by John Norman
I moved the coin box, on the chain, which I held. There were now several coins in it. When she had been sent from the tavern it had been empty.
“Aemilianus himself used me,” she said. “He tied my hands tightly behind my back and took me to his private compartments. There he subjected me to slave rape.”
“Did he pay his coin?” asked Tasdron.
“Yes, Master,” she said, reddening.
“Did you please your customers?” asked Tasdron.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Did you yield to them,” asked Tasdron, “to Aemilianus, and the others?”
“Please do not make me speak, Master,” she begged. She was in the presence of Callimachus, whom she loved.
“Speak, Slave,” snapped Tasdron.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered, head down, “I yielded to them.”
“And well?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “But I could not help myself, Master,” she wept. “I am a slave girl. I am only a slave girl!” She seemed to speak to Tasdron, but I knew well for whom her words were intended.
“I do not understand,” said Tasdron. “You are under an obligation to yield, and to yield perfectly, fully and totally. You are a slave.”
“Even were I not under such an obligation,” she whispered, “my Master, I still could not have helped myself. I would still have had to yield to them fully and totally, perfectly.”
“Of course,” said Tasdron. “You are a slave girl.”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered. “I am a slave girl.”
Then, head down, she trembled, and wept. How shamed she was that her slavery had been so clarified and manifested before Callimachus. I glanced to Callimachus. He did not seem concerned with the girl. What to him were the helpless confessions of a lovely, meaningless slave?
“Aemilianus is not here,” I said.
“When he unbound me and sent me from his compartments,” she said, “ordering me to return to my master, he did nothing but dismiss me. I do not know if he will come or not.”
“At least Aemilianus knows how to handle a woman,” said Tasdron.
“Yes, Master,” said the girl.
I put the chain, with the girl bell and coin box, on the low table. There was a sound of bells, and Tasdron had again locked slave bells on Peggy’s left ankle. He picked up the tiny bit of slave silk which we had, earlier, ordered her to remove, before disguising her as a Coin Girl and sending her into the streets to fetch Aemilianus to our meeting. He tossed her the bit of silk. “You may put on the silk,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
It amused me to see how gratefully she slipped the brief bit of scandalous, diaphanous yellow silk about her body, how pleased she was to do so, though it was naught but a laughable mockery of a garment, one fit obviously only for a female slave. Some free women think they would rather go naked than wear such a garment, but then they have not yet been made slaves. If they were slaves then they, too, I believe, would find it very precious.
“Bring us food and drink,” said Tasdron to Peggy.
“Yes, Master,” she said, and swiftly, with a rustle of bells, left the room.
“Where is Glyco?” asked Tasdron. “He had only to fetch Callisthenes, whom he knows. There should be no difficulty in that. They should have been here more than an Ahn ago.”
“I do not know,” I said.
“Perhaps they have met with foul play,” said Tasdron.
“I do not know,” I said.
“Spies are everywhere,” said Tasdron, miserably. “Perhaps our projects have already been uncovered.”
“The tavern has not yet been burned,” I pointed out.
“Oh, excellent,” said Tasdron, irritatedly.
I smiled.
“You understand the dangers implicit in these endeavors, do you not?” inquired Tasdron.
“I think so,” I said.
“There is someone now at the door, in the back,” said Callimachus.
Tasdron hurried through the rear door of the room, and down the corridor, to the alley door. He slid back a narrow panel, and then shut the panel, and opened the door. Two figures were admitted, and the door was closed and locked behind them. I recognized the figure of Glyco, portly and short-legged, breathing heavily, wrapped in a long brown cloak, which concealed the white and gold of the merchants, in advance.
The second man, tall and rangy, was he who had interrogated me in the headquarters of the men of Port Cos a few days earlier, when, on the asseverations of Miss Henderson, I had been taken into custody. I had been released after the testimonies afforded by Tasdron, who had made it clear to him that I, well known in Victoria, and having arrived from the east on the river, could not be the courier of Ragnar Voskjard.
