by John Norman
"This may be true," said Tasdron, "but surely it is nothing they could admit openly."
"What could admit it more openly than their common presence in Victoria, without strife?" asked Callimachus.
"Aemilianus will never confer with us should he learn that Callisthenes is to be party to our proceedings, nor will Callisthenes permit himself to attend a meeting at which he knows that one of Ar's Station is to be present."
"Each need not know in advance of the projected attendance of the other," said Callimachus.
"And what will you do when they learn of this matter?" asked Tasdron.
"Attempt to prevent bloodshed," said Callimachus.
"I trust that you will be successful," said Tasdron, glumly. "If either Aemilianus or Callisthenes should be felled in my tavern, I think the incident would be unlikely to escape the attention of their allied guardsmen."
"To be sure," smiled Callimachus, "their vengeance would doubtless be merciless and prompt."
Tasdron shuddered. Gorean men, in certain matters, tend not to be patient.
"Glyco, to whom I have spoken, being a merchant of Port Cos, can meet openly with Callisthenes without arousing suspicion. There will be no difficulty, thus, in bringing Callisthenes to our meeting. The matter, however, will be otherwise with Aemilianus. It is unlikely that he can be subtly contacted. Here there is danger. He, like Callisthenes, is doubtless under surveillance by spies of pirates."
"I am hungry," I said.
"Peggy," said Tasdron, raising his voice.
Swiftly the girl leaped to her feet and, with a sound of slave bells, hurried to the table, beside which she knelt. "Yes, Master," she said.
"Bring me bread and meat," I said to her.
"To me, too," said Callimachus, seeming to look through her, without really seeing her. She was only a girl who was owned, and must obey.
"Yes, Master," she said. Her lip trembled.
"And to me, too," said Tasdron, "and, too, bring forth some cheese and dates."
"Yes, Master," she said. "Do Masters desire drink?"
Tasdron looked at Callimachus.
"Water," said Callimachus.
"Black wine," I said. I thought it best to keep my head clear until the conclusion of our evening's business.
"Black wine," said Tasdron.
"Yes, Master," said the girl, and hurried away.
"It is just as well not to have paga this night," said Tasdron.
"I think so," smiled Callimachus.
"Do you fear it?" asked Tasdron.
"Of course," said Callimachus. "I am not a fool."
"I would have thought you feared nothing," said Tasdron.
"Only a fool fears nothing," said Callimachus.
"What do you know of Callisthenes?" I asked Callimachus.
"He is a captain, a guardsman of Port Cos," said Callimachus. "He is skilled with the sword. He is shrewd, I regard him as a good officer."
"It was he, was it not," I asked, "who acceded to your command in Port Cos, following your being relieved of your duties?"
"It was," smiled Callimachus, "but I assure you I shall not hold that against him, nor will it interfere with my capacity to work closely with him."
"If he chooses to work with you," I said.
"Of course," shrugged Callimachus.
"Do you think he will remember you?" I asked.
"I would think so," said Callimachus, ruefully.
"It was evidence brought against Callisthenes in Port Cos five years ago by Callimachus," said Tasdron, "which cost him an early promotion, a matter of minor peculation."
"Such things are not unknown," said Callimachus, "but I chose not to accept them in my command."
"I understand," I said. I had a respect for caste honor. Honor was honor, in small things as well as great. Indeed, how can one practice honor in great things, if not in small things?
"And later," said Tasdron, "it was the testimonies of Callisthenes which resulted in Callimachus' loss of command."
"He did his duty, as I had done mine, earlier," said Callimachus. "I cannot, as a soldier, hold that against him. My only regret is that I had not resigned my command. In that way I might have precluded the disgrace of the hearing, the admonishment of my fellow officers, the embarrassment of being publicly relieved of my duties."
"Be these things as they may," said Tasdron, "they surely do not bode well for the future of our plans."
"It cannot be helped," said Callimachus. "If you wish I shall withdraw from participation in these matters."
