Explorers of Gor coc-13

by John Norman

  Kisu handed his weapons to one of the villagers. He and Bila Huruma embraced.

  It was thus that peace came to Ukungu and the empire.

  57. I Board Again The Palms Of Schendi; I Will Take Ship For Port Kar

  “It is not necessary to chain me like this, Master,” said Janice.

  She knelt on the hot boards of the wharf at Schendi. Her ankles were shackled, and her small wrists locked behind her in slave bracelets. A tight belly chain, locked on her, running to a heavy ring in the wood, about a foot from her, secured her in place. She was stripped. On her throat, locked, was a steel collar. It read ‘I am owned by Bosk of Port Kar’. That is a name by which I am known in many parts of Gor. It has its own history.

  “Before,” said Janice, looking up at me, in my collar, “when I might have fled, and did, in Port Kar, I was not even secured. Now, when I know what I do, what it is to be a slave girl on Gor, and would be terrified to so much as move from this place without permission, I am heavily chained.”

  “It is common to secure female cargo before loading.” I said. “It should have been done before.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  I looked down at her. “Even if you were not chained, and wished to escape,” I said, “I do not think such a venture would now be practical.”

  “No, Master,” she said. “I am now branded. I am now collared.”

  “Greetings,” said Captain Ulafi to me.

  “Greetings,” said I to him.

  “Is this the little troublemaker?” he asked, looking down at Janice.

  “I do not think she will cause you trouble now,” I said.

  Janice put her head down to the boards of the wharf. “Forgive me, Master,” she said, “if I once displeased you.”

  “Lift your head,” said Ulafi.

  Janice looked up at him,

  “How beautiful she has become,” said Ulafi. “It is difficult to believe that she is the same girl.” He regarded her. “She has become a sensuous dream,” he said.

  “She is a slave,” I said. I shrugged.

  “What fools men are to let any woman be free,” he said.

  “Perhaps,” I said.

  “You wish to take passage again on the Palms of Schendi,” he asked, “for return to Port Kar?”

  “With your permission, Captain,” I said.

  “The arrangements have been made,” he said. I pressed into his hands the coins on which we had agreed.

  “We sail shortly,” he said, “with the tide.”

  When I had returned to Schendi I had borne with me notes from the court of Bila Huruma. The moneys which I had lost when apprehended in Schendi, for seizure and transportation to the canal, had been returned to me. I had obtained again, too, my sea bag and its enclosed articles. I had received these back from the woman who had rented me the room off the Street of Tapestries. The sea bag lay at my feet. In it, with my other things, was a chain of gold, which I had received, long ago, from Bila Huruma. It had shared much of my equatorial odyssey. About my neck, on a leather string, inside my tunic, I wore the Tahari ring.

  I thought of Bila Huruma, and the loneliness of the Ubar. I thought of Shaba, and his voyages of exploration, the circumnavigation of Lake Ushindi, the discovery and circumnavigation of Lake Ngao, and the discovery and exploration of the Ua, even to the discovery of its source in the placid waters of that vast lake he had called Lake Bila Huruma. But by the wish of Bila Huruma I had changed its name to Lake Shaba. He was surely one of the greatest, if not the greatest, of the explorers of Gor. I did not think his name would be forgotten.

  “I am grateful,” had said Ramani of Anango, who had once been the teacher of Shaba. I had delivered to him, and to two others of his caste, the maps and notebooks of Shaba. Ramani and his fellows had wept. I had then left them, returning to my lodgings. Copies would be made of the maps and notebooks. They would then be distributed by caste brothers throughout the cities of civilized Gor. The first copies that were made by anyone had already, however, been made, by the scribes of Bila Huruma in Ushindi. Ramani need not know this.

  “Will you continue work on the canal?” I had asked Bila Huruma.

  “Yes,” he had said.

