by John Norman
I withdrew from her, and stood, and looked down upon her.
“Do not leave me, Master,” she begged. “Take me with you. You have made me yours, my Gorean master. I am yours. Take me with you. Policrates, my master, would give me to you, if you should but ask!”
I picked up my things at the door. I slung them about me. I donned my mask. There was a knock on the door, and I opened it. A pirate stood there, he who had brought Beverly to me last night, who had now come to fetch me to breakfast. I must soon leave the holding of Policrates, theoretically to journey downriver to the holding of Ragnar Voskjard, that his fleet might be soon launched, that the two fleets, in fierce force, might overwhelm the garrisons of Ar’s Station, and then of Port Cos, that the river, for hundreds of pasangs, would then become theirs, subject to their predations or levied tributes as they saw fit.
I nodded to the pirate, indicating my readiness to accompany him.
He looked beyond me, to the slave ring. The girl now knelt there, cuffed to the ring. He seemed startled. “Is it Beverly?” he asked. The girl, suddenly, shrank back against the stone of the couch, a slave’s movement. Curious, the pirate brushed past me, going to the girl. He crouched down beside her. “It is Beverly,” he said. She trembled. He put forth his hand, touching her at the shoulder. She shuddered beneath his touch, putting down her head. “What have you done to her?” he asked, grinning. “Last night she was an enslaved female. This morning she is a female slave.” He put forth his hand and held her, with one hand, his fingers about her chin and throat. She shuddered. “I would say,” he grinned, “that she is now more truly aware of her condition, that you have much improved her.” He did not remove his hand from her throat and chin. “Were you much improved last night, Beverly?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Policrates,” he said, “told me that if you were troublesome you were to be fed to sleen.”
She shuddered.
“But I see that you were not troublesome,” he said.
“No, Master,” she said.
He removed his hand from her throat and chin, and continued to regard her. She knelt, soft and helpless, trembling, held in the leather cuffs at the slave ring.
“I see that you are much different this morning, from last night,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
He then, with his hand, touched her left calf, running his fingers lightly over it. She whimpered, and drew back. “Interesting,” he said.
Her response had been that of a helpless, superb slave.
“What was done to you last night?” he asked.
“I was mastered,” she said.
“It is obvious,” he said, and rose to his feet. He turned to face me, and grinned. He jerked his thumb back toward the kneeling slave. “Policrates will be pleased,” he said.
I shrugged.
When a girl has been mastered, of course, she is more fit for any man.
Miss Henderson, in the blindfold, on her knees at the ring, turned to face us, as she could.
We looked back upon her. It was a superb slave who knelt there. Miss Henderson, in the night, I saw, now clearly, remembering her from the evening before, had been brought to a new dimension in her slavery.
The pirate laughed.
The girl shrank back against the stone of the couch. The snaps on the cuffs rubbed against the slave ring.
The pirate then walked slowly towards her. She cowered back, fearing to be struck.
He stopped, standing before her.
She lifted her head to him but was, of course, unable to see him, prevented with perfection from doing so by the efficiency of the Gorean blindfold. She squirmed in the cuffs, unable to see, in a slave’s fear.
The pirate stood looking at her, his hands on his hips.
Every inch of her was beautiful, and enslaved. She would now be a dream of pleasure for any man.
“Who owns you?” he asked.
“Policrates,” she said.
“And more generally,” he said, “who owns you?”
“Men,” she said.
The pirate then turned about and rejoined me, by the door. He then went through the door, and I was to follow him. I did turn about, once, to look again upon the girl. “Master!” she cried out to me, piteously, in the darkness of the blindfold, stretching her small cuffed hands, as she could, entreatingly, toward me. “Master! Master!”
Then I went through the door and closed it behind me. “Master!” I heard her cry. “Master!”
Then I had left her behind me, merely a girl fastened at the foot of a couch, only a slave who had served one of her master’s guests.
