by John Norman
She smiled. “It seems,” she said, “you have found me, Tarl.”
“I am Bosk,” I said.
She shrugged.
“What has happened to you, since we parted?” she asked.
“I have become rich,” I told her.
“And what of Priest-Kings?” she asked.
“I no longer serve Priest-Kings,” I told her.
She looked at me, troubled.
“I serve myself,” I said, “and do what I wish.”
“Oh,” she said.
Then she looked up at me.
“Are you angry,” she asked, “that I fled the Sardar?”
“No,” I said. “It was a brave act.”
She smiled at me.
“I now seek Talena,” I said. “I will hunt for her in the green forests.” “Do you not remember me?” she asked.
“I seek Talena,” I told her.
She put down her head. Then she lifted it. “I did not want to be returned to Earth,” she said. “You will not return me to Earth, will you?” I regarded her. “No,” I said. “ I will not return you to Earth.” “Thank you, Tarl,” she whispered.
For a time we said nothing.
“You are now rich?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Rich enough to buy me?” she asked.
“Ten thousand times over,” I told her, and truly.
She relaxed visibly in the chains, and smiled. “Tarl-“ she said.
“Bosk” I corrected her, sharply.
“I would hear my name on your lips once more,” she whispered. “Speak my name.” “Who are you?” I asked.
“Elizabeth Cardwell,” she said. “Vella of Gor!”
“What is locked on your left ankle?” I asked.
“Slave bells,” she said.
I put my hand in the bit of silk. “What is this?” I asked.
“Slave silk,” she whispered.
I pointed to the yellow collar on her throat. “And that?” I asked.
“The collar of Sarpedon,” she whispered, “my master.”
“What is your name?” I asked.
“I see,” she said coldly.
“Your name?” I asked.
“Tana,” she said.
I smiled. It was the same name which had been that of one of the girls I had had Thurnock sell this morning, one of the two panther girls. It is a fairly common Gorean name, but no heard of that often. It was something of a coincidence that the two girls had both that name, the one sold this morning, the other now chained before me.
“Your name is Tana,” I told her. You are simply Tana, the slave girl.” Her fists clenched in the slave bracelets. She was indeed that now, simply an unimportant, lowly paga slave in Lydius.
I regarded her beauty.
“What are you going to do with me?” she asked.
“I have paid the price of a cup of paga,” I told her.
I regarded her in the shadows of the small alcove, lit by the tiny lamp, its draft carried by the tiny, ventilating hole above it.
She still wore the chains I had put her in. the bit of yellow silk, crumpled, soaked with sweat, lay to one side.
“How does it feel to be a paga slave?” I asked.
She turned her head to one side.
I had exacted the full performance of the paga slave from her.
“You are angry,” she said, “because I fled from you. Now you take your vengeance on me.” “I merely used you as the paga slave you are,” I told her. It was true. I had treated her no worse, or better, than such slaves are commonly treated. Moreover, she knew that. She knew I had forced her to serve precisely as a paga slave, no more nor less.
I had not taken vengeance on her. I had simply treated her exactly as what she was.
In my use of her I had, of course, addressed her only as Tana. That was the name of the slave.
She looked at me, in her chains. I sat cross-legged, was buckling my belt. “What are you going to do now?” she asked.
“I am going to seek Talena,” I said. “I will hunt for her in the forests.” She lay back, in the chains. Then she rose to one elbow.
“You are different,” she said, suddenly. “You are different, from when I knew you.” “How is that?” I asked, curious.
“You seem harder now,” she said, “less soft, less gentle hearted.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“Yes,” she whispered. “You have become more-“
“Yes?” I asked.
“More Gorean,” she whispered. “You are now like a Gorean man.” She looked at me, frightened. “That is it,” she said. “You have become a Gorean man.” I shrugged. “It is not impossible,” I said.
She shrank back, in the chains, against the low, curved wall of the alcove. I smiled at her.
I fastened the sword, with the sheath straps, to my belt. I began to tie on my sandals.
