by John Norman
"Yes," said Bosk.
Samos looked at me. "I wonder," said he, "why, when finished with this wench, they did not cut her throat?"
I shuddered.
"They apparently feared little," said Bosk. "Their security, they deemed, was impregnable."
"May I speak, Masters?" I asked.
"Yes," said Samos.
"Belisarius," said I, "said that others would not understand the message, even if they might read it, that it would be meaningless to them."
Samos looked to Bosk. "Captain," said he, "begin work."
"I shall, Captain," smiled Bosk. He turned to the slave girl, Luma. "Copy down," said he, "on your paper the order of the beads, in widely spaced rows. Give me then your marking stick and your paper."
"Yes, Master," she said.
In moments her quick hands had accomplished this business and she surrendered to Bosk of Port Kar both the paper and the marking stick.
"We shall begin," said Bosk, "by supposing that the sequence of blue and red corresponds to Eta. The next most common sequence is orange and red. We shall, tentatively, suppose that corresponds to Tau."
I leaned back on my heels, and watched. No one spoke. Samos and Clitus Vitellius were intent. Bosk worked swiftly, but, upon occasion, he seemed angry. More than once, for certain letters, he altered his initial hypothesis of correspondence, substituting another, and sometimes yet another and another.
At last he laid down the marking stick, and, ruefully, viewed the paper before him.
"I have the message," he said, soberly.
Samos turned to the two slave girls who knelt to one side. "Begone, Slaves," he said. Swiftly, in their silk, they fled from the room, commanded by a man.
Bosk looked to Luma. "Yes, Master," she whispered. She, too, rose to her feet and, in her brief, blue tunic, hurried from the room. Under the command of masters, slave girls do not dally.
"Would you wish me to withdraw?" inquired Clitus Vitellius.
Samos looked at Bosk of Port Kar. Then Samos said, "Remain, if you would, Clitus Vitellius, Captain of Ar."
Clitus Vitellius nodded.
I knelt as before, a naked, captive slave.
Bosk looked angrily at the words on the paper before him. "It makes no sense," said he.
"What is the message?" asked Samos.
He called Bosk of Port Kar read from the paper before him: "Half-Ear Arrives," he said. Then he added, "It is meaningless."
"No," whispered Samos, his face white. "It is not meaningless."
"What is the meaning?" asked Bosk of Port Kar.
"When did you give this message, Slave Girl?" demanded Samos of me.
"In the last passage hand, Master," I said.
"I took her from two men near the country of the Salerian Confederation," said Clitus Vitellius, "in the early spring."
Since that time I had been the slave of Clitus Vitellius, of Thurnus of Tabuk's Ford, of the Keep of Stones of Turmus, and of the Belled Collar. I had been owned, too, by Elicia Nevins and had labored, too, in the Chatka and Curla.
"It is too late," said Samos, miserably.
"In what way?" asked Bosk of Port Kar.
"Doubtless Half-Ear, even now, is upon the surface of Gor," said Samos, grimly.
"Who is Half-Ear?" asked Bosk of Port Kar.
"We do not know his true Kur name," said Samos. "He is only known upon Gor as Half-Ear."
"Who is he?" asked Bosk of Port Kar.
"He is a great war general of the Kurii," said Samos.
"Is his arrival on Gor significant?" asked Bosk of Port Kar.
"He has doubtless come to Gor to take charge of the operations of Kurii upon this world."
I did not understand this talk of Kur and Kurii. They were, I gathered, the enemy.
"That he should come to Gor at this time is significant?" asked Bosk.
"I fear terribly so," said Samos. He seemed shaken. This surprised me, for he seemed generally so stern and strong. It must be a dire intelligence indeed conveyed by the simple message, to disturb to such an extent so mighty a man.
"What does it mean?" pressed Bosk of Port Kar.
"It means, I fear," said Samos, "the invasion is imminent."
"Invasion?" asked Clitus Vitellius.
"There are enemies," said Samos.
"Of Ar?" asked Clitus Vitellius, angrily.
"Of Ar, and of Port Kar, and of Cos and Tharna, and of a world," said Samos.
