I had crossed the street, to be less conspicuous when I had passed the shop of Epicrates, which was now open, the wooden screen folded back and secured. I did see Epicrates at his wheel. I did not see the Lady Delia. The screen may have been folded back and the shop opened as early as the Fifth Ahn, for the shops of craftsmen commonly open early, and commonly close in the late afternoon, which economy conserves on candles and lamp oil. Breakfast and lunch, by the craftsmen, are often taken in the shop itself. The markets commonly keep similar hours, produce brought in early from the fields. On the other hand, there are many avenues and boulevards in Ar where more aristocratic or expensive tastes may be satisfied, for example, those for Tharnan silver and Turian silk, even carved jade from the World’s End. In such districts it was not unusual to note the veiled palanquins and upholstered sedan chairs of women of the higher castes.
I had come early.
I had stationed myself in such a way that I could see the stairwell at the side of the shop of Epicrates, which would lead upstairs to the dwelling quarters on the second floor. I was curious to see who might, if anyone, descend those stairs. Indeed, I had come early with just this in mind. I had also taken care to position myself in such a way that I could not be seen from the shop itself unless one went to its fronting and surveyed the street.
I had been waiting for some time.
I felt the ringing of the bar for the eighth Ahn must be imminent.
I sensed a movement to my left, turned my head, and immediately knelt, humbly, submissively, head down, for it was a free woman. I kept my head down, waiting for her to pass. But, to my dismay, she stopped, before me.
“Mistress?” I said, keeping my head down. One must be careful of meeting the eyes of free persons, particularly free women, lest one be deemed insolent.
“Look up,” she said.
I raised my head.
Her raiment was unusual for this district, for it was of shimmering white and yellow, colors of the Merchants. She wore golden sandals. Her veil was yellow, and the hooding of her robes was white. She carried a small yellow parasol, which was opened against the late-morning sun. Such parasols are occasionally carried by women of fashion, largely as an accessory. From the utilitarian point of view they have less to do with sheltering the bit of a woman’s face that might be unveiled as to keep much of the robes of concealment shaded, this lessening the build-up of heat within the raiment. Interesting, as well, the parasol, in its opening and closing, in its lifting and lowering, its playful twirling, its coy movements, its modest interventions, revelations, and such, often functions, rather as a fan, as a flirtation device, hinting, teasing, promising, refusing, suggesting, denying, and so on. Indeed, its use, as that of the fan, may convey boredom, invitation, mystery, impatience, annoyance, rage, and so on. In the case of some free women, too, the parasol may have another attribute, one more sinister, an attribute of which I was not aware at the time.
I did note the switch that, like many free women, she carried at her belt.
“Do I not know you?” she asked.
“I trust not, Mistress,” I said.
It is easy for the veiled to regard the unveiled, less easy, by far, for the unveiled to regard the veiled.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Waiting for my master,” I said.
“Why are you not chained to a ring?” she asked.
“I do not know, Mistress,” I said.
“You should be chained to a ring!” she said.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
In many public places, particularly in the high cities, provided as a public convenience, there are slave rings to which a slave might be fastened while her master busies himself elsewhere. Indeed, in many public buildings slaves are not allowed, no more than other domestic animals.
“One should keep meaningless sluts, she-urts like you, on a chain,” she said. “How else to keep you from roving about, gossiping, lapping water from the fountains, perhaps even from the higher levels, from stealing from carts and stalls?”
“Forgive me, Mistress,” I whispered. I did not dare meet her eyes. I feared I knew her.
She turned away, and continued on, but, a moment later, she turned about, again, and abruptly.
“The wharf!” she said, suddenly. “Victoria!”
“Forgive me, Mistress!” I said. “I have not now, unaddressed, dared to speak to you. I have not accosted you.”
“So,” she said, “am I not your sister?”
“No, no, Mistress!” I said, hastily, plaintively. “That cannot be! You are free. I am a beast, a slave! I was ignorant before, stupid, a fool! Forgive me! I am kajira, only kajira! I am unworthy to tie your sandals, unworthy to perfume and garland your couch, unworthy even to cast petals in your path!”
“And a barbarian, too!” she said.
“Yes, a barbarian, too!” I said. “Forgive me, Mistress!”
She then, to my relief, turned away, and departed, continuing down the street.
I then rose, again, to my feet, shaken, miserable.
I saw a figure hurrying down the stairs across the way. It was not a man. It was a slave, a slave! I ran toward her, and, as she, not seeing me, was hurrying away, to my left, I ran after her, and called out, “Paula!”
She did not stop.
I seized her by the arm, and turned her about. “Paula!” I said.
She was white-faced, trembling. I thought her legs might give way beneath her. I had never seen her so frightened.
I steadied her, my hands on her arms.
“Phyllis!” she said, eyes wide.
“What is wrong?” I said.
