by John Norman
She wore a brand. Where could she flee?
She could not even run to Lydius, her own city, for it was there, publicly, by judicial sentence, that the degradation of slavery, by the iron, had been burned into her body.
Even if a girl should escape one master, it is almost inevitable that she fall to the chains of another.
If not sooner, then later.
When a girl on Gor is slave, she is slave.
The penalty for attempted flight by a slave girl, for the first offense, is commonly a severe beating. The girl is, so to speak, permitted that mistake, once. If she should attempt to escape again, the master’s patience is usually less willing to be presumed upon. It is not uncommon to hamstring her. This makes her worthless, but is thought to provide an excellent lesson for other girls.
Gorean slave girls, those that are familiar with their collars, know that there is no escape for them.
They know in their hearts that they are truly slave, and will remain so, unless it might please their master to grant them freedom. It is seldom done. There is a Gorean saying that only a fool frees a slave girl.
When a girl on Gor is slave, she is truly slave. She is nothing more. She cannot be more. Most slave girls know this. All, in time, learn it.
Tina, however, was fresh to her collar. And so it was that, in Lydius, while we remained in port, I kept her in slave strap and bracelets. I did not wish to be inconvenienced by the amount of time, a day or so, it might take to have her once more in my chains.
I regarded Tina, I thought I might have use for her. She possessed skills. Moreover, she might probe valuable if I wished to recruit the help of Arn, the Outlaw, he whom she had once drugged and robbed.
“Do you remember an Outlaw,” I asked her, “Arn, by name?”
She looked at me, warily, apprehensive.
“Would you like to belong to him?” I asked.
She looked at me, with horror.
I turned away, leaving her at the rail. I was pleased at her reaction. I heard her pulling at the slave bracelets as I turned away. She might now, I speculated, be well induced to serve me with exceeding fervor and diligence, should I assign her tasks in accord with her thieving skills, for fear that she be given to the massive, handsome Arn. Moreover, I told myself, afterwards, if it seemed politic, I could always give her to him anyway. She was my slave girl, a female animal I owned, to do with as I pleased.
I heard Cara, off near the stern quarter, singing. I envied Rim his girl… But where was Rim?
It was near the ninth hour and soon, almost within an Ahn, I wished to cast off the mooring ropes. The water, many kegs, and the supplies, ranging from hard breads to slave nets, were abroad.
The morning tide from Thassa was running in, swelling the river. I wished to leave at the height of the tide. It would breast at the tenth Ahn. It was late in the summer and the river was not as high as it is in the spring. In the Laurius, and particularly near its mouth, there are likely to be shoals, shifting from day to day, brought and formed by the current. The tide from Thassa, lifting the river, makes the entrance to the Laurius less troublesome, less hazardous. The Tesephone, of course, being a light ship, an oared ship, a shallow-drafted ship, is commonly very little dependent on the tide. My men idled near the thwarts. Some slept between them. I wished them to rest now. They would have work soon enough. I looked at them. I grinned. At a cry of Thurnock such men, in an instant, would become a crew. They were of Port Kar. Where was Rim? “Captain!” called Rim, from the wharf.
I was pleased. He had returned.
“Captain!” he called. “Come here!” Then he saw Cara, who had run to the rail, having heard him. She waved delightedly. “Slave!” he called. He snapped his fingers at her, pointing to the planks of the wharf at his feet. She sped down the gangplank to kneel swiftly before him. I followed her. He lifted her to her feet and kissed her, and then made her turn her back to him. He opened a small package. It contained a very cheap, but very lovely, necklace of tiny shells, threaded on a string of leather. He held it before her eyes. “It is beautiful!” she cried. As she stood before him, her back to him, delighted, he wrapped it in and about the steel of her slave collar. “Thank you, Master,” she breathed. “It is beautiful.” He tied it at the back of her neck. Then he turned her about, and kissed her. She melted to him, her lips to his. I do not know how else to express it. I have never seen it in a free woman. I have seen it only in slave girls, at the lips of their masters. Rim did not even seem to note the tiny, delicate yellow talender in her hair. What it meant to tell him he, already knew. “Return to the ship, Slave,” said Rim. “Yes, Master!” said the girl, and fled up the gangplank.
