by John Norman
She regarded me.
She was small and her figure, obscured to be sure under the heavy fabrics of the robes of concealment, surely uncomfortable, and seemingly incongruous, in the delta, seemed cuddly. She was veiled, as is common for Gorean women in the high cities, particularly those of station. In some cities the veil is prescribed by law for free women, as well as by custom and etiquette; and in most cities it is prohibited, by law, to slaves.
"Withdraw," said she to those about. "I would speak with him privately."
My keeper checked the manacles on my wrists and the length, stoutness and fastening of the neck-rope. Then he, with the others, withdrew.
She lifted the hems of her robes a tiny bit, lifting them a bit from the wet sand, holding them in one hand. She did not, I gathered, wish them soiled. She seemed haughty, displeased, disdainful, fastidious. Doubtless there were places other than the delta which she would have preferred to frequent, such as the arcades, the courts and shops of Ar. I could see the toes of her embroidered slippers.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked.
I looked beyond her, out, back past torches. Now that I was on my knees and the men were to one side, I could see the lines of the barge, purple and gilded, near the bank, that with the golden cabin, covered with golden netting.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked.
I saw that she did not raise the hems of her robes more than a hort or two, scarcely enough to lift them from the sand. The soldiers of Ar, regulars, were closely and exactly disciplined. Yet I suspected that she had enough woman's sense not to reveal her ankles among them. They were, of course, men, and Gorean men, and had been long from a woman.
"It seems you have been gagged," she said, looking at the binding, and the sodden wadding, wrapped about my neck-rope.
"Yes," I said.
"Susceptibility to the gag is a liability of prisoners," she said, "enforceable at a moment's notice, at the whim of a captor."
"Of course," I said.
"And I," she said, "have the authority. I assure you, to have it replaced on you, perfectly, immediately.
"I understand," I said.
"I am Ina, Lady of Ar," she said, "of the staff of Saphronicus, general in the north."
"I know," I said.
"I am an observer," she said, "on behalf of Talena, Lady of Ar, daughter of Marlenus."
"Once daughter of Marlenus," I said. "She was sworn from him, disinherited, disowned, fully."
"It seems you are familiar with the politics of Ar," she said.
"It seems to me unusual," I said, "that such a woman, disowned, disinherited, surely once sequestered in the central cylinder, in disgrace, should be able to post an observer in the delta."
"Her fortunes rise," she said. "I gather so," I said.
"You are Tan, of Port Kar?" she asked. "Perhaps," I said.
"You will answer my questions expeditiously!" she said. I was silent.
"Spread your knees!" she snapped. I did so.
"You are Tarl, of Port Kar," she said.
"I have been known variously," I said, "in various places."
"You are Tarl, of Port Kar!" she said, angrily. "Yes," I said. I was Tarl, of Port Kar, city of the great arsenal, city of many canals, Jewel of Gleaming Thassa.
"You are a handsome fellow, Tarl," she said.
I was silent.
"But there are many marks on your body," she chided. "From various things," I said, "from blows, from ropes, from harness, from the slash of rence, from the bites and stings of insects, from the fastening places of marsh leeches."
She shuddered.
"It is difficult to traverse the delta unscathed," I said, "particularly when one is naked, in the water, harnessed, drawing a raft."
"Such employments are suitable for a spy," she laughed.
"Doubtless," I said.
"You look well, naked, shackled, on your knees before me," she said, "spy of Cos."
"Doubtless your robes of concealment are uncomfortable in the delta, given the moisture, the heat," I said.
She looked at me, angrily.
"Doubtless you would be more comfortable, if they were removed."
"Today," she said, angrily, "we have won a great victory."
"Over Cosians?" I asked.
"In a way," she said, petulantly.
"No," I said, "over rencers."
Her eyes flashed over the veil.
"Men of the right flank stumbled on a village of rencers," I said. "That is all." I had surmised this, from the information coming from the right this afternoon.
"Rencers are allies of those of Cos!" she said.
The influence of Cos was strong in the delta, to be sure, there as it was in the western reaches of the Vosk, but I did not think the rencers would be explicit allies of Cos. They, in their small, scattered communities, tend to be secretive, fiercely independent folk.
"The village was destroyed," she laughed.
"I am sorry to hear it," I said.
"That is because you favor Cos," she said.
"Those of Port Kar," I said, "are at war with Cos." To be sure, this war was largely a matter of skirmishes, almost always at sea, and political formality. There had not been a major engagement since the battle of the 25th of Se'Kara, in the first year of the sovereignty of the Council of Captains in Port Kar, or, to use the chronology of Ar, 10,12 °C.A., Contasta Ar, from the Founding of Ar. In that battle the forces of Port Kar had defeated the combined fleets of Cos and Tyros.
"Those of Port Cos doubtless have their traitors, as well as those of other cities," she said.
"I suppose so," I said.
"But you may lament for your allies, the rencers," she laughed.
"It was not only they for whom I was sorry," said I.
"For whom, then?" she asked.
"For those of Ar, as well," said I.
"I do not understand," I said.
"Surely there were warning signals, cloth on wandlike rence stems, white, then later red, raised in the vicinity of the rencers' village."