"Nonsense," said Tasdron. "You are well remembered, and with affection, in Port Cos. I know this from Glyco. Why else do you think he sought you in Victoria?"
"I pledge you that I will work well with Callisthenes," said Callimachus.
"What do you know of Aemilianus of Ar's Station?" I asked Callimachus and Tasdron.
"Victoria is closer to Port Cos than Ar's Station," said Tasdron. "Indeed, Ar is substantially a land power. We know little of men such as Aemilianus. I have heard that he is a good officer."
"I know nothing of him," said Callimachus, his voice slightly hardening, "save that he is from Ar."
"Your Cosian sympathies are showing," I cautioned him. "Nothing will be much advanced if you and this fellow find it necessary to slice one another into pieces."
"Particularly in my tavern," grumbled Tasdron.
"The immediate problem remains," said Callimachus. "How can we contact this Aemilianus, and bring him to this meeting, without attracting the attention of the spies of Policrates?"
"We have no choice, I think," said Tasdron, "but to contact him directly and take what risks are unavoidable."
"Even so," said Callimachus, "do you think that he, a warrior of Ar, a captain, will simply disguise himself and hurry off to a rendezvous in Victoria? He is surely aware that many in Victoria bear those of Ar little love. He will be suspicious."
"He will doubtless demand that the meeting be held in his headquarters," said Tasdron.
"Then all we have to do," said Callimachus, bitterly, "is to convince Callisthenes to put himself in the power of the men of Ar's Station."
"He may be bolder than we think," I said.
"I do not understand," said Tasdron.
"For what purpose has he come to Victoria?" I asked.
"To find the topaz," said Tasdron.
"I have a plan," I said.
"What?" said Tasdron.
"Do you have the common keys to the collars and bells of your girls on the premises?" I asked.
"Surely," said Tasdron.
I then drew from my pouch a piece of silk. It was heavy, from what it was wrapped about. I placed it carefully on the table. "I think the matter will not be as difficult as you might suspect," I said.
"I understand," said Tasdron. He eyed the silk-wrapped object which I had placed upon the table. He had detected the telltale sound.
"Masters," said Peggy, approaching the table, kneeling beside it, bearing a tray. She placed the tray on the table, and removed three plates of bread and meat from it, a dish of assorted cheeses, a bowl of dates, a pitcher of water, a pot of black wine, steaming, and tiny vessels of sugars and creams, and three goblets. On the table, too, she placed small spoons, of silver, from Tharna, for use with the black wine, and, at each place, a kailiauk-horn-handled eating prong, from distant Turia. Finger towels, then, and a silver finger bowl, too, she placed upon the table. The bowl was also of Tharnan silver. When she had placed these things on the table, she looked about, still kneeling, and saw me close the door to the room, locking her within, with us. She suddenly trembled. She knew that she was a slave, and that absolutely anything could be done with her.
"Leave the tray where it is," said Tasdron. "Remove your silk, and remain kneeling."
"Yes, Master," she said, swiftly slipping the silk back from her shoulders.
She reddened, kneeling as a naked slave before the man she loved. Yet he looked upon her as though she might be any girl casually stripped by
the command of a master.
I smiled to myself. Peggy had obeyed immediately and unhesitantly. Gorean slave girls do not dally in their compliance.
I unwrapped then the object from the silk on the table. There was the sound of the metal clapper in the narrow, flattish, triangular-shaped bell, the rustle of the chain and lock, the sound of the small, metal, sturdy, rectangular, locked coin box. I dangled the chain, the girl bell and the coin box before her eyes.
"Do you know what this is?" I asked her.
"Yes, Master," she whispered, frightened.
"Excellent," said Tasdron, "excellent," and he rose from the table, letting himself out of the room with a key, by means of a side door, one which led up a flight of stairs, presumably to private compartments. He locked the door behind him. He would return shortly with the keys to her bells and collar.
* * * *
"Stand, Slave," I said.
