“Though I behave as might a perfect free woman,” she said, “yet in my heart I am a slave.”
“Then you are living in hypocrisy,” I said.
She pushed back against the logs, in misery.
I then stepped back and regarded the five women.
“Redeem me!” called the fifth woman.
“Me!” called the fourth.
“No, me!” cried the third.
“Me!” said the second. “I beg it!”
“Me!” said the first woman, the Lady Amina. “I, too, beg it!”
I had tasted them all.
“Choose!” said the fifth woman.
“Who among you,” I asked, “is a natural slave?”
“I am!” called the fifth woman.
“I am!” cried the fourth, desperately, earnestly.
“I am!” said the third, pulling at her shackles.
“I am!” wept the second woman, who had reputed herself to be of high caste.
“I am!” said the first woman, the Lady Amina.
I looked upon the women. They had all chosen, it seemed, more or less recently, to live dangerously, perhaps but an inch from the collar. I wondered if they had not been, in their way, courting it.
“Choose!” called the fifth woman.
I looked at the first woman. She had claimed to be different form the others. This had been the first time, according to her claim, that she had had recourse to female fraud. Unfortunately for her, and her very first time, too, she had been caught.
She looked at me, hopefully.
I smiled, and she shrank back against the logs, disbelievingly, helpless in the shackles.
As I had told her earlier, “once was enough.”
I again considered them. They were all beautiful, stripped, and shackled close to the wall. They had all, it seemed, more or less recently, chosen to live dangerously. But perhaps they had chosen to live a little too dangerously. I thought they might all look well on a slave block.
“Come back!” cried the fifth woman.
“Come back!” cried the fourth woman.
“Sleen!” wept the third woman.
“Monster!” cried the second woman, jerking at her shackles.
“Please! Please!” cried the first woman, the Lady Amina of Venna.
But I proceeded under the overhang to the open space between the two parts of the inn, the covered way there, with its high roof, that which it shared with the two parts of the inn, and then across it, to the right portion of the inn, in which the porter had informed me was the keeper’s desk. In this covered way, too, it might be mentioned, passengers, with some protection from the weather, may board and alight from fee carts, and such. It was late. It was not raining much now. The night had turned chilly, however. I was looking forward to a hot bath, a place to dry my clothes, some food, some drink, a warm bed.
“Please!” I heard the first woman calling after me. “Please!” But I left them behind me, at the wall, stripped and shackled, and tasted.
3
The Inn
I struck the keeper’s desk twice.
Behind the desk, on the wall, there was posted a list of prices. They were quite high. I did not think that those were normal prices. If they were, I did not see how the inn could manage to be competitive.
I struck the keeper’s desk twice more.
There was a tharlarion-oil lamp hanging on three chains from the ceiling, to my right, above the desk.
Sample items from the list were as follows:
Bread and paga ......................................... 2 C.T.
Other food ........................................... 3 - 5 C.T.
Lodging ................................................... 10 C.T.
Blankets (2) .............................................. 2 C.T.
Bath ........................................................... 1 C.T.
Bath girl .................................................... 2 C.T.
Sponge, oil and strigil .............................. 1 C.T.
Girl for the night ....................................... 5 C.T.
T., Greens and Stable ............................... 2 C.T.
T., Meat and Cot ....................................... 5 C.T.
A comment, or two, might be in order on this list of prices. First, it will be noted that they are not typical. In many inns, depending on the season, to be sure, and the readiness of the keeper to negotiate, one can stay for as little as two or three copper tarsks a day, everything included, within reason, of course, subject to some restraint with respect to paga, and such. Also, the bath girl, and the sponge, oil and strigil, in most establishments, come with the price of the bath itself. The prices on the list on the wall seemed excessive, perhaps to a factor of five or more. The prices, of course, were in terms of copper tarsks. For purposes of comparison, in many paga taverns, one may have paga and food, and a girl for the alcove, if one wants, for a single copper tarsk. Dancers, to be sure, sometimes cost two. I did not know what the “other food” might be. One always inquires. It would vary seasonally, depend on the local suppliers, and, in some cases, even on the luck of local hunters and fishermen. In most inns the fare is simple and hearty. If one is particular about one’s food, one sometimes brings it with one, and instructs the keeper how it is to be prepared. Some rich men bring their own cooks. After all, one cannot always count on a keeper’s man knowing how to prepare Turian vulo or Kassau parsit. The references to “greens” and “meat,” and such, were pertinent to draft tharlarion and tarns, and so, too, the references to stabling and cots, respectively. It might be of interest to note that when I had come to Gor, some years ago, domestic tarns, like wild tarns, almost always made their own kills. They may still do so, of course, but now many have been trained to accept prepared, even preserved, meat. Ideally, they are taught to do this from the time of hatchlings, it being thrust into their mouths, given to them much as their mother bird would do in the wild. Tongs are used. With older birds, on the other hand, captured wild tarns, for example, the training usually takes the form of tying fresh meat on live animals, and then, when the tarn is accustomed to eating both, effecting the transition to the prepared meat. Needless to say, a hunting tarn is extremely dangerous, and although its favorite prey may be tabuk, or wild tarsk, they can attack human beings. This training innovation, interestingly enough, and perhaps predictably, was not primarily the result of an attempt to increase the safety of human beings, particularly those in rural areas, but was rather largely the result of attempting to achieve military objectives, in particular those having to do with the logistical support of the tarn cavalry. Because of it, for the first time, large tarn cavalries, numbering in the hundreds of men, became practical.
