“Alas,” cried Boots. “I cannot. It would be incorrect to do so.”
“How so?” she asked.
“What I negotiated for, as you may recall,” said Boots, “was a peep at the beauty of a free woman, not a peep at the beauty of a mere slave.”
“Oh, oh!” she said, in misery.
“If that were all one wished,” said Boots, “one could go to the nearest market, to see girls naked in their chains.” That was true, I supposed. That is how girls are normally displayed in such markets, incidentally, that and in cages.
There are, of course, many ways to display women, girl pits, stocks, nets, varieties of harnesses and racks, and so on. The advantage of a girl pit, from the point of view of the seller, is that the merchandise cannot be seen unless one comes to the edge of the pit, perhaps standing behind the railing, and looking down. This reduces to some extent casual viewing, and brings prospective customers into the proximity of the seller, who may then extol, and elaborate on the quality of, the merchandise. In a rich house the girl pit may be of metal and smooth-sided; in a country market it may be little more than a hole, and have for its railing, if it has a railing, only a rope strung about it on sticks. Indeed, the slaves may have been forced to dig the pit themselves. This arrangement can be unpleasant in inclement weather. The viewing area may, of course, be roofed with a tarpaulin, suspended on poles. Girls may also be exhibited on flatbed wagons, or even in common slave wagons, the blue-and-yellow canvas removed. In such a wagons there is usually a locked-in-place metal bar which extends the length of the wagon bed, along the floor, about which the girls’ ankles are chained. This is the most common way of transporting slaves. They may also be marched in coffle, of course, usually neck-chained, sometimes with their hands bound behind their backs. Some markets, of course, are rather open, and consist of little more than wooden platforms, or, in the cities, of cement, tiered shelves, lined against a wall, sometimes covered, if the girls are fortunate, with an awning. There are many ways, of course, as you might surmise, of exhibiting and transporting slaves. The most common way for a tarnsman to transport a single capture or slave is to bind her on her back, before him, belly up, over the saddle. She may then be conveniently, casually, caressed into need as one flies; she is then well primed for use upon landing. She may also, of course, be put to use in flight. This is very pleasant, incidentally, and helps to while away time on what might otherwise be a long and uneventful journey. Binding or chaining to saddle rings or stirrups is usually used if there is more than one capture, as in, say, a successful raid or group hunt, these usually conducted by a coordinated pride of tarnsmen. In such cases, it is important to properly support the weight of the slave or captive. This is usually done by means of straps, or a slave stirrup. Two desiderata are involved, suitable helplessness, and full protection of the game. One wishes to bring it to the camp or market in prime condition. In the over-the-saddle carry, of course, there is no difficulty in the matter of support, as her body is arched over the saddle, and perfect security is obtained easily with wrist and ankle straps.
“But I am the same woman!” she protested.
“That is not really true,” said Boots, “for you are now a slave.” That sort of thing, incidentally, in its way, is true. A woman collared is quite different from a woman uncollared. The collar works a wondrous transformation in a woman, psychologically, sexually and humanly. She is then vulnerable; she must then obey. She is no longer the same. She has then no choice but to be a total female. She becomes a thousand times more interesting, exciting and desirable.
“Even though I am a slave, Master,” she said, “yet do I strongly desire it. I have been through so much! Please let me have it!”
“My benevolence may perhaps yet prove my undoing,” said Boots, reaching into his pack.
“I begin already,” said the Brigella to the audience, “to sense that slaves may have ways and wiles wherewith to achieve their ends which are denied to free women.”
“I have it here,” said Boots, supposedly producing it, “but you, of course, now that you are a slave, will not be able to see it.”
“To be perfectly honest, Master,” she said, “for I am your slave and no longer dare lie to you, I could not see it before either.”
“No!” cried Boots.
“Yes,” she said, putting down her head, “it is true.”
“It is perfectly fitting then,” he said, “Slave, that you are now in your collar.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Even though you are a slave, yet still do you desire the wondrous veil?” he asked.