"Half-Ear," said Bosk of Port Kar, musingly. "I should like to meet him."
"I, too!" cried Clitus Vitellius.
"I know something of him," said Samos of Port Kar. "I do not think I would care to make his acquaintance."
"We must locate him!" said Bosk of Port Kar.
"We have no way to do so," said Samos. "We have no way to do so." Samos looked down at the necklace, which lay again now upon the table before him. "We know only," said he, dismally, "that somewhere upon Gor Half-Ear is among us."
I could hear the oil crackling in the bowl of the tiny lamp on its stand near us.
Samos looked at me, absently. Then he said to the guards behind me, "Take her to the pens and chain her heavily."
26
I Return to Ar;
What was Done to Elicia Nevins, My Mistress
"Your bath is ready, Mistress," I said, kneeling, head down, in brief white slave tunic, before the Lady Elicia of Ar, of Six Towers.
When a girl is tunicked it is all she wears, other than her collar. The tunic was of rep cloth, crisp, starched, pressed, pleated, and brightly white. It was, I suppose, all things considered, tasteful, modest and demure, suitable for a woman's slave. Surely to some extent its stiffness concealed my lineaments, a feature which commended itself to my Mistress, particularly when I was out of the house. On the other hand, it was clearly a slave garment; it was short, sleeveless, and without a nether closure. The Lady Elicia enjoyed having me so before her. In this way she sought to shame me. It was her decision, of course, as to what I would be permitted to wear, and even, of course, if I were to be permitted clothing. The Lady Elicia had no intention of letting the former Judy Thornton, her formal rival at the college, lose sight of the fact that she was now a slave. I was in no doubt about this on Gor, of course. On the other hand, I did not object to a slave tunic, as I was a slave. It was appropriate that I be so clad. Too, I relished its freedom, and its attractiveness, and its meaning. Thus, I was pleased to be tunicked. Yet I would have preferred to have been tunicked for the pleasure of men, perhaps in a scrap of clinging silk, or in a bit of soft, clinging, colored rep cloth, rather than in starched, white rep cloth for the gloating contempt of a free woman.
She seated herself on her great couch, and extended her feet, one after the other, to me. I, kneeling, removed her sandals, kissing each and laying it aside. She stood up and I, rising and standing behind her, lifted away her robe. I kissed it, and put it upon the couch.
She smiled, approvingly. "Perhaps I shall yet make a serving slave of you, Judy," she said.
"It is my hope that I will be pleasing to my mistress," I said. She gestured and I brought the towel, kissing it, which I then wrapped about her head, that her hair not be dampened.
She then went to the edge of the sunken bath, and slipped her toe within the water, and then stepped down into the bath and reclined, leaning back. "Excellent, Judy," she said.
"Thank you, Lady Elicia, my Mistress," I said. I had well judged the temperature of the water, mixing the water from the cistern with other water, heated in the tempering vessel on its iron tripod. The temperature was acceptable. I would not be whipped.
I served her as she wished, with absolute perfection. I glanced at the beaded, feminine slave whip, hanging by its loop upon the wall. I had no wish to feel it.
I looked at the mistress luxuriating in her warm bath, beautiful in the multicolored foams of beauty.
I was Judy, her house and serving slave. I kept her compartments, dusting and cleaning. I cooked and washed.
