by John Norman
"Not enough," said the slaver's man. The hunter grunted. He had guessed this. I did not think the slaver's man was out to defraud the hunter. For one thing, the fellow, this far south, probably had some conception of the values of the furs. For another thing the hunters of the north, though a generally kind, peaceable folk, except with animals, think little of killing. They are inured to it. As hunters they live with blood and death.
The hunter drew forth from the bundle of furs two tiny pelts of the leem. These were brown, the summer coats of the animals.
"Look," said the slaver's man, gesturing at the two girls, the blonde and the dark-haired girl. "Two beauties!"
The hunter drew forth two more pelts of the leem.
"Not enough," said the slaver's man.
The hunter grunted and bent down, retying the bundle of furs. He picked up the bundle and began to leave.
"Wait!" laughed the slaver's man. "They are yours!"
The girls reacted. "We have been sold," whispered the dark-haired girl. I recalled she had worn soft, black, custom-fitted feminine slacks, a soft, delicious, turtle-necked, red pull-over. It had been a beautiful top and had doubtless been quite expensive. I recalled that she had been rich. She was now the naked slave girl of a red hunter.
The slaver's man put the pelts in a pouch which hung from his belt.
With his right hand he pulled the head of the blond girl down, until it was at her knees. He did the same with the head of the dark-haired girl. They knelt as they had been placed. They had felt the whip.
The slaver then went behind them and freed their ankles from the steel ankle loops. He then unlocked and removed the two-inch-high steel cuffs which had held the hands of the girls behind them. Their platform tunics, loose, he then let fall to the boards of the platform. The hunter, meanwhile, with a knife, had cut a length from the rope of twisted sleen hide which he wore over his shoulder. He fastened the two girls together by the neck. The slaver then unlocked the slaves' throat collars and tossed them, with the chain, to the platform.
The two beauties were drawn by the hunter from the platform and they then stood, frightened, tied together by the neck, before it.
The third and fourth girl looked upon these proceedings with unfeigned terror. They knew they themselves could be as easily the objects of so casual a transaction, putting them in the total power of a buyer, their master.
The red hunter, with two short lengths of the leather rope, jerked the hands of the beauties behind them and, swiftly, expertly, fastened them together. The blond-haired girl winced. "Oh," said the dark-haired girl, suddenly. I saw the hunter had tied women before. They were totally helpless.
The red hunters are generally a kind, peaceable folk, except with animals. Two sorts of beasts are kept in domestication in the north; the first sort of beast is the snow sleen; the second is the white-skinned woman.
"Ho," said the red hunter, and strode from the platform. The two beasts he had purchased hurried after him.
"Theirs will be a hard slavery," I said to the slaver's man.
"They will learn to pull a sled under the whip," he said.
"Yes," I said. Such women were used as draft animals. But they would serve, too, as slave girls do, many other purposes.
"Wait until the red women get hold of them," laughed the slaver's man.
"They may kill them," I said.
"They have one chance for life," he said, "to obey with total perfection."
"But," I asked, "is that not every slave girl's one chance for life?"
"True," he said. Then he turned and looked at the third and fourth girl.
They looked at him with terror. Beside them, on the platform, were two pairs of opened, empty ankle loops, two pairs of opened, empty wrist cuffs, two opened, empty collars, and some chain, and two platform tunics, discarded.
I looked after the red hunter, with his two frightened, lovely, just-purchased, hurrying, white-skinned beasts.
There are many rich men at the fairs, and it is by far not the worst place in which a girl might find herself being sold. In such a locale, particularly in the spring, at a great fair, such as the fair of En'Kara, her chances of interesting and obtaining a well-placed, affluent, civilized master are, all things considered, quite good. Certainly it is better than being sold from a cement shelf in a small town, from a sales barn in the countryside, from a dock in Schendi, and such. Perhaps both the dark-haired girl and the blonde, if they had they been somewhat longer on the platform, might have learned something—might have conquered their inhibitions, and have submitted themselves willingly, gladly, trustingly and hopefully, to the rude, exploratory caresses of buyers, and, realizing the nature of their new reality more fully, have endeavored to present themselves attractively, provocatively, and excitingly, particularly to richly garmented masters. Some girls even note with care the apparent weight of the purses slung at the belts of buyers. Purchased by a rich man might they not then have an easier bondage, perhaps in a great house, even in a mansion or palace; might they not then have lighter labors, a jeweled collar, exciting, beautiful silks, greater freedom to wander about by day, almost as though free, delighted and zestul, though, as slaves, greedily appraised and admired, in a colorful, lovely city, a warm, spacious kennel at night, or perhaps, if fortunate, furs and a snug chain at the foot of a master's couch, perhaps even sandals?
But the blonde and the dark-haired girl had been purchased by a red hunter.
As they came to understand more fully their new status and condition, that they were truly slaves, I did not doubt but what they would muchly regret their naiveties and indiscretions on the platform.
Experienced girls would not have made such mistakes.
I glanced at the other two girls.
They were exchanging frightened glances.
Doubtless they had learned much in the last few moments.
I smiled.