“Yes, Master!” she said. “Now,” she said to the audience, “I am at last to have my way. You see, in the end, it is I who win. What does it matter that I am a slave? I am to obtain the wondrous veil.”
Boots seemed to be folding up the veil, neatly.
“How clever I am,” said the Brigella to the audience. “My patience is now to be rewarded. How simple are men! How easy it is to obtain my way with the wiles of a slave! I did not know that before. The wondrous veil is now to be mine! Thus it is that I, with my beauty, can conquer men!”
“Here,” said Boots.
She, still on her knees, rising from her heels, reached eagerly for the veil. “Oh!” she cried, in disappointment, for Boots, at the last moment, had jerked it back.
“I forgot,” said Boots.
“What is wrong?” she asked.
“I cannot give you the veil,” he said.
“Why not?” she wailed.
“You are a slave,” said Boots. “You can own nothing. It is you who are owned.”
“Oh!” she cried, in misery.
“Back on your heels,” he snapped. “Spread your knees! Hands on thighs! Back straight! Chin up!”
“Oh, oh,” she moaned, but swiftly complied. “He reminds me well that I am a slave,” she said to the audience. “I had thought to conquer men but instead I find that it is I who am helpless, that it is I who am conquered, and totally.”
At this moment Chino and Lecchio reappeared, now with their peddler’s packs.
“Beware, Master,” cried the girl. “The feed hunters have returned!”
“Greetings, Boys,” said Boots.
“Greetings,” said Chino and Lecchio to Boots.
“Do you know these men, Master?” asked the girl, not daring to rise from her knees.
“I mistook you for feed hunters earlier,” said Boots to the new arrivals. “I see now you are my old buddies, with whom I have been traveling these roads for weeks.”
“The collar is locked on my neck!” said the girl to the audience, struggling with the collar. “It is truly on me. I cannot remove it!”
“A pretty vulo,” said Chino, scrutinizing the girl.
“A juicy pudding,” said Lecchio.
“I am now only a slave!” cried the girl to the audience.
“I am now going to toss this wondrous veil up into the air,” said Boots. “Let it blow away on the winds, traveling to I know not where.” He then tossed it up, lightly, into the air.
“Master!” protested the girl.
“There it goes!” said Boots.
“Master!” said the girl.
“It was in such a fashion that I received it,” said Boots. “Surely it is only right that I should let it fly away, back into the clouds and winds, perhaps even back to Anango.”
“But why would you let it go?” asked the girl, in misery.
“It has served its purpose,” said Boots.
“Its purpose?” asked the girl.
“Yes,” said Boots. “It has served to catch me a pretty, greedy little slave, one who by tomorrow morning will be in no doubt as to the nature of her many utilizations.”
“Surely you have not tricked me!” she cried.
“Shoulder my pack,” said Boots.
“And mine,” said Chino.
“And mine,” said Lecchio.
The girl, then, with great difficulty,
struggling, bending under the weight, staggering, shouldered the three packs.
“Hurry, lazy girl!” called Boots, leaving the stage with Chino and Lecchio. “I did not know we had any sleen,” Lecchio was saying to Chino. “Where could they be?”
“I wonder if I have been tricked,” said the girl to the audience. There was much laughter. “In any event,” she said, “I am now in the collar, and that is all there is for it!”
“Hurry, hurry, lazy girl!” called Boots from off-stage.
“I must go now,” said the girl. “Oh, these packs are heavy. But I must bear them as best I can. I am a slave now, and if I am not pleasing, I will be beaten!”
She then turned about and, staggering under the weight of the packs, left the stage.
In a moment Boots, smiling, reappeared on the stage, with Chino and Lecchio, and the Brigella, too, now freed of her preposterous burden. “Noble free woman, and noble gentlemen, of the audience,” said Boots, “the Magic Veil of Anango, presented by the players of Boots Tarsk-Bit, actor, promoter and entrepreneur extraordinary! We thank you for your consideration!” There was much applause. Boots, and the Chino and Lecchio, smiling, bowed, again and again. The Brigella, at a sign from Boots, knelt on the stage. She would take her bows on her knees, of course, for she was a slave.