Peggy stood, beautifully.
Tasdron crouched beside her left ankle and, with his key, removed the slave bells from her left ankle. Such bells are seldom put on by the slave or removed by the slave. Almost always they are put on or removed by one who is in authority over the slave. The girl seldom puts them on or removes them; rather it is hers to wear them, and as a slave, for as long or briefly as masters see fit.
I then, not hurrying, lifted the heavy chain, with its bell and box, about the girl's neck. I stood behind her. I then, not yet dropping the chain about her neck, but holding it about her neck, closed the lock. She shuddered. It was on her, though she could not yet feel its weight as I had not yet released it, that it might fall against the back of her neck. Tasdron then, with a key, removed his collar from her throat. I then dropped the chain about her neck. The heavy black links were obdurate against the small, soft hairs on the back of her slender, lovely neck. I then threw her hair back again, in place. I then walked about her, and before her. She who had once been Peggy Baxter, of Earth, then stood before me in the apparatus of a Gorean coin girl.
"An excellent idea," said Tasdron. "Now she will attract only the attention natural to a coin girl in the streets."
"Some may recognize her, of course," I said.
"I do not think many will," said Tasdron, "and if some do, they will simply assume that she has been put into the streets for discipline."
"That, too, was my conjecture," I said. Though the Gorean coin girl is commonly one of several girls, one of a stable thereof, so to speak, sent daily into the streets to earn money as the chattels they are for their master, under the penalty of whippings or tortures, or death, if their day's work does not prove sufficiently lucrative, it is not unknown for this sensual charge to be also placed upon a private girl, usually as a punishment for having failed in some way, often trivial or negligible, to be fully pleasing. After having been sent into the humiliations and dangers of the streets it is a rare girl who does not hurry back, eager and chastened, to the intimate joys of a private slavery.
"Do you know what you are to do?" I asked the girl.
"Yes, Master," she said. "You have explained the matter fully to me."
"Do not fail, Slave Girl," I said to her, menacingly.
"I shall do my best, Master," she whispered.
"It may work," said Tasdron, regarding the slave. He looked to Callimachus. "What do you think?"
"It may quite possibly work," said Callimachus. "We shall hope so."
"She is pretty, isn't she?" said Tasdron. "What do you think of her?"
Peggy straightened her body, scarcely daring to breathe. She was beautiful.
"She is not totally displeasing," said Callimachus.
Tasdron then took the girl by an arm and thrust her toward a rear door, before which he stopped, the girl then standing beside him, to unlock it.
The girl turned to face us. "But am I not to be given even a Ta-Teera to wear?" she asked.
"You will be more alluring, more fetching, without it," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said, half choking.
Tasdron then had the door open, and he took her again by the arm.
"But in the streets," she said, "seen as I am, what if others should wish to use me?"
"You are in the guise of a Coin Girl," I told her.
"But what should I do?" she asked.
"See that you serve them well," I said.
"Yes, Master," she whispered, and then Tasdron, by her arm, half dragging her, pulled her through the door and down the corridor toward the alley door. The sound of the bell on her neck was exciting. Then, the door unbolted and opened, she was thrust into the darkness of the alley. She looked at us, once, and then turned about and sped away, the bell on her neck, on our business. Tasdron closed the door and resecured it.
"Do you think she will be successful?" asked Callimachus of Tasdron, when he had returned to the room.
"She is a slave," said Tasdron. "It will be in her best interest to be so."
"Let us eat," I said. "I am hungry."
"I, too," said Callimachus.
"I, too," said Tasdron.
26
Florence;
Miles of Vonda
"Florence!" I said.
"Master!" she said, pleased.
"Is it you!" I laughed.
"Yes," she said.
"How wonderful to see you," I said.
"Doubtless it is wonderful for a man to see me, as I am now," she laughed.