"Such were mentioned in the reports," she said.
"Yet your scouts proceeded," I said.
"Ar goes where she pleases," said she. "Too, such markers could have been set up by Cosians."
"They serve to warn away strangers," I said. "In the vicinity of such markers Cosians would be no more welcome than those of Ar."
"We of Ar do not fear," she laughed. "Too, it does not matter now. Victory was ours. The village was destroyed."
"Was your barge seen in the vicinity of the village?" I asked.
"I suppose so," she said. "Were there survivors?" I asked. "I do not know," she said. I was silent.
"It was a great victory," she said.
I was silent. I had once known some rencers. To be sure, the groups with which I was familiar were far to the west, indeed, in the vicinity of the tidal marshes themselves.
"Concern yourself with the matter no longer, my helpless, handsome spy," she laughed. "It is over, it is done with. It is finished."
"Perhaps," I said.
"Listen," she said. "I hear Vosk gulls, out in the marsh."
"Perhaps," I said. "What do you mean?" she asked. I was again silent.
"I have men at my beck and command," she warned me.
"For what purpose have you come," I asked, "to torment me?"
"Spread your knees more widely," she snapped. I did so.
She laughed. "As I understand it," she said, "you were, though a prisoner, earlier displeasing in speech."
"Have you the ear of an officer?" I asked, suddenly.
"Present them to officers," I said. "Plead that they be considered!"
"I think not," she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"They are the quaint ravings of a spy," she said.
"You do not believe that," I said.
"No," she said. "Of course not."
"Convey them then to officers," I said, "swiftly, clearly!"
"No," she lau
ghed.
I suddenly knelt back. "You!" I said. "You are the spy! You are with them!"
"Yes," she laughed. "I am with them!"
"It is for that reason you wished to interrogate me," I said, "to see what I might know, or have guessed."
"Of course," she said.
"I have been a fool," I said.
"Like all men," she said.
But I think," said I, "that I am not the only fool here."
"How is that?" she asked.
"You are in the delta, too," I said.
"My barge will protect me," she said. "It is known. Cosians have orders not to fire upon it, to let it pass."
"I do not think I would care to trust that information," I said.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You know a great deal," I said. "Your life, in my opinion, is not as safe as you seem to think it is."
"I do not care to listen to such nonsense," she said. I shrugged.
"But there is another reason I wanted to interrogate you," she said.
"What is that?" I asked.
"I heard from slaves in Ven, serving slaves, collared sluts, who saw you caged, before we came west, that you were an attractive and powerful beast." She laughed. "It seems the sight of you made them juice."
"They know perhaps what it is to obey a man," I said.
"Perhaps," she laughed.
"And you," I said, "do you juice?"
"Do not be vulgar!" she said.
"But perhaps there is less to fear for your life than I thought," I said. "Perhaps there is another disposition planned for you."
"What?" she asked.
"The collar," I said.
"Sleen!" she hissed.
"If when stripped you proved sufficiently beautiful," I added.
"Sleen, sleen!" she said.
"Let us see your legs," I said. She stiffened in anger.
"The robes of concealment must be bulky, hot, uncomfortable in the delta," I said. "The rence girls go barefoot, commonly, or wear rence sandals, and short tunics."
"It is you who are the prisoner!" she said.
"And their slaves are sometimes not permitted clothing at all."
"Sleen," she said.
"Except perhaps a rope collar," I said.
"It is you who are stripped," she said. "It is you who are shackled, who have a rope on your neck!"
"Perhaps stripped, and in chains, in the shadow of a whip," I said, "you, too, could learn to juice before men."
She trembled with rage. I thought she would hurry forward, to strike me, but then I did not think, even shackled as I was, that she cared to approach within the ambit of my neck rope. Then her body relaxed. "Ah," she laughed, "you are clever, for a man. You seek to make me angry."
I shrugged. "They are simple conjectures," I said.
Again she stiffened in anger, but then, again, relaxed. She looked down at me. "What an impudent fellow you are," she laughed. "I think I shall have you beaten."
I was silent.
"Has it been long since you have had a woman?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "Perhaps you have one or two serving slaves with you, one of whom, perhaps, as a discipline, you might order to my pleasure?"
"Alas," she laughed. "I have not brought such slaves with me into the delta. They might learn too much. Also, their presence, such scantily clad, collared creatures, might too severely test the discipline of the men."
"It must be difficult for you," I said, "to be in the delta without serving slaves."
"It is terrible," she admitted. "I must even comb my own hair."
"A significant hardship," I acknowledged.
"And an embarrassing one," she said.
"Without doubt," I said.
"You speak ironically," she said.
"Not at all," I said. "For a woman such as you, such inconveniences must be all but intolerable."
"They are," she said.
"Is Saphronicus your lover?" I asked.
"No," she said.