“Bina!” called Boots, gesturing to the side of the stage. The Bina, then, in her garments of a free woman, she who had played the brief role of the Lady Tipa, the fellow villager of the Lady Phoebe, emerged onto the stage. “Off with those absurd impediments to our vision,” said Boots, jollily, to her. She removed her veil and threw back her hood, shaking loose her dark hair. She was an exquisite little slave, but not a match for the Brigella in beauty. She would not, at least, I supposed, have brought as much as the Brigella on a slave block. I remembered her, too, from Port Kar.
“Come, come,” said Boots, her master. She then pulled down her robes, about her shoulders, and then stripped herself to the waist. She had small, well-formed, exquisite breasts. On her neck was a collar of steel. “Off with them, now, completely,” said Boots, gesturing to the robes she had clutched about her hips. “Kneel.” She thrust the robes down about her ankles, stepped from them, put them to the side, and then knelt on the boards, beside the Brigella, before the audience. Boots gave her an almost unnoticeable kick with the side of his foot and she spread her knees before the audience. I could see that she was reluctant to do this. Perhaps she had been a slave less long than the Brigella. But now both of them knelt identically before the audience, backs straight, back on their heels, chins up, stark naked in their collars, their knees spread, slaves.
“Our little Bina!” said Boots, showing her off. “Thank you, noble free woman and noble gentlemen! Remember poor Boots and his company! Be generous!” Some coins, mostly copper, rattled to the stage. I myself gave a couple of copper tarn disks. I had much more money, my own, and some more I had helped myself to at the camp of the Lady Yanina, before I had freed her prisoners and burned the camp, but I had no wish to advertise the current weight of my purse at the fair. It is one thing to do this in a city where one, and one’s financial status, is reasonably well known, and quite another, as you may well imagine, to do it in a strange place before strangers.
“Thank you, noble people, splendid patrons of the arts,” called Boots. “Thank you!” The Chino and Lecchio gathered up the coins, handing them to Boots, who took them and deposited them somewhere inside his robes, perhaps into the lining or a hidden pocket. The girls, here at the fair, were not passing through the crowd with copper bowls, perhaps because they had both been in the play. At any rate, even when they had done this in Port Kar, they had not, of course, been handling or touching the coins, only the bowls in which the coins were collected. The only female performers who customarily gather up the coins thrown to them for their masters are dancers, who usually perform alone, except for their musicians. They tuck the coins in a bit of their silk, if they have been permitted any. Given the nature of their silk, which is usually diaphanous, and the general scantiness of their garb, and the publicness of their picking up the coins, there is little danger that they could conceal a coin, even if they dared to do so. A slave girl, you see, is generally forbidden to so much as touch a coin without permission. This does not mean, of course, that they may not be sent to the market, and given coins for errands, and such. For an unaccounted-for coin to be found in a slave girl’s possession, or among her belongings, can be a cause for severe punishment. She might even be fed to sleen.
“Lout!” called the free woman.
“Yes, noble lady?” said Boots, coming forward.
“Your plays are insulting to free women!” she cried. “I have never been so insulted in my life!”
“Have you seen them all?” asked Boots. “There are more than fifty.”
“No,” she said. “I have not seen them all!”
“We cannot perform them all without a full company, of course,” said Boots. “I am short-handed at the moment. I do not even have a golden courtesan. There are frequent changes in the repertory, of course. We make up new ones, and sometimes we feel it best, temporarily or permanently, to drop out old ones, ones that do not then seem as good or which do not seem to play as well any longer. One improvises about given ideas or themes, and then, performance by performance, a play is built. To be sure, much always remains open to invention, to innovation, to constant revision, to impromptu spur-of-the-moment contributions, and so on. One must always be ready, too, to capitalize on such things as local color, current happenings, the current political situation, popular or well-known figures, the prejudices of a district, and so on. Local allusions are always popular. They can occasionally get you in trouble, of course. One must be careful about them. It would not do to be impaled. You seem highly intelligent. Perhaps you could help us.”
