Norman, John - Gor 23 - Renegades of Gor.txt

  “Perhaps,” I said, “if you beg it.”

  “I beg it!” she said.

  “Hold to the pommel, tightly,” I said.

  She did so.

  I would have time for her later. This was not the moment.

  When one first ascends a new mount, or, indeed, masters a new woman, it is well

  to put them through their paces, to see what they can do, to see what they are

  like. In this case of the tarn one’s very life can depend on such things as

  understanding its speed, its rate of climb, the sharpness of its turns, and so

  on.

  My lovely, half-naked, blindfolded servant cried out, flung back, her arms

  almost straight, her small hands, the wrists braceleted closely together,

  gripping the pommel.

  The bird hovered well, arrested in flight.

  The girl gasped and cried out again, in fear, her back almost horizontal as the

  tarn climbed. The ascent was steep and swift. The air grew cold. Such a maneuver

  is often useful. More than once it had carried me above adversaries, their

  attack speed prohibiting so swift an adjustment in their trajectory. The girl

  clung desperately to the pommel. She seemed very frightened, for some reason.

  Too, now, clad as she was, in what was, in effect, no more than a curla and

  chatka, fit garments for a slave, not a free woman, she must be very cold.

  Doubtless she was in extreme discomfort. In a few Ehn I had established the

  approximate ceiling of the bird. The earth seemed far below. I could see the

  surface of a lake, like a shimmering puddle, to my right. I had not even

  hitherto known it was there. On the left, far below, I could see the (pg.140)

  Vosk Road, like a bright thread in the sun. “Please, let us go down. Let us

  stop!” she wept.

  “You are braceleted,” I told her. “Such matters are no longer within your

  control.”

  “Let us go down!” she wept.

  “Are you cold?” I asked.

  “Yes!” she wept. “But I am frightened, too! We are high, are we not?’

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Please, let us go down!” she begged.

  “It was my mistake to let you ride in such honor,” I told her. “It is more

  appropriate for a woman on tarnback to ride differently, to be tied across the

  saddle on her back or belly, or, say, if she is one of a brace, perhaps

  wrist-tied to one end of a shared rope thrown over the saddle, or, say, tied to

  a ring at the side, this, too, providing a balance with the other captive.

  “I am a free woman,” she said. “Surely you would not dare to tie me so.”

  “I would think little of it,” I informed her.

  She shuddered, though whether with the thought of this restraint which I might,

  if I wished, impose upon her, or of cold, I do not know.

  “Please, let us go down,” she said.

  “What does your will mean?” I asked.

  “Apparently it means nothing,” she said.

  “Hold tightly, woman,” I said.

  “’Woman’?” she said. Then she screamed, a long, wild, wailing scream, as the

  tarn, responding to the four-strap, began a sudden, precipitous descent. With

  one hand I kept her on the saddle. Her hair flew above us, trailing like a flag.

  The tarn dove well. The swiftness of that descent is incredible. Its force, even

  arrested at the last moment, can break the back of a full-grown tabuk. I let the

  bird come within fifty yards of the earth before I reined back, and it swooped,

  low, leveling, over the grass.

  “Stop! Stop! Stop!” she begged. “What are we doing! Where are we?”

  “We are within a man’s height of the ground,” I said. In such flight one can use

  the screening of a forest or of low hills, even buildings, to make an approach

  to an objective. (pg.141) Too, of course, lower flight, in general, reduces the

  possibilities of sightings.

  “We are going too swiftly!” she said. “Please, stop!”

  “It is better that you are blindfolded,” I said.

  “What are you going to do?” she cried.

  “One must try out a tarn,” I said/

  “Monster!” she wept.

  “Hold tightly,” I said.

  She moaned. She hunched over the pommel, clinging to it, sobbing.

  She screamed, suddenly, flung to the left, as I drew the two-strap and

  three-strap at the same time, the tarn veering to the right. It was responsive.

  I then tested it in a dozen ways, to speeds, to flights, to turns. The girl was

  beside herself with fear. She sobbed, moaned, gasped, cried out, whimpered, and

  screamed, in turn, in the darkness of the blindfold, clutching the pommel, as

  the bird, obedient to the obligations of the harness, bent itself to his

  maneuvers. I was well satisfied. It was a warrior’s mount, indeed.

  “Please, please,” wept the girl.

  I had now returned the tarn to the vicinity of the Crooked Tarn.

  I then made three passes near the Crooked Tarn, two over the palisade, over the

  tarn wire, and a third near its bridge and gate.

