Renegades of Gor (66 page)

“They are near one another,” said the second.

I was pleased to hear these things. The girls were friends, which suggested they

might be from similar style and level institutions. Certainly girls from high

taverns and from low taverns seldom consort with one another. And two of the

places were owned by brothers and were near one another. These were connections,

at least of some sort.

“And what of the girls at the Larma?” I asked. “Are they expensive?”

“We, like those at the Dina and Veminium, are affordable,” she said. “Our uses

go much for the standard prices.”

“Were the girls at the Larma all once larmas?” I asked.

“I suppose some, Master,” laughed the third girl.

“Were you a larma?” I asked her.

“No, Master,” she laughed. “I have known that I was a slave since puberty, and I

never pretended to be otherwise, perhaps because I feared someone might see

through me and beat me.”

“Of what caste were you?’ I asked.

“Of the Peasants,” she said. “We had too many daughters, too few sons. Two of my

older brothers had already been sold into slavery before I was fifteen. One

autumn my father’s fields again failed. We were starving. I begged him to sell

me. He then beat me, and bound me, and sold me.”

“You are happy as a slave?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said. “It is what I am, and want to be. I hope only that

someday I may have a private master, a love master, to whom I may be his devoted

and obedient love slave.”

“You long,” I asked, “for a master who is strong, and love?”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

She was a pretty young thing. She had very dark hair and very light skin, and,

for a girl who had once been of the Peasants, was surprisingly slim. She

reminded me a little of Phoebe, from Telnus, whom I had left on the coffle with

the remainder of the debtor sluts I had redeemed, and obtained, at the Crooked

Tarn, Temione, Amina, Rimice and Liomache.

“Master!” she said.

(pg.439) I had put down the sea bag and, crouching before her, lifted back the

beads about her body.

“Are you typical of the girls at the Larma?” I asked her.

“I think so, Master,” she said.

“You are, of course, soliciting for your master’s tavern,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“But are you, yourself, rentable?” I asked.

“Of course, Master,” she said.

“And what of you others?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” said the dina.

“Of course, Master, said the girl from the Veminium.

“Ho, Warrior,” I said, getting up, addressing the young fellow, Marcus, who had

only now descended the gangplank and was going to make his way up the pier,

toward the warehouses, the shops, the town.

He turned to regard us, and I beckoned that he should join us.

“Line up,” I said to the kneeling slaves. “Straighten your backs, get your knees

wider.”

Then they were indeed presented as an excellent display of slaves.

The young warrior looked upon them.

“What do you think of them?” I asked. I thought they would make a nice set.”

“They are appealing,” he said.

His interest encouraged me. He needed a woman, and the best of such are slaves.

“Who are you?” I asked the slaves.

“Roxanne, of the Dina, slave of Simonides, taverner of Port Cos,” said the

first.

“Korinne, of the Veninium, slave of Agathocles, taverner of Port Cos,” said the

second.

Yakube, of the Larma, slave of Panicrates, taverner of Port Cos,” said the

third.

“That is a Tahari name,” said Marcus, looking at her closely. Indeed, of the

three women it was she, the young slave from the Larma, to whom he seemed most

drawn, in whom he seemed most interested. She was, I gathered, as I presumed

they did not know one another, a type of woman whom he found extremely and

excitingly attractive, a sort (pg.440) toward whom he seemed powerfully, perhaps

almost irresistibly drawn. I was pleased to see his interest in her, as I hoped

that she, or she and another, or she and the others, might distract him from his

moody reflections. Slaves are excellent at relaxing a man, and giving him

happiness. But something in his tone of voice had been menacing, and chilling.

“Yes, Master,” said the girl, hesitantly. She was clearly aware of the implicit

menace in his tone. Slave girls are extremely sensitive to such things. I could

see that she was frightened.

“But you are not of the Tahari, are you?’ he asked.

“No, Master,” she said. Her coloring, of course, did not suggest that of a woman

native to the Tahari region. Many males of the Tahari, of course, are fond of

fair-skinned slaves, and such, shipped south and east, bring excellent prices in

their markets. Thereafter they learn to serve their dark masters well, within

the recesses of the cool, white buildings of the oases and cities, and out on

the desert, in the tents. In such places they learn the wearing of the garments

of the Tahari, and, if the master pleases, the stride-measuring ankle chains of

the area, worn even by many free women. It is expected, too, that they will

quickly become adept in the manifold labors of the Tahari woman, and, in

particular, in their cases, those of the Tahari slave woman. In the latter

respect, swiftly are the many meanings of the submission mat taught to them,

where their slavery in their master’s house or tent begins, but is not likely to

end. To it they may be from time to time returned.

“Why do you have a Tahari name?” he asked.

“It was given to me, Master,” she said.

This sort of thing is not all that unusual. For example, last fall, after

accepting her as a slave, I had named the former Lady Charlotte of Samnium

“Feiqa.” Which is a Tahari name. The name, which I had soon determined, had done

wonders for new understanding of herself, and for her sexuality. To be sure,

much depends on the woman. certain names on Gor tend to be used almost

exclusively as slave names, such as Dina, Lita, Lana, Tafa, Tela, Tula, and so

on. Perhaps because of the commonness and simplicity of such names, as well as

their exciting beauty, many girls respond quite well to them.

(pg.441) Many masters, in acquiring a slave, will change her name that she may

understand that she is now, in effect, beginning her life anew. Indeed, some

masters, even with the same girl, and not simply as a matter of discipline or

reward, may change her name, to startle her, to impress their will upon her,

and, perhaps, to freshen their relationship, she understanding, in effect, that

she must now begin anew.