Chapter 25 - IN THE TAVERN OF TASDRON MEN MEET IN SECRET
“Withdraw, Slave,” said Tasdron, proprietor of the tavern of Tasdron, in Victoria, off the avenue of Lycurgus.
“Yes, Master,” said Peggy, bowing her head, deferentially, and backing gracefully from the table, as a slave. She was barefoot, and wore a brief snatch of diaphanous, yellow pleasure silk. Her long blond hair was tied back with a yellow ribbon. The close-fitting steel collar was lovely on her throat. The rustle of the slave bells locked on her left ankle was subtle and sensual. She withdrew to the far side of the room and knelt there, back on her heels, knees wide, as befitted the sort of slave she was, a mere pleasure slave.
Callimachus, sitting across from me, regarded her. She put her head down, unable to meet the eyes of such a man. I saw that she trembled under his gaze. I smiled to myself. I had seen how she had looked upon him, in her serving, and when she had knelt near the table. Her eyes had been soft and moist, and tender, and vulnerable and helpless. I had sensed how she had restrained herself from lowering herself softly to her belly on the floor before him and extending her hand to him, begging his touch, and that he would make her his. But she did not wish to be slain for such insolence, she only a lowly Earth-girl slave. I had seen the look in her eyes. In her eyes had been the light of a helpless slave girl’s love.
I recalled that once she had told me that there was only one man on all Gor to whom she would rather belong than myself, and that he did not even know, or scarcely knew, of her existence. I had not pressed her to reveal his name. But now I had no doubt I had penetrated her secret. In her heart the imbonded Earth girl was the secret love slave of Callimachus, a warrior once of Port Cos. But she dared not make her feelings known to him. She did not wish to be slain. Accordingly she could be to him little more than any other slave, only another girl, self-effacing, deferential; scarcely noticed, who served him in the establishment of her master, Tasdron of Victoria.
In spite of her beauty and his frequent use of the tavern of Tasdron he had never ordered her, whip in hand, to strip and hurry to an alcove for his pleasure. In the misery of his dereliction and afflicted by the devitalizing consequences attendant upon it he had preferred the indulgences of self-pity and the delusory solaces of paga to the exultant and proud imposition of his will, as a dominant male, on the hearts and bodies of writhing female slaves. Then when he had recalled himself to the codes of his caste he had resolved to forgo the victories and the rights, and the joys and triumphs, of the mastership until certain serious, projected works had been accomplished. It was in connection with such works that we had met this night in the tavern of Tasdron.
“You understand,” said Tasdron, “that it is dangerous for me even to be a party to these matters.”
Callimachus looked away from the girl, kneeling, head down, by the far wall. She was only a slave.
“If men such as Kliomenes or Policrates should understand that we are met on such subjects, my tavern, at the least, would be speedily reduced to ashes.”
“That is understood, Tasdron,” said Callimachus. “We are sensitive to the danger that there is in this for you.”
“But there is surely,” said Tasdron, “much greater danger for you.”
“We will accept the risks,” said Callimachus.
“I, too, then,” said Tasdr
on, “will do no less.”
“Good,” said Callimachus.
We spoke softly. We sat about a small table in a back room in Tasdron’s tavern. Callimachus had kept the repudiation of his dereliction a secret from those in Victoria. When he went about in public it seemed his shoulders were bent, his eyes bleared, his step uncertain, his hand unsure. It was only at times like now, when with trusted men, that he sat, and carried himself, and spoke as a warrior. Victoria knew him still as only a fallen man, one defeated, one lax in his caste codes, one inert and whining in traps of his own weaving. They knew him still, as we had decided fit for our plans, as only a sot and a drunkard. They needed not know that he who had fallen had now risen; that once more the codes were kept with pride; that the cords with which he had once, with such pain and skill, bound himself, he had now sundered and torn from him, like an enraged larl emerging fiercely from a net now too frail to hold him longer. He had recalled that he was Callimachus, of the Warriors, one entrusted with steel, one entitled to wear the scarlet of the proud caste. I did not think it likely that he would forget these things again.
