by John Norman
"Fetch me paga," he said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I went to the wagon to fetch a large bota of paga, which had been filled from one of the large jugs.
Lana and Ute, too, went to the wagon, to fetch other botas, so commanded by other guards.
Soon I returned to the firelight, the heavy bota of paga, on its strap, slung over my shoulder. Ute and Lana, with theirs, behind me.
The grass felt good to my bare feet. It seemed I could feel each blade. I felt the rough fabric of the camisk on my body as I moved, the pull of the strap on my shoulder, the heavy, swaying touch of the bota as, in the rhythm of my walk, it touched my side. Beyond the fire, in the distance, like an irregular margin, a torn, soft, dark edge hiding the bright stars of Gor, I could see the lofty, still blackness of the borders of the northern forests. Far off, I heard the scream of a hunting sleen. I shivered.
Then I heard the laughing of the men, and turned again toward the fire. Back away toward the compound, here and there on the meadow, I could see other fires, and clusters of wagons. This was a night for paga, for celebration. Tomorrow, Targo, and his men and his merchandise, would make their way to Laura and, crossing the river there, begin their long, overland journey to Ko-ro-ba, called by some the Towers of the Morning, and from thence to luxurious Ar itself. The journey would be not only long and hard but dangerous.
"Paga!" called the guard.
I hurried to him.
* * *
"Let Lana dance," whimpered Lana.
The guard handed me a piece of meat and I took it in my teeth kneeling beside him, where he sat cross-legged, I lifting and squeezing the bota of paga, filled from one of the large jugs, guiding the stream of liquid into his mouth. I bit through the charred exterior of the meat, into the red, hot, half-raw, juicy interior.
The guard, with one hand, gestured that he had had enough.
I laid the bota aside on the grass.
I closed my eyes, running my tongue about the inside of my mouth, and over my teeth and lips, savoring the juice and taste of the externally charred, hot, half-raw meat.
Tomorrow we would begin the journey to Ko-ro-ba, and from thence to luxurious, glorious Ar.
I opened my eyes.
The fire was very beautiful, and the shadows on the wagon canvas.
Ute was humming.
"I want to dance," said Lana. She was lying beside one of the guards, her head at his waist. She bit at his body through the fabric of the tunic. "I want to dance," she teased. Her body was beautiful in the parting of the camisk. "Perhaps," he encouraged her.
The guards had liked us, muchly, and had apparently expected that they would for, to our delight, they had purchased a small bottle of Ka-la-na wine, in a wicker basket, which they had permitted us, swallow by swallow, to share. I had never tasted so rich and delicate a wine on Earth, and yet here, on this world, it cost only a copper tarn disk and was so cheap, and plentiful, that it might be given even to a female slave. I remembered each of the four swallows which I had had. I tasted them even still, with the meat and bread which I had eaten. It was the first Gorean fermented beverage which I had tasted. It is said that Ka-la-na has an unusual effect on a female. I think it is true.
I took the hand of the guard near whom I knelt, and placed it at my waist, slipping his fingers inside the double loop of binding fiber that belted my camisk, that he might hold me.
His fist suddenly tightened the loop, and I gasped, being suddenly drawn toward him.
We looked at one another.
"What are you going to do with me, Master?" I asked.
He laughed. "You silken little sleen," he said. He removed his hand from the binding fiber. I reached out for him. He thrust a huge piece of the yellow Sa-Tarna bread into my hands. "Eat," he said.
Looking at him, smiling, holding the bread in both hands, I began to eat it. "She-sleen," he smiled.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Targo would take my hide off to the backbone," he muttered.
"Yes, Master," I smiled.
"She is only white silk," said Lana. "Lana is red silk. Let Lana please you." "Lana," I told her, loftily, "could not please an urt." Lana screeched with rage as Ute, and the men, laughed, and leaped toward me. The fellow over whom she leapt seized her by one ankle, and she fell short of me, crying out in fury. He dragged her back and pulled her to her feet, where he held her by the arms, kicking and squirming.