"I think," I said, indicating the two remaining, young Earth females, as yet unsold, "that these two girls might now be moved back on the platform and have their hands chained before their bodies rather than behind."
"I think you are right," he said, chuckling. He climbed to the platform and moved the girls back. He then unlocked the left cuff of the first girl and then recuffed her, this time with her small hands before her body. He did the same with the second. In doing this he had discarded their platform tunics. He then rejoined me before the platform.
They now knelt back on the platform in normal display location, their hands chained before them. They looked at him.
The slaver's man, with the whip, gestured broadly, expansively, to the passing crowd. He grinned at the girls.
The fourth girl, who had once worn the denim pants and beige flannel shirt, extended her chained hands to the crowd. "Buy me, Masters!" she cried out. "Buy me for your lover and slave. I am beautiful. I will serve you well!" She called out in English, for she knew no Gorean, but there could be little misinterpretation of her intent or of the desperate, piteous nature of her entreaties. "Buy me! Buy me!" she begged.
"I am even more beautiful!" cried the other suddenly. "Buy me instead!"
I saw men gathering about them. The girls redoubled their piteous efforts to please. "Buy me, Master!" cried one. "Buy me, kind masters!" cried the other. They sought the eyes of men in the crowd. I could see they now, though they were barbarian, excited interest. Some men like a barbarian girl. And if a girl is not fully broken to the collar, one can always teach her. There is always the whip.
"How much do you want for them?" asked a man.
"They are not cheap," said the slaver's man.
I smiled to myself and left the area of the platform. They would soon be sold.
I pressed through the crowds.
The sales in the pavilion would already have begun. "Buy these girls! Buy these girls!" I heard, as I made my way between the platforms toward the pavilion. "Buy me, Master!" called a girl, with long dark hair, naked, lying on her side on one of the darkl
y varnished platforms, her body half covered with chains bound about her.
"A tarsk bit to enter, Master," said a slaver's man at the entrance to the pavilion.
I handed him a tarsk bit from my pouch, and pushed through the canvas.
My nostrils flared, my blood moved now faster in my veins. There is something charged and exhilarating about a slave market, the color, the movement, the excitement of the crowds, the bidding, the intensity, the lovely women being sold.
"Four copper tarsks!" was a bid called from the floor.
The girl stood on the block, her right side to the bidders. Her hands were behind her head, and her body was arched back. Her left leg was behind her, her right leg, flexed, thrust forth.
"Six!" was another bid.
She then faced the bidders, half crouched, her hands at her head, throwing her hair forward over her face. She regarded them angrily, sullenly, through her hair. Yet there was in her eyes a sultry need recognized by Gorean buyers. Taken home, she would soon become a satisfactory, hot slave, piteous and eager at her master's feet. She was directed by the auctioneer, responding to his voice commands and the light, deft, guiding touches of his whip.
I moved through the crowds, to get somewhat closer to the block. The girl was sold for fifteen copper tarsks to a metal worker from Tor.
I looked about in the crowd.
The next girl was a willowy blond Earth girl. She was sent to the block in what are regarded as the odd undergarments of Earth females. Both the upper undergarment and the lower were white. Her hands were braceleted behind her and the auctioneer, his whip in his belt, controlled her by the hair. She was hysterical. Her brassiere was first removed, then the panties. The latter garment, by Goreans, is regarded as a peculiarly strange one. It, silken and brief, is obviously a slave's garment, but it is closed at the bottom. It would take a man an extra moment to rape such a slave.
She was sold for four copper tarsks. I did not see who bought her. I think it was a locksmith from Ti.
I bought a slice of rolled meat, filled with sauce, in a waxed paper, from a vendor.
It was then that I saw him. Our eyes met. He turned white. Immediately, flinging aside the food, I began to thrust through the crowd toward him. He turned and, squirming and thrusting, fought his way toward the side of the tent.
I knew him now. He was the fellow whose back I had seen in the restaurant, from a distance. I had not been able to place at that time his identity. He no longer wore the brown and black common to professional sleen trainers. He wore, as I, merchant robes.
I did not speak, or call out to him. Rather I pursued him. He looked back once and then, thrusting men aside, fought his way to the tent's side.
I pursued him who had called himself Bertram of Lydius, he who had, in my house, set a sleen upon me.
I wanted his throat in my hands.
When I thrust through the cut side of the tent, where he had slashed it open, he was not in sight.
I cursed and struck my fist upon my thigh. He was gone.
Behind me, from the tent, I heard the calls and the bidding. Another girl was on the block.
I looked out over the crowds. Thousands were at the fair.
My chances of finding one man in that crowd, and one who knew I searched for him, would be negligible. I looked angrily about. Behind me two men slipped into the tent, through the cut canvas. I no longer wished to attend the market. I turned away from the tent and, angrily, no clear destination in mind, mingled with the crowds. In time I found myself near the palisade ringing the Sardar mountains. I climbed one of the high platforms there. From these platforms one may look upon the Sardar. I stood alone on the platform, and gazed at the snow-capped mountains, glistening under the mingled light of the three white moons. From the platform, too, I could see the fair, with its lights and fires, and tents and shelters, and the amphitheater in the distance, where Scormus of Ar and gentle Centius of Cos would meet tomorrow, on the opposite sides of a small board marked with red and yellow squares. The district of the fair covered several square pasangs. It was very beautiful at night.
