Mariners of Gor (58 page)

“Others might bring more?” she said.

“Of course,” I said. “What I think you should understand, is that a woman might be the most beautiful woman in the world to one fellow, and not to another. A woman who is incomparably beautiful to one fellow might not be taken as a free pot girl by another. Perhaps the first fellow senses in her something the others have missed. There are mysteries in these matters. And often a fellow wants not the most beautiful woman, anyway, but the most desirable, the one he wants most, which is not necessarily the same thing. Who knows why one fellow wants one woman in his collar and not another?”

“You will keep my secret,” she said.

“For the time being, certainly,” I said.

“Do others know I am here?” she said.

“Doubtless some of the high Pani,” I said, “or you would not be here, at all.”

“Of what value am I to them,” she said, “that I would be here?”

“I do not know,” I said.

“Are there others?” she asked.

“I know of one woman,” I said.

“What woman?” she said, frightened.

“You might be surprised,” I said. “Perhaps I shall introduce you later.”

“And others?” she said.

“Possibly,” I said. “I do not know.”

“I am afraid,” she said.

“Seremides is here,” I said.

“No!” she wept. “He had me bound at his feet, in the rag of a slave, to bargain with me in Ar!”

“He does not know you are here,” I said, “though he may suspect it.”

“Keep him from me!” she begged. “Do not let him know I am here!”

“He need only look into your kennel,” I said.

“‘Kennel’?” she said.

“Surely you know you occupy a slave kennel,” I said.

“I am helpless,” she moaned.

“At least,” I said, “the Pani have given you a rather ample tunic.”

“It is clearly the garment of a slave,” she said.

“Perhaps it will protect you from the Pani free women,” I said.

“They look upon me as though I were a beast,” she said.

“That is all you are,” I said.

She shook the bars.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“Very!” she said.

“Master?” I said.

“Very, Master,” she said.

I took a small cake from my pouch, and she eagerly reached for it, but I drew it back. I gathered she was indeed hungry.

“Hands on the bars,” I said, “face forward, open your mouth.”

She complied, and I fed her by hand. Slaves may be fed that way. Sometimes they are knelt and their hands bound behind them. Sometimes they must take food and water from pans on the floor, without the use of their hands. Such homely practices are useful in reminding them that they are slaves.

It pleased me that the former Talena, of Ar, the former Ubara of Ar, was now before me, a kenneled slave. It pleased me that she had kissed and licked my hand, first the palm, and then the back, reverently. That is a common conciliatory act on the part of a slave, to lick and kiss, reverently, the hand by which she might be cuffed, first the palm, and then the back. In this way she might express her fear that she might be, and her hope that she will not be, struck. Commonly, however, this serves as a simple, lovely act of deference, by means of which the slave acknowledges that she is her master’s beast, his owned, domestic animal. A similar act, perhaps more clearly symbolic, is involved when the slave, kneeling, licks and kisses the master’s whip, held to her lips. Sometimes she must bring it to him in her teeth, on all fours, and then, on all fours, or kneeling, lick and kiss it, as it is held to her lips. In this way she acknowledges that she is subject to him, that she is his slave, his property. It pleased me, too, of course, that the former Ubara had fed from my hand. The hand-feeding of a slave, she not permitted the use of her hands, is, too, an act rich in symbolism. In this way it is signified that the slave is wholly dependent on the master, even for her food, and that it will be granted to her, if it is, only when, and as, he pleases. Domestic beasts, of course, are often fed by hand.

“Master well knows how to teach a girl her collar,” she said.

“I know of someone whom you might be interested in meeting,” I said.

“Not Seremides!” she said.

“No,” I said, “a woman.”

“Does she know me?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And she is here?”

“Yes.”

“Who is she?”

“I will introduce you,” I said. “I think you will be surprised.”

“Who is she?” she said.

“An old friend,” I said.

“Who,” she said, “who?”

I then turned away, leaving the slave, Adraste, in the kennel.

* * * *

“Slave! Slave!” had said Alcinoë.

“Slave, slave!” had cried Adraste.

“Is this any way for old friends to greet one another?” I asked.

“How is it that you are here?” asked Alcinoë.

“I do not know,” said Adraste.

“What happened on the roof of the Central Cylinder?” asked Alcinoë.

“I do not know,” said Adraste, “but you failed to sell me for your freedom in Ar!”

“You looked well on your knees, at the feet of Seremides,” she said, “bound, helpless, waiting, in the rag of a slave!”

“You betrayed me!” said Adraste.

“You betrayed all of us, and Ar!” said Alcinoë.

“Do not pretend fidelity to the Home Stone,” said Adraste. “You were eager, and much with me, each hort of the way! We were arch traitresses, we two, so vain and proud, so ambitious, so ruthless, each abetting and urging on the other. You would line your purse with gold and your station with power! No opportunity for wealth, for influence, for self-aggrandizement was neglected! We glorified our offices and despoiled the city, ruined our enemies and enriched our favorites, our pets and hirelings!”

“But all did not continue to go well,” I said.

Both cried out with rage.

It amused me to see the two former high women of Ar, tunicked, barefoot, collared, kneeling, unable to stand, two slaves, crowded together in the small kennel.

How they, former conspirators, now helpless, hated one another!

It occurred to me that the occupants of that tiny enclosure were worth a fortune.

But I had never cared for gold washed in blood.

“You look well in a collar,” said Adraste. “You should have always worn one!”

