Vagabonds of Gor coc-24

by John Norman

  "Look then," she moaned.

  She blushed, again scrutinized, again with exquisite care. I even lifted up her feet a little, as if to see if she might be branded on the instep.

  "You see?" she said.

  "Some fellows do not brand their slaves," I said.

  "That is stupid!" she said.

  "It is also contrary to the laws of most cities," I said, "and to merchant law, as well."

  "Of course," she said.

  Gorean, she approved heartily of the branding of slaves. Most female slaves on Gor, indeed, the vast majority, almost all, needless to say, are branded. Aside from questions of legality, compliance with the law, and such, I think it will be clear upon a moment's reflection that various practical considerations also commend slave branding to the attention of the owner, in particular, the identification of the article as property, this tending to secure it, protecting against its loss, facilitating its recovery, and so on. The main legal purpose of the brand, incidentally, is doubtless this identification of slaves. To be sure, most Goreans feel the brand also serves psychological and aesthetic purposes, for example, helping the girl to understand that she is now a slave and enhancing her beauty.

  "As I am not branded then," said she, "it is clear I am not a slave!"

  "Had it not been for the absence of a brand," I said, "I might have conjectured you a slave."

  She cried out with rage, though I saw she was muchly pleased.

  "But you are a simple rence girl?" I said.

  "Yes!" she said.

  "Where is your village?" I asked.

  "Over there," she said, vaguely, with a movement of that lovely head. Her hair came down the post behind her, to the small of her back.

  "I shall take you back to your village," I said.

  "No!" she cried.

  "No?" I asked.

  "I have left the village!" she said.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "Fleeing an undesired match," she said, woefully.

  "How came you on your little perch?" I asked.

  "I was robbed," she said, "and put here by brigands!"

  "Why did they not sell you at the delta's edge?" I asked.

  "They recognized," she said, proudly, loftily, "that I would never make a slave."

  "It seems to me that you might make a slave," I said, "and perhaps a rather nice one."

  "Never!" she cried.

  "Perhaps even a delicious one," I said.

  "Never, never!" she cried.

  "To be sure," I said, "you, might need a little training, perhaps a taste of the whip, perhaps some understanding that you must now be good for something, that all details of your life, including your clothing, if you are permitted any, are now in the control of another."

  "I am a free woman!" she cried.

  "So, too," said I, "once were most slaves."

  She struggled.

  "Do you fear no longer being pampered," I asked, "but having to obey and serve, immediately, unquestioningly?"

  Again she struggled.

  "Surely you understand that you are exciting when you move like that," I said.

  She made a noise of frustration.

  "Slave girls are sometimes ordered to writhe in their bonds and attempt to free themselves," I said. "But they know, of course, that they cannot do so."

  She tried to remain absolutely still. Her exertions, however, had caused her to breathe heavily, and her gasping, the lifting and lowering of her breasts was also lovely.

  "And when they finish their writhing, their futile attempts to free themselves," I said, "they have reconfirmed perfectly their original comprehension of their total helplessness."

  She looked at me, in fury.

  "As you have now," I said.

  "Free me," she said.

  "I shall return you to your village," I said. "There may be a reward for your return."

  "I do not want to go back," she said.

  "No matter," I said. "Where is it?"

  "If I am taken back to be forcibly mated," she said, "my companion may keep me in shackles."

  "I think your ankles would look well in shackles," I said.

  "Do I know you?" she asked, suddenly, frightened.

  "More likely you would be beaten with rence stalks," I said.

  "I do not know where the village is," she said.

  "We can inquire at several of the local villages," I said.

  "No!" she said.

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "Brigands did not put me here," she said.

  "True," I said, "if brigands had taken you, they would have bound you hand and foot and taken you to the edge of the delta, there to sell you off as a slave."

  She looked down at me.

  "You have been caught in a lie," I said.

  She pulled back, against the post.

  "It is fortunate that you are not a slave," I said.

  "I am not a rence girl," she said.

  "I am not surprised," I said, "as few of them, I suspect, speak in the accents of Ar."

  "I cannot place your accent," she said.

  I was silent. My Gorean doubtless bore traces of various regional dialects. Too, although this was really not so clear to me, I suppose I spoke Gorean with an English accent. More than one slave, women brought here from Earth to serve Gorean masters, had intimated that to me. I did not beat them.

  "What are your sympathies?" she asked.

  "What are yours?" I asked.

  "I do not think you are a rencer," she said.

  "That is true," I said. "I am not a rencer."

  "But you said you were not of Ar," she said, suddenly, eagerly.

  "True," I said.

  "And your accent is not of Ar!"

  "No," I said.

  "Then free me!" she said, elatedly.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "We are allies!" she said.

  "How is that?" I asked.

  "I am a spy for Cos!" she exclaimed.

  "How came you here?" I asked.

  "A rencer village was burned," she said, "burned to the water. Later, rencers, in force, attacked a column of Ar, that on the right flank of her advance into the delta. Afterwards, in a small, related action, my barge was ambushed. My guards fled into the marsh, abandoning me. I was seized, and, though I was a free woman, stripped and bound! The barge was burned. I was taken to a rencer village, and kept prisoner, naked, in a closed, stifling hut. For a time, days, it seemed terrible flies were everywhere. I was protected in the hut. After they had gone I was still kept in the hut, though now bound hand and foot. Then yesterday morning I was brought here."