I descended the stairs of the platform and turned my steps toward the public tent where I had, earlier in the morning, reserved a lodging for myself.
* * * *
I lay thinking in the furs, my hands behind my head, looking up at the ceiling of the tent above me. There was little light in the tent, for it was late. It was difficult for me to sleep.
More than a thousand men slept in this great tent.
The ceiling of the tent above me billowed slightly, responsive to a gentle wind from the east.
There were small lamps hung here and there in the tent. They hung on tiny chains. These chains were suspended from metal projections on certain of the tent poles.
I turned to my side, to watch her approach.
She moved carefully through the furs.
She knelt beside me.
A string was knotted about her waist. Over this string, in the front, there was thrust a single, simple narrow rectangle of vulgar, white rep-cloth, some six inches in width, some twelve inches in length.
She wore on her throat a high, gold collar, with, in front, a large golden loop, some two inches in width. Threaded through this loop loose, was a golden chain. This chain terminated, at each end, with high, golden slave bracelets. When the girl stands her hands may fall naturally at her sides, each in its bracelet, each bracelet attached to the same chain, which passes through the collar loop.
It is a very beautiful way of chaining a girl.
"Master," she whispered.
"I remember you," I said. She had been the slave who had followed me earlier in the day, who had bitten at my sleeve near the puppet theater, whom I had saved from a beating by the guardsmen under the aegis of the officer of the fair's merchant staff. She had begged me to take pity on her needs. I had not done so, of course. She might have been under the discipline of deprivation. Too, there had seemed no point in perhaps doing her master dishonor. I did not even know him. I had told her, after I had had her kneel and kiss my feet, to run to her master, and crawl to him on her belly and beg his touch. "Yes, Master," she had said, and she had then leaped to her feet, frightened, and sped away.
"I did not know you were a slave in the public tents," I said to her.
"Yes, Master," she said, putting her head down. "I am a tent slave here."
"Why did you not tell me?" I asked.
"Is a girl to be permitted no pride?" she asked.
"No," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Would it have made any difference?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"I thought not," she said.
"When you ran to your master," I asked, "as I commanded you, and crawled to him on your belly and begged his touch, what did he do?"
"He kicked me from his feet and gave me over to a servant for switching," she said.
"Excellent," I said.
She looked down.
"Doubtless, by now," I said, "you have been much pleasured in these furs."
"There are other tent slaves here," she said, "many more beautiful than I, and men come late to the furs, tired and drunk. It is hard for us to compete with the beauties of the paga tents."
"I see," I said.
There were tears in her eyes. She reached forth her right hand, timidly, to touch my thigh. This caused the chain to slip a bit through the collar loop.
"Take pity on a slave, Master," she said.
I looked at her.
She backed away a bit and then, on her belly, crawled to me. She timidly pulled back the furs and pressed her lips to my thigh. Her lips were soft and wet. She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. "I crawl to my master on my belly," she said, "and beg for his touch."
I smiled.
I, a guest in the tent, now stood to her, of course, as master. Such girls come with the price of the lodging.
"Please, Master," she wept, "take pity on me. Take pity on
the miserable needs of a girl."
I threw off the furs, and motioned her to my arms. She crept into them, sobbing.
"You are kind, Master," she said.
"Do you think so?" I asked.
She looked at me, frightened.
I drew her right hand away from her body, until the slave bracelet on her left wrist was against the golden collar loop. I then doubled the chain and formed from it a slip loop, which I dropped over her head. I jerked it tight. Her wrists now, both, were held at the collar loop. She looked up at me, frightened. I put her on her back, in the cradle of my left arm. She moved her small wrists in the cuffs; she tried to move her hands; they were held, confined, at the golden loop. I then pulled away the rectangle of rep-cloth she wore and wadded it and thrust it in her mouth. She looked at me, frightened. Then I began to touch her.
4
I Reward Two Messengers, Who Have Rendered Good Service
"Will he use the Two Tarnsmen opening?" asked a man.
"I wager," said another, "he will use the Physician's Gambit."
"That would permit the Turian Defense," said another.
I felt good. I had had a splendid night's rest. I had had an excellent breakfast.
The slave I had used had been helpless and spasmodically superb. She had not been permitted to use her hands; they had been chained; her bit of a garment had been thrust in her mouth; she could not cry out; she must endure in helpless squirming silence, as a slave girl, what sensations I chose to inflict upon her body. I was pleased; I had put her through pleasures which would have made a Ubara beg for the collar. I do not think she slept all night. In the morning, red-eyed, lying at my thigh, she had piteously begged that I buy her.
The morning was cool and the air was bright and clear. It would be a good day for the match.
I had arranged to have the pretty little slave lashed and then sent to Port Kar.
An occasional lashing is good for a slave. It helps them keep in mind what they are.
I think she was a good buy. She cost me only a quarter of a silver tarsk.