“It is not to disguise another name?” he asked.

“No, Master,” she said.

He regarded her.

I did not understand his seeming anger, his seeming suspicion.

“I have worn many names, Master,” she said. “I am a slave. Men name me, as is

fitting for me, as they please.”

“Are you a bred slave?’ he asked.’

“Not in the legal sense of the term, Master,” she said.

“Speak clearly,” he said.

“Though I am a natural slave,” she said, “there was a time when I was not a

legal slave. I was once, in the eyes of the law, a free woman,”

“What was your name, when you were free?” he asked.

She squirmed beneath his gaze, which was like edged steel. I was sure she wished

that she might reach up and bring the strands of beads, which I had lifted and

thrown back, about her collar, that they might dangle behind her, obscuring the

less my vision of her loveliness, back again before her, as though such tiny,

colorful objects might protect her to some extent from that imperious scrutiny.

But she did not dare to lift her hands from her thighs where, in one of the

common positions of the pleasure slave, they now reposed. I had little doubt but

what their palms were sweating. She moved her knees a little further apart,

presumably in an effort to make clear her desire to be pleasing. How lovely her

throat looked in its closely fitting steel collar.

“Prokne,” she said.

His eyes blazed.

She trembled. She knew, of course, from his insignia, that he had come from Ar’s

Station.

His hands went to his belt, and she shrank back. I though that perhaps he was

considering it, to lash her.

“Are you from Cos?” he asked.

(pg.442) “No, Master!” she said. “The fields of my father were north of White

Water!”

White Water is called such because of rapids in its vicinity. It is a ton on the

northern back of the Vosk. It is a member of the Vosk League. It is the first

major town west of Lara, which is located at the confluence of the Vosk and

Olni. Lara is the westernmost city in the Salerian Confederation. White Water is

east of Ar’s Station. There are three major towns between Ar’s Station and White

Water. They are Forest Port, Iskander and Tancred’s Landing, which three towns,

like White Water, are members of the Vosk League.

Most of the major towns on the Vosk are on the northern bank. This is

undoubtedly because of a one-time policy of Ar to maintain a margin of

desolation to the north, one stretching to the river, across which is would be

difficult for an invader to bring an army. The major route south was then, as it

is now, the Viktel Aria, which by means of its camps and posts, Ar then

controlled. Thus, supposedly, Ar could move north with ease, but it would be

difficult for other forces to move south, unless challenging Ar for the Viktel

Aria. The margin of desolation however, has not been maintained for years. Its

military significance declined with the development of large-scale tarn

transport, capable of supplying troops in the field. Too, as Ar’s population

increased she began to move northward. Indeed, her interests in the Vosk Basin

are well known. In the past few years, particularly under the governance of

Marlenus of Ar, the policies of Ar have tended to be expansionistic.

Accordingly, it seems clear that in time the strategists of Ar came to view the

margin of desolation less as a rampart than a barrier.

“Such names,” he said, “are not so common east on the river.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You are a long way from White Water,” he said.

:Yes, Master,” she said.

I saw his hand tighten on the belt, near its buckle. This was not lost on the

slave, either.

“You came from the vicinity of White Water?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“With a name like ‘Prokne’?”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

(pg.443) “I wonder if you are lying,” he said.

“No, Master,” she said. “I am not lying! The slave, Yakube, does not lie to free

men! she would not dare to do so!”

“Perhaps you are indeed from far away,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

He looked at her.

“Men take me where they wish, they do with me as they please,” she said.

Slave girls, of course, as goods, as exchangeable properties, and so on, are

likely to see a great deal more of their world than the average free woman. Many

free persons on Gor seldom travel more than a few pasangs from their village or

the walls of their city. An important exception to this is the pilgrimage to the

Sardar, which every Gorean, male and female, is expected to undertake at least

once in his life. The journey, of course, from many points on Gor to the Sardar

is, at least in certain parts, dangerous. It is not unknown for a young woman

who sets out in the pilgrim’s white to arrive as a chained slave, who will be

sold at one of the fairs. Her glimpse of the Sardar is likely to be obtained

from the height of a sales platform.

“But perhaps you are from the west, and not the east,” he said.

“Master?” she said.

“Might you be from Cos?” he asked, his eyes narrow, his hands on the belt, near

the buckle.

“No, Master!” she said.

“It is well for you, that you are not,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

His voice had been low, but it had been terrible in its menace. He then removed

his hands from his belt. Yakube shuddered. I was afraid for a moment that she

might faint. The other girls, too, were frightened. There was no mistaking the

menace, the fury, of the young warrior.

“I shall look for lodging for the night,” he said to me. “I wish you well.”

“I wish you well,” I said. I no longer ventured to suggest that we sup together,

or pleasure ourselves with slaves.

We watched him depart.

“May we be dismissed, Master?” asked Roxanne.

(pg. 444) “all but Yakube,” I said.

Gratefully Roxanne and Korinne leapt up and hurried away.

Yakube looked up at me.

“I will not hurt you,” I said.

She trembled, kneeling on the pier.

“Do you know him?” I asked.

“No!” she said. “No!”

I continued to look after him.

“Why does he hate me so?” she asked.

“I do not think he hates you,” I said. “I think, rather, you trouble him. I

think, indeed, and am sure of it, that you are the sort of woman he finds

inordinately exciting, maddeningly attractive.

She shuddered.

:It is Cos he hates,” I said.

“I am pleased that I am not of Cos!” she said.

“You may go,” I said.

Quickly, gratefully, she drew her beads again about herself, before her, then

leapt up and hurried after her friends. I saw that they had waited at the end of