He had also taken Miss Henderson into custody, as I recalled. He had turned her over to me, bound, when I had been released. I had not, however, slain her nor sold her into slavery. I had returned her to my house, unpunished and in honor. She was, after all, a woman of Earth. Later, of course, she had been captured by Kliomenes, the lieutenant to Policrates, the pirate, and taken to the stronghold of Policrates. There, in full Gorean legality, she had been again enslaved, as, months before, she had been in the House of Andronicus, in Vonda, when first she had been brought to Gor as a helpless Earth girl, to be branded and collared, and sold to Gorean brutes for their pleasure. Indeed, in my visit to the stronghold of Policrates, she had served me, and well, as a slave, though not knowing it was I whom she served. It was in that visit that I had learned that the little Earth beauty belonged in a collar.
The tall man, behind Glyco, entered the room. He wore a brown cloak over his uniform. In his left hand, held against his body, there was a helmet, crested with sleen hair.
I now knew him to be Callisthenes.
His left shoulder was hunched. His right hand, strong, long-fingered, wide, seemed fit for the hilt of the Gorean blade.
“Greetings, Callisthenes,” said Callimachus, rising to greet him.
“Greetings, Captain,” said Callisthenes. “Glyco told me that you would be in attendance.”
“I am no longer a captain,” said Callimachus. “It is now you who are the captain.”
“There are various captains in Port Cos,” grinned Callisthenes.
“How are the men?” asked Callimachus.
“They remember you, as I do,” said Callisthenes, “with warmth.”
The two men clasped hands. This pleased me, for I had feared there might be friction between them. It had been on the evidences supplied by Callisthenes that Callimachus had been removed from his command. Callimachus, however, bore him no ill will on this account. Callisthenes, in the circumstances, to the thinking of Callimachus, had had no choice in the matter. He had done his duty, as he should have, unpleasant and painful though it might have been for him.
“We used to drink together,” said Callimachus to Tasdron.
“It was largely on the recommendation of Callimachus, after he was relieved from his command,” said Callisthenes, “that I was promoted to the captaincy.”
“A noble act,” said Tasdron to Callimachus.
“He was the best qualified man to replace me,” said Callimachus. “Otherwise, in spite of my affection for him, I would not have acted as I did.”
“I have tried to live up to your trust,” said Callisthenes.
“To the trust of a fallen man, a drunkard?” smiled Callimachus.
“We shall always think of you as our captain,” said Callisthenes.
“You are a fine officer,” said Callimachus, “and it is a splendid command.”
“You taught me much,” said Callisthenes, “and you trained it well.”
Again the two men clasped hands, warmly.
I stood to one side, not speaking.
“Do I not know you?” asked Callisthenes, turning to me. I saw some recollection in his eyes.
“I was one of several suspects brought in for inter
rogation in the matter of the search for the topaz,” I said.
“Yes!” said Callisthenes. “And here is Tasdron, is it not, who testified on your behalf?”
“It is,” said Tasdron.
“What is your name?” asked Callisthenes.
“Jason,” I reminded him.
“Yes,” said Callisthenes. “Jason, from the docks.”
“Yes,” I said.
“I would have been here earlier,” said Glyco to Tasdron, “but I could not readily find Callisthenes.”
“I was about my duties,” said Callisthenes.
“Your shoulder,” said Tasdron.
“It seems injured.”
“I fell,” said Callisthenes.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” inquired Tasdron.
“It is nothing,” said Callisthenes. He then looked about, from one of us to the other.
“What is afoot here?” he asked Callimachus. “Is it true that you have some news of the topaz?”
“We shall explain all shortly, I trust,” said Callimachus.
“What is the delay?” asked Callisthenes.
“We are waiting for one more person,” said Callimachus.
“Who?” asked Callisthenes.
“One whom it is important that you meet,” said Callimachus.
“Very well,” said Callisthenes.
There was a tiny knock on the door leading to the central room of the tavern.
“Enter,” said Tasdron.
Peggy, a tray balanced in one hand, opened the door. “Masters,” she said, lowering her head.
