Vagabonds of Gor coc-24

by John Norman

  "I see," I said.

  "And the perfection, and rightfulness, of it," she said.

  "I see," I said.

  "It is morning," she whispered.

  "Yes," I said.

  She then crawled back, on all fours, a few feet, and put her head to the floor, the palms of her hands, too, on the floor, in a common position of obeisance. "I hope to be pleasing to you today," she said.

  "That is a slave formula," I said. With such formulas a girl might greet her master in the morning.

  "I know," she said.

  "And you know what is involved in such formulas?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said.

  "And you still dare to say such?"

  "Yes," she said.

  "Very well," I said. "You will be held to it, as a slave, and if you are not pleasing have no fear but what, also as a slave, you will be suitably, and severely, punished."

  "That is as I wish it," she said.

  "You may raise your head," I said.

  She lifted her head. Her hair was wild, and damp. She trembled.

  "Oh, I must be touched," she whispered. "Be kind to me, I beg of you."

  "But there are gants to prepare," I said. "We will have a feast."

  "Let Ina first be your feast," she begged.

  "Do you know how to be a feast?" I asked.

  "Teach me," she said. "Teach me to be a man's feast!"

  "Rise," I said. "Approach."

  "She obeyed.

  "You are permitting me to face you?" she asked, disbelievingly.

  "As it pleases me, at the moment," I said.

  She looked at me gratefully, tears in her eyes.

  "So much is often permitted even a slave," I said.

  "I understand," she said.

  I motioned her forward and she hurried to my arms, sobbing, holding me. She pressed herself against me, closely, tightly, crying. There would be the print of accouterments on her body. My tunic was dampened by her tears. When I held her back a bit from me, by the upper arms, I saw, as I expected, the mark of my sword belt, diagonal, across her body, and the print of two buckles in her flesh, that of the sword belt, and that of the pouch, or knife, belt.

  I then lifted her up and carried her back, and to the side, where I put her down, on her back, on the floor.

  When I removed the pouch and knife from my knife belt, I doubled it, and held it to her, and she took it in her hands, and kissed it, as a slave might have the whip.

  "You understand our relationship?" asked.

  "Yes." she said.

  I then knelt beside her and she lifted her arms and put them about my neck.

  "What it must be, to be a slave," she whispered.

  "But you are not a slave," I said.

  "No," she moaned.

  I then lowered myself to the floor beside her, our lips meeting.

  26 The Cry

  "Do not sing," I said.

  "I am sorry," she said, happily. It was not the first time I had warned her about such things.

  She sat at the rear of the raft, facing forward. Her legs, to the thighs, were muddy. We had recently left the raft, together, to thrust it through thick rence. Though her strength was small she lent it unstintingly, unbidden, to this common task. It was anomalous to see her, a lady of Ar, slipping unbidden into the marsh, eagerly, zealously, pitting her tiny strength against those recalcitrant logs, therein attempting to assist in the progress of our bulky conveyance. She now, for the most part, rode on the raft, at the back. As her weight was negligible compared to that of the raft, this did not impede our advance. Her hands were now free, but the collar and strap, fashioned from the harness I had once worn, was still on her throat, fastened to the raft. She was forbidden, of course, to remove it without permission. I did not always permit her hands to be free. Sometimes I tied her hands behind her back, and fastened her ankles closely to her hands, and put her on her back, on the logs in the back. At certain other times I kept her bound hand and foot, but in a more common fashion, her ankles not fastened to her wrists. At other times I had her tied as I usually slept her, her ankles crossed and bound in the center of the length of binding fiber, the same fiber, now in its double strand, being brought up and used to tie her hands together before her body, its separated ends then tying behind her back, to keep her hands at her belly, to keep the knots behind her back, where she could not reach them. A similar tie may be used, of course, with the girl's hands tied behind her back, the knots then before her. In such ties, helpless, being transported on my raft, lovely Ina would have little difficulty in recollecting that she was my prisoner. In all these ties, of course, when she was on the raft, she wore the collar and strap. Too, when her hands and feet were free, I kept a length of binding fiber thrust over the collar. In this way it would be handy, if I wished to make use of it. Similarly the common camisk is often belted with a length of binding fiber, which, pulled free, may be used to bind the occupant of the garment, usually a female slave. Ina, of course, did not have a camisk. I kept her stripped.

