“Ai!” cried a fellow, stepped on by the newcomer.
Another rose up, in the half darkness, and was kicked aside.
I opened my other eye, to consider matters.
It was a swaggering fellow. He was naked, his clothes doubtless being hung on one of the pegs beyond the latticework, in the outer area. Normally, particularly when the baths are in full use, and the air is steamy in their vicinity, that would be done. Mine, which had been wet, I had put behind the bricked platform to dry. He held a sack in one hand, containing, I supposed, his bath supplies, and, in the other, held by their straps, a scabbard and blade, and what appeared to be a flat, rectangular pouch. He had chosen, too, I saw, not to come unarmed to the baths. It is thought to be very bad form, incidentally, to carry weapons in the baths, and, in large public baths, they must often be checked upon entry. On the other hand, I certainly did not blame him for carrying a blade into the baths, particularly in a place such as this. I had done so, myself. I did not know, but I suspected that on the peg outside, by its straps, there might hang a helmet. I recalled the tarn in the inn’s tarncot. Though no insignia or harness had been about, it had seemed clearly a war tarn, a warrior’s mount. That he had brought the rectangular pouch into the baths with him, as well as the blade, suggested to me that it might be important, too important to be left back at his space, or on the peg outside the latticework. He hung his blade, and the pouch, on one of the tub hooks.
“What are you doing?” asked a fellow. He was the only other in the room who was actually utilizing a tub. He had arrived later even than I, and was still soaking in one of the first tubs, indeed, that which was most convenient to the entrance through the latticework. I myself, in my choice of a first tub had, and, indeed, of the second, as well, in which I now reclined, taken those farthest from the entrance. In that way I would have the longest reaction interval possible between someone’s entry and their possible arrival in my vicinity.
“I take the first of the first tubs,” said the fellow.
“I do not share tubs,” said the fellow soaking in the tub, not too pleasantly. Most Goreans, in the baths, at least in their own towns or cities, do share tubs, of course. That is one reason the tubs are so large. To be sure, even in one’s own area, one usually shares a tub only with friends or acquaintances. If the baths are crowded, of course, it would be only polite to share with one’s fellow citizens. The same customs, of course, generalized even further, normally govern the use of pools, which, on Gor, are normally located at the baths, and, indeed, are usually considered a part of them.
“Nor do I,” said the newcomer, climbing to the platform.
“Aiii!” cried the fellow in the tub, seized, and, in a moment, flung over its edge to the slotted wooden bath floor. He struggled to his feet, to see, in the half darkness, lit by a single lamp, and the reddish embers within the bricked platforms, the unsheathed sword now in the newcomer’s hand.
“Stir up the fire,” said the newcomer.
Hastily the ejected fellow seized a fire rake and poked about within the platform.
“Bring more wood,” said the newcomer. “Then tend the fire. Do not leave until it is suitable.”
From one of the large barrels to the side, open near the bottom, the ejected fellow scooped out, and returned with, a bucket of wood chips, which he flung into the bricked platform. He then arranged these with the fire rake. He then returned the bucket to its place by the barrel and, from one of the wood bins, to the right, near the barrels, fetched an armload of kindling, then some narrow hardwood logs. In a few moments the chips were burning well. He then added kindling, and then, a bit later, thrust the narrow logs into the platform. He then, the reddish glow of the flames from within the platform reflected on his countenance, looked up, questioningly, frightened, at the newcomer.
“Get out,” said the newcomer.
Only too eagerly the ejected fellow hurried through the latticework, seized his garments, and took his way from the bath area.
The newcomer then returned his blade to the sheath. He then climbed into the tub. “Ahhh,” he grunted, settling back.
I did not think he had behaved well, but then it was not my affair.
Some of the fellows who had been reclining about the platforms then came closer to the platform where the fire was built up. They did take care, however, to leave open a generous passage through which the tub’s occupant, when he chose, might make an unimpeded and convenient exit.
Being hungry then, and having, to my mind, soaked long enough, I emerged from the tub, dressed, gathered my things, and the oil and such, and, picking my way among the recumbent bodies, left the bath area.
I did take the opportunity, in leaving, once on the other side of the latticework, to inspect the pegs. In the light of the small lamp there, near the exit, I determined that the helmet bore the insignia of the company of Artemidorus of Cos.
5
The Paga Room;
I Stop at the Keeper’s Desk
“Stand here,” I said. “Closer.” I indicated a place to my right, near the low table in the paga room, behind which I sat, cross-legged. With a sound of chain she came closer. She then stood there.
I checked the shackling on her ankles. The shackles were lock shackles. They fitted nicely, closely, about her ankles. Their staples were separated by about eighteen inches of chain, more than enough. I pulled her wrists down to me. They wore lock manacles. Their fit was snug, efficient, inescapable. The staples on the manacles were separated by some twelve inches of chain.
