Norman, John - Gor 20 - Players of Gor.txt

by Players of Gor [lit]

beauty, that then of a potential slave.”

  “Yes,” she said, bitterly.

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  “Have no fear,” I said. “I will find you something else to wear.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Is there another camp about, or somewhere,” I asked, “used by the brigands?”

  “No,” she said. “There was one, but they broke it this morning. This afternoon

  they surreptitiously met a fellow in the woods. He had a wagon. They sold most

  of their loot to him.”

  “Apparently they did not sell all of it to him,” I said, regarding her,

  glancing, too, at the other bound woman, she naked in the dirt.

  “No,” she said. “He was not a slaver. Too, I do not think he wanted any obvious

  connection to be noted between himself and the brigands, such as might be

  furnished by handling their slaves.”

  “Where were you enroute?” I asked.

  “I do not know,” she said. “I was told only that we were being taken somewhere

  where we could be sold to a proper slaver.”

  “Besnit, Esalinus or Harfax,” suggested Boots.

  I shrugged. “Perhaps,” I said. These towns were all within a hundred pasangs of

  our present location. Such women could be disposed of almost anywhere, of

  course. Slave markets, like slaves, are common on Gor. Given the large number of

  slaves on Gore it is only natural that there should be an abundance of outlets

  for their handling and processing.

  “You apparently made camp here,” I said, “several Ahn ago.”

  “We stopped early, I think,” she said. “I think they had discovered another

  camp, one on which they intended to perpetrate a raid.”

  “That is correct,” I said.

  “We were left here, helplessly trussed, females, to await their return,” she

  said.

  “They will not be coming back,” I said.

  “I see,” she said, shuddering.

  “Where are the other valuables, the moneys, in the camp,” I asked, “their

  accruals from the fellow with the wagon, or otherwise?”

  “It is all there,” she said, indicating it with her head, “in those packs. The

  gold is in a small coffer, one bound with bands of iron, one studded with

  silver, that closed with a heavy golden-plated lock, in the first pack.”

  “It is all yours,” I told Boots.

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  “All of it?” asked Boots, incredulously.

  “All of it,” I said.

  “Thank you!” said Boots, fervently. “It will be put to good use.”

  “Perhaps you could use it in support of the arts,” I suggested.

  “My intention exactly,” admitted Boots.

  “It might be used, for example,” I suggested, “in support of some worthy but

  struggling theatrical company.”

  “That is a sound and brilliant suggestion,” Boots congratulated me.

  “Perhaps you have some company in mind,” I said.

  “I have just the company in mind,” he said.

  “Us,” said Lecchio.

  “A bit abruptly and crassly put,” said Boots, reprovingly, to Lecchio, “but that

  would indeed seem to capture the gist of the matter.”

  “Are you grateful,” I asked.

  “yes,” said Boots.

  “Eternally, undyingly?” I asked.

  “Surely,” said Boots.

  “There is something you can do for me,” I said.

  “Name it, brother,” said Boots.

  “I am still interested in joining your company,” I said.

  “Out of the question,” said Boots. “Impossible.”

  “Come now,” I said.

  “Come now,” said Chino.

  “Come now,” said Lecchio.

  “Come now,” said Petrucchio.

  “Come, come now!” insisted Andronicus.

  “My mind is made up,” said Boots.

  “Perhaps you could unmake it, and start in , all over again,” I suggested,

  reaching to the multiple sheath of saddle knives slung at my hip.

  Boots eyed me, closely.

  “By dear Boots, do not be an ungrateful dolt,” scolded the ponderous Andronicus.

  “I have spoken,” announced Boots, grandly.

  I drew one of the blades, and turned it in my hand. “Perhaps you could speak

  again,” I suggested.

  “Never,” said Boots.

  “Oh?” I asked. I turned the knife again, now holding it by the handle. The point

  idly seemed to focus on Boots’s throat.

  “What could you do?” asked Boots, uneasily, watching the knife point.

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  I flipped the blade in my hand, holding it now again by the blade. I looked at

  Boots, evenly. “I do a knife throwing act,” I said. “Remember?”

  “And a good one, too,” admitted Boots.

  “Let him join the company,” pressed Chino.

  “Yes,” urged Lecchio.

  “By all means,” urged Petrucchio.

  “It is little enough for all he has done,” said Andronicus

  “We cannot take in every stray sleen who comes whining about the wagons,” said

  Boots. “Are we a refuge for homeless waifs, a food wagon for improvident

  wayfarers, a training grounds for amateurs, a nomadic inn for stage-struck

  aspirants, an itinerant shelter for every awed, hopeful bumpkin desirous of

  donning the thespic mantle, and on our stage, that of the theater’s titans, of

  sharing our riches, tangible and intangible, our glory and largesse, that of

  Gor’s finest theatrical aggregation? What of our professional standards? What of

  our reputation?”