“What I have seen!” she said. “It is hideous, dangerous, terrible! I did not know such things could exist! I saw only the woman at first. How wise she was! She lashed my ankles together so that I could not rise. Then it entered the room, and I screamed, and tried to rise, and run, but, my ankles tied, I fell. I tried to crawl to the door, the stairs, but the woman blocked my way, and ordered me to position, facing the monstrous thing!”
Clearly Paula had never seen a Kur before, or anything Kurlike. I had, of course, months ago, seen the beast, whom I had later learned was Lord Grendel, on Emerald, when I was in the company of Lita, my friend, the slave of Camillus, the Leather Worker. At that time I, too, was to be known, at least publicly, by the name ‘Lita’. It is, as I have indicated, a common slave name.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“I was to deliver a message to a personage named Grendel, Lord Grendel,” she said, “but I never saw him, only the woman, who is seemingly free, and her gigantic beast.”
I removed my hands from her arms. She stood, unsteadily, still shaken.
“The beast,” I said, “is Lord Grendel.”
“No,” she said, “it is a beast.”
“Lord Grendel,” I said.
“It never spoke,” she said.
“It listened,” I said. “It could understand you. And, in its way, it can speak. You might not understand its speech.”
“No,” she said. “It is a simple beast.”
“The human is a beast, too,” I said. “Rational life is not confined to a single vessel, or form. What we term ‘beasts’ might, clearly, not expect to find rational life in our form, which might be unfamiliar to them. The commonality for rationality is not determined by shape and size, by fur or skin, by hands or claws, but by cunning, by thought, by planning, by awareness.”
“I am afraid,” she said, trembling.
“Be afraid,” I said.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“What message did you deliver to the woman, the beast?” I asked.
“I dare not say,” she said. “The slave master might kill me.”
“Speak!” I demanded.
“No!” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“What slave master?” I said.
“The slave master in the house of Decius Albus,” she said, “he who is in charge of the slaves of Decius Albus.”
“Tell me!” I demanded.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, fearfully.
“You fear this slave master,” I said.
“He is slave master,” she said.
“It must be pleasant to be slave master in a house such as that of Decius Albus,” I said.
“It is a great house,” she said.
“Doubtless he has access to all the slaves in the house,” I said.
“Not to the high slaves, the preferred slaves,” she said. “They are reserved for the master, Decius Albus.”
“But to such as you?” I said.
“Yes,” she said. “I am helpless in his arms. I yield to him, helplessly.”
“You must,” I said, “you are a slave.”
“There is more,” she said. “I yield to him wholly, helplessly. He permits no reservations nor could I attempt any, even if I wished.”
“You are a slave,” I said.
“We are both slaves,” she said. “We are no longer on Earth, trying to live its lies. Here we are women. Here we are domestic animals, animals who belong to men.”
“What message did you give?” I asked.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Speak!” I said.
“No,” she said. “No!”
“What,” I asked, “is the name of this slave master, before whom you kneel in such fear?”
“‘Drusus’,” she said.
“‘Drusus’!” I said.
“Yes!” she said.
At that moment the eighth Ahn began to ring.
I turned about, and, in that moment, Paula spun about, wildly, and began to run down the street.
I hesitated to follow her. I looked to the stairwell leading up to the second floor of the building in which Epicrates had his shop. I wished to reach the second floor before the last of the eight bars had rung.
I was startled to see the free woman, she clad in shimmering white and yellow, she with the parasol, she whose acquaintance I had briefly and unpleasantly made long ago on a wharf in Victoria.
She was hurrying after Paula.
Then I turned to the stairwell.
I did not wish to be late.
The third of the eight bars had already sounded.
Chapter Forty-Two
“Kneel here,” said the Lady Bina, “and cross your ankles.”
I felt my crossed ankles tied together with a silken cord.
“May I speak openly, frankly, and freely, Mistress?” I asked.
“Certainly,” she said. “We are very permissive here. But if we do not care for what you say, you will be whipped.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
“For you are a slave,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
I looked to the door in the apartment, which led, I supposed, to the kitchen. Nothing was framed in that portal.
But I knew what must be within that room.
“What does your master call you?” inquired the Lady Bina.
“‘Phyllis’,” I said.
“Who is your master?” inquired the Lady Bina.
I hesitated.
“Tenrik of Siba,” I said.
“Very well,” smiled the Lady Bina, “that will do—for now.”
“I understand I am your second visitor this morning,” I said.
“That is true,” said the Lady Bina. Then she added, “I receive few visitors.”
“I would speak,” I said, “on behalf of my master.”
“Do so,” said the Lady Bina.
“His message, forgive me, Mistress,” I said, “is for Lord Grendel.”
“Lord Grendel?” she said. “I do not understand. I know no Lord Grendel. There is no Lord Grendel here.”
“For your pet, your beast, Mistress,” I said.
“I see,” she said.
“Lord Grendel,” I said.