“Serve,” said Tasdron to her.
“Yes, Master,” said Peggy.
“Sit,” invited Tasdron, and we took places about the low table, sitting about it, cross-legged. Callisthenes put his helmet beside the table, and threw back his cloak. His tunic bore the insignia of Port Cos. Peggy knelt before the table and began to place the cups, the vessels and plates on the table. One plate was of meat, another of breads, another of sliced fruits, the fourth of nuts and cheeses. Each of us, with our fingers, would eat as we wished from the common plates. She had brought, too, paga, Cosian wine and water.
“She is a pretty slave,” said Callisthenes.
We looked at her. She wore the bit of yellow silk. There were slave bells on her left ankle. The collar was lovely on her throat. Her long, blond hair was loose about her shoulders.
“She is an Earth girl,” said Tasdron.
“Interesting,” said Callisthenes.
Peggy set forth the food and drink deferentially, and in silence.
“We will need another cup, for our friend,” said Tasdron, “and yet another, for our other guest, who has not yet arrived.”
“Yes, Master,” said Peggy.
“I trust,” said Tasdron, looking at his slave, “that he will arrive.”
“I trust so, my Master,” she whispered, trembling. She then rose to her feet and, taking the tray, with a rustle of bells, frightened, almost fled from the room.
I smiled. It would certainly be in her best interest for Aemilianus, Captain in Ar’s Station, to have accepted her invitation to our meeting. If he did not do so, she would doubtless be whipped, and well.
“Who is this mysterious guest, whom we are expecting?” asked Callisthenes.
“One whom it is important that you meet,” said Callimachus.
“Very well,” smiled Callisthenes.
There was then a knock on the alley door, a firm knock. It was struck three times.
We glanced at one another. Glyco pulled his cloak about him, concealing the white and gold of his robes. Callisthenes, too, seeing this action, drew his cloak about himself, concealing the insignia of Port Cos. Tasdron rose to his feet and went through the door, and down the corridor to the alley door. The rest of us, too, rose to our feet.
In a moment Tasdron had reappeared in the room.
“Enter,” said Tasdron.
A tall man, carrying an unmarked helmet, entered. He threw back the hood of a long, brown traveling cloak he wore. I detected the sound of a sheathed blade beneath the cloak. He closed the door behind him, and regarded us. His hair was brown, and cut short at the back of his neck. He was smoothly shaven. His jaw was square, his eyes clear.
“I am Tasdron, proprietor of this tavern, who has invited you here,” said Tasdron.
“I am Jason,” I said. “I commonly work on the docks in Victoria.”
“I am Glyco, of the Merchants,” said Glyco.
“I am Callimachus,” said Callimachus, adding, “of the Warriors.”
“I know of only one Callimachus, of the Warriors,” said the man, “one who was once a captain in Port Cos.”
“Who is he?” inquired Callisthenes of Tasdron. His voice had not been pleasant. We were all on our feet. I noted the right hand of Callisthenes had slipped within his cloak, to the hilt of the sword which hung there.
The right hand of the newcomer, too, was then on the hilt of his own weapon.
“We are all folk met in the throes of a common plight,” said Tasdron.
“Who is he?” asked the newcomer, of Tasdron, nodding toward Callisthenes.
There was a small sound at the door, and the newcomer, instantly, backed against the wall, watching us.
Peggy entered, with the extra cups.
Tasdron sighed audibly.
Peggy, the two cups on a small tray, turned about, seeing the newcomer.
Swiftly she knelt before him, putting her head down. I saw that she remembered well what he had done to her.
“The slave,” said the man.
“Yes,” said Tasdron.
“I see that I am in the right place,” said the man.
“Yes,” said Tasdron. Then he said to Peggy, “Serve.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. She rose to her feet and then went to the low table and, kneeling there, put the cups on the table.
“Was she good?” asked Tasdron.
“Yes,” said the man. “She was paga hot.”
Peggy put down her head, reddening. The properties of slaves are discussed openly by masters.