It was the eighteenth Ahn, two Ahn before the twentieth Ahn, the Gorean midnight, when we would hold our secret meeting in the back room of Tasdron's tavern. I had finished my supper in the room and had, leaving Callimachus and Tasdron in conversation, emerged through the now-opened door into the main room of the tavern. I intended to walk until the twentieth Ahn.
"I see that you are well secured," I said.
"My master has seen to it," she said, proudly.
In Tasdron's paga tavern, as in many, along one wall, there is a set of slave rings, to which one may chain or tie one's slaves while drinking or dining in the tavern. This is a convenience for the customers.
"How beautiful you are," I said. I crouched down beside her.
"Thank you, Master," she said.
"I see that slavery agrees with you," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said, softly.
I turned her face toward me, gently, with my hand.
"What an incredible transformation has come over you," I said.
"It is only that you are not used to seeing me in the tunic and collar of a slave," she said.
"No," I said, "it is far beyond such things." I lowered my hand.
"Yes, Master," she smiled.
I examined her, with attention, as a man does an enslaved woman, as she put her head down, shyly. She wore a brief slave tunic, of gray rep-cloth. It was demure, as such garments go, but it left little doubt as to her charms. I saw that her master was proud of his slave's beauty. She knelt with her back to the wall and slave ring, her knees wide. Her hands were braceleted above and behind her head, the linking chain on the bracelets passing behind the slave ring. She also wore an ankle ring with a chain which looped up to the same slave ring, and was locked about it. The soft, rounded flesh of her forearms, below the steel, and the sweet, swelling flesh of her palms, above the steel, were lovely. I examined the lineaments of her body, the beauty of her breasts held high, as she was braceleted, the latitudes of her belly, the flare of her hips, the sweetness of her knees and thighs, the lovely curve of her calves, her ankles, the left clasped in steel, and her small feet. She was barefoot, of course, as slaves are commonly kept.
"You are astonishingly beautiful, Florence," I said.
"Thank you, Master," she said.
"You are doubly chained," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
This type of chaining, a double chaining, is usually done only by a man who is in a strange city, and does not know, fully, what to expect. If one is familiar with the city a single chaining is usually regarded as sufficient. In
deed, sometimes the girl is merely told to grasp the ring and to remain there until the master returns. She may not release the ring until given permission by a free person. Some girls have been raped at such rings, as helplessly as though they might have been chained to them, so great is the fear of their master, and so strict is the Gorean discipline to which they know themselves subject.
"Are you always, in a tavern, chained in this fashion?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"It would be hard to steal you," I smiled.
"Yes, Master," she smiled.
"Your master must find you very precious," I said.
"I am only a slave," she said, putting her head down, smiling.
"I wonder as what sort of slave your master keeps you," I said.
She looked up, puzzled.
I glanced down then, rather obviously, meaningfully, at the spread of her sweet knees.
"Master is cruel," she smiled. "He teases a poor, helpless, chained slave."
"Perhaps," I said.
Then she laughed, delightedly. "Yes, I must so kneel. Of course! Certainly! He will have it so. My despicable status by his will is thus proclaimed to all. Of course he keeps me as that sort of slave—his pleasure slave!"
"You are that beautiful?" I asked.
"I hope so, Master," she said.
"That is the lowest of all slaves," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said, happily.
"So the proud Lady Florence of Vonda is now a mere pleasure slave."
"Yes, Master!"
"Is it what you want to be?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I regarded her.
"Forgive me, Master, if that distresses you," she said, "but I am no longer a free woman. I am now a slave, and a slave must speak the truth. She may be terribly punished, or even slain, for lying. So do not punish me for speaking the truth, I beg of you! I am a slave! I have no alternative, Master!"
"Is it then, truly," I asked, "what you want to be?"
"Oh, yes, Master! Yes, Master! That is what I want to be, and what somehow I have always wanted to be, a master's pleasure slave!"
"Why is that?" I asked.
"Because I am a woman, Master," she said, "because I am a woman"
"You have become very beautiful," I said.