by John Norman
Targo was angry. "Again!" he snapped.
I was frightened now. I leapt to my feet, and went again to the rear of the cage. Then I turned, this time a slave girl, and approached the bars, as a slave girl approaches the bars, behind which a master observes her. I smiled, slightly, insolently, and knelt again before him. I felt the steel plating beneath the straw. I lowered my eyes to his sandals, which were of black, polished leather, with wide straps, and then, still smiling, tauntingly, lifted my head. I regarded him "Buy me, Master," I whispered.
"No," he said.
I rose to my feet, irritated, and backed away. He need not have been so curt. I had tried to present myself well. I had! But he had expressed no interest whatsoever. I felt the humiliation of the spurned slave girl. "Buy me, Master," said Inge, now at the bars, whom Targo had gestured forward. I did not like the way Inge had said «me» as though to contrast herself with me, and my failure! Did she think herself superior to me? Further, I was furious with how she had approached the bars. She had done so superbly, sinuously. Was she not only of the scribes! Could she, sticklike Inge, be more attractive to a man than I?
The man regarded her, appreciatively, sizing her up, as a master appraises truly high-quality feminine merchandise.
"Were you truly of the scribes?" asked the man.
"Yes," said Inge, startled.
"The refinement of your accent," he said, "suggested the scribes."
"Thank you, Master," said Inge, lowering her head.
"She is excellent merchandise," said the man. "She has the intelligence, and education, of the scribe, and yet she is obviously an exquisite and well-trained female slave."
Inge did not raise her head.
"She should be sold to a scribe," said the man.
Targo spread his hands, and smiled. "To whomever pays the most gold," he said. "You may return to your place," said the man.
As lightly and beautifully as a cat, Inge leapt to her feet and returned to the straw at the back of the cage. I hated her.
"Buy me, Master," said Ute, coming forward in her turn.
"A beauty," said the man.
Ute, though a slave, blushed with pleasure. She lowered her head. How her blush and smile, became her! I hated her!
"I am Lana," said Lana, and she came forward, and, in her turn, knelt before the bars. "Buy Lana, Master," she said.
"I did not ask to hear the name of a slave," said the man.
Lana looked at him in surprise. "Return to your place, Slave," said the man.
Angry, Lana did so.
"You may now approach again," said the man.
Lana did so. She knelt sinuously, and excitedly, before him, and looked up at him. "Buy me, Master," she whispered.
"Return to your place, Female Slave," said the man. He then turned to talk with Targo. Furious, dismissed, Lana again rose to her feet and returned to the back of the cage. She looked about, but neither Ute, Inge nor myself would meet her eyes. I looked away, and smiled.
The man, and Targo, were now prepared to go to the next cage.
I stood at the back, right-hand corner of the cage, on the steel plating, on the straw. I looked out, through the bars. The man had turned and was regarding me. I tossed my head, and, angrily, looked away. I could not, however, in a moment, resist looking again, to see if he might still be looking at me. He was. My heart skipped a beat. I felt frightened. And then he had turned away with Targo, and was then before the next cage. I heard a girl move on the straw in the next cage, approaching the bars. I heard her "Buy me, Master." I turned away, feeling uneasy. I looked about the cage. It was so strong. There was no escape for me. I felt helpless.
That evening, at our meal, I managed to steal a pastry from Ute. She did not even know who it was that removed it from her pan.