  When Lakes Ushindi and Ngao had been joined by the canal a continuous waterway would be opened between Thassa and the Ua. One might then, via either the Kamba or the Nyoka, attain Lake Ushindi. One might then follow the canal from Ushindi to Ngao. From Ngao one could enter upon the Ua. One could then, for thousands of pasangs, follow the Ua until one reached its terminus in Lake Shaba. And Lake Shaba itself was fed by numerous smaller streams and rivers, each giving promise, like the tributaries of the Ua itself, to the latency of new countries. The importance of the work of Bila Huruma and Shaba, one a Ubar, the other a scribe and explorer, could not, in my opinion, be overestimated.

  I thought of small Ayari, with whom I had shared the rogues’ chain and my adventures upon the Ua.

  He wore now the robes of the wazir of Bila Huruma. It was a wise choice, I thought, on the part of Bila Huruma. Ayari had proved his hardiness and worth in the journeys upon the Ua. He was facile with languages, and had connections with the villages of Nyuki on the northern shore of Ushindi, which was the territory of his father’s birth, and, because of his connections with Kisu, with the Ukungu districts on the Ngao. Beyond this he had been born and raised in Schendi and, accordingly, spoke Gorean fluently. Adding to these things his intelligence, and his shrewdness and humanity, he seemed to me ideally suited for his work. Such a man might profitably be employed by a Ubar who wished to improve his relations not only with the interior but, too, with the city of Schendi, one of the major ports of civilized Gor. Too, Ayari was one of the few men who had ascended the Ua and lived to speak of it. He would doubtless figure prominently in the long-range programs and plans of Bila Huruma. In time I had little doubt that Ayari would become one of the most important men in the equatorial regions of Gor. I smiled to myself. There were probably few who thought that the little rogue of Schendi, the son of a lad who had once fled a village for stealing melons, would one day stand at the side of a throne.

  But I thought most fondly of Kisu, he who was now again Mfalme in Ukungu.

  To this day, as one may see upon the map, the land of Ukungu stands as a sovereign free state within the perimeter of the empire of Bila Huruma.

  Before Bila Huruma had left the village of Nyundo, central village of the Ukungu villages, he had spoken to Kisu. “If you wish,” he had said, indicating Tende, who knelt beside them, “I will take this slave and arrange for her sale in Schendi. I will then have whatever moneys she brings returned to you.”

  “Thank you, Ubar,” had said Kisu, “but I will keep this woman in Ukungu.”

  “Is it your intention to free her?” asked Bila Huruma.

  “No,” had said Kisu.

  “Excellent,” had said Bila Huruma. “She is too beautiful to be free.”

  Tende had looked up at Kisu. “I will try to please my master well,” she had said.

  We had remained that night in the village of Nyundo. I remembered the feast well. In addition to its political importance it had given the talunas an opportunity to learn to dance and serve. Their progress in femininity had not been much advanced by their work at the oars of a galley.

  I smiled.

  In our journey downriver we had found the small people marching the talunas westward, to sell them. The talunas, stripped, were being marched in tandem pairs, each pair fastened in the long coffle. Two forked sticks are lashed together. The fork of the first stick goes to the back of the neck of the first girl. Another stick then is thrust crosswise under the chin of the first girl and tied on the fork, holding her in the fork. The fork of the second lashed stick is before the throat of the second girl. Another stick then is thrust crosswise behind the neck of the second girl and lashed in place. The hands of each girl are tied behind their backs. Each pair, bound and fastened in the sticks, is then added as a unit to
the coffle. The second girl in one pair, unless she is the last in the long line, and the first girl in the succeeding pair, unless she is the first in the long line, are fastened together by neck ropes. Thus is the coffle formed.

  When we found the talunas being herded along by the small people we had brought our vessels to shore.

  We bought the entire band of captive talunas for a crate of beads and five pangas.

