by John Norman
"I am afraid to be feminine," she said.
"You will be punished for femininity on this world," I told her, "only by free women."
"Free!" she laughed, miserably.
"They think themselves free," I said.
"Could I dare to be a woman on this world?" she asked.
"Yes," I told her.
"But what if I wish to crawl to a handsome man, and beg to obey him?" she asked.
"On this world," I told her, "you may do so."
"But would he not then, as a gentleman, scandalized, lift me hastily to my feet, embarrassed, implicitly belittling me, and encouraging me to the pursuit of masculine virtues?"
"Would you fear that?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Is that why you would hesitate to crawl to a man?" I asked.
"Of course," she said.
"On this world, as a slave," I said, "you need have no fear."
"What would he do on this world?" she asked.
"Perhaps instruct you in the proper way to crawl to his feet," I said.
"Oh," she said.
"If you did not do so beautifully enough," I said, "he might whip you."
"Whip me?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
She looked at me.
"Gorean men are not easy to please, Slave," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Masculinity and femininity are complementary properties," I told her. "If a man wishes a woman to be more feminine, he must be more masculine. If a woman wishes a man to be more masculine, she must be more feminine."
"I am thinking of the far world from which I came, Master," she said. "I think there may be a fearful corollary to what you have said. Perhaps if a man fears a woman he will want her to be more like a man, and if a woman fears a man she will want him to be more like a woman."
"Perhaps," I said. "It may depend on the individuals. I would not know."
"I am more beautiful now," she said. "I saw it in the mirror."
"Yes," I said.
"I still do not understand, clearly," she said, "how this change came about, how it could be."
"You were taught," I said, "that you were owned, and that you were subject, totally, to the male will."
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"You had begun to learn just a little then, you see," I said, "that you, a lovely woman, were truly under male domination."
"And that made me more beautiful?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"How?" she asked.
"By releasing, in response, more of your femininity," I said.
She looked up at me, frightened.
"It is a natural thing," I said. "As a woman becomes more feminine, she becomes more beautiful."
"I am afraid to be feminine, and beautiful," she said.
"As well you might be, on this world, as a slave," I said, "knowing what it will mean for you, how it will excite the lust of masters and make men mad to own you."
"No," she said. 'That is not it. It is rather that I fear that self. I fear it might be truly me."
"Have you never wondered," I asked, "what it might be like, men with whips standing near you, to dance naked in the firelight, your feet striking in the sand, before warriors?"
"Yes," she said. "I have wondered about that."
"You see," I said, "that self you fear is truly you."
"Give me a choice," she begged.
"You will be given no choice," I told her. "Your femininity will be forced to grow, nurtured, if necessary, by the whip."
"Yes," she whispered.
"Yes, what?" I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. "Master!" she protested, but I lifted the dark blanket and threw it over her head, so that she was completely covered. She could not then speak, or rise up, for the blanket was over her.
I got to my feet. From the sea bag I drew forth the notes for fortunes, made out to Shaba, to be drawn on various of the banks of Schendi, and the false ring, that which he was supposed to carry to the Sardar in place of the true ring. For the notes I, as a putative agent of Kurii, was to receive the true ring, the Tahari ring, which I would then return to Port Kar, that Samos might arrange for its delivery to the Sardar. I did not think I would kill Shaba. If he should actually dare to deliver the false ring to the Sardar he would doubtless there fall into the power of the Priest-Kings. They would then deal with him as they saw fit. If he did not choose to deliver the false ring to the Sardar I might then, at a later date, hunt him down, to kill him. My first priority was surely to return the Tahari ring to Samos as swiftly and safely as possible.
It was now near the eighteenth Ahn.
"Master," said Sasi. "I fear your eyes."
"I must leave now," I told her.
"I fear your eyes," she said, "how you look at me. Will you return to us?"
"I will try," I told her.
"I see by your eyes," she said, "that you fear you will not return to us."
"It is a hard business on which I embark," I told her. "In the sea bag," I said, "are various things. The key to your collar is there, for example. Too, there are coins. They should, in the event that I do not return, or do not soon return, keep you and the barbarian alive for a long time."
"Yes, Master," she said. Then she looked at me, wonderingly. "You would let me put my hand on the key to my own collar?" she asked.
"Schendi may not be an easy place in which to survive," I told her. "You may find it convenient, in some circumstances, to remove your collar."
"Are you freeing me?' she asked. It did not even occur to Sasi that anyone might consider freeing the blond-haired barbarian. She, so luscious, and becoming so beautiful, could obviously, on a world such as Gor, be only slave meat.
I looked at Sasi. Swiftly she knelt. "Forgive me, my Master," she said. "Please do not slay me."
"No," I said. "But Schendi may not be an easy place in which to survive. You may find it convenient, in some circumstances, to remove your collar."
"I am branded," she said. "I would fear to masquerade as a free woman."
"I would not advise that," I said. "You might be fed to tharlarion. But, still, it might be better for you not to be recognized as the girl of Tarl of Teletus."
