Vagabonds of Gor (45 page)

I watched her kneeling by the stone, working on the grunts. She might have been a rence girl, and not Ina, the lovely scion of one of Ar's oldest and finest families.

For five days, as I had promised, I had tied her during our sleep periods, when not using her, in the same fashion in which I had been kept by the men of Ar, in effect, staked out, foot and neck, supine and helpless. That had been done as a discipline, and might, of course, if I chose, be promptly reimposed as such.

Lately, however, I had given her a much more merciful tie, binding her ankles together with the center of a length of binding fiber, then bringing the two ends up and, still avoiding its ends, tying her hands together before her body, then pulling her hands back, close to her belly, and fastening them there, this accomplished by bringing the two ends of the fiber back about her and knotting them there, behind her back. In this fashion, as the knots were behind her back, fastened opposite her hands, she could not reach them with either her hands or teeth. On the other hand she could roll about and change her position much as she wished. It was not as good as a neck or ankle chain, or a kennel or top-barred slave pit for her, but I did not have such amenities.

It was now ten days since I had first put a gag on her for purposes of trekking. She seldom wore it, of course, in our camps. I was considering removing it, even for trekking. As I have suggested, she was coming along very nicely. To be sure, occasionally, as she was still a mere free woman, she required a firm word, or a subtle warning, such as my touching my belt. I was pleased that I had not had to lash her once. That I was fully capable of lashing her, and would do so, if there seemed point in it, or if I wished, seemed more than sufficient for her. It is this way with most female captives, as it is with most female slaves. To be sure, the female slave sometimes relishes a taste of the whip, if only to reassure herself that she is truly subject to discipline, that she is truly a slave.

Too, interestingly, sometimes a woman wants to feel a man's whip because she loves him. I am not sure why this is. Perhaps it is because this, in its way, in her mind, proves to her that she is truly his. To be sure, if she is his slave, she is truly his, legally and institutionally, and discipline, and such, have nothing to do with this. The most pampered slave is as much owned by her master as she who is kept under the strictest of disciplines. If she doubts this she may revise her opinions when she finds herself being sold.

I watched her work, She was now cutting pieces of raw fish, laying them on the hot, flat rock.

"May we make a fire, captor?" she asked.

"No," I said.

She did not ask, "Why?" She had learned after a cuffing five or six days ago that the captor's will, like that of the master, is not to be questioned or disputed. If we were to cook the fish, we would presumably do so in wrappings of wet rence, buried in the ashes of a small fire. It seemed to me that making a fire might be dangerous. There was some possibility that it might attract attention. I did not know who or what might be about in the marsh. To be sure, I did not think, objectively, that there was now a great deal of danger. It would presumably be otherwise when one reached the edges of the delta. The delta, on the whole, is sparsely populated. On the other hand, I did not think there was any point in taking unnecessary chances. Cuwignaka, Canka, Hci, and such fellows, presumably would not do so. Sometimes one must be as hard, as cunning, and as patient, as a red savage. I wondered how Ina might fare in the Barrens. The red savages, with their quirts, and posts and leather, know well how to handle white women.

I watched Ina gather up the scales, bones, and such, the refuse, and carry them to the marsh, where she discarded them. She then wiped her hands on her thighs like a rence girl and returned to kneel by the rock, where she began to separate the pieces of fish into bite-sized pieces.

"You are far from the dining pavilions of Ar," I said.

"As you are from the paga taverns of Port Kar," she said. I regarded her, assessing her. "Perhaps I am not as far from them as you think," I said.

She put her head down, shyly.

"Are you not angry at the comparison?" I asked.

"No," she said, not looking up.

One of the advantages of cooking the fish, of course, would have been the enjoyment of her, while the fish was cooking. One can always find some pleasant way, such a woman at hand, naked and in your power, to while away such moments.

She had now divided the fish into small pieces, separated on the rock.

She now knelt back.

She did not, of course, take any of the food. It was my food and not hers.

"It is ready?" I asked.

"Yes, captor," she said.

Last night I had feared she might require discipline. She had balked at being fitted with the buckled neck collar.

"Do you recall the marsh leech?" I had asked her.

"Yes," she had said, frightened.

"Do you wish to eat one, or more, of them?" I had asked.

"No!" she had said. "No!"

