by John Norman
“Do you recognize me?” I asked.
“It is dark, Master,” she said. “The light is tiny, and poor. There are shadows. Do I know you?”
“Not really,” I said. “But we have met. I met your party on the beach.”
“You are he?” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“I thought perhaps,” she said. “But I dared not speak.”
“You impressed me,” I said, “as a slut well collared.”
“Master!” she protested.
“Just now,” I said, “you displayed yourself well.”
She put down her head. “Yes,” she said, “I am a slut well collared.”
“Talena,” said I, “must somehow have escaped.”
“Perhaps,” she said, “but it seems impossible. The Central Cylinder was surrounded even before the bars sounded the rising.”
“I have heard no word,” I said, “of the capture, the torture, or impalement of the Ubara.”
“No,” agreed the slave.
I was sure the Central Cylinder would have been examined with care, each chamber, even to measurements of the thickness of walls, and such, being considered.
“She must have escaped,” I said.
“Perhaps the crowds found her, tore her to pieces, and fed the scraps to sleen,” she said.
“By tarnflight, from the Central Cylinder,” I suggested.
“Perhaps, Master,” she said.
To be sure, this was highly unlikely, for a careful watch would have been kept. As this would be a most obvious possibility, a most likely route for escape, it would have been guarded against with zealous care.
“If she escaped, Master,” said the slave, “I think it unlikely she will long remain at large.”
I nodded. Her conjecture seemed to me plausible.
“I heard the masters speaking,” she said, “in the camps. A price of ten thousand tarn disks, of double weight, has been placed on the Ubara’s head.”
I nodded, again. I had heard that, too, from Torgus, on the beach. Every bounty hunter on Gor, professional or amateur, would seek the Ubara. Too, it was unlikely that she would be long shielded from discovery, given the price on her head, and the hostility with which she was so generally regarded. Her vanity, her arrogance, the insolence with which she had abused power, her betrayal of her Home Stone, and such, militated against her concealment. Perhaps, as Torgus had suggested, she had already been captured, and her captors were negotiating for an even higher remuneration.
“You have been helpful,” I told the slave.
“You are not going to take me back to Ar?”
“No,” I said. “Such things are behind you.”
I turned to go.
“Master,” she called, softly.
I turned back.
“What are slave fires?” she asked.
“Put your knees apart,” I told her.
She gasped, but obeyed.
She seemed pathetic, in the darkness, kneeling on the small, striped straw mat, her skin so white, illuminated in the light of the taper.
The light reflected from the chain, dangling from her neck.
“Can you not sense what slave fires might be?” I asked.
“Yes,” she whispered, “I think so.”
“Fear them,” I said. “Resist them mightily. For once they burn in your belly, you can never again be truly free. You will always be a man’s slave.”
“I am not permitted to resist them,” she said, “for I am a slave.”
“That is true,” I granted her.
“Master,” she whispered.
“Yes?” I said.
“I can sense what they can be,” she said. “I do not want to resist them.”
“They will change you,” I said, “forever.”
“I want to be changed,” she whispered.
“Put your knees together, and go to first obeisance position,” I told her.
With a rustle of chain, she obeyed.
“You are a mat girl,” I told her. “You may now beg as one.”
“Master?” she said.
“You may kiss the free man’s feet, and beg to be found pleasing,” I said.
I then felt her lips at my feet.
“You may both kiss, and lick, lovingly, deferentially,” I said. “It is a great honor for a slave girl to do this, for he is a free man, and she is a mere slave.”
This was true, for some masters will not permit a slave to perform this simple act, even when she begs for the privilege. From the point of view of a free woman this act may seem humiliating, and perhaps it is, for a free woman, but, for the slave, it is a beautiful act of submission, even of love, in which she testifies to her joy in bondage, and expresses, humbly, and symbolically, her gratitude to her master, that he has consented to have her, one such as she, only a slave, in his collar.