“What have you been doing?” I asked.
“Purchasing a shaving knife,” he said. He produced another small package. “Why have you asked me to the wharf?” I inquired.
“I have something to show you,” he said, “something in which I think you will be much interested.” “We dip oars with the hour,” I told him.
“It is quite close,” said Rim, secretively. “Come with me.”
“We have little time.” I said.
“I think you will be interested, and I think you will be pleased,” said Rim, “Follow me.” Angrily, I strode behind him, following him from the wharf.
To my surprise, he led me to the wharf slave market.
“We need no more slaves,” I told him, angrily.
We entered the boarded compound. About a half inch is left between each pair of boards, that men, glancing in, might be moved to interest, but would be able to fully satisfy their curiosity only by actually stepping within. The boards are alternately painted blue and yellow, the slavers’ colors.
The compound was quite large, and there were many slaves within, mostly female. Some were chained by the neck to rings, set in the ground. We passed between, and among, cages. Others were tied or chained to poles and stakes. Some of the cages I noted, were overcrowded with fair occupants. In one of the cages I saw Tana and Ela. They shrank back against the bars. It was in this market that Thurnock had disposed of them. Along one wall, sitting, waiting for cage space, were many girls, fastened by a long chain running through ankle rings, on the left ankle of each.
“We must soon dip oars,” I told Rim, not much pleased.
“Look,” said Rim.
I grinned.
I went closer.
There was a bar set at the back of the compound, a metal bar, some two inches in width, fastened to stanchions. The bar was about four feet from the ground, and about forty feet long. There were several girls fastened to it. They had been backed against it. Then their arms had been taken behind he bar and then pulled forward, and upward, tight against it. Slave bracelets, then with about a foot of chain, had been locked on their wrists, fastening them in place. I went to one girl, who stood so secured.
She looked at me with fury.
Rim and I appraised her.
“Her breasts are a bit small,” I said.
“And her wrists and ankles,” he pointed out, “are a bit thick.”
“That,” I said, “of course, we knew before.”
“Yes,” he said.
“But note the belly,” I said. “It is not without interest.”
“And the hips,” he said, “do they not give the promise of sweetness?” “Yes,” I said, The girl struggled at the bar.
“She moves well,” said Rim.
“Yes,” I said.
The girl stopped struggling, and stood, tense, at the bar, she knees bent. Regarding us with fury. She pulled against the slave bracelets. I could see, when the chain moved, its print on her body, where it had lain before. It was tight.
“Greetings,” said I.
I regarded the golden chains and claws, still at her throat. I noted that, about her left ankle, there was still the anklet of threaded shells.
She looked at us, in rage.
“So you perhaps have some more men to sell us?” I asked.
; She went wild, jerking and moaning, pulling at the chain. Then she subsided. She looked at us, sullenly.
“Greetings, Sheera,” said I.
“Do you like her?” asked a voice. It was one of the slaver’s men.
“She is not bad,” I said.
“A panther girl,” he said, “as you may have guessed. She was brought in but last night, in the darkness.” I smiled. This meant that probably she had fallen to an outlaw. Such often bring their captures to a market late, after dark. They are then less likely to be recognized.
“An outlaw brought her in?” asked Rim.
“Yes,” said the man.
“His name?” I asked.
“Arn,” said the man.
Sheera pulled again at her slave bracelets, helplessly.
Rim and I laughed.
We were pleased that Arn, whom we knew, had taken her.
“I did not know that a panther girl could fall to an outlaw,” said Rim. “Especially,” I added, “a panther girl such as this one.” She jerked at the bracelets. Then she turned her head away, in fury. “Would you care to taste her lips?” asked the man.
“Very well,” said Rim. He held her hair in his hands, and forced his lips to hers, for a long Ehn.
I, following Rim, took her in my arms and, forcing her back over the bar, for more than an Ehn raped the proud lips of the chained woman.