“Does my shackling meet with ‘Sir’s’ approval?” she asked.
I did not respond to her. I did release her wrists, and she straightened up.
“Is ‘Sir’ finished with his inspection?” she asked, acidly.
She was naked, except for her chains.
“Turn,” I said, “slowly, and then again face me.”
“I am a free woman,” she said, angrily.
“Must a command be repeated?” I inquired.
She turned, slowly, and then, again, faced me.
“What would you like—I mean,” she said, boldly, haughtily, “—to eat, Sir.”
“You are bold, for a free woman,” I said.
“I may not be used,” she said, “as I am free.”
“Is there another free woman serving in the paga room?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
This must be she, then, of whom the keeper had spoken. I recalled that he had told me that although the use of an inn girl would cost me, in these times, three copper tarsks for only a quarter of an Ahn, I might have the free woman working in the paga room for an Ahn for only a tarsk bit. To be sure, that perhaps overrated her value considerably, as she was only a free woman. Whereas free women, technically, are priceless, they are also, usually, in bed, worthless. They are not worthy of kneeling and humbly holding candles within a thousand pasangs of a slave. To be sure, they commonly hold an inflated opinion of their expertise and desirability. They are no good, however, until they have been embonded, and have begun, vulnerably and fearfully, then in their proper place in nature, to tread, willingly or not, the paths to fulfillment, and ecstasy. The outrageousness of the price, of course, was doubtless to be expected, given the general inflations of the times. I had told him I would let him know later. I would.
“And may you not be whipped,” I asked, “as you are free?”
She turned white.
Although she apparently had not been informed that she was subjectable to the inn’s clients, for their pleasures, as much as an inn girl, she had, apparently, been informed that her behavior, even though she was free, surprisingly perhaps, was subject to correction, such corrections doubtless including such things as the attentions of the five-stranded Gorean slave whip.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“It is none of your business,” she said.
“Have you ever been whipped?” I asked.
“I am Temione, Lady of Telnus,�
� she said. “No, I have not been whipped,” she added.
Telnus is the major port on the island of Cos. Too, it is the capital of that island ubarate.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
She did not answer.
“Doubtless you followed Cosians,” I said, “or their suppliers, smelling booty, lured by the possibilities of spoils, by the supposed imminent passage south of men laden with the plate and coin of Ar’s Station, men who might succumb to your claims of need and plight, hoping perhaps even to contract an alliance, a companionship, with an enriched officer, or, if necessary, a profiteering merchant.”
She looked at me, in fury.
“You would bargain with your beauty,” I said. I smiled to myself. I suspected that her beauty in the future might, indeed, figure in bargains, here and there, from time to time, but they would not be her bargains. They would be the bargains of others.
“So I am beautiful?” she said.
“Adequate,” I said.
Her eyes flashed in anger.
“You would probably bring a decent price in a market,” I said.
“Naturally I am pleased that you should think so,” she said, irritatedly.
“Average,” I speculated.
“Would you care to order?” she asked.
“Free women look well without their clothing,” I said, “but, on the whole, far inferior to slaves.” There were a number of reasons for this, of course. For example, usually it is the most beautiful women who are enslaved, which doubtless skews the matter considerably, and then, after their enslavement, they are commonly muchly improved, and rigorously so, by exercise, diet and training, training, for example, in posture, movement, diction and deference, not to mention training in a variety of skills both sensuous and domestic. Too, the slave, unlike the free woman, is expected to attend to matters of personal hygiene; she is to be clean and well groomed, scrubbed and brushed to sparkle, so to speak. She must not reflect negatively on her master. Muchly must she be concerned, too, with matters of couture, so to speak, that is, the arrangements of adornments, the knotting of camisks, the hang of the slave tunic, the subtle, seemingly careless appointments of the ta-teera, the manifold drapings of silk, and such. Even her simple house tunics are to be pressed and clean. She, as a slave, and thus owned by another, is not permitted the inestimable privilege of being disgusting. Too, of course, the brand and the slave collar, with their profound meanings, on a number of levels, muchly enhance the beauty of a woman. Perhaps most important, interestingly, is the inward transformation of the girl in bondage, the profound changes which take place within her having to do with her sexual and emotional liberation, the deepening of her mental and emotional attitudes, these things freeing her to be herself, too, the locating of herself in her place in nature, the finding of herself submitted, helpless and obedient, kneeling at the feet of a dominant male, her master, these changes being reflected outwardly in her new being, her rebirth, so to speak, as a human female. The thought briefly passed through my mind of so many of the young women of Earth with their confused, ambivalent attitudes toward themselves and men. I thought of some of the young women who had been brought to Gor, young women whose attire seemed perhaps modeled on that of fourteen-year-old male siblings. On Gor, if they were permitted clothing, they would be permitted to dress only as the most exciting and desirable of females. Men would have it so. And they would learn for the first time in their lives how marvelous they were, and why they were put in collars.