Another of the guards, laughing, untied the double loop of binding fiber which belted her camisk, and drawing the fiber about her body, as she cried out, threw it aside. Then he tore her camisk from her. The guard held her then threw her to the grass at their feet. She looked up at them, frightened. Would she be beaten? "If you have so much energy," said the guard who had torn away the camisk, "you may dance for us."
Lana looked up, her eyes bright with pleasure. "Yes," she cried, "let Lana dance." Then she threw me a look of hatred. "We shall see who can please men!" she cried.
Another of the guards had gone to one of the wagons, and, as he returned, I heard the sound of slave bells.
Lana stood proudly beside the fire, her head back and arms down, and extended at her sides, while the bells, mounted in their double rows, on their straps, were fastened on her wrists and ankles.
Meanwhile the Ka-la-na bottle was brought forth again by another guard. He held it for Lana to drink, and then passed it to Ute and myself. There was a bit left and I gave it back to him, and he handed it to the now-belled Lana. With a barbaric jangle of bells she threw back her head and finished the bottle. She threw the bottle to one side and put down her head, and then brought her head up and back, shaking her head back and forth, her hair flying, and she stamped down on her right foot.
Ute and the men began to sing and clap, one of them slapping at the leather of a shield.
I thought I saw a movement in the darkness, beyond the wagons.
Lana, for an instant, stopped, her hands lifted over her head. "Who is beautiful?" she demanded. "Who pleases men?" "Lana," I cried, in spite of myself. "Lana is beautiful! Lana pleases men!" I could not help myself. I was stunned, and then overwhelmed. I had not realized that my sex was capable of such beauty. Lana was incredibly beautiful, extraordinarily, utterly and incredibly beautiful.
I could scarcely speak, so thrilled I was.
Then with a tempestuous flash of slave bells Lana again danced in the firelight, before the men.
I became aware, suddenly, that the hand of the guard near whom I knelt, his fist, was in the binding fiber that belted my camisk.
I sensed furtive movement, to one side.
"Master?" I asked.
He was not watching Lana. He was lying on his back, looking up at me, kneeling near him.
I could her the slave bells, the song of the Ute and the men, their clapping, the slapped rhythm on the leather shield.
"Kiss me," said the man.
"I am white silk," I whispered.
"Kiss me," he said.
I bent toward him, a Gorean Kajira, obeying her master. My hair fell about his head. My lips, delicately, obediently, lowered themselves toward his. I was trembling.
My lips parted, but his hands on my arms held me.
I struggled, terrified, trying to pull away.
I was held, his prisoner.
He seemed puzzled at my struggles, my terror. But then, too, I felt helpless, and furious. I hated him. I hated all men, and their strength. They exploited us, they dominated us, they forced us to serve them, and do their bidding! They were cruel to us! They did not acknowledge our humanity! And mixed with my anger and terror were the instinctual fears of the white-silk girl, dreading to be made a woman. And most, perhaps, mixed therein were the fury and the frustration, and terror, of the spoiled, rich, Earth girl, Elinor Brinton, resenting her station, repudiating the role that had been given her so undeservedly on this barbaric world. I am Elinor Brinton, I cried to myself! She is no slave! She obeys no man! She is free!
Free! The girl who had worn the black, buttoning, midriff blouse, the tan slacks, who had owned the Maserati, who had had three quarters of a million dollars, who had had a penthouse, who had modeled, and traveled, struggled. The exquisite, beautiful, educated, sophisticated, smartly attired, tasteful girl struggled. The Earth girl struggled, finding herself in the arms of a barbarian on a distant world. "Do not touch me," I hissed at him.
He turned about, easily, placing me on my back on the grass.
"I hate you! I hate you! I wept.
I saw the look of anger come into his eyes. He held me very tightly. Then, too, to my dismay, I saw another look, which I, even white silk, understood. I would not be simply used, and discarded. I had irritated him. I moaned. I would be used with patience, and care, and delicacy and thoroughness, and efficient mastery, until I had yielded myself to him, on his terms, not mine, until I, proud and angry and free, had been reduced to a surrendered female slave. I tried to struggle. I heard the bells of Lana, the singing and clapping of Ute and the men, the slapping of the rhythm of Lana's dance on the leather of the shield.
