by John Norman
The men were in fine humor.
One of them pointed across the grass to the fire between the wagons.
It was more than a hundred yards off, glowing in the darkness, away from the compound.
The men then removed their sword belts, holding the short swords and scabbards in their left hand, the belts in their right.
"No!" laughed Ute. "No!"
"Run!" cried the guard.
Ute and Lana sprang to their feet and raced toward the fire. I was slower than they. I was suddenly stung, smartly, with the fierce slap of a sword belt. "Oh!" I cried, in pain, and leaped to my feet, and ran stumbling toward the fire. They were swifter than we, of course, so each of us, from our particular herdsman, one to each of us, before reaching the goal, would feel the strap several times.
Ute, Lana and I ran, laughing and stumbling, barefoot, squealing in protest, crying out in pain, through the darkness over the grass toward the fire.
Ute reached it first, laughing, falling to her hands and knees and putting her head down to the grass, her hair falling over the sandal of one of the two guards waiting there. "I beg to serve you, Masters!" she gasped, laughing.
Lana was but an instant behind her and she, too, fell to her hands and knees, head down. "I beg to serve you, Masters!" she cried.
I was stung once more and then, like Ute and Lana, I too was on my hands and knees, head down, touching the grass. "I—I beg to serve you, Masters!" I cried.
"Then serve!" cried one of the fellows at the fire, he whose sandal was lost in Ute's dark hair.
Suddenly there were three more sharp slaps of the sword belts and, crying out, protesting, begging for mercy, laughing, we leapt to our feet to busy ourselves.
* * * *
Lana, Ute and I knelt in a line, facing the players. Our hands were bound behind our backs with binding fiber.
The men, wagering, tossed us pieces of meat.
We caught them, in the firelight. A catch was two points. A piece which was dropped was fair game for any. We fought for the dropped pieces. The retrieval of such a piece was one point. Ute dropped a piece and Lana and I fought, each holding to a part of the fallen prize, rolling and tearing. I struggled back to my knees, tearing my head to one side. "Mine!" I cried, swallowing the meat, almost choking, laughing.
"Mine!" cried Lana, gorging the other half of the meat.
"Point for each," adjudicated one of the guards.
We were excited, and wanted to play further.
"We are weary," said one of the guards. We saw copper tarn disks being exchanged.
Elinor Brinton had done well for her guard. He was pleased with her. She suffused with pleasure as he snapped his fingers for her to approach him.
She leaped to her feet and ran to him, where he shook her head roughly, and unbound her.
"Fetch me paga," he said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I went to the wagon to fetch a large bota of paga, which had been filled from one of the large jugs.
Lana and Ute, too, now unbound as well, went to the wagon, to fetch other botas, so commanded by other guards.
Soon I returned to the firelight, the heavy bota of paga, on its strap, slung over my shoulder, Ute and Lana, with theirs, behind me.
The grass felt good to my bare feet. It seemed I could feel each blade. I felt the rough fabric of the camisk on my body as I moved, the pull of the strap on my shoulder, the heavy, swaying touch of the bota as, in the rhythm of my walk, it touched my side.
Beyond the fire, in the distance, like an irregular margin, a torn, soft, dark edge hiding the bright stars of Gor, I could see the lofty, still blackness of the borders of the northern forests. Far off, I heard the scream of a hunting sleen. I shivered.
Then I heard the laughing of the men, and turned again toward the fire.
Back away toward the compound, here and there on the meadow, I could see other fires, and clusters of wagons. This was a night for paga, for celebration. Tomorrow, Targo, and his men and his merchandise, would make their way to Laura and, crossing the river there, begin their long, overland journey to Ko-ro-ba, called by some the Towers of the Morning, and from thence to luxurious Ar itself. The journey would be not only long and hard but dangerous.
"Paga!" called the guard.
I hurried to him.
* * * *
"Let Lana dance," whimpered Lana.