  “Urt droppings,” said Chino.

  “Urt droppings?” inquired Boots.

  “Yes,” said Chino.

  “Perhaps you are ready to reconsider your position on this matter,” I said. I

  flipped the knife meaningfully about. The point now, again, was looking at

  Boots.

  “You are skillful,” said Boots. “There is no doubt about it. You are not an

  experienced, professional actor, of course.”

  “That is true,” I granted him. The point was now an inch or so from his neck.

  “There are, of course, many other things y9ou might do, simple work, , heavy

  work, say, unsuitable for more skilled personnel.”

  “True,” I said.

  “Perhaps you could help the monster,” he mused.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “The stage must be set up,” he said, “the tents put up, and so on.”

  “Yes,” I encouraged him.

  “Do not be ungrateful, Boots,” said Andronicus. “We owe him our very lives.”

  “And you still could,” I pointed out.

  Boots swallowed, hard. “I am not a stern, inflexible fellow,” he said. “It is

  well known that I am resilient and supple, as well as complex, subtle and

  talented. That Boots is a br
oad-minded fellow, I have often heard it said. He is

  easy-going and tolerant, as it is said, and, indeed, perhaps sometimes too much

  so for his

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  own good, as it is also said. Yes, that Boots is a good fellow, one always ready

  to listen to arguments, to consider carefully the claims of reason, as they

  say.”

  “I take it you are reconsidering your position,” I said.

  “I am taking its reconsideration under consideration,” said Boots.

  “Let him join the company,” said Andronicus.

  “I am weakening,” said Boots. “The arguments of Andronicus are swaying me.”

  “If you do not permit him to join us,” said Andronicus, “I shall resign from the

  company.”

  Boots regarded him, aghast.

  “Yes,” said Andronicus, firmly.

  “We would be devastated!” objected Boots.

  Andronicus regarded him, his arms folded adamantly.

  “I am swayed,” said Boots.

  Swiftly I reversed the blade I held and tucked it under my arm that I not wound

  Publius Andronicus who, victorious, was heartily reaching for my hand. Chino,

  Lecchio and Petrucchio, too, moved about me, slapping me on the back and

  congratulating me. Lastly Boots himself seized my hand warmly. “Welcome to the

  company of Boots Tarsk-Bit,” he said. “Remember, however, this is no ordinary

  troupe. In joining us you have undertaken a grave responsibility and a most

  serious charge. See that you struggle to live up to our high standards.”

  “I will try,” I assured him.

  “We do have a problem, however,” said Boots to the others in the troupe.

  “What is that?” asked lanky Petrucchio.

  “Where will he stay?” asked Boots. “I have no intention of sharing my wagon with

  someone who can handle a knife like that.”

  “He can use my wagon,” said Petrucchio. “I myself, if he be amenable, will lodge

  with my friend, Andronicus, with whom I have lengthy discussions on the craft of

  the actor.”

  “On the art of the actor,” said Andronicus.

  “Craft,” said Petrucchio.

  “Art,” said Andronicus.

  “Is it all right?” asked Petrucchio.

  “Of course, and welcome,” said Andronicus. “It will give me an opportunity to

  train you in the one hundred and seventy-three movements of the head.”

  “I thought it was one hundred and seventy-one,” said Petrucchio.

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  “In a text by Alamanius, I have discovered two new movements,” said Andronicus,

  “each with its several variations.”

  “Fascinating,” said Petrucchio.

  “It is settled then,” said Boots.

  “Yes,” said Petrucchio.

  “Yes,” said Andronicus.

  “Thank you,” I said to Petrucchio and Andronicus.

  “It is nothing,” they assured me.

  “Do you wish to share my w2agon?” I asked my captive.

  “No!” she said.

  “You may lock her in the girl wagon, chained in her place, with Rowena and

  Bina,” said Boots, generously.

  “No,” I said. “Do not bother. I will simply chain her by the neck under my own

  wagon.”

  “Very well,” said Boots.

  She regarded me angrily, and squirmed in her bonds.

  “Gather up those boxes and packs, and that which might seem to be of any value

  here,” said Boots to his fellows. “In particular do not neglect a small coffer,

  bound with iron, studded with silver, closed with a golden-plated lock, reputed

  to be in the first pack. These things we shall transport back to our own camp.

  Victory has been ours. The loot, thus, in its various items, of which I shall

  keep a careful list, in its various natures, quantities and qualities, is also

  ours.”

  “No!” protested the other woman, she who lay in the dirt, absolutely naked,

  helplessly bound, hand and foot, next to my own captive.