  It was now five days since we had been on the barge.

  Ina splashed water from the marsh on her legs, washing the mud from them. Then she dangled her legs in the water, sitting on the raft, rather toward the back.

  "I told you about singing," I said.

  "I'm sorry!" she said.

  She regularly took great care now to keep her body clean. Too, she did what she could to keep her hair washed and combed. These things were not easy tasks in the marsh. One might even have thought she was a slave. Such must, as they can, keep their bodies, and hair, and such, attractive and clean. Indeed, they are commonly subject to discipline in the matter. They are not free women. Too, had Ina cosmetics at her disposal, even the bold, exciting cosmetics of slaves, which so scandalize free women, I suspected she might not have hesitated to use them.

  "There is a movement in the water there, to the left," I said. "Beware."

  Quickly she drew her legs up on the logs, sitting then, facing the front.

  We saw a narrow, dark shape, about five feet long, like a slowly undulating whip, glide past. A small triangular head was almost level with the water surface. I did not think there had been much danger, but there was some possibility that the movement of her legs in the water might have attracted its attention.

  "That is a marsh moccasin," I said.

  "Are they poisonous," she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "I never saw one before," she said.

  "They are not common," I said, "even in the delta."

  "Are they poisonous like the ost?" she asked.

  I thought of a small fellow I had once known in Tharna. He had been called "Ost." It had not been an unfitting name for him. I had neither seen him nor heard of him since the revolt in the mines, that upon which the revolution in the city had been consequent. I did not know if he had survived the revolt and revolution or not, in that revolution the gynocracy in Tharna had been overthrown, devastatingly. Even to this day women in Tharna are kept almost uniformly as helpless, abject slaves, the men of Tharna having an excellent memory for history. The youth of Tharna is usually bred from women temporarily freed for purposes of their conception, then reenslaved. In Tharnan law a person conceived by a free person on a free person is considered to be a free person, even if they are later. Carried and borne by a slave. In many other cities this is different, the usual case being that the offspring of a slave is a slave, and belongs to the mother's owner. The education, however, of the Tharnan youth differs on a sexual basis. The boys are raised to be men, and masters, and the girls to be women, and slaves. The boys, as a portion of the Home Stone Ceremony, take an oath of mastery, in which they swear never to surrender the dominance which is rightfully theirs by nature. It is in this ceremony, also, that they receive the two yellow cords commonly worn in the belt of a male Tharnan. These cords, each about eighteen inches long, are suitable for the binding of a female, hand and foot. In the same ceremony the young women of Tharna are
also brought into the presence of the Home Stone. They, however, are not permitted to kiss or touch it. Then, in its presence they are stripped and collared. They are then, by the young men, bound with the yellow cords, so that they will know their feel. Afterwards, they are usually conducted home by one of the young men, often he whose cords have bound them, and who may be interested in their acquisition, on his leash, usually to the home of their mother's owner, usually their father, to whom, in virtue of such a ceremony, they now legally count as slave, who will see to their disposition, or sale. Even free women visiting Tharna from other cities must, at the gates, don temporary collars and slave tunics, and be leashed. The ruler in Tharna, paradoxically, was for several years a tatrix, Lara. To be sure, she herself apparently had some understanding of what it was to be a female slave. It seems it had once been taught to her. I had heard, incidentally, a few months ago, in Port Cos, from a Tharnan silver merchant, that Lara had abdicated. Perhaps her abdication was in the best interests of the city. I do not know. Doubtless it ended something of a political tension in the city, and I take it that Tharna now, under the governance of its councils, and its administrator, Kron, has at last achieved a commendable political consistency. As nearly as I could determine from the reports of the silver merchant Lara's abdication was not forced, nor even the result of extreme political pressures brought on her, but a voluntary act, one apparently regarded by her as being not only in the best interests of the city but in her own best interests as well. He did not know what had become of her. I would suppose that she is now merely another Tharnan woman, another slave. It is my hope that she is happy.