The guard handed me a piece of meat and I took it in my teeth kneeling beside him, where he sat cross-legged, I lifting and squeezing the bota of paga, filled from one of the large jugs, guiding the stream of liquid into his mouth. I bit through the charred exterior of the meat, into the red, hot, half-raw, juicy interior.
The guard, with one hand, gestured that he had had enough.
I replaced the stopper in the bota. It is attached to the bota by a leather string. I then put the bota aside on the grass.
I closed my eyes, running my tongue about the inside of my mouth, and over my teeth and lips, savoring the juice and taste of the externally charred, hot, half-raw meat.
Tomorrow we would begin the journey to Ko-ro-ba, and from thence to luxurious, glorious Ar.
I opened my eyes.
The fire was very beautiful, and the shadows on the wagon canvas.
Ute was humming.
"I want to dance," said Lana. She was lying beside one of the guards, her head at his waist. She bit at his body through the fabric of the tunic. "I want to dance," she teased. Her body was beautiful in the parting of the camisk.
"Perhaps," he encouraged her.
The guards had liked us, muchly, and had apparently expected that they would for, to our delight, they had purchased a small bottle of Ka-la-na wine, in a wicker basket, which they had permitted us, swallow by swallow, to share. I had never tasted so rich and delicate a wine on Earth, and yet here, on this world, it cost only a copper tarn disk and was so cheap, and plentiful, that it might be given even to a female slave. I remembered each of the four swallows which I had had. I tasted them even still, with the meat and bread which I had eaten. It was the first Gorean fermented beverage which I had tasted. It is said that Ka-la-na has an unusual effect on a female. I think it is true.
I took the hand of the guard near whom I knelt, and placed it at my waist, slipping his fingers inside the double loop of binding fiber that belted my camisk, that he might hold me.
His fist suddenly tightened the loop, and I gasped, being suddenly drawn toward him.
We looked at one another.
"What are you going to do with me, Master?" I asked.
He laughed. "You silken little sleen," he said. He removed his hand from the binding fiber. I reached out for him. He thrust a huge piece of the yellow Sa-Tarna bread into my hands. "Eat," he said.
Looking at him, smiling, holding the bread in both hands, I began to eat it.
"She-sleen," he smiled.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Targo would take my hide off to the backbone," he muttered.
"Yes, Master," I smiled.
"She is only white silk," said Lana. "Lana is red silk. Let Lana please you."
"Lana," I told her, loftily, "could not please an urt."
Lana screeched with rage as Ute, and the men, laughed, and leaped toward me. The fellow over whom she leapt seized her by one ankle, and she fell short of me, crying out in fury. He dragged her back and pulled her up to her feet, where he held her by the arms, kicking and squirming.
Another of the guards, laughing, untied the double loop of binding fiber which belted her camisk and, drawing the fiber about her body, as she cried out, threw it aside. Then he tore her camisk from her. The guard who held her then threw her to the grass at their feet. She looked up at them, frightened. Would she be beaten?
"If you have so much energy," said the guard who had torn away the camisk, "you may dance for us."
Lana looked up, her eyes bright with pleasure. "Yes," she cried, "let Lana dance." Then she threw me a look of hatred. "We s
hall see who can please men!" she cried.
Another of the guards had gone to one of the wagons, and, as he returned, I heard the sound of slave bells.
Lana stood proudly beside the fire, her head back and arms down, and extended, at her sides, while the bells, mounted in their double rows, on their straps, were fastened on her wrists and ankles.
Meanwhile the Ka-la-na bottle was brought forth again by another guard. He held it for Lana to drink, and then passed it to Ute and myself. There was a bit left and I gave it back to him, and he handed it to the now-belled Lana. With a barbaric jangle of bells she threw back her head and finished the bottle.
She threw the bottle to one side and put down her head, and then brought her head up and back, shaking her head back and forth, her hair flying, and she stamped down on her right foot.
Ute and the men began to sing and clap, one of them slapping at the leather of a shield.
I thought I saw a movement in the darkness, beyond the wagons.