Our training in the pens of Ko-ro-ba now began to move toward its conclusion. Our bodies, superbly trained, even those of Inge and Ute, now became unmistakably those of slave girls. We had had trained into our bodies mysteries of movements of which even we, for the most part, were no longer aware, subtle signals of appetite, of passion and of obedience to a masculine touch, movements which excited the fierce jealousy, the hatred, of free women, particularly ignorant free women, who feared, and perhaps rightly, that their men might leave them for the purchase or capture of such a prize. Most slave girls, incidentally, fear free women greatly. Some of these movements are, in standing, as obvious as the turning of a hip; in reclining, as obvious as the partial extension of a leg, the pointing of toes. But many are more subtle, tiny, almost undiscernible movements, which yet, in their total effect, brand a female body as being incredibly sensuous, things like a way of glancing, a way of holding the head, subtle things like the almost invisible, sudden flexion of the diaphragm, the tiny fear movement of the shoulders, which signals that the girl, as she is, is helpless quarry. Incidentally, we also learned our own responsiveness to certain signals. For example, we could become curious, uneasy, simply by turning an open palm, perhaps unnoticeably, toward a male. It made us feel vulnerable. I did not like to do this. And, of course, we came to understand, too, the movements of men, and how to read their interest and desire. It is not really a mystery that the Gorean slave girl, who is trained, seems to anticipate her master's moods, and that he scarcely need ever speak of desire for her. She know when he does not desire her, and when he does desire her, and when he does desire her, she signals her responsiveness to him, and goes to him. I smiled to myself. Men pay higher prices for trained slave girls. Some of them do not even understand fully the training the girl receives. They think commonly only in gross terms, such as her being trained in the dances of various cities, and in the arts of love, as practiced in various cities. They often do not know she is trained to read his desires, like an animal, from his body, and to serve them promptly, subtly and fervently. The trained girl is well worth her price. I intended to use my training to enslave my master. I had little doubt I could do so. I would have an easy life. Even though a token collar might be locked on my throat, it would be I who would be master! Sometimes at night, lying in the straw of the cage, I would think of Verna and when I did so, knowing her captured, destined for brand and collar, I would laugh to myself. I wished that I might have some opportunity to show my lack of fear of her, my contempt for her, that slave!
In these days, as our training in the Ko-ro-ban pens drew to its conclusion, I forgot both Haakon of Skjern and Rask of Treve. Rask of Treve, it was said, had at last been driven from the environs and claims of the city of Ko-ro-ba. Certain of the tarnsmen of Ko-ro-ba boasted of having driven him from the lands of the state, but others, as I learned from guards, were only silent. At any rate, it seemed that Rask of Treve, and his raider's band, had left the lands of the Towers of the Morning. Sa-Tarna fields ripened in their yellow beauty, and caravans passed with safety. The skies remained clear of the thunder and screams of the tarns of Treve, the war cries of her spear-bearing warriors. Rask of Treve, it seemed, now sought elsewhere for the weight of gold and the flesh of women. Haakon of Skjern, it seemed, still remained in Ko-ro-ba. It lies west of bleak, rocky Torvaldsland, substantially above even the vast, green belt of the northern forests. The men of Skjern seldom ventured as far south, or as much inland, as Ko-ro-ba, the Towers of the Morning. Haakon, with his tarnsmen, it seemed, came in peace. They paid for their entry into the city, claiming to need supplies for ventures in trading. Their weapons, for they were a goodly number of warriors from a distant state, were surrendered at the great gate, to be returned to them upon their departure. In Ko-ro-ba the scabbards of Haakon of Skjern and his men would, by the order of the city, be empty. What was there to fear of a Haakon of Skjern with an empty scabbard? I could not understand the uneasiness of Targo, and certain of his men. Haakon had done business with them, and might wish to do so again. He might not even know we were in Ko-ro-ba. Besides, rumors had it that he would be remaining in Ko-ro-ba for days following our departure, and would then be flying northward, returning
to Laura. Furthermore, in Ko-ro-ba Targo had purchased additional girls, and guards, and his caravan southeast of Ar would be a substantial one, one surely not to be endangered by some forty to fifty tarnsmen. Too, there seemed nothing menacing in the way in which Haakon spent his time in Ko-ro-ba. He seemed truly to be arranging for supplies, and his men, in their leisure, gambled and drank in the inns and taverns of the city, spending their time striking up acquaintances with men here and there, other tarnsmen, mostly men like themselves, from other cities, now, too, by coincidence within the walls of Ko-ro-ba. There was nothing to fear from Haakon of Skjern, and his men.
* * *
"Slaves out," said the guard, turning the key in the heavy lock and swinging back the barred gate of the cage.
In a few minutes I, pleased, knelt, naked, on the wooden platform in the large room in the public pens of Ko-ro-ba. This time I needed not be bound hand and foot, nor held by guards.