“Do you think that all free women are no better than slaves!” she cried.
“I would suppose that women are all pretty much of a muchness,” said Boots.
“Oh!” she cried in fury.
“Take yourself,” he said. “How would you look stripped and in a collar, and under a whip? Do you think you would behave much differently, then, than any other slave? Indeed, have you ever stopped to think about it? Have you ever wondered, secretly perhaps, whether or not you might have what it takes to prove to be even an adequate slave?”
“I am a free woman,” she said, icily.
“Forgive me, Lady,” said Boots.
“I will, before nightfall, and you may depend upon it,” she said, “lodge my complaint with the magistrates. By tomorrow noon, you will be closed, forbidden to perform at the fair.”
“Show us mercy, Lady,” said Boots, “we are a traveling company, a poor troupe in desperate straits. I have had to sell even my golden courtesan!”
“I do not care,” she said, “if you must sell all your sluts!”
“The Fair of En’Kara is the greatest of all the fairs,” he said. “It comes but once a year. It is important to us! We need every tarsk-bit we can make here.”
“I do not choose to show you mercy,” she said, coldly. “Too, I shall see to it that you are fined and publicly whipped. Indeed, if you are not gone from the fairgrounds by tomorrow evening, I shall also see to it that your troupe is disbanded, and that your goods, your wagons, your clothes, your sluts, everything, is confiscated!”
“You wish to see me ruined?” he said.
“Yes!” she said.
“Thank you, gracious lady,” he said.
She spun about, and with a movement of her robes, lifting them a bit from the dust, took her leave. She had on golden sandals. Boots Tarsk-Bit and myself, as she left, considered her ankles. I did not find them bad, and I suppose Boots Tarsk-Bit did not either. They would have looked well in shackles.
“It seems I am ruined,” said Boots Tarsk-Bit to me.
“Perhaps not,” I said.
“How shall I make even enough money to clear my wa
y from the fair?” he asked.
“Sell me, Master,” said the Brigella, kneeling on the stage, radiant, flushed and excited. There were several fellows, some five or six of them, standing before the stage, some of them leaning forward with their elbows upon it. Any one of them, I supposed, as I had conjectured earlier, would be capable of handling her superbly. Gorean men do not compromise with their slaves; the girls obey, and perfectly. She knew she was valuable; how straight she knelt; how proud she was, naked and in her collar.
“What am I offered?” asked Boots, resignedly.
“Two silver tarsks,” said a man.
“Two?” asked Boots, surprised, pleased. The girl cried out with pleasure. That is a high price for a female on Gor, where they are plentiful and cheap.
In a few moments the Brigella, her small wrists braceleted behind her, had taken her way from the area, eagerly heeling, almost running to keep up with him, her new owner, a stalwart, broad-shouldered, blond-haired fellow. The first thing he had done after making her helpless in his bracelets had been to pull the small, circular adhesive patch from her left thigh. She wore the common Kajira brand, the tiny staff and fronds. She had gone for five silver tarsks.
“A splendid price on her,” I congratulated Boots.
He stood there, dangling her collar in his right hand. “I am ruined,” he said, glumly. “Whatever shall I do without a Brigella?”
“I do not know about your Brigella,” I said, “but I think I might be able to help you with another of your problems.”
“Do I not know you from somewhere?” asked Boots.
“We met some days ago, briefly, in Port Kar,” I said.
“Yes!” he said. “The carnival! Of course! You are a captain, or officer, are you not?”
“Sometimes, perhaps,” I said.
“What do you want of me?” asked Boots, warily.
“Do not fear,” I smiled. “I am not in hire to pursue you, nor am I interested in collecting bills.”
“I fear,” said Boots, “that I may be indebted to you in the matter of five silver tarsks in Port Kar. I have them here.” He held out his hand with the five silver tarsks, accrued but moments earlier from the sale of the Brigella.
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