  “Did you speak, my dear?” asked Boots Tarsk-Bit.

  “Yes!” she said. “Free me!”

  “Why should I do that?” asked Boots.

  “I am a free woman!” she cried.

  “Chino, bring a torch closer,” said Boots.

  Chino came from the area of boxes and packs, with one of the torches.

  “As you are perfect gentlemen, you will free me,” she said. “I can count on that

  as a free woman.”

  I smiled. Goreans tend to be less gentlemen, than owners and masters of females.

  IN the order of nature they tend to acquire and dominate them, making them

  uncompromisingly their own.

  “Who are you?” asked Boots.

  “I am the Lady Telitsia of Asperiche,” she said.

  “Ho, ho, ho!” cried Boots, gleefully, triumphantly, rubbing his hand together.

  “I do not understand,” said the woman.

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  “Hold the torch closer,” said Boots to Chino.

  “Oh!” cried the woman, as I turned her roughly to her right side in the dirt,

  this exposing her left thigh.

  “Aha!” cried Boots, triumphantly.

  “I have never been collared!” she cried. “I have never worn a collar!”

  “That can be remedied,” Boots informed her.

  “I am not a slave!” she cried.

  Her thigh, however, belied her protestation. It bore, clearly, indisputably,

  unmistakably, a brand, the common Kajira brand. It was as clear on her body as

  on that of any other slave. The brigands, it seemed, had, or had had her,

  reduced to slavery.

  “It is only a mark!” she cried.

  “I think it is a little bit more than that,” said Boots. “It is a slave brand.”

  “It means nothing!” she cried.

  “It means a great deal, as I am sure, sooner or later, you will agree,” said

  Boots.

  “No!” she cried.

  “You are a slave,” said Boots.

  “Free me!” she begged. “I beg you to free me!”

  “You will be the first item on my loot list, Lady Telitsia, as I may choose to

  call you for a time,” said Boots.

  “Surely you jest! Surely you will free me!” she said.

  “Do I seem a fool to you?” asked Boots.

  “No!” she said, hastily.

  “Only fools free female slaves,” said Boots. “Surely you are familiar with the

  saying.”

  “I am of high caste, and am rich!” she said.

  “Once perhaps,” said Boots, “but neither is true any longer. With your branding

  you became only an animal, a property. With the iron’s first touch you ceased to

  be a legal person. You are now casteless. You now own nothing. Rather it is n

  now you yourself, slave, who are subject to being owned, as much as any other

  object or property.”

  “No, no!” she cried, squirming in the thongs that bound her.
She was attractive,

  doing so. She could not free herself, of course. She was absolutely helpless.

  She had been bound by Gorean men.

  “I think we can find some chains for you in the girl wagon,” said Boots.

  “Perhaps, on occasion, I will have you come to my own wagon.”

  “No, no, no!” she wept, struggling.

  Boots looked down upon her, beaming.

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  “Surely you have no intention of keeping me!” she cried.

  “Your body, as I now see,” said Boots, “now that you are naked,, now that the

  pesky, interfering, obscuring robes of the scribe have been totally removed from

  it, not inconceivably might be of interest to a male.”

  She regarded him with horror. Too, he had surely understood the case. I had

  little doubt but what she would bring a fine price in a slave market. Indeed,

  those slaved curves of hers, even routinely put up for salve on a block, would

  be almost certain to elicit active and serious bidding.

  “Too,” said Boots, “I think you are highly intelligent, and, if I am not

  mistaken, you have also, at the fair, earlier, given to some subtle indications

  of possessing a great deal of talent.”

  “I do not understand,” she stammered.

  “Gather around, everybody,” called Boots.

  Petrucchio, Andronicus, and Lecchio joined Boots, myself and Chino near the

  bound woman.

  “On your knees, my dear,” said Boots to the bound woman.

  She, moaning, struggled to her knees.

  “Gentlemen,” said Boots, “may I present Lady Telitsia, as, for the time, as it

  pleases me, I shall refer to her.”

  “Greetings,” said Lecchio.

  “Greetings,” she whispered.

  “Perhaps you remember her from the fair,” said Boots.

  “Yes,” said Chino. “We remember her—well.”

  The slave shuddered.

  “Behold her,” said Boots, cheerfully. He took her by the hair and pulled her

  head back. Yes, I thought, she would bring a high price.

  “Pretty,” said Chino.

  “Pretty,” agreed Lecchio.

  “That we have acquired her,” said Boots, “we may account a stroke of great good

  fortune.”

  “How is that?” asked Lecchio.

  “She comes to us, does she not,” asked Boots, “at a peculiarly opportune time,