“Would Sir care to order?” she asked.
“You are not a bad looking woman,” I said. “Surely you must have wondered what you would look like in a slave collar.” On Earth, interestingly, many women had purchased collars at pet stores, and, in the secrecy of their bedrooms, put them on themselves, standing or kneeling naked, before their mirrors. Too, many women had purchased necklaces of certain sorts, which had meanings for them, if not for others. Too, sometimes they would dare to wear these publicly, to parties, and such. Did they hope, in their light-hearted banter and glances, in their pretended indifference and nonchalance, in the seemingly meaningless froth of the evening, that a man would look upon them, and understand what they were trying to tell him, though perhaps they were only partially aware of it themselves?
“I am a free woman,” she said. “I may not be used.”
“Oh?” I said.
“May I speak freely?” she asked.
“Certainly,” I said. “You are free.”
“I despise you,” she said.
“Excellent,” I said.
“I will withdraw,” she said.
“Remain where you are,” I said.
“I could return,” she said, “when Sir may have decided what he wishes to order.”
“Remain where you are,” I said.
“Very well,” she said.
“‘Very well’?” I said.
“—Sir,” she added.
With a movement of her head she tossed her hair behind her, angrily.
“Are you angry?” I asked.
“Would you care to order?” she asked.
“What color is your hair?” I asked. “It is hard to tell in this light.”
“Auburn,” she said.
“A natural auburn?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said.
“That color, particularly when natural, often brings an excellent price in slave markets,” I said.
“I am free,” she said.
“There are some others outside,” I said, “who may have had similar ideas to yours, in one way or another. They are now in the court, chained naked to rings. Do you know them?”
She looked away, angrily.
“Lady Temione,” I said, “you have been asked a question.”
“There are five others,” she said, “Rimice, Klio, and Liomache, from Cos, Elene, from Tyros, and Amina, a Vennan.”
“What do you think will happen to them?” I asked.
“Doubtless they will be redeemed, and freed,” she said. “We are all free women. Men, some sorts of men, will save us. Men, some sorts, cannot so much as stand to see a tear in a woman’s eye. To such men it is unthinkable that we might bear the consequences of our actions.”
“Do you think I am such a man?” I asked.
“No,” she said, “else I would have petitioned redemption from you.”
“Men such as those of whom you speak,” I said, “those who are so solicitous, so kindly, those who are so eager to render you succor, who will strive so desperately to help you, and please you, do they stir you deeply in your belly?”
“I am a free woman,” she said. “We do not consider such things.”
“But you must fear the iron,” I said.
“It will never happen,” she said.
“But you must fear it,” I said.
“Perhaps,” she said.
“Things, then,” I said, “would be quite different.”
“Yes,” she said. “They would then be quite different.” This was quite true. The slave girl is in a totally different category from the free woman. It is the difference between being a person and being a property, between being a respected, legally autonomous entity, entitled to dignity and pride, and being a domestic animal. The same fellow who will go to absurd lengths to please a free woman, and even make a fool of himself over her, will, even with the same woman, if she has been enslaved, simply gesture her with his whip, and without a second thought, to the furs.
“When were you, and your ‘fraud sisters,’ taken into custody?” I asked.
“Payment was demanded this morning,” she said. “When our evasions failed to satisfy the attendants ropes were put on our necks, over our robes and veils, and we were brought to the keeper’s desk. We gave him what little money we had, of course, but it was not enough to satisfy our bills. We then spent the morning in a wheeled cage, sitting on hard benches, while men checked out. None would redeem us. Then, at noon, as soon as the tenth Ahn had str
uck, the cage was wheeled back, into a storage area. It was plain, and cold. There, one by one, taken from the cage, while men waited outside the area, we were stripped and searched by two powerful free women. When they finished with one of us they did not then permit her to return to the cage but rather forced her to stand apart, facing a wall. In this way, one who had already been searched was prevented, and quite simply, from receiving anything from one not yet searched. Our garments were examined carefully, and even our bodies. This yielded them some few extra coins. The women, I assure you, were thorough. Doubtless they had done this sort of thing before. When we were returned to the cage we were both coinless and naked. All that was left then was ourselves. The cage was then wheeled back, by the keeper’s desk. As you might well imagine our importunities to the guests now became more earnest. Yet none were gentlemen. We even found ourselves looked upon, in the cage, as though we might be slaves! At the fifteenth Ahn we were removed from the cage and knelt down, to the side, to the left of the keeper’s desk. Our ankles were then crossed and tied. This was done with a single length of rope. It served also, thusly, with a minimum of knots to which we might have access, to fasten us together.”
“Your hands were left free, of course,” I said, “so that you might extend them piteously to passers-by, guests, and such.”
“Of course,” she said, angrily.
“Continue,” I said.
Renegades of Gor Page 7