with us. In this fashion, of course, you place yourself in our power. And if this is not the slave we seek, if you have delivered the wrong girl to us, if it turns out that you have been mistaken, or have sought to trick or betray us, you will be in our power, answerable, and fully, to our displeasure."

  She moaned.

  "Stand," said the other man. "Bracelets!"

  Instantly Aynur stood and turned toward the door, placing her hands behind her back. I saw her wrists locked in slave bracelets.

  "We have brought a cloak for you," said the first man.

  Aynur moaned.

  He put a cloak about her shoulders, gently, as though she might have been a free woman. Then he turned her about, rudely, and, considering her, hooked it shut. He then pulled the cloak's hood up and over her head, and down about her features. I saw her eyes within the shadows of the hood. She was looking down at the slave box. I did not know if she could detect my features within the perforations, or knew that I was looking out, or not. Her eyes were filled with fear. One of the men opened the door and looked out in the hall. He then returned to the room. He and his fellow then lifted up the slave box. I whimpered, helplessly. I felt myself carried through the door. Aynur, I was sure, hurried closely behind. An outer door had been left unlocked. In a few moments I was being carried through dark streets.

  43

  I lay in the iron box, my knees drawn up. I was no longer bound or gagged. I was in some basement beneath a basement, I thought. We were still within the city, I was sure. I had no idea where in the city, in what district or quarter, we might be. Indeed, had I known, the names would have meant nothing to me. There had been very little light in the streets after we had left the vicinity of my master's house. The streets had soon become very narrow and crooked. The footing, too, must have been uneven, judging from the movements of the box. We had evaded the watch once, but only soon after leaving my master's house, by withdrawing into a deserted courtyard. As we had not later encountered the watch, or guardsmen, I conjectured that our present district or quarter must be a poor one, one far from affluent areas, perhaps even a dangerous one, one on which the city might not care to waste its forces. We had entered a building. I had been carried down a long, winding flight of stairs. Then, in some subterranean area, a trapdoor had been lifted, and I had been carried down, further. I had been told, and it was doubtless true, that cries from such a place could not be heard outside, that they would be unavailing, even the most piercing screams. Indeed, the place had doubtless been chosen, at least in part, because of this property.

  I moved a little in the box, to ease my body. Its iron sides were so strong. I was so cramped within!

  Such boxes are sometimes used for slave discipline.

  I had been taken out of the box at various times, to be fed and watered, and permitted to relieve myself, on a leash, only to be returned to it later. Too, once, while I was out of the box, the golden collar had been cut from my neck. Even the filings from the saw had been gathered in a silken napkin, laid under my head and neck, my hair tied up, over my head. The collar, even the filings, were of value. The two men continued to wear masks. Their accents were like those of most of the guards in the house, but I did not recognize them as from among those guards. They were, I think, local hirelings, indeed, ruffians of some sort, brigands. It was only too clear that they were interested in the collar, for its gold. But then, too, of course, it would make sense that it be removed, as it bore on itself, engraved upon it, the name and house of my master. After the golden collar had been cut away, and the napkin, with its filings, carefully gathered up and folded, I had been led, held by the hair, my head held at the hip of one of the men, to an anvil. My head and neck were laid upon it. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a sturdy, rounded bar of iron. This bar was bent into a curve, but the curve was not closed on one side. It was shaped rather like the letter C. This was put about my neck. I saw a heavy hammer rise. Then, as I closed my eyes, this bar, with powerful, expert strokes, was shaped about my neck. The C had now become a closed circle. The curve was regular; the two ends were flush. It had been well put upon me. I suspected that my captor, he who had wielded the hammer, might be, or might once have been, of the metal workers. I could no more remove the collar, of course, than I could have opened a link in a heavy chain, one which might have held a ship, with my fingers. No longer, then, did I wear a collar of gold. I now wore a simpler collar, indeed, a collar that was no more, in fact, physically, than a ring of iron. To be sure, legally, socially, and psychologically, a collar is a collar, and it marked me as a slave. Indeed, it marked me as a very lowly slave, or, more likely, one who had now been put, for one reason or another, in a temporary collar, perhaps for purposes of transit, or prior to her sale, or such. There are also
strap collars which are similar, in which a flattened strap of metal is beaten around the neck, usually also for similar purposes. "Do not fear," had said one of the men to me. "Even this will be removed, if your ankles are to be tied together and weighted, and you are to be cast into a carnarium."

  It was three days ago, I think, that I had been brought to this place.

  From where the box had been put on the floor I could look out through the perforations and, in the light of the lamp in the room, it set on a small table, see Aynur.

  Shortly after we had first come to this place the box had been put on the floor and one of the men had ascended the stairs again, to pull down the trapdoor, and lock it shut, from the inside.

  When he came downstairs, putting the key away in his wallet, he went to Aynur, who was standing, and brushed back her hood. He then unhooked the cloak and opened it, holding it open for a time, regarding her. She was in her silks, again, the sleeveless, silken scarlet vest, tied shut with a mere string, and the belly silk, scarlet, too, in the Harfaxian drape, fastened at the left hip with a golden clasp. Her earrings, her bangles and bracelets, her armlet, her talmit, had been removed before the mat check. My ornaments, including even the tiny golden earrings, had been removed earlier, before I had been switched in the garden. It is common to account for, and lock up, such valuables at night. One would not want, for example, a girl trying to barter such things, bracelets and such, for, say, the caress of a guard. Before coming to arouse me, on the pretext of taking me to the master, I supposed that she must have donned her silk. That would have been safer than wearing it under her silken sheets. For mat check, Aynur, under the lamp of the house master, under her sheets, was to be as bared as any other girl. She was, when all was said and done, only another flower. Let her beware then lest the house master should in his check lift back the sheets and not find her naked.

  The fellow then slipped the cloak from Aynur's shoulders. It fell back, behind her, on the floor.