Many free women cannot even begin to understand the love of a slave for her master, but it may be the deepest and most profound love possible between a human female and a human male. Indeed, in the view of many, it is exactly that, the deepest and most profound love possible between the human female and the human male, that of slave for master, and of master for slave.
What else can so fulfill the natures of both?
She knelt at my feet, her head down, her neck in the chain. There was a rustle of chain as she trembled, understanding where she was and what she was doing, and then she, again, bent to her task.
“What are you?” I inquired.
“A slave,” she whispered, “a mat girl.”
I considered her hair. It had not been well shortened. It was ragged, and uneven.
“It is enough,” I said. “Keep your head down.”
She was quite beautiful. That had been clear when she had knelt at the beach, the cold surf coming and going, washing up, now and again, about her thighs, feet, and calves. She was beautiful now, too, in the flickering light of the taper.
“You may beg,” I said.
“I beg to be found pleasing, Master,” she whispered.
Torgus and his fellows, in my opinion, had shown her, and her chain sisters, too little respect. They had regarded the chain as raw, poor stuff, as largely worthless slut merchandise, little better than free women. Could they not see the females as what they might become? Washed, combed, brushed, trained a bit, silked or tunicked, their slave fires ignited, taught to fear the whip, they might prove exemplary merchandise. I wondered again if Pertinax might like her. He had never owned a slave. How then could he know what it was to be a whole man?
“You may kneel up,” I told her.
“Master?” she said.
“You are beautiful, and you did well,” I said. “It is my hope that you will be permitted to live.”
“Surely you are not leaving,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“But you sought me out!” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Did you not want my body?” she asked.
I smiled. How much like a foolish free woman was she still, who so often so little understood men. The Gorean master possesses the whole slave, and the slave understands she is wholly possessed. He will have everything out of her, her feelings and thoughts, her imaginings, her hopes, her dreams, her fears, everything, and, if necessary, he will have this out of her by the whip. And soon the slave desires, too, desperately, to convey the wholeness of her to the master. She knows her beauty is to be placed at his feet, his to do with as he pleases, but she learns that he will have, too, if it pleases him, as it may or may not, spilled at his feet like her tresses, the treasures of her inner life. It is a miserable slave who is kept as a mere body.
Much, of course, depends on the master and the slave.
Bondages are plentiful, and various.
A slave may be kept in contempt, as nothing. She may grovel in fear at her master’s presence. She may crawl to him, not knowing if she is to be struck or not.
She may be a delight to him, and
be much as a companion, but at a mere word be naked before him, on her belly.
There are the slaves of great houses, those ornamenting pleasure gardens, those chained behind palanquins for display, those sold to brothels and taverns, those of the fields, and mines, and laundries and mills, those of the stables and barracks, and inns, those belonging to regiments, to shipping lines, to caravan masters, and so on. Many and various are the countries of bondage.
The master may have many slaves, but the slave may, by law, have but one master, even if it be the state, or some corporate entity.
Most slaves desire a private master, and they hope to be his only slave.
The most personal and intimate relationship possible between a man and a woman, is that she is his slave. What greater intimacy can there be between a man and a woman than that the woman is wholly his, that she is literally owned, that she is his possession, his slave?
“Your body is well worth wanting,” I said, “but if it were not animated, not living, not whole with feelings, emotions, and thoughts, it would not be worth wanting. It would be only meat, not slave.”
“All of me is wanted?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, “and do not forget, it is the whole of you which is in the collar.”
“In my heart and mind,” she said, “I want to yield!”
“Of course,” I said, “all of you is in the collar.”
“But you are leaving?” she said.
“Yes,” I said, turning away.
“Wait!” she begged.
I turned, again, lifting the taper, to face her. Tears had coursed her cheeks.
“Why did you come here?” she asked.
“To question you,” I said, “as a former high woman of Ar, of an important house, one who might know aught of the Ubara.”
“But, why, Master?” she asked. “What is the Ubara, and her fate, to you?”
“Curiosity,” I said, “is not becoming in a kajira.”
“Do not go!” she wept.
I paused.
She put the chain over her left shoulder, behind her.