“Tal,” said a grizzled fellow, wearily, appearing through a door to the side.
“Tal,” said I to him.
“It is quieter outside now,” he said.
“It is still raining,” I said.
“It is ten tarsks a night,” he said. That agreed with the sign.
“That is very expensive,” I said.
“True,” he said. “I myself would not pay so much.”
“Perhaps I will leave now,” I said.
“The rain has slacked off,” he said.
“Are these prices negotiable?” I inquired.
“No,” said he.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “The keeper, believe me, I know, is a resolute and greedy fellow.”
“He is probably not as bad as you think,” I said.
“Take my word for it, he is,” he said.
“I would like a bath, the sponge, and such, and a bath girl,” I said.
“That will add two to your bill,” he said.
“Should it not add four?” I asked.
“No bath girl,” he said. “Because of the crowding, and the demand, we are using them as inn girls.”
“I see,” I sai
d.
“You will have to sponge, oil and strigil yourself,” he said.
“That seems somewhat barbaric,” I said. Also it was hard to reach certain spots on the back.
“Times are hard,” he said.
“Where are your baths?” I asked.
“Through there,” he said, indicating a passage.
“Where is your paga room?” I asked.
“There,” said he, indicating another passage.
“Later,” I said, “I would like a girl sent to my room.”
“You do not have a room,” he said.
“What are the ten tarsks for?” I asked.
“Lodging,” he said.
“You do not have rooms?” I asked.
“Not separate rooms, for guests,” he said. “There are, instead, common areas.”
“There are beds there?” I asked, apprehensively.
“Beds?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, beds,” I said.
“Certainly not,” he said.
“I see,” I said.
“Surely you know where you are,” he said.
“On the Vosk Road,” I said, warily.
“And within a hundred pasangs of the river,” he said. “No inns around here have beds. You should know that. You seem uninformed.”
“Perhaps,” I said.
“Perhaps you would like to try one of the luxury inns between Ar and Venna,” he said.
“They are over two thousand pasangs away,” I said.
“You are surely not going to hold me responsible for their location,” he said.
“I would not think of doing so,” I said.
“Do not be dismayed,” he said. “Even in these hard times, the keeper, who has his congenial, noble side, has refused to surrender space lines.”
“That is good news,” I said. “What are space lines?”
“Most inns,” he said, “for your lodging, simply assign you to a large common room, to be shared with others. Quite primitive. Here, at the Crooked Tarn, however, we rent out spaces.”
“I see,” I said.
“Furthermore, they are clearly marked.”
“I am glad to hear that,” I said.
“You can accommodate fewer people that way, to be sure,” he said, “but then there are fewer fights, and free women almost always prefer to have their own space. Too, with spaces, you can charge more.”
“This inn then, in its way, I gather, is a luxury inn for this area.”
“Precisely,” he said.
“Perhaps then you can send a girl to my ‘space’ for the night,” I said.
“Not for the night,” said he, “but only for the quarter of an Ahn.”
“Your sign,” I said.
“I know,” he said, “but we are too crowded now for that. On the other hand, we would charge you only three copper tarsks for the time.”
“For a quarter of an Ahn?” I said.
“The keeper is a scoundrel,” he said.
“I thought you said he had a congenial, noble side.”
“He keeps it under control,” he said.
“He may not be the scoundrel you think he is,” I said.
“No, he is a scoundrel all right.”
“Three tarsks seems a good deal for a quarter of an Ahn,” I said. I wondered if I might not have greater success with the keeper himself. But I supposed he was not up at this hour.
“We have a debtor slut serving in the paga room,” he said. “We could let you have her for an Ahn for a tarsk bit.”
“Does she know she is subject to such uses?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“I will take a look at her, and let you know later.”
“That would be fourteen copper tarsks,” he said.
“I would count twelve,” I said. “Ten for lodging, two for the bath and supplies.”
“I thought you might want some blankets,” he said.
“Of course,” I said.
“Fourteen then,” he said. I saw this inked on a tab.
From a cabinet to one side, he fetched forth the bath supplies and put them on the counter.
“I will pick up the blankets after I have eaten,” I said.
“I will reserve two for you, with your ostrakon,” he said.
“I would like a space near the wall, preferably in a corner,” I said.
“So would everyone else,” he said. “Your space is S-3-97. That is 97, in the south wing, on the third floor.”
“Very well,” I said.
“Try not to step on any drovers,” he said. “They can be ugly fellows when stepped on in the middle of the night.”
“I will do my best,” I said.
“If you must step on them,” he said, “it is well to do it in such a way as to incapacitate them, at least temporarily.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Do you wish to give your name?” he said.
“No,” I said.
He did not seem surprised. Many folks coming through here, I gathered, did not identify themselves, or used false names.
