Renegades of Gor (32 page)

That night I gave her the name “Chloe’. A transformation had soon become visible

in her, over the next two or three days, in her entire body and personality. The

hardness, the selfishness, the nastiness, the smallness, the pettiness, the

meanness which had so characterized her began to melt away. In its place she was

becoming soft and feminine, delicate and attentive, eager to please and serve,

and loving. At first the warder was much amused by the imperious and

uncompromising treatment to which my fair cellmate found herself subjected,

taking great pleasure in her fate. Sometimes, in the first day or two, the

warder would even watch us, encouraging me and jeering at the helpless, lovely

spy. Soon, however, as it became clear that the Lady Claudia was becoming

happier, and more fulfilled and more beautiful her attitudes changed,

dramatically. The warder now begun to castigate her, and subject her to

incredible verbal abuse, of the sort to which free women often subject slave

girls. The Lady Claudia, on the other hand, though not even enslaved, did not

seem to mind. She was beginning to understand, dimly, it seemed, what the nature

of bondage might be for a female. The sterner I was with her the more she seemed

to enjoy it. The stricter I was with her the more she loved it. When I would

cuff her from me she would crawl back to my feet, kissing them. Treated as a

woman, and finding herself in male power, she would look up at me, with love,

awe and gratitude in her eyes. I scarcely dared conjecture what her responses

might have been, had she known herself truly, helplessly, imbonded. I had little

doubt that she would bring an excellent price on the slave block.

“Slut! Slut! Slut!” screamed the warder at her. Her hostility was clearly

directed at the Lady Claudia and not me. She could not stand it, it seemed, that

the Lady Claudia, almost before her eyes, had become beautiful. I regarded Lady

Claudia, the “Chloe” of my uses. She had indeed now become beautiful, wholly and

through and through beautiful. She was now very different from her former self.

She could not now even dream of betraying Ar’s Station, or men. Yet her former

(pg.216) self had done so, and her new self, whether in true justice or not,

could be held accountable for the action.

“Yes,” said Lady Claudia, softly, humbly, then adding, meaningfully, somewhat

maliciously perhaps, for she was still a free woman, “—Mistress.”

The warder cried out in fury and smote on the cell door with her small fists.

“For what purpose have you interrupted us?” I asked the warder.

“I am not speaking to you,” she said.

“But I am speaking to you, female,” I said.

The head moved angrily, behind the slot. I wished I could reach the veil and

pull it away from her, face-stripping her. I wondered if she would be pleasing.

“Do not think that you can escape punishment by pretending to be a slave!” said

the warder to Lady Claudia.

“Do not fear, my dear,” said Lady Claudia. “I know that I am a legally free

woman. I may be in my heart a slave, and I may be kept in this cell, and serve

her, as a slave, but I know that I am legally free.”

“Do you think the citadel will fall tomorrow,” I asked, “or the nest day? And do

you still wear artful rags, and go barefoot, and display your calves and

ankles?”

Her eyes widened. She realized then I must have spied on her through the slot. I

knew these secrets about her, whose import must be clear enough to any strong

man. Her small brows knit in fury.

“Do you think you will have an opportunity to surrender to a man?” I asked.

“Have you practiced how to tear your robes from your breasts, the words with

which you will beg to be spared?”

“Sleen!” said the warder.

“I see that you have,” I said, “noble free woman.”

“Sleen!” she cried.

“Perhaps you would look well, naked,” I said, “in a coffle.”

“Sleen! Sleen!” she cried.

Lady Claudia laughed merrily.

“Laugh now!” she said. “But I will tell you why I have come. You, Lady Claudia,

traitress and slut, have been sentenced (pg.217) by Aemilianus. Tomorrow, at

noon, you are to be displayed above the wall, as an act of defiance, impaled!”

Lady Claudia turned white.

“Ad for you,” said the warder, addressing me, “I do not know what is to become

of you. Aemilianus, for some reason, seems hesitant about you.” The observation

panel then slid shut, with a snap.

I caught Lady Claudia, that she not fall.

“I am sorry,” I said.

“Is impalement swift?” she asked.

“It need not be,” I said.

“I cannot move,” she said.

I then lifted her and took her back, and put her gently on the straw.

I was not surprised that Aemilianus was less certain what to do with me. My own

case, in his mine, must seem somewhat ambiguous. Why, for example, would I not

have been dealt with directly in Ar, if they were convinced that I was truly a

spy? Too, there was the matter of the documents in the diplomatic pouch. Were

they really spurious, and had they really been intended to bring about the

surrender of Ar’s Station why would they not have been more realistically

conceived, that they might have been more likely to achieve such a purpose? For

example, why would they not have been in some cipher, one which might, after a

reasonable effort, be broken? Too, why would such a purportedly authentic

document contain information which must surely, at least to the officers of Ar’s

Station, seem militarily implausible, if not preposterous, for example, that Ar

should have forces in the numbers named in the north, and unengaged! No,

Aemilianus, weary and confused as he might be, was no fool. Doubtless he had

begun to suspect that the report, though perhaps absurd or false, was authentic.

Too, days had passed and the hoped-for relief from Ar, the advance of which he

had speculated might have precipitated so desperate and foolish a ruse, had not

materialized.

“It is terribly painful, impalement, is it not?” she asked.

“It depends on how it is done,” I said.

“I am a traitress,” she said.

“Once,” I said. “No longer.”

“I am afraid,” she said.

(pg.218) I kissed her, gently. I wished I had something to cover us with.

“There is no hope,” she whispered.

“There is always hope,” I said.

“You are kind,” she said.

“Do you wish to be beaten?” I asked.

“No,” she smiled.

“There is hope,” I said.

“How?” she asked.