  I found these things easy to believe, given her present situation. Also the very pole I was using for the raft had been gilded, though the gilding, when I retrieved it from the marsh, had been muchly burned away.

  "Why have they put me here?" she asked, "Do they not know the danger from tharlarion?"

  "You have been put here for tharlarion," I said. "Surely you must have suspected that."

  "But why?" she asked.

  "A village was burned," I said.

  "I told them of my Cosian sympathies," she said.

  "You probably told them many things," I said.

  "Of course," she said.

  "In the accents of Ar," I said.

  "Of course," she said.

  "And threatened them?"

  "Of course," she said.

  "And lied muchly to them?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said, "but as it turned out, it didn't matter, for the rencers do not even speak Gorean."

  "Why do you say that?" I asked.

  "They never spoke to me," she said.

  "They speak Gorean perfectly," I said, "though, to be sure, with accents much more like those of the western Vosk basin, than those of the courts, the baths and colonnades of Ar."

  She turned white.

  "But at least," I said, "they have honored you as a free woman, puffing you here for the tharlarion."

  "Why would they not have
kept me-even if-even if-"

  "As a slave?" I asked, helping her.

  "Yes!" she said.

  "There are probably various reasons," I said.

  "But what?" she asked.

  "The burning of the village, vengeance, their hatred for those of Ar," I suggested.

  "But I am a woman!" she protested.

  "Perhaps," I said. "You would seem at least to have a female's body."

  "I am a woman!" she said. "Wholly a woman!"

  "How can that be," I asked, "as you are not yet a slave?"

  She moved angrily in the leather.

  It interested me that she would now, in her present plight, naturally, unthinkingly, and unquestioningly fall back upon, acknowledge, and call attention to, the uniqueness and specialness of her sex, its difference from that of men, and its entitlement to its particular considerations.

  "Why would they put me here?" she asked. "Why would they not spare me-if only to make me a slave?"

  "I wondered about that," I said.

  "Well?" she asked.

  "From what you have told me, I now think the answer is clear," I said.

  "What?" she said.

  "I suspect it has to do with their assessment of your character," I said.

  "I do not understand," she said.

  "I suspect they did not regard you as being worthy of being a slave," I said.

  "What!" she cried.

  "Yes," I said, "I suspect they did not think you were worthy of being a slave."

  "But a free woman is a thousand times more valuable than a slave!" she said.

  "Many," said I, "regard a slave as a thousand times more valuable than a free woman."

  She cried out, angrily.

  It interested me that she had put a specific value on a free woman.

  "But then," I said, "many also believe that the free woman and the slave are the same, except for a legal technicality."

  "Surely you do not mean that slaves are actually free women," she said.

  "No," I said. "I do not mean that."

  "Sleen! Sleen!" she said.

  "Free women are only slaves, not yet collared," I said.

  "Sleen!" she wept.

  "I must be on my way," I said.

  "No, no!" she said. "You must take me with you! I know your sympathies are with Cos! So, too, are mine! I may be of Ar, but I am an agent of Cos. Thus we are allies!"

  "You admit that you are a Cosian spy?" I said.

  "Yes," she said, hesitantly.

  "Truly?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said.

  "Speak loudly and clearly," I said. "I am a Cosian spy," she said.

  "More clearly, more loudly," I said. "I am a Cosian spy," she said. "Excellent," I said.

  "Release me now," she said.

  "But my sympathies are not with Cos," I said. "But you are not of Ar!" she said.

  "My sympathies are with neither Ar nor Cos," I said. "What is your Home Stone?" she asked, suddenly, fearfully. "That of Port Kar," I said.

  She moaned. It is said that the chains of a slave girl are heaviest in Port Kar.

  I made as though to leave.

  "Wait!" she cried.

  I turned, again, to face her.

  "Free me!" she said. "I will give you riches!"

  "The only riches you have to bestow," I said, "and they are not inconsiderable, are now in the keeping of rencer thongs."

  "I will give them to you!" she said.

  "They are mine for the taking," I pointed out to her.

  "Then take them," she urged.

  "I must be on my way," I said.

  "You cannot leave me here for tharlarion!" she wept.

  "Rencers have seen fit to put you here," I said. "Who am I, a fellow of Port Kar, a stranger in the delta, to dispute their choice?"

  "They are barbarians!" she said. "Perhaps less so than I," I said. "Free me," she said.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "I will make it worth your while," she said.

  "In what way?" I asked. "As a female," she said.

  "Speak more clearly," I said.

  "As a female, with my favors!" "Interesting," I said.

  " 'Interesting'?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said, "you bargain with your beauty."

  "Of course," she said.

  "But then it seems you have little more to bargain with."

  She blushed, again, even to her toes.

  A free woman may bargain with her own beauty, of course, and it is often done. This is quite different from the case of the female slave. Her beauty, like herself, is owned by the master. It may, of course, like herself, figure in his bargains.