“I see a metal circlet on your neck,” said Alcinoë, “slave!”

“How came you here?” asked Adraste.

“I escaped the city, but was captured, and collared,” said Alcinoë. “I was purchased, honestly and openly, in Brundisium, by Pani!”

“As a common slave,” sneered Adraste.

“And so, too, in similar straits,” said Alcinoë, “would you have been purchased, as a common slave, and surely for no more than for a handful of copper!”

Alcinoë, as I recalled, had sold for forty copper tarsks, not even half a silver tarsk. Presumably the Pani had bought her on speculation, that she would improve. In my view, their investment was excellent, and the former Lady Flavia, dieted and exercised, and having come to some sense of what it was to be in a collar, had more than substantiated their judgment. The former Lady Flavia, her freedom behind her, was now considerably improved. She had become an excellent piece of collar meat, perhaps worth even two silver tarsks. I had seen several fellows, on the ship, and later, in the courtyard, while the girls were being exercised, usually five at a time, on tethers, assessing her, as men will assess slaves of interest. I wondered if slaves were fully aware of their superiority as females to free women. The most female of all women is, of course, the slave.

“I would have sold for a thousand pieces of gold!” said Adraste.

That was not at all likely, unless she was being purchased with an eye to the bounty, later to be collected.

Alcinoë laughed unpleasantly, scornfully. “Writhing naked in your chains, to the prodding of a whip, on a cement shelf, I do not think you would bring more than four or five tarsk-bits.”

That estimate, in my view, was unrealistically low.

Alcinoë, incidentally, I had been given to understand, had been sold from such a shelf in Brundisium. Not every girl is publicly sold at auction. Indeed, some high slaves are exhibited privately to rich clients, in the purple booths. Even on the shelves, of course, as well as in the purple booths, a girl may be expected to perform to some extent, that some sense might be conveyed to the client of the possible value of the merchandise. It is only in the purple booths, of course, that a girl may be tried out by a prospective buyer, and woe to the girl, should she not prove satisfactory.

“I am the most beautiful woman on Gor!” said Adraste.

“I have seen tarsks better looking than you!” said Alcinoë.

“Do not strike one another,” I warned.

“Am I not more beautiful than she, Master?” inquired Alcinoë.

“You are both nice looking,” I said, circumspectly.

“Price us!” demanded Alcinoë.

“I would guess,” I said, “that you would go for two silver tarsks, perhaps two and a half, and she for three, perhaps four, in a good market.”

“See!” said Adraste.

“But there are many,” I said, “who would be likely to go for far more.”

“Surely not,” said Adraste.

“Which of us would you prefer?” asked Alcinoë.

“That is a different question,” I said.

“You prefer me!” she said.

“Oh?” I said.

“Yes,” she said, “the girls have watched you watching me, and they tell me things. You look upon me as a master upon a coveted slave. As a slaver on a maiden of choice, unaware in the baths, as a hungry sleen on the grazing tabuk. Doubtless in your mind you have put your bonds on me many times! How many times, in your mind, have I lain naked before you, helpless, bound hand and foot?”

I began to suspect that there were networks of communication amongst slaves of which I had been unaware. No wonder one strives to keep such beauties ignorant.

“Is it not true?” demanded Alcinoë.

“It is true,” I said, “that in a collar you are better looking than you were in your silks, in Ar.”

“Yes!” said Alcinoë.

“But is that not true of any woman?” I said.

“I thought you were my friend, my closest friend,” said Adraste.

“Ubars, and Ubaras, have no friends,” said Alcinoë.

“No!” said Adraste.

“Who would be your friend?” asked Alcinoë. “You are vain, and pretentious, deceitful, treacherous!”

“You used me!” said Adraste.

“Yes, and hated you!” said Alcinoë. “It was with overwhelming pleasure that I, on the command of Seremides, hunted you down in your chambers, where you cowered, alone, unguarded, forsaken, and cast you the rag of a slave, demanding that you strip yourself naked and put it on!”

“She-sleen!” cried Adraste.

“How well it looked on you!”

“She-tharlarion, she-urt!” cried Adraste.

“How right bondage is for you!” cried Alcinoë.

“And for you!” cried Adraste.

“It is enough,” I said to Alcinoë. “It is time to return you to your kennel.”

I opened the door of the kennel, and Alcinoë backed out. My hand on her shoulder prevented her from rising. I then closed the gate of the kennel, which, with its closing, locked.

Alcinoë made again to rise, but, again, I prevented her.

“Master?” she said.

“Surely you do not expect to rise,” I said.

“Master?”

“Return to your kennel,” I said, “in the modality of the she-sleen, on all fours.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“And lift your garment,” I said. “It is not to be soiled.”

I watched her leave the shed, and begin to make her way across the courtyard.

“You well know, Master,” said Adraste, “how to teach a woman her collar.”

“Sometime,” I said, “someone may teach you yours.”

“No one can do that,” she said.

“Rask of Treve did so,” I said, “and the Panther Girls of the northern forests.”

“No, no!” she wept.

I reached through the bars and drew her by the hair, tightly against the bars. “Remember the penalty for lying,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she wept.

“You are no longer a free woman,” I said.

“No, Master,” she wept.

“Did they not?” I said.

Tears streamed down her face, some running on the bars. “Yes, Master,” she said, “they taught me my collar.”

“And well?”

“Yes, Master, very well!”

“You learned it?” I said.

“I was given no choice,” she said. “I learned it well.”