“I have spoken to Glyco, Merchant of Port Cos,” said Callimachus. “He will fetch Callisthenes, who is captain of the forces of Port Cos in Victoria, he in search of the topaz. He will come to this place at the twentieth Ahn.”
“He must come in disguise,” said Tasdron. “Spies are everywhere.”
“That will be made clear to him by Glyco,” said Callimachus.
I observed Peggy, the long-haired, long-legged, blond Earth-girl slave, kneeling, head down, by the far wall. Her shoulders shook with a sob. She was so near to him whom she so vulnerably and desperately loved and yet, as a slave, must remain helplessly silent.
“Have you made inquiries among those of Victoria?” asked Callimachus of Tasdron. “Is there support for our work in the town?”
“I have with circumspection made these inquiries,” said Tasdron, dourly, “but I fear there is little support in this place for such dangerous labors.”
“We can expect no aid, then, from Victoria?” said Callimachus.
“None,” said Tasdron.
I continued to watch the girl, her head down, at the far wall. She, a female and a slave, had been banished to that place, that she might not be privy to the discourse of men and masters. Yet she was close enough to be promptly summoned, to serve instantly if aught might be required of her.
Her shoulders shook with sobs. I looked away from her. She was only a slave, and slaves are nothing.
“We must arrange that Aemilianus, Captain of the forces of Ar’s Station in Victoria, also attend this meeting tonight,” said Callimachus.
“Surely it has not escaped your attention,” smiled Tasdron, “that Cos and Ar are currently at war.”
“No,” said Callimachus. “Yet I think the common interest on the river of Ar’s Station and Port Cos, and, indeed, of Cos and Ar themselves, should persuade them to regard our plan with care.”
“Those of Port Cos and Ar’s Station would sooner beat one another’s throats than share wine in Victoria,” said Tasdron.
“The problems of Port Cos are not identical to those of Cos,” said Callimachus, “nor are those of Ar’s Station identical with those of Ar.”
“Ar’s Station is, in effect, an outpost of Ar,” said Tasdron. “It is unlike Port Cos, which is a colony, and whose ties with Cos are largely historical and cultural.”
“Yet guardsmen of these two places have been for weeks in Victoria and have made no effort to seek one another out.”
“Indeed,” said Tasdron, thoughtfully, “they have studiously avoided one another.”
“The location of their diverse headquarters are surely known, one to the other,” said Callimachus.
“That is true,” said Tasdron.
“And yet neither has stormed the headquarters of the other.”
“True,” said Tasdron.
“Does it not then seem that they have other things on their mind more important than the indisputable differences which separate them?”
“Perhaps,” said Tasdron.
“I suggest,” said Callimachus, “that the security of the river is of greater concern to them both than the distant wars of their allies.”
“This may be true,” said Tasdron, “but surely it is nothing they could admit openly.”
“What could admit it more openly than their common presence in Victoria, without strife?” asked Callimachus.
“Aemilianus will never confer with us should he learn that Callisthenes is to be party to our proceedings, nor will Callisthenes permit himself to attend a meeting at which he knows that one of Ar’s Station is to be present.”
“Each need not know in advance of the projected attendance of the other,” said Callimachus.
“And what will you do when they learn of this matter?” asked Tasdron.
“Attempt to prevent bloodshed,” said Callimachus.
“I trust that you will be successful,” said Tasdron, glumly. “If either Aemilianus or Callisthenes should be felled in my tavern, I think the incident would be unlikely to escape the attention of their allied guardsmen.”
“To be sure,” smiled Callimachus, “their vengeance would doubtless be merciless and prompt.”
Tasdron shuddered. Gorean men, in certain matters, tend not to be patient.
“Glyco, to whom I have spoken, being a merchant of Port Cos, can meet openly with Callisthenes without arousing suspicion. There will be no difficulty, thus, in bringing Callisthenes to our meeting. The matter, however, will be otherwise with Aemilianus. It is unlikely that he can be subtly contacted. Here there is danger. He, like Callisthenes, is doubtless under surveillance by spies of pirates.”