“For what have I been invited to this meeting?” asked the man.
“That we may be of mutual assistance in a project of great common interest,” said Tasdron.
“Who is he?” asked the man, gesturing with his head toward Callisthenes.
“Who is he?” asked Callisthenes, menacingly, of Tasdron.
I tensed. I saw the hand of Callimachus move subtly toward his sword.
“Who is he?” asked the newcomer, indicating Callisthenes.
“Let us be patient,” said Tasdron.
“I am Callisthenes, Captain of Port Cos,” said Callisthenes.
“I am Aemilianus, Captain in Ar’s Station,” said the newcomer.
Two cloaks, as one, were hurled back. Revealed then in the back room of the tavern were the insignias of Port Cos and of Ar’s Station. Two swords, as one, leapt from their sheaths. The girl screamed. I stepped back.
“Port Cos!” cried Callisthenes.
“Glorious Ar!” cried Aemilianus.
But no sooner had the blades crossed then both seemed suddenly, inexplicably, in a flash of sparks, to fly upward. Both men stepped back. Callimachus stood between them. It was his blade which had struck both steels upward.
“You are strong,” said Aemilianus to Callimachus.
Callimachus sheathed his steel.
“If you would strike someone, Aemilianus, Captain of Ar’s Station, strike me,” he said. Then he turned to Callisthenes. “Will you strike me, old friend?” he asked.
Callisthenes hesitated.
“Is this not a trap?” asked Aemilianus.
“Our greatest danger,” said Callimachus, “is that we should be as foes to one another.”
“Captains,” begged Glyco, “put up your steel.”
“She lured me here,” said Aemilianus, gesturing toward Peggy with the Gorean blade. She shrank back, half naked
in the bit of silk she wore. She knew that the slightest touch of that wicked Gorean blade could part her flesh.
“She was merely the instrument wherewith we extended our invitation,” said Tasdron.
“Of what city are you?” Aemilianus asked Glyco.
“Of Port Cos,” he said.
“And you?” asked Aemilianus of Callimachus.
“I am that Callimachus, of the Warriors, of whom I gather you once heard. Yes, I, too, am of Port Cos.”
Aemilianus backed up a step.
“Jason and I,” said Tasdron, “are of Victoria. Victoria is neutral ground between Ar’s Station and Port Cos. You are both, Callisthenes and you, here met on neutral ground.”
It interested me that Tasdron had, without even thinking about it, spoken of me as of Victoria. I, myself, had never given the matter much thought. I supposed that I was, though, in a sense, of Victoria. It was here, surely, that I was living and working. Yet to live and work in a place, and to be of a place, are, in Gorean thinking, quite different things. I wondered if I were of Victoria. I thought perhaps it was not impossible.
“I am prepared to sell my life dearly,” said Aemilianus.
“You are not in danger,” said Tasdron, “or, at least, in no greater danger than the rest of us.”
“You played your part well, Slave,” sneered Aemilianus to Peggy. “Will you receive a candy, lighter chains, a larger kennel?”
She shrank back, putting her hand before her mouth.
“Or will I survive,” he asked, “to teach you punishments thought suitable by a man of Ar for a female slave?”
Visibly, the girl trembled.
“We mean you no harm,” I said to Aemilianus. “Peggy,” I said, “go to the Captain and kneel before him, and bare your breasts to his sword.”
She looked wildly to Tasdron, her master, and, interestingly, to Callimachus. She looked to Tasdron, of course, because he was her legal master, her owner. In looking to Callimachus, on the other hand, she had revealed, inadvertently, not even understanding what she had done, that he was in her heart her master, and that she was, in her heart, his slave.
“Do so,” said Tasdron.
“Do so,” said Callimachus. She was, after all, only a slave.
Peggy rose to her feet and went, head down, to kneel before the startled Aemilianus. Then, at his feet, she lifted her head, and, with her small hands, kneeling straight, parted her yellow silk. She knelt then before him, a helpless slave, as she had been commanded, her breasts bared before his sword.