I put my head back and the leather worker again reached for my face. His instrument was rather like a pair of closed, long-handled pliers. He inserted the tip of this instrument, consisting of a pair of small, hinged rods, like opposing crescents, into the steel nose ring and then, with his two hands, pulling outwards on the handles, slowly, carefully, opened the instrument, spreading the ring. Then, with his fingers, he slipped it free, and dropped it on the platform.
I ran joyfully from the platform to the wall. I felt my face and laughed. I no longer wore the hated nose ring! Elinor Brinton was free of the hated nose ring! "El-in-or," said Targo.
I knelt immediately.
"You are very beautiful when you are happy," he said.
I blushed, looking down. "Thank you, Master," I said.
Ute then came to the wall. She, too, now, was free of her ring.
I wanted Ute to hold me and kiss me. I was so happy.
"Ute," I said. "I am happy." "Good," she said, and turned away.
I was hurt. When Inge came to the wall, I looked at her. She was my friend. "Inge," I cried, "I am happy!"
But Inge, too, turned away, and went to kneel beside Ute.
I felt alone, terribly alone.
When Lana came to the wall I approached her, timidly. I put out my hand to touch her.:I want to be your friend," I said.
"Find out when we are leaving for Ar," said Lana.
"I might be beaten," I whispered.
"No," said Lana. "Targo likes you. He will not beat you."
"Please, Lana," I begged.
Lana looked away.
"I will try," I whispered.
I went to Targo, trembling, and knelt at his feet, my head to the boards of the floor.
"May a slave speak?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
But I could not from the words, so frightened I was.
"Speak," he said.
"When," I asked, in a whisper, terrified, "a€”when do we leave for Ar, Master?" There was a silence.
"Curiosity," he said, "is not becoming in a Kajira." His voice was not pleasant. I moaned.
I crossed my wrists beneath me and touched my head to the floor, exposing the bow of my back. it is the submissive posture of a slave girl who is to be punished. It is called Kneeling to the Whip. I shook, visibly, at his feet. I whimpered. I waited for him to call a guard, to bring the lash.
"El-in-or," said Targo.
I looked up.
"In the morning," said Targo, "slaves will be fed before dawn. Then, at dawn, we will leave Ko-ro-ba for Ar."
"Thank you, Master," I breathed.
He smiled, releasing me. I leaped to my feet and fled back to Lana's side. "We will leave at dawn tomorrow," I told her, excitedly.
"I had thought so," said Lana.
I reached out to touch Lana's arm, and she permitted me to do so. "I want to be your friend," I said.
"All right," said Lana.
"I am your friend," I said.
"Yes," said Lana.
"And you." I begged, "you, too, are my friend?"
"Yes," said Lana, "I am your friend."
"You are the only friend I have," I told her. I felt very alone.
"That is true," said Lana.
How lonely it was, to have only one friend. But I had at least one friend, someone who liked me, someone to whom I might talk, someone whom I might trust and in whom I might confide.
"Tonight," said Lana, "if you are given a pastry, you must give it to me." "Why is that?" I asked.
"Because we are friends," said Lana.
"I do not want to do that," I said.
"If you wish to be my friend," said Lana, "you will have to please me." I said nothing.
"Very well," said Lana, looking away.
"Please, Lana," I whispered.
She did not look at me.
"I will give you the pastry," I said.
* * *
That night, before our departure, I had great difficulty in getting to sleep. Ute, Inge and Lana, all, slept soundly. I lay awake in the straw, looking up at the steel plating above me, dim, metallic, in the flicker of a lantern hung outside the cage, on a peg fixed into the wall on the opposite side of the corridor.
Tomorrow we would leave for Ar.
I was not much pleased with the evening feeding. Lana had taken the pastry, which I had agreed to give her. And when I had attempted to steal that of the Lady Rena of Lydius, unseen by Rena, Ute's hand had closed on my wrist. Her eyes were very hard. I released the pastry. And Ute and I returned to our food pans. I had had no pastry this night! I was angry.
I hated Ute, the smug, ugly, stupid little thing.