"Who are you, truly, Master?" she asked.
"Look to the beam above your head, and behind you," I said. "What dangles there, which might be conveniently lowered?"
"A whipping ring," she said.
"What hangs on the wall behind you, to your left?" I asked.
"A slave whip," she said.
"Do you again request to know my true identity?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said.
"You are an agile, clever slave, Sasi," I said, "as quick-witted as you are curvaceous. You have lived as a she-urt on the wharves of Port Kar. I have little fear for you." I glanced at the barbarian, beneath the blanket.
"Do not fear, Master," said Sasi. "I will teach her to hide, and eat garbage and be pleasing to paga attendants."
"I must go now," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"In time," I said, "if I do not return, you will both presumably be caught and put up for public auction."
"Yes, Master," she said.
I turned to leave.
"Must you leave this moment?" she asked.
I turned about, and looked at her.
"I may never see you again," she said.
I shrugged.
"I do not want to be free," she said.
"Do not fear," I told her, "you will not be."
"Please, my Master," she said. "Make now to me a gentle love."
I went to Sasi, and crouched down, and took her in my arms.
15
Msaliti and I Are Tricked by Shaba;
What Occurred Outside the Headquarters of Msaliti and Shaba
"You are late," said Msaliti.
"I have brought the notes," I told him.
"It is past the nineteenth Ahn," he said.
"Have you brought the notes," he asked.
"Yes," I said, "I have brought them." He was clearly nervous.
He admitted me, from the street to the small, dingy anteroom, that leading to the larger room in which we had, the preceding day, discussed our business.
"Is Shaba here?" I asked.
"No," he said.
"Then what is so important about me being late?" I asked.
"Give me the notes," he said. "Give me the ring."
"No," I said. I entered the larger room, that in which we had conferred on matters of importance yesterday.
"Where are the askaris?" I asked. They were not in the room.
"They are elsewhere," said he.
"The room was more attractive yesterday," I said, "when it contained the two female slaves."
Msaliti and I sat down, cross-legged, near the low table.
"Yesterday evening," I said, "after we parted, I paid a visit to the tavern of Pembe. I made use there of the slave who had once been Evelyn Ellis. She is not bad in a collar."
"She is frigid," said Msaliti.
"Nonsense," I said. "The poor girl is paga hot."
"I find that surprising," said he.
"She cannot now help herself," I said.
"Pathetic thing," he said.
"It required only a bit of chaining and teaching her, so to speak, to kiss the whip."
"Excellent," said Msaliti.
"You seem distracted," I said.
"It is nothing," he said.
My thoughts strayed to the blond-haired barbarian and Sasi.
"Keep her under the blanket for an Ahn after I have left," I had told Sasi. "You may then release her, if you wish. If you do not wish to do so, of course, then leave her there as long as you please."
"Yes, Master," said Sasi.
"She is an ignorant girl, and a natural slave," I said, "so keep her under strict discipline."
"Yes, Master," said Sasi.
"Do not hesitate to use the whip on her," I said.
"No, Master," said Sasi.
"Remember that she is a natural slave," I told Sasi.
"We are all natural slaves, Master," she said. "But have no fear. I will keep her under a very strict discipline."
"As is fitting for any slave," I said.
"Yes, Master," smiled Sasi.
I had then kissed her and left.
* * * *
"Why do you not give me the notes and the ring?" asked Msaliti.
"My orders," I said, "are to exchange them with Shaba for the authentic shield ring."
"To whom will you return the ring?" he asked.
"To Belisarius, in Cos," I said.
"Do you know his house?" asked Msaliti.
"Certainly not," I said. "I will be contacted."
"Where will the contact be made?" asked Msaliti, regarding me narrowly.
"At the Chatka and Curla," I said, "in Cos."
"Who is Master of the Chatka and Curla?" asked Msaliti.
"Aurelion of Cos," I said. "Of course."
"Yes," said Msaliti.
"Have no fear," I said, "I will do my best to see that the ring reaches the proper authorities."
Msaliti nodded. I smiled.
"Why would you wish the ring?" I asked.
"To assure that it reaches the beasts," he said. "They would not be pleased, should it be again lost."
"Your concern for their cause is commendable," I said.
"I have no wish to be torn to pieces," he said.
"That is understandable," I said. "Neither would I cheerfully look forward to such a termination."
"You seem in a good mood," he said.
"Surely you, too, should be in a pleasant frame of mind," I said. "Is our business not nearly completed?"
"That is my hope," said Msaliti.
"Do you truly fear the beasts so?" I asked.
"Our business has been delayed," he said. "It is my fear that the beasts themselves will come for the ring."
"But I am to pick up the ring," I said.
"I do not even know you," said Msaliti.
"I do not know you either, really," I said.
"We were looking for the blond girl," he said.
"She was delayed," I said. "She was enslaved," I pointed out, cheerfully.
"A pity," he said.
"Nonsense," I said. "Slavery is good for a woman."
"I do not trust Shaba," he said.