"Perhaps you will be good?" I said.

"Yes," she said.

"Perhaps you will be very good?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "I will be very good!"

She had then quickly inserted her head into the double loop of the collar and lifted her chin while I buckled it shut, closely, about her throat.

I began to eat.

She said nothing, but kept position.

I supposed that she, as I, must be terribly hungry.

I continued for a time to feed, in a solitary fashion. Then I picked up a piece of the fish and held it out to her. Swiftly then she leaned forward, parting her pretty lips and teeth. She kept her palms down on her thighs. I pulled back the bit of food and she looked up at me. "Does Ina beg food of her captor?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Ina begs food of her captor."

I then gave her the bit of food, putting it in her mouth.

She leaned back and ate the food. "Thank you," she said.

"You may feed," I informed her.

"May I use my hands?" she asked.

I considered the matter. "Yes," I said. After all, she was not a new slave being trained, learning her collar, and the totality of her subjection to a master. She was, after all, a free prisoner.

She fell upon the bits of fish eagerly.

"Where are your manners?" I asked. "You are a free woman. You are eating like a starved slave girl."

"Forgive me, my captor," she said.

When she had finished I pointed to the sand and she knelt there, putting her head down, her palms in the sand. "Thank you for feeding me, captor," she said.

"Go to my blankets," I said.

"Yes, captor," she said.

Chapter 23 - RENCERS

"Hist!" said I. "Be silent!"

I put my arm about her, holding her down in the sand.

We heard voices.

"Rencers," I whispered.

We did not see them, nor lift our heads. We heard them pass. I do not think they were looking for anyone, but plying their normal pursuits.

"I think they are gone," I said.

We would, in any event, await the coming of darkness before addressing ourselves again to the marsh.

I was pleased that we had concealed the camp as well as we had, and that the raft and pole had been similarly concealed. I think the rencers might actually have landed on the small island and not detected our presence there.

Chapter 24 - I WILL HUNT

"Look," I said. "There!"

"Yes," she said.

No longer was she in the gag. Too, her hands were now bound before her, tied at her belly. As she improved in her services, and discipline, I accorded her more privileges. To be sure, the strap was still on her neck, keeping her in place as she waded behind the raft. Also, I had not yet seen fit to accord her the luxury of clothing, such as I might manage, even so much as a cord and slave strip. As a free women she might, unlike a slave, take such things for granted.

"Did you see it before?" I asked.

"Is it the same one?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, "I am sure of it."

"I heard of it in the reports," she said.

"But you have never been inside one?" I said.

"No," she said.

"Are you afraid to enter?" I asked.

"Of course not," she said.

I poled the raft to the side and put it in some rence, on a bar of sand.

"You are untethering me?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. I unbuckled the collar, putting it, with the strap, on the raft.

"You are untying me?" she said.

"Yes," I said. I unknotted the binding fiber behind the small of her back, and then, with the two ends free, untied her hands.

I then started for the abandoned barge. I did look back, in the moonlight, to see if she were following. She stood at the edge of the rence, within which we had concealed the raft.

"Are you coming?" I asked.

She did not respond. She was pale there, in the moonlight, by the rence.

"Are you afraid?" I asked.

"No!" she said, wading toward me.

In a moment I had climbed up, over the stern of the barge. I put my hand down to her, and helped her up.

"Wait here," I said.

I then, carefully, sword drawn, entered. It was dusty, as before, and I did not think anyone had been in it since the investigation of the men of Ar, when I had been in their power. One could see dimly within it, the moonlight, in some places, filtering in through the dilapidated shutters, in other places, streaming in, unimpeded, where the shutters had been broken or removed. I looked about. The benches, and the irons, were still there. I then sheathed the sword and went out onto the deck, where the girl waited.

"What sort of barge is this?" she asked.

"Was it not made clear to you in the reports?" I asked.

"It is a slave barge," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"I do not wish to enter it," she said, suddenly.

"But you are curious," I said.

"I do not wish to enter it," she said.

"Come around to the front," I said, taking her by the arm, "to the forward door."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because that is the usual way girls are entered into it," I said.

I conducted her to the forward door.

"And they are commonly removed from it by the aft door."

She stopped at the threshold.

"Are you afraid?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Many girls have entered this door," I said.

She stood on the threshold. "I am afraid!" she said.