When I had finished tieing my sandals, she spoke. “You said that you were rich,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“That you were rich enough to boy me.”
“Yes,” I said. I smiled. “More than ten thousand times over,” I said. She smiled. “Now that you have found me,” she said, “you will not return me to Earth, will you?” “No,” I said. “I will not return you to Earth.” She had fled the Sardar. She had made her decision. It had been a brave act. I admired her for it. But it had been an act not without its risks.
“Sarpedon,” she said, “does not know that I was trained in Ar. He will not charge more than twenty pieces of gold for me.” “No,” I said, “I do not think he would.” “It will be good,” she said, “to again be free.” I could recall that once, it now seemed long ago, this girl, in a marvelously staged sale, with all the skills of the great auction house, the Curulean, in Ar, had, with two other girls, Virginia Kent and Phyllis Robertson, brought fifteen hundred gold pieces. Virginia Kent had become the free companion of the warrior, Relius of Ar. Ho-Sorl, another warrior of Ar, had obtained Phyllis Robertson. I expected he still kept her in collar and silk, liking her that way. Now this girl, once Elizabeth Cardwell, of Earth, now a paga slave in Lydius, would bring only fifteen or twenty-five pieces of gold. Contexts, and markets, were interesting.
She was surely as beautiful as she had been, when she had been sold in Ar. But now, comparatively, she was cheap.
It did not seem to me impossible that I might be able to obtain her for ten. “Perhaps,” I suggested, “ I could get you for as little as ten,” She looked at me, angrily. “Perhaps,” she said.
“If I wished,” I added.
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
“I seek Talena,” I told her.
“Buy me,” she whispered. “Buy me. Free me!”
“In the Sardar,” I said, “you made your decision. That decision was not without risks.” She looked at me in horror.
“You gambled,” I said. “You lost.”
She shook her head, no! “Do not think that I do not admire you,” I said. “I do. You performed a brave act. I admire you greatly for it. But, as I have told you, such acts are not without their risks. You have made your decision. Not there are consequences to be paid. You gambled. You lost.” “Do you know what it is to be a paga slave?” she whispered.
“Yes,” I told her.
“Buy me!” she begged. “Buy me! You are rich! You can buy me!”
“Is that how a slave begs?” I asked.
“Buy Tana!” she wept. “Buy Tana!”
She extended her chained wrists to me. I took her by the arms, and kissed her, long. I tasted the slave rouge in my mouth.
Then I thrust her back from me.
“What are you going to do?” she begged.
“I am going to leave you here,” I said, “-as a paga slave.”
“No,” she wept. “No!”
I left the alcove, not speaking further to the slave girl. Tana.
Rim and Thurnock were waiting below. It was a bit late now i
n the afternoon. We could begin the purchase of supplies in the morning.
I noted that Tendite now, again, served in the tavern. I noticed, too, that, clad in yellow silk, belled on the left ankle, as another paga girl, the dancer, she whom Thurnock had sported with, too, carried a vessel of paga about. When she was not dancing, Sarpedon, I gathered, used her as a common paga slave, not unlike the others. It was more economical, I supposed, to do so.
“Greetings, Captain,” said Thurnock.
“Greetings, Captain,” said Rim.
Both men seemed well relaxed.
I nodded with my head toward the dancer, now serving as a common paga slave. I did not wish my men to be cheated. “How much did she cost you?” I asked Thurnock.
“Since, when not dancing, she serves with the common slaves,” said Thurnock, “she same, like the others, for the price of a cup of paga.” “Good,” I said. Thurnock had not been cheated.
The girl looked angrily over her shoulder at Thurnock, and then poured paga. We were standing near the counter of the proprietor, which is to the left of the door, as one leaves.
“All my girls,” said Sarpedon, “come with the cup. Even the dancers.” He grinned. “It is house policy,” he said proudly. He looked at us. “Did masters enjoy themselves?” “Yes!” boomed Thurnock.