Then we observed her. Outraged, chained, she regarded us.
“We must dip oars soon,” said Rim.
Sheera, her head down, her hair now forward, was fighting the chain and slave bracelets.
I watched her. She knew the forests. She was a panther girl.
“Girl,” I said.
Sheera lifted her head. In her eyes I saw that she had not forgotten my kiss. “Is it true, Girl,” I asked, “that you are the enemy of Verna, the panther girl?” “Yes,” she said, sullenly. “She once stole two men from me,” “I will give you ten copper pieces for her,” I told the man.
Sheera looked at me, in fury.
“Her price,” he said, “is four gold pieces.”
“Too high for her,” I said.
I knew she had been purchased from an outlaw, from Arn. Outlaws seldom command, from professional slaves, the prices which others might. The house, if one may so speak of the compound at Lydius, had probably not paid more than two tarsks for her.
“I will give you four tarsks,” I said.
“In Ar,” said the man, “ she would go for ten gold pieces.”
“We are not in Ar,” I pointed out.
“I hate you!” screamed Sheera. “I hate you! I hate you!”
“Her breasts,” I said, “ are a bit small, and her ankles and wrists are too thick,” “She is a beauty,” said the man.
We examined her, carefully. She turned her head to one side.
“She is a raw girl,” I said, “nor broken to a collar, untrained.”
“We must dip oars soon,” Rim said.
“That is true,” I agreed. I did not wish to miss the crest of the tide. Rim and I made as though to turn away.
“Wait, Masters,” said the man. “She is a beauty!” we turned again, and, for some time, looked closely upon the proud Sheera. “Three pieces of gold,” said, “and five tarsks.” “She is yours,” said the man.
He, with a key at his belt, unsnapped her bracelets and turned her about, rudely, and pushed her belly against the bar. “Put your hands behind your back, and cross your wrists,” he said to the girl, not pleasantly. Sullenly, she did so. Rim, with his belt, then lashed her hands behind her back.
I paid the man his three gold pieces and his five tarsks. He was not too pleased. He waved his hand at the girls, sitting against the board fence. “We need cage space,” he said, angrily. “Take her.” Rim seized her by the arm, and pushed her ahead of us, stumbling, out of the compound.
When we reached the Tesephone, less than a hundred yards from the slave market, the tide was at a knife’s edge of its crest.
On the deck Sheera stood, her feet widely apart, to face me.
I had no time for her. I must attend to the ship. “Take her below,” I said, “and chain her in the first hold.” Rim pulled her rudely below.
Thurnock brought to me the wind and oil, and the salt. I stood at the rail. My men stood.
In a moment, Rim was again on deck, and he, too, stood watching.
To one side, two girls, Cara and Tina stood, both in their brief woolen slave garments. Tina’s hands at her belly, where they were still confined by the slave strap and bracelets.
“Ta-Sardar-Gor. Ta-Thassa,” said I, in Gorean. “To the Priest-Kings of Gor, and to the Sea.” Then, slowly, I poured the wine, and the oil into the sea, and the salt. “Cast off!” cried Thurnock. Men on the dock threw off the lines which had been looped on the mooring cleats. Two men at the bow thrust against the wharf with their poles.
The wharf, as though it, and not we, were moving, dropped back from us. “Out oars!” called Thurnock. “Ready oars!” seamen began to pull on the yard ropes to raise the yard.
The helmsman leaned on the great helm.
I saw Cara and Tina watching. The docks were filled with men. Several had paused in their work, to watch the Tesephone moving away from the wharf.
“Port oars! Stroke!” called Thurnock.
The bow of the Tesephone swung upriver. The carved, painted wooden eyes on the tarnshead turned towards Laura.
Men were aloft on the long, sloping yard. Then the sail fell, snapping and tugging, and took its shape, billowing before the gentle wind from Thassa. “Full oars!” called Thurnock. “Quarter beat! Stroke!” The Tesephone began to move upriver.