His large head bent toward my throat. I turned my head to one side, weeping. Suddenly there was a rush about us of bodies, the sound of blows, Lana began to scream, but the scream was muffled. Ute cried out, but then her cry, too, was abruptly terminated. The men tried to climb to their feet, shouting in anger. There were blows, heavy blows from the darkness. The man who had held me leaped half to his feet, crying out, when something large and heavy struck him on the side of the head. He fell to one side in the grass. I tried to dart to my feet but two bodies, those of girls, thrust themselves on me. Another girl snapped a choke leash on my throat, twisting it, so that I almost strangled. As I opened my mouth, gasping for air, a wadding was thrust into it by another girl. Then I was gagged. The pressure on my throat then eased. I was thrown onto my stomach and, with binding fiber, my wrists were tied behind my back. Then, by the choke leash, half strangling, I was dragged to my feet.
"Build up the fire," said the leader of the girls, a tall, blondish girl. How startling she seemed. She carried a light spear. She was dressed in skins. There were barbaric golden ornaments on her arms, and about her neck.
Another of the girls threw wood on the fire.
I looked about.
Girls knelt beside the last two of the guards, fastening them in bonds. Then they stood up.
I saw that Lana and Ute, were already bound and gagged.
"Shall we enslave the men?" asked one of the girls.
"No," said the tall, blond girl.
The girl who had asked the question gestured to Ute and Lana. "What of them?" she asked.
"You saw them," said the tall, blond girl. "Leave them here. They are Kajiras." My heart leapt. These were forest girls, sometimes called panther girls, who lived wild and free in the northern forests, outlaw women, sometimes enslaving men, when it pleased them to do so.
Doubtless they had seem me struggle! I was no Kajira! Doubtless they wanted me to join them! Now I would be free! Perhaps, somehow, they could even help me return to Earth. In any case, they would free me! I would be free!
But I stood there on the grass, gagged, my hands bound behind my back, a choke leash on my throat, held by one of the girls.
It did not seem that I was free.
"Drag the me about the fire," said the tall girl. "Yes, Verna," said one of the other girls.
Together, in pairs, the girls dragged the men back to the fire. The men, too, by now, had been gagged. Only one of them had regained consciousness. One of the girls in the skins knelt before him, holding a knife at his throat, her hand in his hair.
Some of the girls threw aside their clubs. They looked at the men, their hands on their hips, and laughed.
How elated I was, that they had come swiftly from the darkness, with clubs, and had made captives of men, taking them as simply as girls. But I, too, had been bound.
The tall girl, the blond girl, their leader, called Verna, lithe in the skins of forest panthers, in her golden ornaments, with her spear, strode to where Lana lay on the grass, on her side, bound and gagged. With her spear, Verna rolled Lana onto her back. Lana looked up at her in terror. Verna's spear was at her throat.
"You danced well," said Verna.
Lana trembled.
Verna looked at her with contempt, and then drew aside the spear. She kicked Lana savagely in the side. "Kajira!" she scorned.
The tall girl then went to Ute and kicked her as well, again saying, "Kajira!" Lana whimpered, but Ute made no sound. There were tears in her eyes over the gag.
"Tie the men in sitting positions about the fire," ordered Verna.
Her girls, perhaps fifteen of them, complied. They used a heavy chest, and a wagon tongue, to do so.
From a distance it would appear that they sat about the fire.
Verna approached me.
She frightened me. She seemed tall, and strong. There was a feline arrogance in the barbarian beauty. She seemed magnificent and fierce in the brief skins and golden ornaments. She put her spear point under my chin and lifted my head. "What shall we do with the slave?" asked one of the girls.
Verna turned about, to regard Lana and Ute. She gestured to Ute. "Remove that one's camisk," she said. Then she said, "Tie them at the feet of their masters." Ute was stripped of her camisk, and then she and Lana, with a loop of binding fiber fastened to the ankles of two of the guards, were tied by the throat at their feet.