Tears were in her eyes, her lips trembled. “I beg to be found pleasing,” she said.
“Do you have a name?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
I put the taper in the stand near the mat.
Chapter Fourteen
TAJIMA AND I HOLD CONVERSE
“You are quick,” said Tajima, lowering the wooden blade in the dojo.
“So, too, are you,” I said.
Several of the Pani sat about, cross-legged, at the interior wall of the open-walled, wooden-floored structure. It was, as might be recalled, at the far edge of the plaza of training.
Tajima and I bowed to one another, and then sat, side by side, cross-legged, toward the back wall.
Eight of the Pani then rose from their places and four of them, unarmed, faced the other four, similarly unarmed. They then bowed to one another, warily squared off and, shortly, engaged. Another of the Pani, an umpire or referee, or, better, I suppose, an adjudicator, began to observe and supervise the practice. He occasionally commented, even scolded. In this engagement no mortal blows were to be dealt, of course, and when a stroke which would have spelled death or disablement was held up short, the adjudicator pronounced his verdict, and one of the fellows would politely withdraw from the contest, in effect having been ruled dead or, one supposes, disabled. One-on-one combat can be stylized amongst the Pani, and may proceed rather formally, for all its sudden swiftness and violence, alternating with an almost unnatural stillness, reminiscent of a larl or panther, intent, immobile, subtly quivering, before its attack. Interestingly, although four were engaged on a side, when one was removed from the contest, his opponent did not then join with his fellows to overwhelm the survivors, but stood back. In effect, then, one had what seemed to amount to four one-on-one contests. In actual warfare, I trusted this civility would not be respected. Courtesy is one thing, but courtesy at the expense of victory seemed to me a dubious tactical election. Finally one fellow held the floor from one team, so to speak, and he was faced by three of the other group. He defeated two and was defeated by the third. The eight fellows then stood, exchanged bows, and resumed their places.
“May we speak?” I asked Tajima.
“Not now,” said Tajima, softly.
A large number of contests, of various sorts, took place in the dojo, most with weapons of wood. These were surrogates for several weapons, in particular the short sword, or companion sword, and the long sword. Some glaives without blades were used. An interesting variation on these surrogate weapons was supple poles, long, light, peeled, whiplike branches which might flash about, scarcely visible. These, I gathered, were less surrogate weapons than training devices, to quicken reflexes, and enhance skills. Occasionally steel was used, but, again, of course, the strokes were held up short. Sometimes one surrogate weapon was put against a different surrogate weapon. Sometimes an unarmed individual was to engage an individual armed, say, with a sheathed dagger. Understandably, a reasonable amount of care was taken in the dojo to reduce injury and, certainly, to prevent death, the holding of strokes, and such, but, nonetheless, bloodshed was not infrequent, and broken limbs, wrists, and arms, were not unknown. These injuries seemed to be accepted with equanimity, save where it was suspected that intent was involved. The Pani seemed to feel in such a case that something was out of balance, however slightly, and an adjustment was in order. A disharmony was in need of correction. In such case one slash reddening a wooden blade might be used to pay for another.
“Now?” I asked Tajima.
“No,” said Tajima.
The exercises and contests within the dojo were obviously intended to provide serious and detailed martial training, and I am sure they had great value in this regard. Why should they not? Indeed, had I not, long ago, in Ko-ro-ba, the Towers of the Morning, engaged in similar exercises, though commonly with actual weapons? But one can do only so much in such training, of course, whether with wood or steel. It is one thing to face a fellow with a wooden sword, say, who will hold his stroke, or try to do so, and quite another to face a fellow armed with finely edged steel who has every intention of killing you. In the latter case every corpuscle comes alive, and the whole business is commonly done within a flash or two of steel. There is no training, as it is said, which can compare with the dojo of blood.
Two days ago I had spoken to Lord Nishida, again in his pavilion, and he had been receptive to my recommendations, and I had, accordingly, sought out certain craftsmen in the camp, leather workers and metal workers, and certain suppliers, who might, over the next months, secure certain goods, formed to my specifications.