  We relieved the caught beauties of the coffle and chained them, four to a bench, to certain of the thwarts of one of the galleys. Oars we then thrust in their hands, four girls to one oar, that they might be able to move the levers. There were enough girls, in this arrangement, for five oars to a side with one girl left over, who could carry food and water to her laboring sisters. A long chain was run lengthwise in the galley and fastened to rings at both stem and stern. The left ankle of the extra girl, the fetch-and-carry girl, who was already in wrist rings, joined by a foot of chain, was then locked in one of two ankle shackles, joined by about eighteen inches of chain. The right ankle shackle was then passed under the long chain and snapped shut about her right ankle. She was thus, by her lovely legs and body, and shackled ankles, literally fastened about the long chain, which served then as a slave’s run-chain, permitting her movement, but strictly, by intent, controlling its scope. She might move back and forth, lengthwise in the galley, and to the benches, performing her labors, but could not leave the vessel or, indeed, even touch its bulwarks. Too, it did not permit her to move as far as its rudder. On this galley, the floating prison for the talunas, both those on the benches, chained to the thwarts, and the fetch-and-carry girl, we put five askaris, one for the rudder, for the river galley is single ruddered, and four, should the girls at the oars require encouragement, or the fetch-and-carry girl be in any way not completely pleasing, with whips.

  “The river must be made safe,” had said Bila Huruma, when the right ankle of the fetch-and-carry girl, the last girl to be chained, had been snapped in its shackle, fastening her by chain and body about the run-chain.

  “What will you do with them?” I asked.

  “I will have them sold in Schendi,” he said.

  I think that many of the talunas did not realize that their labors at the oar were intended to be temporary. Before the first Ahn was out many were sweating and moaning, with pain, begging that they might be released, to be taught the more typical, softer labors of the female slave. It was hard to blame them for the oar of a river galley is normally drawn by a strong man. If the journey had not been downriver I do not think it would have been practical to put them at oars at all. The fetch-and-carry girl, of course, scolded the talunas for their weakness. The next day, however, it was she herself who sweated at an oar, crying out in pain under the whips of the vigilant askaris, while another took her place. She had not realized that the fetch-and-carry girl would be changed daily. In this way no taluna would have to spend more than forty consecutive days at an oar. It had not taken the original fetch-and-carry girl more than an Ahn at the oar, incidentally, before she, too, had begged to be relieved of its pain, that she might be taught lighter duties, even those involving perfumes and silks, more fitting, more suitable, to the bodies and dispositions of female slaves.

  The wharves were busy. I saw two slave girls, nude and chained, being delivered to a ship.

  The talunas, last night, in a lot, had been sold to the black slavers of Schendi. The entire lot had gone for only two silver tarsks. I had then seen them, one by one, heads down, crawl to the slave circle. There they had rendered submission to men. They were then placed in wrist and throat coffle, their left wrists linked by one chain, their fair throats by another, and led away. They would be kept for a time in one of the underground pens beneath one of the fortresses of the black slavers. They would be given balms for their backs and oils for their blistered hands, and taught the duties of slaves. In a few weeks they would be ready, healed and cleaned, and to some extent trained, for the northern markets. Girls such as talunas, silked and perfumed, and placed under the iron will of a man, make superb slaves.

  Two, however, who had once been talunas would not be with them. These were the blond-haired girl who had once been their leader, whom I decided to name Lana, and the dark-haired girl who had been her second in command, now the slave of Turgus. He had named her Fina.

  I looked to my left, on the wharf. The blond-haired girl who had been the taluna leader, now the slave girl Lana, knelt there. Near her, too, was Alice. Both girls were stripped and had their hands braceleted behind their back. They were chained by the neck to the same ring.

  “Master,” said the girl who had been the taluna leader, Lana.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You are taking me to Port Kar,” she said.

  “Yes,” I said. It is natural for a girl to fear the very name of that city.

  “Will men be cruel to me in Port Kar?” she asked.

  “You will be treated as the slave you are,” I said.

  She shuddered.

  There is a saying in Gorean, that the chains of a slave girl are heaviest in Port Kar. I did not think, truthfully, however, that Port Kar was unusual in its treatment of female slaves. Gorean men, generally, are not easy with them. The saying is probably motivated not so much by an objective analysis of the treatment of enslaved women in that city as by the fear and distrust which Port Kar has historically precipitated in the hearts of its enemies. If I had to make a choice I would suspect that it might be most difficult for a woman to wear her chains in the city of Tharna. There are complex historical reasons for this. Tharna is one of the few Gorean cities in which the great majority of its women are enslaved. Normally only about one in forty or so Gorean women in the cities is enslaved. Free Gorean women, incidentally, enjoy a prestige and status which, it seems to me, is higher than that of the normal Earth woman.