I did all trivial, unpleasant and servile work for her. It was a great convenience to her to own me. Often she would send me shopping, my hands braceleted behind my back, a leather capsule, a cylinder, tied about my neck, containing her order and coins. The merchant would then fill her order, tie the merchandise about my neck, put the change in the leather capsule, close it and, sometimes with a friendly slap, dismissing me, reminding me that I was pretty, regardless of being a woman's slave, send me back to my mistress. At other times my mistress would shop and I would follow her, deferentially, to carry her purchases, eyes cast down, lest I should be caught so much as looking upon a man. A handsome male slave had once smiled at me and I, inadvertently, had reddened and basked in his pleasure. I had been turned about and marched home, to be put under the whip. The Lady Elicia, as I soon discovered, and had earlier suspected, despised and hated men. Yet, too, she found them, somehow, intensely fascinating and intriguing. Often she asked me questions which a slave girl might respond to intimately and easily if asked by another slave girl, but which were difficult to respond to if asked by a free woman. She would ask questions about the tethering and chaining of slaves, and their feelings, and what men made them do and how they were expected to speak and behave. She wanted to know intimate details of such things as what it was like to be a peasant's girl and what men exacted of girls in a paga tavern. I tried to answer her honestly. She would profess rage and indignation. "Yes, Mistress," I would murmur, putting my head down. "How pleased you must be, Judy," she sometimes said, "to have been rescued from all that, to be a woman's slave." "Oh, yes, Mistress," I would say. How could I tell her the joys of a slave girl, obeying the uncompromising, dominant male and writhing in his arms?
She lifted one fair limb, her left arm, from the foam, and washed it slowly with her right hand, regarding it approvingly.
Like many frigid women she was incredibly vain of her beauty. Did she not understand that it, and she, were biologically meaningless, if not seized in the arms of a master?
"How rude and despicable men are, Judy," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
Often, in the bath, for some reason, she would speak of men and her contempt for them.
"Today," she said, "in the market, I saw a man beating a slave girl, tied to a ring. It was terrible."
"Yes, Mistress," I said. I wondered what the girl had done. I supposed she had been displeasing. I had not accompanied her today to the market. I had been left at home, chained to the ring at the foot of her couch.
"Afterwards," she said, "the miserable girl covered his feet with kisses."
"Terrible, Mistress," I said. I supposed the girl was attempting to placate her master, and express her gratitude, her joy, at his reassertion of his dominance over her.
"Yes, terrible!" said the Lady Elicia of Ar, my mistress, of Six Towers.
"Too," she said, "my errand took me, inadvertently, near the Street of Brands."
"Oh, Mistress?" I asked. Sometimes, when she went on errands, I did not accompany her.
"There," she said, "I saw a chain of girls, stripped, in the open, men looking upon them. Disgusting!"
"Yes, Mistress," I agreed.
She lifted one leg, her right, gracefully from the water. Foam and water fell from it. Her toes were pointed. Her leg was shapely.
"Do you think I am beautiful, Judy?" she asked.
"Yes, Mistress," I said. She often asked me this.
"Truly?" she asked.
"Yes, Mistress," I said. It was indeed true. My mistress was an incredibly beautiful young woman. She was clearly more beautiful than I.
"Do you think that men might find me pleasing?" she asked.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"Do you think," she laughed, as though jesting, "that I would bring a high price?"
"Yes, Mistress," I said. She had asked me this sort of thing before. I had answered her truthfully before, and I answered her truthfully now. I wondered at her curiosity concerning such matters. I had no doubt that Elicia Nevins, on the block, naked, under the auctioneer's whip, would sell for at least a piece of gold.
She finished washing her legs, one after the other, dreamily.
I heard the small noise that I had been waiting for, for several days.
She reclined in the tub, easing her lovely body gently lower in the water, closing her eyes. The water, the multicolored foams of beauty, were about her chin. Then she lifted herself a little in the tub, the water and foam about her shoulders. She opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling.
"What is it like being a man's slave?" she asked.
"Mistress will soon know," I said.
She turned about and then, suddenly, first seeing him, cried out, startled.
"Who are you!" she cried.
"Are you the lady Elicia of Ar, of Six Towers?" he asked.
"I am she!" she cried.
"I charge you," said he, "in the name of the Priest-Kings of Gor, with being an agent of Kurii, and as such subject to the penalties connected therewith."
"I do not understand a word you are saying," she cried.
He drew forth from his tunic a folded yellow paper, closed with a seal and ribbon. I saw, on the yellow paper, stamped upon it, in black ink, large, the common Kajira mark of Gor. "I have here," he said, "a bill of enslavement, signed by Samos of Port Kar. Examine it. I trust you will find that all is in order." He threw the paper to the tiles.
"No!" she cried, frightened, trying to cover herself. Then she cried out, "Tellius! Barus!"