With respect to weaponry the Gorean warrior is commonly trained in the blade, shield, and spear. The blade is commonly the gladius, which is quick, light, and double-edged, suitable for both the thrust and the slash. It is an excellent infantry weapon. On tarnback, naturally, there is little call for it. Similarly, the saber, which might be used with some efficacy from, say, horseback is of little use from either kaiilaback or tarnback. The kaiila, a lofty, silken beast, stands too high at the shoulder to warrant a saber. The Tuchuks, for example, use the temwood lance, which is long, light, tough, and supple. It has no difficulty in engaging an opponent on foot. The Tuchuks also use the quiva, or saddle knife, which is balanced for throwing. I thought we might substitute for the quiva the Anangan dart, a weighted, metal dart, some eighteen inches in length, which is flung overhand and, because of its fins, requires less skill than the quiva. It would be, I supposed, primarily an auxiliary weapon, to which recourse might be had in special circumstances, those, for example, in which, on the ground, one might employ the quiva. Such circumstances, those in which the quiva might be used, would commonly be in the swirl of close combat, where even the bow might be impractical. The typical Gorean shield is heavy, large and round, of layered leather bound with metal stripping. It may shield a soldier but it cannot, even given
its size, protect a tarn. More practical on the whole, I thought, everything considered, would be the metal buckler, smaller and easily managed, with one hand, rather than an entire arm. It could turn a spear thrust, whereas a thrust or thrown spear would be likely to anchor itself in the common shield. Indeed, a common infantry tactic is to disable the opponent’s shield by penetrating it with one’s spear. This, in effect, renders the shield not only ineffective but a liability, as the attack then proceeds with the gladius. The buckler I had in mind was not only easily manageable but would have two additional features of interest. First, it might be easily slung at the saddle, freeing the tarnsman’s hands, for a purpose which will soon be obvious, the use of the bow, and, second, as in some arena bucklers, it would have a bladelike edge, thus allowing it to be used to cut at an opponent’s body, ideally the throat. I did not expect there would be much call for this latter feature unless the tarnsman was on foot, but sometimes tarnsmen do lock in combat, even on tarnback, as the birds, spinning about, buffeting one another, screaming and twisting about, do grapple in the sky. The buckler, too, though with less efficacy than the larger shield, would provide some defense against flighted quarrels, at least for the most vulnerable areas of the body, those most frequently targeted. Lastly, its lightness, compared to the usual infantry shield, would to some extent, if only one rather negligible, increase the speed and maneuverability of the tarn.
Given the size of the tarn, the beating of its wings, and such, there is no simple way to protect it from arrow fire, either aerial fire or fire from the ground. When I had first come to Gor war tarns had often been lightly armored and the beak and talons sheathed with steel. The armor, light as it was, encumbered and slowed the bird, considerably decreasing not only its speed but its maneuverability. It also, in its alien aspects, tended to make the bird harder to manage. Lastly the enhancement of the beak and talons proved of little merit for two reasons. First, in most tarnflight, the beak and talons do not come into play, and, second, when they do come into play they are formidable weapons in themselves, as in, say, tearing at the eyes and vitals of an enemy bird, far above the ground. Evolution, on whatever world might be that of the tarn’s origin, had armed it well. Whatever world that was, I suspected, it had been a high-gravity world, one with a deep gravity well, for the strength of the tarn was considerable, far beyond what one would normally expect of an avian creature of a more typical world, such as Earth or Gor. I have always referred to the tarn as a bird, and will continue to do so, for it is surely that, at least in a sense, given its ecological place, its feathering, its wings, and such, but, zoologically, one supposes, it is something rather different from what are normally taken as birds, either on Earth or Gor, or, perhaps better, one should say it is an unusual bird. Its massive size and wing spread may not be its only remarkable features. It does nest and reproduce itself oviparously. Indeed, I would soon learn numerous items of unusual value were stored in the warmth of certain of the sheds at the plaza of training.