I saw Cara and Tina standing by the rail. Cara was lifting her hands, and waving toward Lydius. Some men on the dock, small now, too, lifted their hands. Tina could not lift her hands to bid city farewell, for her wrists were locked in slave bracelets, fastened at her belly, strung through the ring of a slave strap.
I stepped behind her and unbuckled the slave strap.
She looked up at me.
She turned away from me and toward Lydius. Piteously she lifted her two hands, still braceleted, in salute to Lydius.
When she had done so, I again, from behind, pulled her hands to her belly, and buckled the slave strap behind her back. She fell to her knees on the deck, heard down, hair falling forward, revealing the collar at her neck, and wept. “Stroke!” called Thurnock, in his rhythm. “Stroke!” I strode to the stern castle and, with a builder’s glass, looked back toward Lydius. I noted, to my interest, the large, yellow medium galley from Tyros, too, was casting off. I thought little of this at the time.
6 I Hold Converse with Panther Girls and am Entertained by Sheera
On the evening of the second day out of Lydius I took a tiny lamp and went to the first hold, where many supplies are kept.
I lifted the lamp.
Sheera knelt there. She did not sit cross-legged. She knelt as a Gorean woman. A heavy chain, about a yard long, padlocked about her throat, dangled to a ring, where it was secured with a second padlock.
With her hands she covered herself, as best she could.
“Do not cover yourself,” I said. She was captive.
She lowered her hands.
I saw that there was a pan of water within her reach and, on the planking of the hold deck, some pieces of bread and a vegetable.
She looked at me.
I did not speak further to her but turned and, bent over under the low ceiling, left her, taking with me the tiny lamp.
She did not speak.
On the next morning I had her branded in the hold.
The Tesephone continued to move slowly upriver, between the banks of the Laurius, the fields to the south, the forests to the north.
I removed the slave strap and bracelets from Tina. She stretched and ran like an exultant little animal on the deck. Cara laughed at her.
She ran to the rail and looked over the side. Following in the
wake of the Tesephone, to pick up litter or garbage thrown overboard, were long-bodied river sharks, their bodies sinuous in the half-clear water, about a foot below the surface.
Tina turned about and looked at me, agony on her face.
Then she lifted her eyes to the forests beyond. We heard, as is not uncommon, the screams of forest panthers within the darkness of the trees.
I went to stand beside her.
“Your best gamble,” I informed her, “would be to flee to the south, but there is little cover.” “In your slave tunic, with your brand and collar,” I said, “how long do you think it would be before you were picked up?” She put her head down.
“It is not pleasant, I expect,” I said, “to belong to peasants.”
She looked at me with horror, and then again turned to the forests on the north. “If you feel to the panther girls,” I asked, “ what do you surmise would be your fate?” inadvertently her hand touched the brand beneath her while woolen slave tunic. Then, standing beside me at the rail, looking toward the forest, she put both her hands on her collar. She tried to pull it from her neck.
She knew as well as I the contempt in which panther girls held female slaves. She, Tina, was well marked.
She was well marked as what she was, a female slave.
“If they did not use you as their slave themselves,” I said, “you would be soon sold.” Tina, the slave, wept. I turned and left her.
Cara, in her own collar, went to comfort her.
That night I went again to the hold, to once again look upon Sheera. She had now been branded.
I lifted the lamp, to better regard her.
The brand was an excellent one.
She knelt, chained to the ring. She did not attempt to cover herself. “Why did you buy me?” “Come to my arms,” I said.
“No!” she said, “No!”
“Come to my arms,” I said.
She lifted her arms to me.
The next night, I again looked upon Sheera. Without speaking, she opened her arms, and sought me, pressing her body, kneeling, to mine, her lips to mine. The following night, the night before we would make landfall in Laura, when I had finished with her, she lay on her belly on the planks, her head in her hands, lifted, on her elbows. Her hair was forward. She was breathing deeply. Even in the flickering light I could see the beautiful mottlings on her body, on the sides of her breasts and body, red and white, still rich and subtle in her hot, blood-charged skin. The chain dangled to the floor, where it lay, half coiled near the ring. The fruit of her body hung free, and lovely. The nipples were still arch.