Again I felt the point of Verna's spear under my chin, forcing my head up. She looked at me for a long time. Then she said, "Kajira."
I shook my head in denial. No! No!
Some of the girls were rifling in the wagons, gathering food, coins and drink, cloth, knives, whatever they wished.
They were now ready to depart.
The men were now conscious, and struggled, but they were helpless.
From a distance it might appear they were merely sitting about the fire, celebrating, two Kajirae at their feet.
I could see other fires, other wagon clusters about the meadow. From one of them came the sound of singing.
The men pulled at their bonds.
I supposed they might not be discovered until morning.
"Strip her," said Verna to one of her girls. I shook my head, No! My camisk was cut from me. I stood only as a bound slave among them.
"Burn the camisk and binding fiber," said Verna.
I watched the garment and fiber thrown on the flames. It would not be used to give my scent to domesticated sleen, trained to hunt slaves.
"Put more wood on the fire," commanded Verna.
More logs were thrown on the fire.
Then Verna turned away from me, and strode before the men.
How beautiful she was, and proud and fierce, in the brief skins and golden ornaments. She was beautifully figured and she carried herself arrogantly before them, taunting them with her beauty, and spear.
"I am Verna," she told them, "a Panther Girl, of the High Forests. I enslave men, when it pleases me. When I tire of them I sell them." She walked back and forth before them. "You are tarsks and beasts," she told them. "We despise you," she said. "We have outwitted you, and captured you. We have bound you. If we wished, we would take you into the forests and teach you what it is to be a slave!" As she spoke she jabbed at them with her spear, and a stain of blood was brought through the fabric of more than one tunic. "Men!" laughed Verna, contemptuously, and turned away from them.
I saw them struggle, but they could not free themselves. They had been bound by Panther Girls.
Then Verna was standing before me. She appraised me, as might have a slaver. "Kajira," she said, contemptuously.
I shook my head, No!
Without looking back she strode, spear in hand, from the camp, toward the dark forests in the distance.
Her girls followed her, leaving the fire, and the bound men, and Ute and Lana, whom they had tied at the feet of two of the guards.
&n
bsp; The choke leash slid shut on my throat and, half strangling, stumbling, stripped and gagged, my hands bound behind my back, I was dragged after them, toward the darkness of the forest.
9 The Hut
I was terrified to enter the forest, but I had no choice. The choke leash is a useful device for controlling a bound slave. I must follow perfectly. I could not offer the least resistance without strangling myself. The girls moved swiftly, single file, through the brush and small trees at the edge of the forest. I could feel leaves and twigs beneath my feet. They stopped only long enough to lift aside some branches and take up the light spears, and bows and arrows, which they had hidden there. Each girl wore, too, at her waist, a sheathed sleen knife.
The tall, blond girl, Verna, beautiful and superb, led the file, her bow and a quiver of arrows now on her back, her spear in hand. Sometimes she would stop to listen, or lift her head, as though testing the air, but then she would resume her journey. Bound as I was, and without the protection of skins, I could not protect my body from the lashing of branches. If I should stop in pain, struck or stumble, the merciless choke leash, closing on my throat, impelled me forward again.
Then, after perhaps an hour of this torture, Verna lifted her hand, and the girls stopped.
"We will rest here," she said.
It had been difficult making our way through the brush and thickset trees. To reach the high trees of the forest, the great Tur trees, would be perhaps better than another hour's trek.
"Kneel," snapped the girl who held my leash.
I did so, breathing heavily.
"As a Pleasure Slave!" snapped the girl. Gagged, I shook my head, No!
"Cut switches and beat her," said Verna.
I shook my head, begging, eyes wild, no, no!
I knelt as I had been ordered.
They laughed.
The girl who held my leash looped it over my back.
I pulled at the binding fiber on my wrists.
The girl bound my ankles cruelly, using the end of the choke leash, making the strap taut between my throat and ankles. My head was strapped back. I could barely breathe.