"I am sure he does not trust us either," I said. "At least we trust each other."
Msaliti drummed his fingers on the low table.
"Are you sure we are alone?" I asked.
"Of course," said Msaliti. "None have entered. Before I came the askaris, in the anteroom, guarded the door."
"They neglected, I see," I said, "to replace the peas on their threads in this room, those dislodged by my peregrination of yesterday evening on the roof."
"Of course they replaced them," said Msaliti.
"I would not be too sure then," I said, "that we are alone."
Msaliti looked quickly upward. Several of the strings, with the tiny peas attached, dangled downward.
"The grille, too, I note," I said, "has been removed."
"You are observant," said Shaba.
Msaliti staggered to his feet, stumbling backward.
Across the table from us, in his customary place, sat Shaba. There had been a momentary blurring in the area, a sort of twisting swirl of light, something like a whirlpool of light, and then, calmly, he had sat before us.
"I did not think you would be late," I said. "You seemed a punctual fellow."
"It is you who were late," he said.
"Yes," I said, "I am sorry about that. I was detained."
"Was she pretty?" asked Shaba.
I nodded. "Yes," I said.
"Matters of great moment are afoot here," said Msaliti. "With your permission, that of both of you, if you please, I would like to attend to them."
"It is my understanding," said Shaba to me, "that you have brought the notes and the false ring."
"Yes," I said. I put the notes on the table.
"Where is the false ring?" asked Msaliti.
"I have it," I told him.
Shaba looked at the notes, carefully. He did not hurry. "These notes seem to be in order," he said.
"May I see them?" asked Msaliti.
Shaba handed him the notes. "You do not trust our broad-shouldered courier?" he asked.
"I trust as few people as possible," said Msaliti. He looked at the notes, very closely. Then he handed them back to Shaba. "I know the seals and signatures," he said. "They may truly be drawn on the banks indicated."
"There are twenty thousand tarns of gold there," I said.
"Cash them before you carry the false ring to the Sardar," said Msaliti. "It is in our interest, in these circumstances, to bargain in good faith."
"But what if I do not carry the false ring to the Sardar?" asked Shaba.
"I would do so if I were you," said Msaliti.
"I see," said Shaba.
"The beasts," he said, "do not deal lightly with traitors."
"That is understandable," said Shaba.
"This business could be conducted in the morning," I said, "at the banks in question. You might then verify the notes and withdraw or redeposit the gold as you please."
"Kunguni the beggar," said Msaliti, "cannot well enter the edifices on Schendi's Street of Coins."
"Then enter as Msaliti," I said.
Msaliti laughed. "Do not speak foolishly," he said.
I did not understand his answer.
"I am satisfied to do the business tonight," said Shaba. "If the notes are not genuine, obviously I would not carry the ring to the Sardar."
"Remember," said Msaliti, "do not depress the switch on the false ring. It must be depressed only in the Sardar."
The hair on the back of my neck rose. I then realized that what I had suspected must be
true, that the false ring was of great danger.
Shaba put the notes within his robes. He then, from about his neck, removed a long, light chain. It had hung hitherto within the robes, concealed. He opened the chain.
I saw the ring on the chain.
My heart was pounding.
He extended his hand. "May I have the false ring?" he asked.
"I think there is little point in carrying the false ring to the Sardar," I said. "The delay has surely been such as to provoke suspicion." This was true. Actually I was not eager, for a personal reason, for Shaba to deliver the ring. I respected what he had done in the exploration of Gor. I knew him to be a man of intelligence and courage. He was a traitor, yes, but there was something about him, indefinable, which I found to my liking. I did not particularly wish to see him subjected to whatever Priest-Kings, or their human allies, might deem fit as the fate of a traitor. I did not think that if they set their minds to it they would be less ingenious than Kurii. Perhaps it would be better if I slew him. I would do so swiftly, mercifully.
"The ring, please," said Shaba.
"Give him the ring," said Msaliti.
I handed Shaba the false ring and he slipped it on the chain.
"Were there not eleven strings dangling from the ceiling?" he asked.
Msaliti quickly turned and looked. "I do not know," he said. "Are there more now?"
I had not taken my eyes from Shaba. "There were twelve," I said.
"There are twelve now," said Msaliti, counting.
"Then there are the same number now as before," said Shaba.
"Yes," I said, regarding him evenly.
"I must commend you," said Shaba. "You have powers of observation worthy of a scribe—or of a warrior."
He turned the chain and slipped a ring from it, handing it to me.
Geographers and cartographers, of course, are members of the Scribes.
I allowed for the turning of the chain. I received in my hand the ring which had originally hung on the chain.
Shaba, the false ring on the chain, again fastened the chain behind his neck.
He stood up, and so, too, did Msaliti and myself. "I am leaving Schendi tonight," said Shaba.
"I, too," said Msaliti. "I have lingered too long here."
"It would not be well for you to be too much missed," smiled Shaba.
"No," said Msaliti. I did not understand their exchange.