“It is quiet outside,” I said.

“Yes?” she said.

“You have not now, for some time, heard the crashing of buildings,” I said. “Cos

has the city now. There is nothing to keep them from undermining the

foundations, firing the buildings, clearing paths through debris.”

“I do not understand,” she said.

“They have finished their work,” I said.

“I do not understand,” she said.

“The engines are probably in place,” I said.

She looked at me, frightened.

“I would expect the attack to begin in the morning,” I said.

“I am afraid,” she said.

“I will defend you, as I can,” I said. “They will have to enter the cell to

fetch you out.”

“Do not risk your life for me,” she said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because I am really only a slave girl,” she said.

“It is for such that men most cheerfully risk their lives,” I said.

“Oh?” she smiled.

“Certainly,” I said. “You would not expect them to go to all that trouble for a

mere free female, would you?”

“Monster,” she said.

“And if you save her,” I pointed out, “you can often keep her.”

“I see,” she smiled.

“The slave girl, after all,” I said, “is good for something. She has her uses.

You can even sell her.”

She laughed.

(pg.219) “Enough free women, too, in their time,” she said, “have doubtless been

sold.”

“Yes,” I said. “They can be captured, bound and turned over to a slaver, and

such.”

“Had you captured me, somewhere, as a free woman, would you have sold me?” she

asked.

“I might have kept you that evening in my tent,” I said, “to see what you could

do.”

“I wish that we had met under different conditions,” she said, “in the fields,

or in my own bed.”

I did not speak.

“If you had first met me in a slave market, I on a slave shelf or bench, chained

there, a property, waiting to be purchased, would you have considered buying

me?”

“Certainly,” I said.

“Am I that attractive?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“That pleases me,” she whispered. Then she shuddered. “But woe,” she said, “I am

a free woman.”

“Yes,” I said.

“I am afraid,” she said.

I held her more closely to me.

“That is why they have been feeding me, isn’t it?” she asked. “For tomorrow?”

“I think so,” I said.

She sobbed, against me. I felt her tears on my chest. Then, suddenly, she looked

at me, concerned. “But what of you?” she asked.

“Do not concern yourself with me,” I said.

“No,” she said, “what of you?”

“Willful free woman,” I chided her.

“What of you?” she pressed.

“I do not know,” I said. “I am not sure.”

She put her head back, against my shoulder. The moonlight streamed in through

the high, barred aperture. It was quiet outside. I held her in my arms, for a

time, the naked spy, in the straw.

“Am I to be beaten tonight?” she asked.

“Is it necessary?” I asked.

“No!” she whispered.

“You are eager to serve, and be pleasing?” I asked.

(pg.220) “Yes!” she said.

“Then it does not seem that there would be much point in it,” I said.

“No!” she hastened to assure me. “But if you were not pleased, you would,

wouldn’t you?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, “or if I wished to do so.”

She shuddered against me, with pleasure. “I wish,” she said, her voice soft,

thrilled, vibrant with soft, frightened emotion, “that I had met a man such as

you, long ago.”

“Had you done so,” I said, “you presumably would not be here now.”

“I do not regret having known you, and having served you, and as you have made

me serve you, even under these circumstances.”

“You enjoy serving,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, “I do, and had I the choice I would choose to have no choice

but to serve, and serve as you have made me serve, totally.”

“It is time to go to sleep,” I said.

“Can you sleep at this time, on this night?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

She then lay down in the straw, next to me. I heard her sob.

“I do not know if they will feed you in the morning or not,” I said, “before

they come for you, near noon. They might. In the event they do, do not eat the

food. Give it all to me.”

“All of it?” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“You would take the food, that food?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“You could do that?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

She looked at me, puzzled.

“Surely you recognize that I would get more good out of it than you would,” I

said.

“Undoubtedly,” she said, shuddering.

“Certainly,” I said.

“I do not think I would be able to eat it, anyway,” she said.

(pg.221) “Good,” I said. “Then there is no problem.”

“No,” she said. “There is no problem.”

“Excellent,” I said. I then, in a moment or two, I cannot remember it, was

asleep.

14
   
Morning

“They are going to come for me before noon,” she whispered.

The cell was in darkness.

“I know,” I said. “I heard.”

A few Ehn ago I had awakened instantly, hearing the movement of the observation

panel. The warder had lifted a small, tharlarion-oil lamp to the aperture.

“Prisoner Claudia, forward,” she had whispered.

Lady Claudia had gone forward to kneel, before the door, dimly illuminated in

the tiny bit of light coming through the aperture.

I had pretended to be asleep.

I conjectured it was something like an Ahn before dawn.

“Glory to Ar!” whispered the warder.

“Glory to Ar,” moaned Lady Claudia. I do not think she had slept.

I then saw, in the light of the lamp, which had then been set on the floor

outside the lower panel, the water pan put beneath the door. This was emptied

into the small cistern by Lady Claudia, and the pan returned to the warder.

“Is he awake?” inquired the warder.

“I do not think so,” said Lady Claudia.

“Food pan forward,” said the warder.

In a moment Lady Claudia knelt behind the cell’s food pan, brought forward.

“Glory to Ar!” whispered the warder.

(pg.223) “Glory to Ar,” sobbed Lady Claudia.

I think that the whispered tones of the warder were motivated primarily by her

desire that Lady Claudia obtain her food and finish her feeding before I might

awaken. In this fashion I might not take the food from her, or force her to

share it. Perhaps she even expected her to be drawn out of the cell before I

awakened, that I might awaken and simply find her gone. That might be easiest

for them. Still I expected they would send two or three men to fetch her.

Lady Claudia was now again kneeling before the cell’s food pan, and the head of

the warder, again holding the tiny lamp up, reappeared in the observation