  In the first pass I hovered the bird for a time, some fifty yards over a portion

  of the court on the top of the palisaded plateau, one rather behind and to the

  left of the main inn buildings, as one would face them, entering. There,

  sitting, heavily chained to a sleen ring, its plate bolted into the stone,

  wrists and ankles, fastened quite closely to it, was a large, naked, bearded

  man, the burly fellow. I gathered he had not had the means wherewith to pay his

  bill. Seeing me, he seemed somehow agitated, even extremely so. He could do

  little more, however, than crouch, struggling, and pulling, at the ring, his

  head back, his face upward. He was howling something, but I could not well hear

  what he said. It is perhaps just as well. I did wave the pouch on its strap to

  him, cheerily, before proceeding onward, to make the second pass. He did not

  seem pleased with matters. I supposed I could not, in fairness, blame him.

  (pg.144) In my second pass I hovered near the front of the inn building on the

  left, as one would enter. It was there that several sets of chains had enjoyed

  the possession of fair occupants, whose names, as I had learned in the paga

  room, all from the Lady Temione, were Rimice, Klio and Liomache, all from Cos,

  Elene, from Tyros, and Amina, a citizeness of Venna. These chains were now

  empty. I had taken the liberty early this morning, acting through my agent, a

  sutler, a splendid, if somewhat put-upon and long-suffering chap, whose name was

  Ephialtes, to redeem them all, my expenses in the matter, 182 C.T. for the five

  of them, being considerably defrayed by means of the loot I had acquired from

  the gang of Andron the evening before.

  Doubtless they were initially delighted to find that they had been redeemed.

  Perhaps they had laughed and clapped their hands with joy. Their delight,

  however, had doubtless been tempered somewhat by finding their necks were being

  put in iron collars, collars on a chain. As I briefly hovered there, over the

  court, I could see, too, partly to
my irritation, and partly to my amusement, to

  one side, some additional evidence of the business acumen of the keeper. He had

  not simply permitted the women to be redeemed. He had gotten something of value

  from them, perhaps as a penalty fee, or as something in the way of compensation

  for the inconvenience they had caused him, over and above the amount of their

  unpaid bills. There, to one side, on a rack, long and lovely, hung pelts of

  female hair. Such, as I have mentioned, particularly in time of siege, though

  there is always a market for it on Gor, is highly prized for the making of

  catapult ropes. I had little doubt that the fellow, given my suppositions as to

  his probably thoroughness in such matters, would not even have had the

  graciousness to shear the heads of the ladies. In shearing, you see, one might

  lose a fifth of a hort or so of hair. doubtless he had had their heads shaved.

  Many girls will strive hard to please, for example, to be permitted to keep

  their hair, or to be permitted to let it grow out again. There were six pelts on

  the rack. The sixth was a lengthy and lovely auburn. I had also, by means of

  Ephialtes, redeemed Lady Temione. Her redemption had cost me a silver tarsk,

  five. This was expensive, but she would look well on her knees, collared. All

  told then, at the exchange (pg.143) rate of 100 C.T. per silver tarsk, the women

  had cost me two silver tarsk, 87 C.T. These women were now, if all had gone

  well, on their way to Ar’s Station, probably chained behind, and attached to,

  the wagon of Ephialtes. The shaving of their heads would doubtless lower their

  value, but I did not object, because I was not particularly concerned with

  whether I made a profit on them or not. That was not their essential role in my

  plans. Indeed, if their heads were shaved, that might be just as well. That

  might suggest that they had come into the keeping of an exploitable fellow, one

  in desperate need of funds.

  On the third flight in the vicinity of the inn I examined, hovering briefly, the

  area near the foot of the plateau, by the bridge. There were still some wagons

  there. I was particularly interested in one. At the side of it now, a stocky

  blond woman was kneeling. She was naked. A heavy chain was on her neck. It went

  back, under the wagon, where it was fastened. A fellow stood before her, holding

  a whip. I saw her put down her head, frightened, and kiss his feet. She was not

  the slender, dark-haired slave beauty who had been under the wagon last night,

  huddling in the tarpaulin, in the storm.

  That one Ephialtes, if all had gone well, had purchased this morning. She would

  be made first girl over the coffle of “free women,” the Lady Temione, and the

  others, that she might teach them something of discipline and the basic arts of

  giving pleasure to men, lessons which might soon make a serious difference not

  only with respect to the quality of their lives, but to the very existence of

  those lives, as well.

  The canvas covering of the wagon had been drawn back, probably to air the

  contents from the dampness of the storm. No one seemed to be within the wagon,

  or about it, other than the pair at the side of it. I had little doubt,

  accordingly, that the blond woman kneeling before the fellow with the whip was

  his free companion, or former free companion. The girl who had been beneath the

  wagon last night, had been formerly purchased, and primarily purchased, I had

  suspected, in an attempt, I thought, by the fellow to encourage his companion to

  take her relationship with him more seriously. She had apparently done so, at

  least to the (pg.144) extent of treating the slave with great cruelty. But now

  the slave was gone, and there was a chain on her neck. He had apparently now

  gone to the heart of the matter. If she were still his free companion, it seemed

  she would now be kept in the modality of bondage, but perhaps she was now only

  his former free companion, and had been reduced to actual bondage, now being

  subject to purchase by anyone. I recalled how she had bent in terror to kiss his

  feet. There was no doubt that she would now take her relationship to him

  seriously.