  I looked up at her.

  "I will submit to you, if you wish," she said. "I will be your slave."

  "Beware of your language," I said, "lest you inadvertently speak words of self-enslavement."

  Such words, of course, are irrevocable by the slave because, once spoken, she is a slave.

  "Nonetheless, if you wish," she said, "I will speak them!"

  "And be a slave?" I asked.

  "Yes!" she said.

  "Do you not recognize me?" I asked.

  "Should I?" she asked.

  "Do you recall a camp in the marsh, some days ago," I asked, "to the southeast, an evening, a prisoner?"

  She looked down, frightened.

  "And did you not," I asked, "boldly, to torture me, I helpless before you, show me your ankles?"

  "Oh!" she said.

  "Yes," I said, touching her ankles, "they would look well in shackles."

  "You!" she wept.

  "Yes," I said.

  She put back her head, moaning.

  We heard a tharlarion bellowing in the marsh.

  She lifted her head, bearing the sound. Her eyes were wide with fear..

  "I am a woman," she said, suddenly, piteously.

  I saw that it was true. Through everything, beneath everything, in spite of everything, deeply, essentially, she was a woman.

  "I wish you well," I said.

  "Do not go!" she cried..

  "Perhaps you can free yourself," I said.

  "My ankles are muchly thonged!" she said.

  "Yes," I said, "they do seem to be well held, fastened excellently to the pole and crossbar. I doubt that you can free them."

  "And my arms!" she said.

  "Yes," I said, "they would seem well fastened, also, simply and effectively."

  "Please," she said. "Have mercy!"

  "I wonder if you realize how clever the rencers have been," I said.

  She looked down at me.

  "You cannot even try to rub the thongs, the three of them, against the wood," I said. "The interiors of your arms are against the wood, and the thongs themselves are about your wrists, and across your belly. Yes, they are clever. The wood and the leather, both, you see, are far stronger than your flesh."

  "You know that I cannot free myself," she said. "I am absolutely helpless!"

  "You are right," I said.

  The tharlarion again bellowed in the marsh, this time more closely.

  "You risked your life to save me!" she said.

  "Believe me," I said, "I did not realize at the time that I was risking it. I thought the beast would move off."

  "But it did not," she said.

  "True," I said. "Unfortunately."

  "You defended me!" she said.

  "As it turned out," I said.

  "You even called yourself to its attention in the marsh, when you understood how tenacious, how dangerous, it was!" she said, triumphantly.

  "So?" I asked.

  "So you found me of interest!" she said. "So you wanted me!"

  "Put back your shoulders," I said, "thrust out your breasts, lift your chin."

  She obeyed immediately, beautifully.

  "Yes," I said, "I can see how a man might find you of interest." I was also interested to note how well she had obeyed.

  "You want me," she said. "Free me!"

  "To be sur
e," I said, "it is a long time since I have had a woman."

  "I am a prize!" she said, angrily.

  "You are not even a slave," I said.

  She threw her head back, angrily.

  "Are you a virgin?" I asked.

  "No," She said. "I am not a virgin. I have permitted men to make love to me twice. I assure you I can stand it."

  I smiled.

  "Would you prefer that I was a virgin?" she asked. "No," I said. Virgins presented special problems, particularly of a psychological nature. Also, their sexual responses usually required lengthening, deepening and honing. On the whole, I, like most Goreans, preferred opened women. And, of course, most women are opened. Virgins, for example, are almost never available in the slave markets.

  She looked down at me.

  "I assure you, I said, "there would have been little point in lying about the matter."

  "I suppose not," she said.

  "On the other hand," I said, "you would seem to be, for most practical purposes, having to do with the furs, a virgin."

  "No," she said, "twice I permitted men to make love to me."

  "They were lucky fellows," I said.

  "I never permitted either of them to do so again," she said.

  "Doubtless they have spent years in repining."

  "Perhaps," she said. "I do not know."

  "You are sure you can stand it?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said, "I can stand it."

  She shrank back a little but I, carefully, with the tip of my knife, inserting it between her ankles and the thongs, freed her legs.

  "Ah," she said, relievedly. One could still see the several deep imprints of the thongs in her ankles. These marks, in an Ahn or two, or a few Ahn, would disappear. The thongs had not cut into her, nor burned her deeply.

  I looked up at her.

  "My arms," she said. "I am still helpless!"

  "Perhaps I shall leave you now," I said.

  "No, no!" she said.

  "Do you beg to be freed?" I asked.

  "Yes, yes!" she sobbed.

  "Speak, then," I said.

  "Please free me," she said. "I beg it! I beg it!"

  I then, the knife in my teeth, climbed to the lower crossbar, on which I put my foot.

  "Why have you sheathed your knife?" she asked.

  "One can see over the rence from here," I observed. I steadied myself with my left hand on the pole.

  "Free me," she begged. "Oh!"

  She looked at me, wildly. Then she looked away, swiftly. "Please!" she protested. "Please!"

  "Look at me," I told her.

  She turned her head to face me. Her eyes were very wide. Then she turned her head away again, desperately. "I am a free woman!" she wept.