Lana, for an instant, stopped, her hands lifted over her head. "Who is beautiful?" she demanded. "Who pleases men?"
"Lana!" I cried, in spite of myself. "Lana is beautiful! Lana pleases men!" I could not help myself. I was stunned, and then overwhelmed. I had not realized that my sex was capable of such beauty. Lana was incredibly beautiful, extraordinarily, utterly and incredibly beautiful.
I could scarcely speak, so thrilled I was.
Then with a tempestuous flash of the slave bells Lana again danced in the firelight, before the men.
I became aware, suddenly, that the hand of the guard near whom I knelt, his fist, was in the binding fiber that belted my camisk.
I sensed a furtive movement, to one side.
"Master?" I asked.
He was not watching Lana. He was lying on his back, looking up at me, kneeling near him.
I could hear the slave bells, the song of Ute and the men, their clapping, the slapped rhythm on the leather shield.
"Kiss me," said the man.
"I am white silk," I whispered.
"Kiss me," he said.
I bent toward him, a Gorean Kajira, obeying her master. My hair fell about his head.
My lips, delicately, obediently, lowered themselves toward his. I was trembling. My lips parted, paused but an inch above his.
No, something in me cried, no! I am Elinor Brinton! I am not a slave girl! I am not a slave girl!
I tried to draw away, but his hands on my arms held me.
I struggled, terrified, trying to pull away.
I was held, his prisoner.
He seemed puzzled at my struggles, my terror. But then, too, I felt helpless, and furious. I hated him. I hated all men, and their strength. They exploited us, they dominated us, they forced us to serve them, and do their bidding! They were cruel to us! They did not acknowledge our humanity! And mixed with my anger and terror were the instinctual fears of the white-silk girl, dreading to be made a woman. And most, perhaps, mixed therein were the fury and the frustration, and terror, of the spoiled, rich Earth girl, Elinor Brinton, resenting her station, repudiating the role that had been given her so undeservedly on this barbaric world. I am Elinor Brinton, I cried to myself! She is no slave! She obeys no man! She is free! Free! The girl who had worn the black, buttoning, bare-midriff blouse, the tan slacks, who had owned the Maserati, who had had three quarters of a million dollars, who had had a penthouse, who had modeled, and traveled, struggled. The exquisite, beautiful, educated, sophisticated, smartly attired, tasteful girl struggled. The Earth girl struggled, finding herself in the arms of a barbarian on a distant world.
"Do not touch me," I hissed at him.
He turned me about, easily, placing me on my back on the grass.
"I hate you! I hate you!" I wept.
I saw a look of anger come into his eyes. He held me very tightly. Then, too, to my dismay, I saw another look, which I, even white silk, understood. I would not be simply used, and discarded. I had irritated him. I moaned. I would be used with patience, and care, and delicacy and thoroughness, and efficient mastery, until I had yielded myself to him, on his terms, not mine, until I, proud and angry and free, had been reduced to a humbled, shattered, pleading, surrendered female slave.
"Please, no!" I wept.
I did not want slave fires to be ignited in my belly. I sensed how fiercely they might burn, how needful they might make me. I did not want to be so owned, put so at the mercy of men. I recalled how the small man on Earth had assured me, when I lay bound before him, on my own bed, that I would learn to crawl and beg.
"No, please," I wept. "Please, no, no!"
I tried to struggle. I heard the bells of Lana, the singing and clapping of Ute and the men, the slapping of the rhythm of Lana's dance on the leather of the shield.
His large head bent toward my throat. I turned my head to one side, weeping.
"I am white silk!" I whispered.
"I will pay the difference," he said.