“How was Tendite?” asked the proprietor.
“Exquisite,” said Rim. “She taught me a couple of things. I must now, when I return to the ship, teach them to my own slave, Cara.” I recalled the slender, beautiful Cara, on the Tesephone, Rim’s slave, clad in the brief slave tunic of white wool, her hair bound back with the woolen fillet. “How was Tana,” inquired the proprietor.
“Quite good,” I told him.
“She is one of my most popular girls,” said the proprietor. “A little beauty.” “Incidentally,” I said, that Sarpedon not be cheated of his dues. “I have seen this Tana before, in Ar. She is an exquisitely trained pleasure slave and, an a most stimulating performer of slave dances,” “The she-sleen!” laughed the proprietor. “I did not know. My thanks to you, Captain! This very night she will dance in the sand for my customers!” I turned to leave.
“Will you return to see her?” asked the proprietor.
“No,” I said, “I have many matters of business to attend to.”
5 We Enter Upon the River
It was now four days following my arrival, the master of the Tesephone, in the harbor of Lydius, near the mouth of the broad, winding Laurius River. We had taken on supplies, and my men, on shore, in the paga taverns, had rested, and had muchly pleasured themselves with the lovely recreations of the port. I stood at the rail of my ship.
The urt shields were still fastened to the mooring ropes, circular plates, preventing small port urts from boarding the ship. The urts which had been placed in the lower hold, before making landfall in Lydius, those which had figured in my interrogation of the panther girls, Tana and Ela, had been removed the following morning. Thurnock and Rim, with snares and nets, and by the light of the tharlarion oil lamps, had captured them. As we coasted the shores pasangs above Lydius, we had thrown them overboard. They had splashed beneath the water and then, in a moment, their snouts and sleek heads had poked upward, shining and dripping, and then, they, all six of them, noses like compass needles, smelling the land, had turned in the water and tails whipping, leaving snakelike curves in the water, had sped toward the distant forests.
We laughed.
They had been useful.
The girls, Tana and Ela, by my order, had not known that the urts had been thrown from the ship. They had been, by my orders, sanding the deck before the stern castle. As far as the girls knew there were still urts in the lower hold. As far as they knew, they might be again bound, and placed there. They worked well.
I looked down to the shore, and saw Cara, lovely in the brief woolen slave tunic, her hair bound back with the fillet of white wool. Her feet were muddy. Near a piling, small and delicate in the mud, she had found a talender. She bent to pick it up, and fastened it in her hair, for Rim. She had been ashore to buy some loaves of Sa-Tarna bread. The girl commonly carries the coin, or coins, in her mouth, for slave tunics, like most Gorean garments, have no pockets. Slaves are not permitted wallets, or pouches, as free persons. The baker had tied the sack about her neck, with a baker’s knot, fastened behind the back of her neck. The girl is not supposed to be able to see to undo the knot. Even if she works it about to before her throat, she cannot see it. If she should untie it, it is unlikely she will be able to retie it properly. Naturally the sack may not be opened unless the knot has been undone. The baker’s knot is supposed to minimize the amount of pilfering of pastries, and such, which might otherwise be done by slave girls. Cara straightened up, the talender in her hair. She was quite lovely. I rejoiced for Rim. The talender, fixed in her hair, is a slave girl’s wordless confession, which, commonly, she dares not speak, that she cares for her master. I noted that Rim, after our first day in Lydius, had not much frequented the paga taverns. He had spent more time on board, with lovely Cara, his slave.
Rim, now, however, was wandering about Lydius, before we set forth for Laura. He had wanted to make small purchases, among them a new shaving knife. “Wash your feet, Slave,” said I to Cara, as she began to mount the gangplank. “yes, Master,” she said, darting back down the gangplank. She went below the wharf and, standing on stones, washed her feet in the water. Slave girls on Gor address all free men as Master, all free women as Mistress.
Yesterday I had sent Tina for bread.
The sensuous little slave was not standing near to me.
