Kajira of Gor (15 page)

caste, today the yellow of the Builders. Drusus Rencius wore a nondescript tunic

and a swirling maroon cape. Ile only weaponry he carried, that I could detect,

was his sword. He might have been any mercenary or armed servant, in attendance

on a lady. I was pleased to travel incognito in the city, in this fashion.

Otherwise, had I gone abroad in the robes of the Tatrix, we would have been

encumbered by guards and crowds; we would have had to travel in a palanquin; we

would have been forced to tolerate the annunciatory drums and trumpets, and put

up with all the noisy, ostentatious, dreary panoply of office. To be sure I

sometimes found such accouterments stimulating and gratifying but I certainly

did not want them every time I wished to put my foot outside the palace gate.

I thought I heard a small noise, as of metal, from within the cloak of Drusus

Rencius.

He had glanced to our right, to the tarns on their perches.

They were saddled, and their reins were upon them. They were ready for

investigatory excursions or, if the randomly selected schedules were

appropriate, for routine patrols. The left foot of each tarn, by a spring clasp,

which could be opened by band, and a chain, was fastened to the perch. The

birds, thus, for most practical purposes, could be brought to flight almost

immediately. Their riders, or tarnsmen, were not in the immediate vicinity, but

were, as is common, quite close, in this case in a guard station at the foot of

the wall. In a matter of Ihn, given a command or the sounding of an alarm bar,

they could be in the saddle.

Drusus Rencius looked back from the tarns. I heard again the small sound of

metal from within the cloak.

He looked about, uneasily. This nervousness did not seem typical of him.

“Have you heard aught of the sleen of Argentum?” I asked. It Mad been several

days now since the return of Wes of Argenturn to his city.

“No,” said be.

“It is nice of you to bring me here,” I said. “It is a lovely view.”

He said nothing.

“I enjoyed the song drama last night,” I said.

“Good,” said he.

To be sure it had been difficult for me, at my present level in Gorean, to

understand all the singing. Too, the amplificatory masks, sometimes used in the

larger of the tiered theaters, somewhat distorted the sound. Some of the

characters had seemed unnaturally huge. These, I had been informed, wore special

costumes; these costumes had expanded shoulders and had exaggerated hemlines,

long enough to cover huge platform-like shoes. These characters, thus, were made

to appear larger than life. They represented, generally, important personages,

such as Ubars and Ubaras. There had not been a great deal of action in the drama

but movement on the stage was supplied in abundance by a chorus whose complex

activities and dances served to point up and emotionally respond to, and

interpret, exchanges among the principals.

The chorus, too, sometimes singing and sometimes speaking in unison, took roles

in the drama, such as first the citizens of one city and then of another, and

then of another, and so on.

It also was not above commenting on the activities and speeches of the

principals, chiding them, calling certain omissions to their minds, offering

them constructive criticism, commending them, encouraging them, and so on.

Indeed, it .was not unusual for the chorus and a principal to engage with one

another in discourse. What I saw was clearly drama but it was not a form of

drama with which I was familiar.

The chorus, according to Drusus Rencius, in its various sections and roles, was

the original cast of the drama. The emergence of principals from the chorus, of

particular actors playing isolated, specific roles, was a later development.

Some purists, according to Drusus Rencius, still criticize this innovation. It

is likely to remain, however, in his opinion, as it increases the potentialities

of the form, its flexibility and power.

Such dramas, incidentally, are normally performed not by professional companies

but by groups of citizens from the communities themselves, or nearby

communities. Sometimes they are supported by rich citizens; sometimes they are

supported by caste organizations; sometimes, even, they are sponsored by

merchants or businesses, as a matter of goodwill and promotion; sometimes, too,

they are subsidized by grants from a public treasury. Art in a Gorean city is

taken seriously; it is regarded as an enhancement of the civic life. It is so:

not regarded as the prerogative of an elite, nor is its fate left exclusively to

the mercies of private patrons. The story in the so g drama, in itself, apart

from its complex embellishments, was a simple one. It dealt with a psychological

crisis in the life of a Ubar. He is tempted, in the pursuit of his own schemes,

motivated by greed, to betray his people. In the end he is convinced by his own

reflections, and those of others, of the propriety of keeping the honor of his

own Home Stone.

“What did you think of the drama?” Drusus Rencius had asked me last night. “The

story of it,” I had told him, seeking to impress him with my intelligence,

“aside from the impressiveness of it, and the loveliness of its setting and

presentation, is surely an unrealistic, silly one.”

“Oh?” he had asked.

“Yes,” I had said, “no true ruler would act like that. Only a fool would be

motivated by considerations of honor.” “Perhaps,” had said Drusus Rencius,

dryly. I had looked at him, and then I had looked away, quickly. I had felt like

I might be nothing. He was -regarding me with total contempt.

“I did enjoy the drama,” I insisted to Drusus Rencius, standing on the riser,

looking over the parapet, “really.”

“Splendid,” he said.

“I still think my comments were true, of course,” I said lightly. Surely it

would not do to retreat on such a matter.

Besides, for most practical purposes, I did regard them as true. Who, in these

days, in a real world, could take anything like honor seriously?

“Perhaps,” granted Drusus Rencius.

“You are a hopeless romantic, Drusus,” I said to him, turning about, laughing.

“Perhaps,” be said. He turned away from me. Again I heard the small sound in the

cloak. He looked at the tarns.

I turned away from him, hurt. I did not want him to be disappointed with me.

“The view here,” I said, lightly, “is lovely. We should have come here before.”

Perhaps,” he said.