“You are the second this morning,” she said.
“Please, Mistress,” I said.
“Very well,” she said. She then turned to the side, toward the kitchen. “You have heard, sweet friend,” she called.
I heard a scratching, I supposed, of claws moving on the wood of the kitchen floor, and then there was silence, but I saw the shadow of something large, but crouched, moving, on the jamb of the door. I supposed the claws had been retracted. I closed my eyes, briefly. I was far better prepared, of course, than poor Paula had been, for I had seen this thing before, and, in the house of Flavius Minor in Brundisium, had seen similar things, full-blooded Kurii. Still I was frightened. I was very much aware, for an instant, of the cords fastening my ankles together. Perhaps, I wondered, that was more necessary than I had realized. Then that mighty form, broad, and hirsute, ears lifted, was in the doorway of the kitchen.
Now it crouched in the room, in front of the entrance to the kitchen, and regarded me.
“Do not be frightened,” said the Lady Bina. “He can dismember an adult sleen and bite the heads from men, but his temper is commonly equable. I am sure you will find him understanding, sweet, and gentle. He is rarely violent and seldom kills. Twice I saw him spare assailants. He has never fed on a human kill. If you do not anger, annoy, or displease him in any way, you have little to fear. I am sure you will like him.” Then she turned to the beast. “It seems, dear friend,” she said, “that your disguise, as a mere guard brute, dumb and servile, has been twice penetrated in a single morning.”
The beast, not moving, continued to regard me.
I was not greatly soothed by the reassurances that had been tendered by the Lady Bina.
I hoped he had understood her.
Certainly he could not regard me, a half-naked, ankle-roped kajira, as any threat to him, or to his mistress, or colleague.
I felt very small, very helpless.
As my ankles were tied, I could not rise to my feet.
I was sure I was well within the “critical charging distance” of which Kurik, my master, had spoken.
A swift wrenching of those mighty jaws, I was sure, could tear an arm from my body.
“Are you uneasy?” asked the Lady Bina.
“A little, Mistress,” I said.
“Do not be,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
“Proceed,” she said.
But how I might speak, I thought, might much depend on what had transpired before I had been admitted into their presence.
“May I ask,” I said, “what was the import of the message delivered by my predecessor, who lately exited the building?”
“What a pretty thing she was,” said the Lady Bina. “I wager she would bring at least five silver tarsks on the block.”
“Perhaps,” I said, annoyed. “But, Mistress, her message?”
“Doubtless,” said the Lady Bina, “it is the same as yours, entrusted to two couriers, lest one be too confused, frightened, or distraught to deliver it properly, or comprehensibly. My friend’s appearance is sometimes found disconcerting.”
“I do not think it will be the same message,” I said. “May I inquire its nature?”
“Later, perhaps,” said the Lady Bina. “First, we would hear your message.”
“May I ask from whom was my predecessor’s message?” I asked.
“As you know of Lord Grendel,” she said, “I see no harm in responding. It was from Lord Arcesilaus.”
“No, Mistress,” I said, “I doubt very much that it was from Lord Arcesilaus.”
“I do not understand,” she said.
Th
e ears of the beast, already turned toward me, lifted a little more, and, subtly, I thought, widened.
Its mien was alert, too alert, I feared.
I thought of the energy latent in that mighty form.
I was frightened.
How swiftly it might have sprung forward!
My ankles were tied.
“Speak,” said the Lady Bina.
I then told them of the supposed gratitude of a supposed Lord Arcesilaus, seemingly a Kur, spoken of as the Twelfth Face of the Nameless One, entitled “Theocrat of the World,” or, at least, I supposed, of one world, a particular steel world, a gratitude that was to find expression in a gift, a gift to be delivered to Lord Grendel in recognition for his services, which services, it seemed, had assisted in bringing about an alteration of the power structure of that world, one to the advantage of Lord Arcesilaus. This gift was to be transmitted to Brundisium, a well-known port on the coast of continental Gor, where it was to be received by my master, Tenrik of Siba, who, in turn, would conduct it safely to Ar, where it was to be presented to Lord Grendel.
“What is the nature of this gift?” inquired Lady Bina.
“In its contrivance,” I said, “I understand it to be something like Lord Grendel himself, an adjustment of, a treatment of, and an intertwining of, hereditary coils, in such a way as to produce a new form of life, a fusion of components, both human and Kur, to be implanted not in a rooted womb but a human womb, and then brought to term, and delivered, as though it might be a wholly human child.”
At this point there was a menacing growl from the beast crouched before the doorway to the kitchen.
“Should I continue?” I asked the Lady Bina. I was not sure it was wise to do so. Too, I was not sure the beast could understand me.
“By all means,” said Lady Bina.
“It is my understanding,” I said, “that factions exist, some of which may be inimical to the interests of Lord Arcesilaus.”
Plunder of Gor Page 45