“How do you like your collar?” I asked her. It read I BELONG TO BOSK.” She looked away.
She, like Cara, wore a brief, sleeveless slave tunic of white wool, her hair, too, bound back with a fillet of white wool. Her tanned body, in the white garment, was exciting. It was a better garment than she had worn when she had been free, though, of course, it was much shorter.
She wore a slave strap, a heavy strap, buckling in the back. In the front, at her belly, was fixed in the strap, a plate and ring. Through the ring passed a chain, of some five inches in length, each end of which terminated in a bracelet. Her hands were confined before her body.
Cara now, cleaned, climbed the gangplank and boarded he Tesephone.
We permitted Cara to run free. Tina, on the other hand, had been kept in the slave strap and bracelets, except when she was working in the kitchen area, cooking, and peeling suls and such. At such times a simple chain, run to her ankle, was sufficient to secure her. If we had permitted Tina to run free, as with Cara, I think she might have attempted escape. She knew the city of Lydius, and might be difficult to apprehend. I did not think she could have made good her escape, but I did not wish to lose time pursing her.
Yes, yesterday, I had sent her, in the slave strap and bracelets, for bread. I wanted to see her, for the first time, walk the wharves of Lydius, as a slave girl.
She had stolen from me.
I tied a note about her neck, reading, Two loaves of Sa-Tarna.
She had been furious.
“Open your mouth,” I told her.
She had done so.
I had placed the coin in her mouth.
“Go, Slave,” I had said to her, “Hurry.”
She had had a sly expression on her face, as she had left the ship. It was clear to me she would try to escape.
I was curious to see what would happen.
She was off the wharf to which the Tesephone was moored, I saw her cast a look over her shoulder, and begin to run between the bales and boxes near the warehouses.
But scarcely had she made five yards when a dock worker, who knew her, seized her by the arm. She struggled, futilely. From the Tesephone I watched. Another dock worker came over to see her. “It is Tina!” I heard laugh. “Tina!” cried others. Soon, she was surrounded by some nine or ten dock workers, who remembered her well. She had perhaps stolen from all of them, o
r taunted them. I saw one of them, the fellow who had first seized her, read the note tied on its string about her neck.
Then they parted, to let her pass, but in such a way that she must walk in one direction. Then, flanking her, and preventing her from going anywhere but where they wished, they escorted her to the shop of the bakes. Later I saw her returning. The note, on its string, was no longer about her neck. But now, about her neck, tied with the baker’s know, fastened behind the back of her neck, was a sack of two loaves of Sa-Tarna bread. She was escorted by the dock workers to the very foot of the gangplank of the Tesephone.
“Farewell, Slave!” they called.
Proudly, not looking at them, but with tears in her eyes, she climbed the gangplank.
“I have brought the bread,” she told me.
“Take it to the kitchen area,” I told her.
“Yes, Master,” she had said.
I had not seen fit again, however, to send her for bread. She now stood beside me, in the white tunic, in the slave strap, her hands braceleted to her belly. It did not seem necessary, for her instruction, to have her walk again as a slave girl in the streets of her own city. Lydius, I felt, had, however, been owed that sight. She had now had it. The girl was now mine, completely, as any other slave.
Once beyond Lydius I expected there would not be much danger of her running away.
Where was there for her to run?
In the forests there were sleen and panthers, and fierce tarsks.
And there were panther girls, too, who would be swift to pounce on an escaped slave girl.
I recalled how swiftly, how expeditiously, Elizabeth Cardwell had been taken by them, and humiliatingly exhibited, bound to a pole, at the river’s edge, where she had been purchased by Sarpedon, in whose tavern she now, for the pleasure of his customers, served as one of his paga slaves. I smiled. I corrected myself. There was no Elizabeth Cardwell serving in the paga tavern of Sarpedon of Lydius. There was, however, I recalled, a slave named Tana.
I glanced at Tina, standing beside me. She looked away. She did not care to meet my eyes.
She wore my collar. Where could she run?