  It is difficult not to do so when one is owned, and subject to the whip. The

  woman would now discover that her companion, or former companion, a fellow

  perhaps hitherto taken somewhat too lightly, one perhaps hitherto accorded

  insufficient attention and respect, one perhaps hitherto neglected and ignored,

  even despised and scorned, was indeed a man, and one who now would see to it

  that she served him well, one who would now own and command her, one who would

  summon forth the woman in her, and claim from her, and receive from her, the

  total entitlements of the master.

  I then turned the tarn, and brought it to a suitable cruising altitude. Below me

  now lay the Vosk Road, and we flew north. It would take a regiment of Gorean

  infantry, in normal marches, given time for the fortification of a camp in the

  late afternoons, and so on, three days to reach Ar’s Station from the Crooked

  Tarn. I supposed that the wagon of Ephialtes, particularly if he let the girls

  ride, as he probably would, later, would make the same time. The common marches

  of Gorean infantrymen, for example, are usually accompanied by wagons, those of

  their supply train, proper, and vehicles such as those of sutlers and masters of

  camp slaves.

  I did not know what the name of the girl whom I had used under the wagon last

  night had been. It did not really matter, as she was a slave. I had not bothered

  to inquire. Now, however, if I were to own her, I should probably give her a

  name. It is better, I think, for a girl to have some name to answer to. It is

  more convenient, too, for the master, I think, to give her a name. It is thus,

  for example, easier to refer to her, and to summon her and command her. Too,

  that she has a name put on her by your power, and that she understands the

  meaning of this, has a good effect on her. “Who obeys?” “Tina obey!”

  (pg.145) I suppose, too, one has upon occasion seen a lovely woman and wished

  that she might have a certain name, for one might think that an excellent name

  for her. If she is a slave, of course, and one owns her, one can give her any

  name of one’s choosing, indeed, perhaps that very name which is, at least in

  your opinion, ideal for her. Too, she might beg a name she has always wanted,

  and, if it is acceptable to the master, he might put it upon her. Names, too, of

  course, may be used to humble and punish a woman, and such names, humbling

  names, and punishing names, are as much real names as the most beautiful of

  names. That is, then, who she is. Perhaps in the future she will try much harder

  to be pleasing, that she might be given a better name. I considered the lovely

  girl whom I had enjoyed last night under the wagon, in the storm. I thought she

  looked rather like a “Liadne.” That was a beautiful name. I thought I would give

  it to her. I decided upon it. She was now, although she did not yet know it,

  Liadne.

  I looked down at the Vosk Road, below. There were fewer refugees on it now than

  last night. Perhaps many
had passed through the area last night. Perhaps now,

  for most practical purposes, the route was cut off.

  My attention was then drawn to the girl on the saddle before me. She was bent

  low, cowering over the pommel, sobbing, grasping it with both hands. She had had

  a very difficult time of it. There was no gainsaying that. I took her by the

  hair and straightened her, and, turning her head, twisting her body, looked upon

  her. The blindfold was still well in place. She moaned. Her cheeks, under the

  dampened blindfold, were run with tears. These, too, had run upon her body. I

  then turned her about again.

  We flew northward, in silence.

  She sobbed.

  I considered feeling pity for her, and then dismissed the thought, for it was

  weakness. She was a woman. Her wrists, too, were in my bracelets.

  We flew further, in silence.

  She wept.

  I saw that she, though slender, was well curved, and beautiful.

  “You may beg,” I informed her.

  (pg.146) “What?” she said.

  “You may beg to be caressed,” I said.

  “You’re mad,” she said.

  “Is it your intention to be difficult?” I asked.

  “Do not beat me,” she said.

  “You may now beg to be caressed,” I told her.

  “Have I fallen into the hands of a monster?” she cried.

  She was a legally free woman, but she was now before me, half naked, blindfolded

  and braceleted, my captive and servant. Indeed, she had even purchased her

  captivity and servitude. I wondered if she regretted what she had done. She now,

  at any rate, understood it more clearly.

  “Beg,” I said.

  “I am not in the mood,” she cried.

  I laughed. How amusing are free woman! Slaves learn to be in the “mood”

  instantaneously, at so little as a glance or a snapping of the fingers, and a

  pointing to the floor.

  “Please,” she said. “please!”

  “Beg,” I said.

  “I beg to be caressed,” she said, weeping.

  I then began to caress her, she before me, weeping, trying to resist, captive

  and servant, clinging to the pommel.

  “Monster,” she moaned. “Monster.” Then she sobbed, suddenly, partly with