I nodded. A man such as Saphronicus could have his pick of slaves, of course. With such an abundance of riches at his disposal he would not be likely to concern himself with a free female. To be sure, they are sometimes of economic, political or social interest to ambitious men, men interested in using them to improve their fortunes, further their careers, and so on. To satisfy their deeper needs, those of pleasure and the mastery, for example, slaves may be kept on the side. The slave, of course, like the sleen or verr, a mere domestic animal, like them, is seldom in a position to improve, say, a fellow's social connections. An occasional exception is the secret slave whom most believe to be still free, her true relationship being concealed, at least for a time, by her master's will, from the public. This deception is difficult to maintain, of course, for as the woman grows in her slavery, it becomes more and more evident in her, in her behavior, her movements, her voice, and such. Also she soon longs for the openness of bondage, that her inward truth may now be publicly proclaimed, that she may now appear before the world, and be shown before the world, as what she is, a slave. Sometimes this is done in a plaza, or other public place, with a public stripping by her master. It is dangerous, sometimes, to be a secret slave, then revealed, for Goreans do not like to be duped. Sometimes they vent their anger on the slave, with blows and lashings, though it seems to me the blame, if any, in such cases, is perhaps less with the slave than the master. To be sure, she probably suggested her secret enslavement to begin with, perhaps even begging it. In any event, she is normally joyful to at last, publicly, be permitted to kneel before her master. By the time it is done, of course, many, from behavioral cues, will have already detected, or suspected, the truth. Such inferences, of course, can be mistaken, for many free women, in effect, exhibit similar behaviors, and such. That is because they, though legally free, within the strict technicalities of the law, are yet slaves. It is only that they have not yet been put in the collar. And the sooner it is done to them the better for them, and the community as a whole. But then I thought that the Lady Ina, perhaps, would not have high enough standing to be of interest in, say, political modalities to a man such as Saphronicus. To be sure, she might be of interest in some other fashion.
"Saphronicus does not interest me," she said.
"Perhaps he has you in mind for a collar," I said.
"Sleen," she laughed.
"Then you would have to attempt desperately to interest him," I said.
She drew her robes up a little, to reveal her ankles. She was a vain wench. This she did I think not only to show herself off, for it seemed to me that she was muchly pleased with herself, but also to torture me. She knew that so little a thing, event the glimpse of an ankle, may be torture to a sex-starved man.
"My ankles," she said.
"Lady Ina is cruel," I observed. She laughed.
"They are a bit thick, are they not?" I asked. She thrust down her robes, angrily.
"But they would look well in shackles," I said. "I will have you whipped," she said.
"Do you not think they would look well in shackles?" I asked.
"I do not know," she said, hesitantly. She stepped back.
"Surely you would be curious to know," I said.
"No!" she said.
"Surely all women are curious to know if their ankles would look well in shackles," I said.
"No!" she said. As I have mentioned, Lady Ina was short, and her figure, though muchly concealed beneath the robes, suggested cuddliness, that it would fit very nicely, even deliciously, within the arms of a master. Similarly I did not, in actuality, regard her ankles as too thick. I thought that they were splendid, and, indeed, would take shackles very nicely.
"And surely," I said, "they are interested in knowing what they would bring on the auction block."
"No! No!" she said.
"What do you think you would bring?" I inquired.
"Sleen!" she said.
"Perhaps not much," I said.
"Do you not cle
arly understand," she asked, "that it is you, not I, who are the prisoner?"
"I think," I said, "you would sell for an average amount of copper tarsks."
"It will be ten lashes for you!" she said.
"Strange," I said, "that it is I who have labored on behalf of Ar who kneel here in the sand, shackled, said to be a spy for Cos, and that it is you who are precisely such an agent who should stand here, above me, thought to be a partisan of Ar."
"I am a free woman!" she said. "I am priceless!"
"Until you are stripped and sold," I said.
"I would bring a high price!" she said.
"I doubt it," I said.
"I am beautiful!" she said.
"Perhaps," I said. "It is hard to tell."
"Beware," she said, "lest I be truly cruel to you, lest I truly torment you, lest I lower my veil and permit you to glimpse, ever so briefly, my beauty, a beauty which you will never possess, which you will never kiss or touch, a brief glimpse which you must then carry with you, recalled in frustration and agony, through the marsh!"
"Could you not part your robes, as well," I asked, "that I might be even more tormented?"
She stiffened again in anger, in fury.
"Your figure, at least," I said, "from what I surmise, would be likely to look quite well on a slave block."
She made an angry noise.
I saw that she wanted to lower her veil.
"Am I not to be permitted," I asked, "to look upon the face of my enemy?"
I was silent.
"Doubtless we will never see one another again," she said.
"Doubtless," I said.
"Look then," she said, reaching to the pin at the left of her veil, "on the face of your enemy!"
Like all women she was vain. She wished an assessment of her beauty.
Slowly, gracefully, was the veil lowered. I looked upon her.
"A" Yes," she said, eagerly. "I am your enemy!" m I not beautiful?" she challenged.
"I shall now know you," I said, "if ever we meet again."
"You tricked me," she said.
I shrugged. I had wanted, too, to see her, of course. Too, I was sure she had wanted me, a male, to look upon her. One of the things which many free women resent about female slaves is that they are commonly denied the veil, that men may look openly, as they please, upon them.
"I do not think we shall meet again," she said.
"Probably not," I said.