“I am hungry,” I said.
“Peggy,” said Tasdron, raising his voice.
Swiftly the girl leaped to her feet and, with a sound of slave bells, hurried to the table, beside which she knelt. “Yes, Master,” she said.
“Bring me bread and meat,” I said to her.
“Me, too,” said Callimachus, seeming to look through her, without really seeing her. She was only a girl who was owned, and must obey.
“Yes, Master,” she said. Her lip trembled.
“Me, too,” said Tasdron, “and, too, bring forth some cheese and dates.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Do Masters desire drink?”
Tasdron looked at Callimachus.
“Water,” said Callimachus.
“Black wine,” I said. I thought it best to keep my head clear until the conclusion of our evening’s business.
“Black wine,” said Tasdron.
“Yes, Master,” said the girl, and hurried away.
“It is just as well not to have paga this night,” said Tasdron.
“I think so,” smiled Callimachus.
“Do you fear it?” asked Tasdron.
“Of course,” said Callimachus. “I am not a fool.”
“I would have thought you feared nothing,” said Tasdron.
“Only a fool fears nothing,” said Callimachus.
“What do you know of Callisthenes?” I asked Callimachus.
“He is a captain, a guardsman of Port Cos,” said Callimachus. “He is skilled with the sword. He is shrewd, I regard him as a good officer.”
“It was he, was it not,” I asked, “who acceded to your command in Port Cos, following your being relieved of your duties?”
“It was,” smiled Callimachus, “but I assure you I shall not hold that against him, nor will it interfere with my capacity to work closely with him.”
“If he chooses to work with you,” I said.
“Of course,” shrugged Callimachus.
“Do you think he will remember you?” I asked.
“I would think so,” said Callimachus, ruefully.
“It was evidence brought against Callisthenes in Port Cos five years ago by Callimachus,” said Tasdron, “which cost him an early promotion, a matter of minor pec
ulation.”
“Such things are not unknown,” said Callimachus, “but I chose not to accept them in my command.”
“I understand,” I said. I had a respect for caste honor. Honor was honor, in small things as well as great. Indeed, how can one practice honor in great things, if not in small things?
“And later,” said Tasdron, “it was the testimonies of Callisthenes which resulted in Callimachus’ loss of command.”
“He did his duty, as I had done mine, earlier,” said Callimachus. “I cannot, as a soldier, hold that against him. My only regret is that I had not resigned my command in that way I might have precluded the disgrace of the hearing, the admonishment of my fellow officers, the embarrassment of being publicly relieved of my duties.”
“Be these as they may,” said Tasdron, “they surely do no bode well for the future of our plans.”
“It cannot be helped,” said Callimachus. “If you wish I shall withdraw from participation in these matters.”
“Nonsense,” said Tasdron. “You are well remembered, and with affection, in Port Cos. I know this from Glyco. Why else do you think he sought you in Victoria?”
“I pledge you that I will work well with Callisthenes,” said Callimachus.
“What do you know of Aemilianus of Ar’s Station?” I asked Callimachus and Tasdron.
“Victoria is closer to Port Cos than Ar’s Station,” said Tasdron. “Indeed, Ar is substantially a land power. We know little of men such as Aemilianus. I have heard that he is a good officer.”
“I know nothing of him,” said Callimachus, his voice slightly hardening, “save that he is from Ar.”
“Your Cosian sympathies are showing,” I cautioned him. “Nothing will be much advanced if you and this fellow find it necessary to slice one another into pieces.”
“Particularly in my tavern,” grumbled Tasdron.
“The immediate problem remains,” said Callimachus “How can we contact this Aemilianus, and bring him to this meeting, without attracting the attention of the spies of Policrates?”
“We have no choice, I think,” said Tasdron, “but to contact him directly and take what risks are unavoidable.”