I had seen much of Corcyrus in the past few days. Drusus Rencius, for the most

part, had been an attentive and accommodating escort. I loved the markets and

bazaars, the ells, the colors, the crowds, the. quantities and varieties foods,

the tiny shops, the stalls, the places of business which e times were so small

as a tiny rug on the stones, on ich a peddler displayed his wares. Drusus

Rencius had — permitted me, with coins, helping me, to bargain. I had — very

excited to come back to the palace with my small imphs. I loved shopping, and

looking, even when I was buy-nothing. Trailing me about, while I satisfied my

curiosity as curious nooks and crannies, must have been tiresome for Drusus, but

he had not complained. I had begun to fall in c with the Gorean city. It was so

vital and alive. In particular I was excited by the female slaves I saw,

barefoot, in ir tunics and collars, not exciting much attention, simply ing

taken for granted, in the crowds. Such women were an accepted part of Gorean

life. Sometimes, too, I would see a ked slave in the crowd, one sent forth from

her house only I her collar. These women, too, did not attract that much

attention. Their sight was not that uncommon in Gorean cets. One such woman, in

particular, startled and excited

She wore not only her collar. She also wore an iron belt

is belt consisted of two major pieces; one was a rounded,

ed, curved barlike waistband, flattened at the ends; one

d of this band, that on the right, standing behind the

man and looking forward, had a heavy semicircular ring,

staple, welded onto it; the other flattened end of the waist-

nd, looking forward, had a slot in it which fitted over the

ple; the other major portion of this belt consisted of a-

rved band of flat, shaped iron; one end of this flat band

s curved about, and closed about, the barlike waistband in

front; this produces a hinge; the flat, U-shaped strap of

iron swings on this hinge; on the other end of this flat band

iron is a slot; it fits over the same staple as the slot in the

ttened end of the left side of the barlike waistband. The

It is then put on the woman in this fashion. The waistband

closed about her, the left side, its slot penetrated by the

iple, over the right side; the flat U-shaped band of iron,

ntoured to female intimacies, is then swung up on its hinge,

tween her thighs, where the slot on its end is penetrated by

staple, this keeping the parts of the belt in place. The whole apparatus is then

locked on her, the tongue of a thrust through the staple, the lock then snapped

shut.

almost fainted when I first saw this thing. She actually wore

it. It was on her! It was locked on herl The insolent mastery

it bespoke made me almost giddy, the very thought that a

woman might be subjected to such domination. She did not

even control her own intimacies. They were controlled by

him who owned her, and them.

“You seem interested in the iron belt,” had said Drusus Rencius. “No,” I had

said. “No!” “There are many varieties of such belts,” said Drusus. “You see a

rather plain one.

the placement of the padlock, at the small of her back.

regard that arrangement as more aesthetic; others prefer for

the lock to be in front, where it may dangle before her, constantly reminding

her of its presence. I personally prefer the

lock in the back. Its placement there, on the whole, makes a

woman feel more helpless. Too, of course, its placement

there makes it almost impossible for her to pick.” “I see,” I

had said. How irritated I had been then with Drusus. He had

discussed the thing as though it might have been a mere, inconsequential piece

of functional hardware. Could be, not see what it really was, what it meant,

what it must teach the girl, how it must make her feel?

“There are wagons,” I said, pointing over the parapet.

There were some five wagons approaching the city, in a line.

Each -was being drawn by two strings of harnessed male slaves, about twenty

slaves in each string.

“Those are Sa-Tarna wagons,” said Drusus, “bringing grain to the city.”

“What is that other wagon,” I asked, “the smaller one,- there near the side of

the road, which has pulled aside to let the grain wagons pass?” I had been

watching it approach. I thought I knew well what sort of wagon it was. It was

the sort of wagon whose contents are of so little value that it must yield the

road in either direction to any vehicle that to pass it. It was a squarish

wagon. It was drawn might care by a single tharlarion, a broad tharlarion, one

of Gor’s quadrupedal draft lizards. It was covered by a canopy, mounted on a

high, squarish frame, of blue-and-yellow silk.

“Lady Sheila is much too innocent, and her sensibilities are far too delicate,”

said he, “to inquire as to what sort of His wagon that is.”

“No,” I said, “what?” I would pretend to an innocent ignorance.

“It is a slaver s wagon,” he said, “a girl wagon.”

“Oh,” I said, as though surprised. After a time, I said, “I wonder if there are

any girls in it.”

“Probably,” said Drusus. “Its canopy is up, and it is approaching the city.”

“Are girls fastened in such wagons?” I asked.

“Usually,” be said.

“How?” I asked.

“The most usual arrangement,” be said, “involves a metal bar and girls who are

independently shackled. The bar runs parallel to the length of the wagon bed. It

is a liftable bar. It has a binge at the end of the wagon bed near the wagon

box. The bar is lifted, by means of the hinge, and the girls, by means of their

ankle chains, are threaded upon it. It is then lowered and locked into a socket

at the end of the wagon bed, near the gate.”

“They are then well held in place,” I said.

“Yes,” be said.

“Are they clothed in such a wagon?” I asked.

“Sometimes they are, sometimes they are not,” he said.

“I see,” I said. I wondered what it might feel like to wear shackles, to have my

ankles chained in proximity to one another, to have the chain looped about such

a bar, so that I might not, even if I wished, be able to pull my ankles more

than a few inches from it. I wondered what it might feel like, to know myself so

helplessly and perfectly confined. My breath began to come more quickly.

“Lady Sheila seems much interested in-the small details in the lives of female

slaves,” he said. Perhaps he had noticed the quickening of my breath, in the

inward movements of the veil.

“Do not become presumptuous,” I said.

“Forgive me,” He said.

“I was merely curious,” I said, irritably.

“Of course, Lady Sheila,” he said. He need not know that I often, for no reason