“We shall make the bill out to your space then,” he said, “S-3-97.” He put that identification on the tab.
“Excellent,” I said.
“Payment is due before, or at, departure,” he said. “To be sure, if the inn grows suspicious, we reserve the right to require payment, to date, upon demand.”
“That is reasonable,” I said.
“We think so,” he said.
“Your prices,” I said, “as I think you have admitted, or as much as admitted, are rather expensive.”
“They certainly are,” he said. “I, for one, would not want to pay them.”
I looked at him.
“They are not negotiable,” he said.
“Are you really sure?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“It is hard for me to believe that the keeper is as adamant as you portray him,” I said.
“He is, I assure you,” said the fellow.
“Surely he cannot be the scoundrel you claim,” I said.
“He is,” said the fellow. “I know.”
“I do not suppose he would be up at this hour,” I said.
“But he is,” said the fellow.
“Do you think I might speak to him?” I asked.
“You have been doing so,” he said. “I am he.”
“Oh,” I said.
4
The Baths
I closed my eyes in one of the second tubs, the cleansing tubs. There were five first tubs, and five second tubs. These were all large, shallow, round tubs, of clay, covered with porcelain, mounted on open-bricked platforms, each platform about a yard high. In this particular bath, adequate enough, I suppose, for the area, the fires beneath the bricked platforms were stirred, tended and cleaned with long-handled fire rakes. To be sure, it was late, and I suspected that the fires had not been tended since perhaps the eighteenth Ahn. The water, however, happily, was still comfortably warm. They would probably be built up again around the fifth Ahn. I had hung my wet garments on racks about the brick platform, behind the tub. They would probably be dry by now. Each tub was some seven feet in width and some eighteen inches deep. On a hook, behind me, kept for towels, and such, I had slung my scabbard. More than one fellow, and even a Ubar or two, as history has it, had been attacked in the bath. The baths here, of course, were very simple, and primitive. For example, they were heated in the same room, and not in virtue of subterranean furnaces, heat from which would normally be conveyed upward through vents and pipes. Here, too, there were no scented pools, no massaging rooms, no steaming rooms. Too, of course, here there were no exercising yards, where one might try a fall or two in wrestling or, say, have a game of catch, either with the large or the small ball. Similarly, there were no recreational gardens, no art galleries, no strolling lanes, no arcades of merchants, no physicians’ courts, no reading rooms, no music rooms, or such. The baths, in many Gorean cities an
d towns, are convenient and popular gathering places. One can pick up the latest news and gossip there, for example. Many of these establishments are opulently appointed. Many are capacious and even palatial. Sometimes public funds are lavished upon them, as they are objects of civic pride. Even poor men may feel rich in them, sometimes for as little as a tarsk bit. Candidates seeking election sometimes dispense admittance ostraka to the poor. Some of these edifices, as in Turia or Ar, are monumental in size, almost like vaulted, pillared stadiums, with dozens of rooms and pools. One can become lost in them. Gorean baths are almost always segregated, incidentally, if only by the time of day. This does not mean that bath girls may not be available to tend to a strong male’s various wants in the men’s baths, or that handsome silk slaves, if they are summoned, may not appear in attendance in the baths of free women. A latticework separated the bathing area from the outer area. It was open now. I heard a fellow stirring in his sleep a few feet away, on the floor, near the bricked platform. Some seven or eight fellows, the latticework open, were sleeping in the bath area. I supposed they preferred the warmth of the baths to their spaces in the unheated levels, or lofts, of the inn. This sort of thing is not unusual in Gorean towns, incidentally, in cold weather, that folks should sleep in the baths. They are often warmer than their houses. They leave in the morning, of course, some of them doubtless to call on their patrons, hoping for a breakfast or an invitation to dinner.
I opened one eye, hearing the outer door, that beyond the latticework, open.
There are many types of baths, and ways to take them, for example, depending on the temperatures of the tubs, or pools, and the order in which one uses them. A common fashion is to use the first tub for a time, soaking, and, if one wishes, sponging, and then, emerging, to apply the oil, or oils. These are rubbed well into the skin and then removed with the strigil. There are various forms of strigil, and some of them are ornately decorated. They are usually of metal and almost always of a narrow, spatulate form. With the strigil one scrapes away the residue of oil, and, with it, dirt and sweat, cleaning the pores. One then generally takes the “second tub,” which consists of clean water, sponges away any remaining grime, residues of oil and dirt, and such, and then, luxuriating, soaks again. If one has a bath girl, of course, she does most of these things for one. Sometimes the services of a bath girl, including massage and love, in whatever modalities the customer may elect, come in the price of the bath, and, at other times, as here, at the Crooked Tarn, I gathered, at least normally, they are extra. Needless to say, bath girls are almost always female slaves. Sometimes, in certain cities, free women, found guilty of crimes, are sentenced to the baths, to serve there as bath girls, subject, too, to the disciplines of such. After a given time there, after it is thought they have learned their lessons, and those of the baths, they are, commonly, routinely enslaved and sold out of the city. It is probably just as well. By that time they will have been, in effect, “spoiled for freedom.”
Renegades of Gor Page 6