"Your minions," said the man, "will be of little service. It is understood they are of Cos. They are already in the custody of the magistrates of Ar."
"Tellius! Barus!" she screamed.
"You are quite alone, Lady Elicia," he said. "There are none to hear your screams."
He was tall and strong, clad in a warrior's scarlet. At his belt there was a long leash, looped.
"Emerge from your bath," said he, "and prepare to accept slave bonds."
"No!" she cried. Then she cried out to me, "Run, Judy! Fetch help!"
"Do not," said the man.
"Yes, Master," I said. I looked at the Lady Elicia. "Forgive me, Mistress," I said. "I am a slave girl who has been commanded by a man." I knelt to one side.
"Bitch! Bitch!" she cried.
"Yes, Lady Elicia, my Mistress," I said.
She spun in the tub, agonized, covering herself, to face the tall guest.
"There is some mistake!" she cried. "Leave me! You intrude in a lady's compartments!"
"Emerge from your bath," said he, "to accept the bonds of a slave."
"Never!" she cried.
"Are you a virgin?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, angrily.
"If I must fetch you in the water," he said, "you will be taken in the water."
"Bring me my robe," she said.
He went to the robe on the couch, but, instead of handing it to her, he examined it, lifting it to the light. In one sleeve, in a tiny, narrow sheath, he found a needle, which he held up. Then he approached the bath. She shrank back, frightened. He washed the needle, dried it on a towel and replaced it in the sheath. I had not known the sheath and needle were there, so cunningly had they been concealed in the weaving.
He looked at her.
I had little doubt the needle had been poisoned, probably with Kanda.
"You have disarmed me, Warrior," she said. "Will you now, please, hand me my robe."
He threw the robe to the side of the room. She looked at it, crumpled at the side of the room.
"Please," she said. "I am rich. I can give you much gold."
"Stand in the bath," he said. "I would see your hands above your head."
"You intrude upon my privacy!" she cried.
"Soon," he said, "you will have no right to privacy."
"My modesty!" she cried.
"When you are a slave," he said, "you will not be permitted modesty." This was true.
"Have mercy, Warrior!" she c
ried.
"Obey, or be lashed," he said.
Elicia Nevins stood in the tub, and lifted her hands over her head, in an attitude of surrender.
The guest regarded her, casually, openly, at length, with the appraisal of a master.
She shook with fear, seen by a Gorean warrior.
The warrior then went to the side of the tub, crouching near what had been the side to her right. She stepped back in the water, away from him. He brushed back the foam. Carefully he examined the wall of the tub. In moments he had retrieved the tiny dagger which lay there, in its small compartment, concealed behind a tile. He cleaned the poison from the side of the dagger, dried it with a towel, as he had the needle, and then threw it to the side of the room, where lay her robe, which he had earlier discarded. I had not known of the existence of either the compartment or the small, poisoned weapon which it concealed.
Elicia stood in the water, on the far side of the large, sunken tub, her hands lifted.
"Free me!" she said. "I will pay you much."
He regarded her.
"I will give you enough to buy ten slave girls in my stead!" she said.
"But they would not be Elicia Nevins," he said.
She shook her head, haughtily. She still wore the colorful towel about her head.
"Would you care to examine the bill of enslavement?" he asked.
"If I may," she said.
"Step forth," he said, "keeping your hands lifted."
She did so, and went to stand near the paper on the floor, her hands lifted.
"You will make a lovely slave," he said. Then he said, "You may lower your hands, and kneel." The woman always examines the papers of enslavement on her knees. "Slave Girl," said the man, speaking to me, "remove the towel from about her head and permit her to dry her hands upon it."
"Yes, Master," I said.
I removed it carefully, lest it contain a needle or other device of which I might be unaware. The lovely cascade of dark hair which was Elicia's fell down her back. "Yes," said the man, "a lovely slave." Elicia dried her hands and, miserably, broke the ribbon and seal and examined the paper.
"You are literate?" inquired the man.
"Yes," she said, acidly.
"Do you understand the document?" he asked.