Suddenly there was a rush about us of bodies, the sound of blows. Lana began to scream, but the scream was muffled. Ute cried out, but then her cry, too, was abruptly terminated. The men tried to climb to their feet, shouting in anger. There were blows, heavy blows from the darkness. The man who had held me leaped half to his feet, crying out, when something large and heavy struck him on the side of the head. He fell to one side in the grass. I tried to dart to my feet but two bodies, those of girls, thrust themselves on me. Another girl snapped a choke leash on my throat, twisting it, so that I almost strangled. As I opened my mouth, gasping for air, a wadding was thrust into it by another girl. Then I was gagged. The pressure on my throat then eased. I was thrown onto my stomach and, with binding fiber, my wrists were tied behind my back. Then, by the choke leash, half strangling, I was dragged to my feet.
"Build up the fire," said the leader of the girls, a tall, blondish girl. How startling she seemed. She carried a light spear. She was dressed in skins. There were barbaric golden ornaments on her arms, and about her neck.
Another of the girls threw wood on the fire.
I looked about.
Girls knelt beside the last two of the guards, fastening them in bonds.
Then they stood up.
I saw that Lana, and Ute, were already bound and gagged.
"Shall we enslave the men?" asked one of the girls.
"No," said the tall, blond girl.
The girl who had asked the question gestured to Ute and Lana. "What of them?" she asked.
"You saw them," said the tall, blond girl. "Leave them here. They are Kajirae."
My heart leapt. These were forest girls, sometimes called panther girls, who lived wild and free in the northern forests, outlaw women, sometimes enslaving men, when it pleased them to do so.
Doubtless they had seen me struggle! I was no Kajira! Doubtless they wanted me to join them! Now I would be free! Perhaps, somehow, they could even help me return to Earth. In any case, they would free me! I would be free!
But I stood there on the grass, gagged, my hands bound behind my back, a choke leash on my throat, held by one of the girls.
It did not seem that I was free.
"Drag the men about the fire," said the tall girl.
"Yes, Verna," said one of the other girls.
Together, in pairs, the girls dragged the men back to the fire. The men, too, by now, had been gagged. Only one of them had regained consciousness. One of the girls in the skins knelt before him, holding a knife at his throat, her hand in his hair.
Some of the girls threw aside their clubs. They looked at the men, their hands on their hips, and laughed.
How elated I was, that they had come swiftly from the darkness, with clubs, and had made captives of men, taking them as simply as girls. But I, too, had been bound.
The tall girl, the blond girl, their leader, called Verna, lithe in the skins of forest panthers, in her golden ornaments, with her spear, strode to where Lana lay on the grass, on her side, bound and gagged. Wi
th her spear, Verna rolled Lana onto her back. Lana looked up at her in terror. Verna's spear was at her throat.
"You danced well," said Verna.
Lana trembled.
Verna looked at her with contempt, and then drew aside the spear. She kicked Lana savagely in the side. "Kajira!" she scorned.
The tall girl then went to Ute and kicked her as well, again saying "Kajira!"
Lana whimpered, but Ute made no sound. There were tears in her eyes over the gag.
"Tie the men in sitting positions about the fire," ordered Verna.
Her girls, perhaps fifteen of them, complied. They used a heavy chest, and a wagon tongue, to do so.
From a distance it would appear that they sat about the fire.
Verna approached me.
She frightened me. She seemed tall, and strong. There was a feline arrogance in the barbarian beauty. She seemed magnificent and fierce in the brief skins and golden ornaments. She put her spear point under my chin and lifted my head.
"What shall we do with the slaves?" asked one of the girls.
Verna turned about, to regard Lana and Ute. She gestured to Ute. "Remove that one's camisk," she said. Then she said, "Tie them at the feet of their masters."
Ute was stripped of her camisk, and then she and Lana, with a loop of binding fiber fastened to the ankles of two of the guards, were tied by the throat at their feet.
Again I felt the point of Verna's spear under my chin, forcing up my head.
She looked at me for a long time. Then she said, "Kajira."
I shook my head in denial, No, No!
Some of the girls were rifling in the wagons, gathering food, coins and drink, cloth, knives, whatever they wished.
They were now ready to depart.
The men were now conscious, and struggled, but they were helpless.