  "Like the ost?" she asked.

  "What?" I asked.

  "Are they poisonous, the marsh moccasins, like the ost?" she said.

  "They are quite poisonous," I said, "but their venom, as I understand it, does not compare to that of the ost."

  "Could I survive its bite?" she asked.

  "Possibly," I said. "I do not know."

  "I do not think I shall attempt to essay the experiment," she said.

  "That is wise on your part," I said.

  "Do men ever throw women to marsh moccasins, or osts?" she asked.

  "Perhaps free women," I said, "as a form of execution."

  "No," she said, "I meant slaves."

  What interest have you in slaves?" I asked.

  "I was just curious," she said.

  "Anything may be done to slaves," I said.

  "Of course," she said.

  "Perhaps if they were not pleasing," I said. "But then it would be more likely that something less impressive would be done to them, perhaps dismembering them for sleen feed."

  "I see," she said.

  "Too," I said, "if even a slave's most secret thoughts harbor the least hint of recalcitrance, such an absurdity being inevitably revealed in subtle bodily clues and such, they might be summarily given to leech plants, cast to pond eels, thrown to sleen, such things."

  "But if they were pleasing?" she asked.

  "And truly concerned to fulfill the complete requirements of their total slavery, internal and external?"

  "Yes," she said.

  "I would not think so," I said.

  "Good," she said.

  "That would be a waste of female," I said. "How you put that!" she said.

  I shrugged.

  "Do I have some value, just as a female?" she asked.

  "You mean, as might a slave?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said.

  "Of course," I said.

  "Good," she said.

  "What?" I asked.

  "Nothing," she said.

  She stretched out her legs, a little. She looked at them. She put her hands near her ankles. "You know," she said, "I, too, think my ankles would look well in shackles."

  "They would," I said.

  "Indeed, I think I might look well as a whole in chains," she said.

  I was silent, poling the raft.

  "Do you think they would be becoming on me?" she asked.

  "Of course," I said.

  "Poor free women," she said. "They do not get to wear chains."

  "Not often, at any rate," I said.

  "I have seen you lustful men ogling slave girls in their chains," she said, chidingly.

  "It is one of the pleasures of the mastery," I said.

  "And I have seen some of those girls," she said, "how helpless and sensuous they are in their chains, helplessly their captive and yet at the same time using them to drive men mad with passion."

  "Oh?" I said.

  "Yes," she laughed, "how they move in them, how they make them make those little sounds, and so on."

  "Where did you see such things?" I asked.

  "On the street, here and there, now and then," she said. "Too, sometimes on an occasional shelf market."

  "You might see some good chain work on a shelf market," I said.

  "Chain work?" she said.

  "Yes," I said. "Some women have an instinct, or a natural talent, for the use of their chains, but these instincts, or talents, are often honed by whip-masters."

  "You mean they learn to use their chains?"

  "Yes, much as they might learn to drape tunics, to tie slave girdles, to wear slave strips, to use perfume, to apply cosmetics, and so on."

  "And to please a man!" she said.

  "Of course," I said.

  "Well," she said, "whatever the reason, some of them are very beautiful in their chains."

  "Yes," I said. "Some girls wear their chains stunningly."

  "Do you think I would look well in chains?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Do you think they would suit me?" she asked. "They would suit you very well," I said. "Do you think I would be beautiful in them?" she asked. "All women are beautiful in chains," I said. "But do you think I would be particularly beautiful in them?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Even though I were a free woman?"

  "If you were in chains," I said, "you would presumably no longer be a free woman."

  "I suppose not," she said.

  "It is nearly morning," I said.

  "It seems that slaves have various advantages over free women," she said.

  "What did you have in mind?" I asked.

  "Not being thrown to marsh moccasins, osts, and such."