And I hated Inge, too, for she was skinny and ugly, and stupid.
And I hated Lana, though she was my friend. I did not think her much of a friend.
I hoped that I would sell for a higher price than any of them that would show them!
I got to my knees in the cell and watched my shadow on the back wall, from the lantern outside. I stretched, and threw my hair up and back, arranging it on my back. I was beautiful. I wondered what a man would pay to own me. I wondered what I would bring on the great block of Ar, when I stood there naked for the buyers, Elinor Brinton, a nude female slave to be auctioned to the highest bidder.
The thought of Verna, the outlaw girl, passed through my mind. She had captured me, and sold me for a hundred arrow points!
How humiliating, and insulting!
I was worth gold! Gold!
Perhaps Marlenus, her captor, would choose to put her on the block! Perhaps she would sell for a hundred arrow points!
But I would bring gold, much gold!
I looked about at the slave flesh in the straw, that of Ute, and Inge, and Lana. They were slaves. I hated them all. I wanted to be free of them! I wanted to be free of them! I did not need friends. I was better than all of them! I wanted only to be rid of them!
I lay there in the straw and recollected the forest north of Laura. I recalled Verna, and the panther girls, dancing in the circle. I recalled them, when they could no longer restrain themselves, throwing themselves to the grass, writhing in their helpless need, even the proud, arrogant Verna! They were all weak.
I was hard, and strong. I was Elinor Brinton. I was a slave girl, and a true slave girl, that I knew, but I was not weak. I was hard, and strong. I would enslave some man, and exploit him, and make a fool of him. I would conquer. Elinor Brinton, though only a female, and a slave, would conquer!
Now, satisfied with myself, I began to grow drowsy. For some reason my thoughts strayed back, to the time when the slaver, Soron of Ar, had passed through the pens, in the company of Targo.
"Buy me, Master," I had said to him, as I had had no choice but to do. "No," he had said.
I twisted in the straw, angrily. Then I lay still, looking up at the steel plating of the ceiling.
He had purchased no girls.
That seemed to me strange, but it was not what bothered me, as I lay there. To me he had simply said, curtly, "No."
How offended
I had been.
With every other girl, as far as I knew, in our cage, and further along the tier of cages, as far as I could hear, he had either spoken with them, or dismissed them, or told them to return to their place. It was only, as far as I knew, to my "Buy me, Master" that he had said simply, "No."
He had rejected the purchase of all of us, and yet only I, as far as I knew, had been rejected in precisely that way. I t was only to my "Buy me, Master," that he had said, with such crude bluntness, "no." I did not care that he did not buy me! Indeed, I did not want him to buy me! So he would not purchase me? What was that to Elinor Brinton? She was pleased! She did not want to belong to him! But I recalled that I had seen him looking at me, afterwards. I had tossed my head and, angrily, insolently, had looked away. When I had looked again, his eyes were yet upon me, yet appraising me. I had been frightened. I had known myself helpless, held captive in the cage. I must wait there, behind bars! There had been no escape for me! Men might do with me what they pleased. I was their prisoner. I was theirs, their slave!
But after I was sold, then could I, though slave, conquer!
What could a girl do locked in a cage with other girls, some of them perhaps almost as beautiful as she?
I was a slave girl.
Very well!
I would make my master suffer, as only a woman can make a man suffer. I would humble him, and, using his needs, would bring him to his knees before me, to beg for my pleasures. I would wring from him weakness whatever I might wish to please my will!
I would conquer!
Men are beasts!
I hated them!
"Buy me, Master," I had said to Soron, the Slaver of Ar.
"No," he had said.
I think of all men, at that time, I hated Soron of Ar. How he had appraised me, as I had stood helpless, naked, behind the bars, on the straw of the slave cage, his to be seen as he wished; how he had examined me, candidly, objectively, every inch of me, Elinor Brinton, female, slave merchandise! How I hated him! How I hated men! How I hated most Soron of Ar!
I fell asleep.
I had a strange dream, turning and moaning in the straw. I dreamed that I had escaped, and that I was free, running and walking in the high grass of a Gorean Field. How pleased I was to be free!