  “What is done in Port Kar,” asked Lana, “to a girl who is not found to be fully pleasing?”

  “Commonly,” I said, “she is bound hand and foot and thrown to the urts in the canals.”

  She looked at me, aghast. The chain was lovely on her throat, fastening her, kneeling, to the ring on the wharf. She pulled against the slave bracelets, confining her hands behind her back, but could not, of course, free herself.

  “I would try, if I were you,” I said, “to please my master.”

  “I will try desperately to please him,” she said.

  “See that you do,” I said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  Alice put her cheek to my thigh. I then felt her lips at my thigh, as she kissed me. I put my hand in her hair, and, roughly, affectionately, shook her head. She looked up at me. “Please keep me, at least for a little time,” she said. “Perhaps,” I said. “Thank you, Master,” she said. I looked down at her. She, like Janice, I thought, would somewhere, sometime, make someone a superb love slave. Until that time let her be put out again and again on the market.

  Ngoma, who was of the crew of Ulafi, and two other crew members, then came up to me. “We shall be sailing soon,” he said. ‘The cages are ready.”

  I nodded. I freed Janice of her shackles, bracelets and belly chain. She remained kneeling. She had not been given permission to rise. Ngoma put his hand in her hair. I then freed Alice and Lana of their bracelets and neck chains. They, too, remained kneeling, for they, too, had not received permission to rise. The two other crew members then put their hands in their hair.

  Ngoma looked at me, I nodded. “Put them in their cages,” I said. He pulled Janice to her feet, holding her head at his hip, and then, leading her behind him, bent over, conducted her up the gangplank to the deck of the Palms of Schendi.

  “It will soon be time to board!” called Ulafi to me. He was on the stern castle of his vessel.

  “Very well,” I said.

  His first and second officers, Gudi and Shoka, were near him.

  I looked about.

  There were as yet two empty slave cages on the
deck of the Palms of Schendi, cages for which I had arranged.

  “Ho, here!” I called, to the man from the tavern of Pembe. He saw me and hurried toward me, dragging a leashed, blindfolded, sweetly hipped, naked slave with him. Her hands were braceleted behind her back. When he reached me he kicked her legs from beneath her and she knelt, trembling, at my feet. He removed her leash and bracelets. He then, roughly, removed the collar of the tavern of Pembe from her throat.

  “Ngoma,” I called.

  The man from the tavern of Pembe then unknotted her blindfold and tore it away from her head.

  “Oh!” cried she who had been Evelyn Ellis, looking up at me, blinking, startled.

  “I own you now,” I said. It had been she who had once served Kurii in this city.

  “Yes, Master!” she said.

  Ngoma, coming down the gangplank, arrived at my side I recalled her well from before, when she had served Shaba, Msaliti and myself. I recalled her well, too, from the tavern of Pembe. I was the first, months ago, to have taught her something of the meaning of a collar. I had purchased her last night, unknown to herself, when she had not been on the floor of the tavern. She had cost two silver tarsks.

  “Oh, Master!” she cried, overjoyed.

  “Submit,” I said.

  Swiftly she knelt back on her heels, her knees wide, and lifted and extended her arms, wrists crossed, as though for binding. Her head was down, between her arms.

  “I submit myself, fully, and as a slave,” she said.

  I tied her wrists together and locked a collar on her drawn from my sea bag.

  “I am yours,” she said.

  “You are Evelyn,” I said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said. “Thank you, Master.”

  “Put her in a cage,” I said to Ngoma.

  “It will be done,” he said.

  Evelyn was led away, drawn by the hair, bent over, to be thrust in one of the small slave cages on the deck. These cages, at their corners, by chains, are fastened to cleats. This prevents their movement in rough weather.