  "Presumably not," I said, "at least if they are pleasing."

  "And truly concerned to be pleasing, fully!" she said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "They are not subject to execution," she said.

  "No," I said, "but they are subject to disposal."

  "True," she said.

  "And I do not know if there is much difference between being tied on a pole for tharlarion or simply being bound and thrown to them."

  "I suppose not," she said.

  "I can think of an interesting advantage the free woman has over the slave," I said.

  "What is that?" she said.

  "Consider yourself," I said.

  "Yes?" she said.

  "As a free captive," I said, "you are subject to rescue. On the other hand, for most practical purposes, there is no rescue for a female slave, only a change of masters."

  "True," she said.

  "Suppose it were a kaiila," I said. "If a fellow goes to considerable risk to steal a kaiila, and is successful in doing so, he is not going to turn it loose."

  "Of course not," she said.

  "On the other hand," I said, "similarly, I can think of an obvious advantage which the female slave has over the free woman."

  "What is that?" she asked.

  "In many critical situations," I said, "such as the burning and sacking of cities, raids on caravans, and such, she, as she is a domestic animal, like the sleen and tarsk, is much more likely to survive, to be permitted to live, to be spared, than the free female. She is property, obvious loot, obvious booty. Indeed, her acquisition, like that of other wealth, gold, and such, may be one of the primary objects of su
ch sackings or raids."

  "Men find slaves of interest, do they not?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said. "Indeed, wars have been fought to obtain the beautiful slaves of a given city."

  "The Slave Wars!" she said.

  She was referring to a series of wars, loosely referred to as the Slave Wars, which occurred among various cities in the middle latitudes of Gor, off and on, over a period of approximately a generation. They had occurred long before my coming to Gor. Although large-scale slaving was involved in these wars, and was doubtless a sufficient condition for them, hence the name, other considerations, as would be expected, were often involved, as well, such as the levying of tribute and the control of trade routes. Out of the Slave Wars grew much of the merchant law pertaining to slaves. Too, out of them grew some of the criteria for the standardization of the female slave as a commodity, for example, how, in virtue of her scarcity, her training, and such, she is to be figured as an item of tribute, for example, in terms of other domestic animals, given their current market values in the area, and so on, such as verr and tarsks. For example, she might, at a given time, be worth five verr or three tarsks, but she might be worth only a fifth of a sleen or a tenth of a tarn. Obtaining women is one of the major reasons Goreans fight. Another is sport. The Slave Wars, incidentally, might be compared with the Kaiila Wars of the southern hemisphere. In the latter wars, fought among factions of the Wagon Peoples, the object, or principal object, was apparently the acquisition of the lofty, silken kaiila, the common mount of the Wagon Peoples. In those wars, as I understand it, the acquisition of female slaves was almost an afterthought, ropes being put on the necks of captured women, who were then, stripped, herded back with the captured kaiila to the wagons of the victors. To be sure, it did not take the Wagon Peoples long to learn the many exquisite pleasures attendant upon owning beautiful slaves. With the unification of the Wagon Peoples under a Ubar San, Kamchak, of the Tuchuks, it is my impression that the riders of the swift kaiila now seldom ply their depredations against their own kind. Rather do they roam afield, it is said not a woman is safe within a thousand pasangs of the wagons. I would think that a very conservative estimate. Raiding parties of the Wagon Peoples have been reported as far north as Venna. Some claim to have seen them even in the vicinity of the Sardar. The Wagon Peoples themselves are not likely to confuse their own slaves, as the different peoples have different brands, the Tuchuks the brand of the four bosk horns, the Kassars the brand of the three-weighted bola, the Kataii the brand of a bow, facing left, and the Paravaci the brand of the inverted isosceles triangle surmounted by a semicircle, a symbolic representation of the head of a bosk. I knew a girl who wore the brand of the four bosk horns, and, above it, the cursive Kef, the common Kajira mark, for she was a common girl, put there when I had branded her in a kasbah in the Tahari. Her name was Vella. She had once been a secretary, on Earth.