Plunder of Gor (15 page)

“Yes, yes, Master!” she cried.

A fellow in white and yellow, the dealer, then seemed to appear from nowhere, and stood beside the cage. “Shall I bring her forth, Master,” he inquired, “to be looked upon?” He carried in his hand, looped, a leash.

“No, no!” said the young man's companion, striking his fellow on the back, jovially. “Save your money! To the tavern! See the dancers! Pick out a paga girl, and bind her, and switch her to an alcove! Come away from here. Save your money for something good. This is a cheap market, with inferior slaves.”

The girl drew her hand back, within the cage.

The young man then turned to look at me, and I put my head down, swiftly.

“Inferior slaves!” said his companion. “Come away! Come away!”

When I looked up, they had gone.

Last night he who had been my master, Kurik, of Victoria, had much used me. Toward morning I had found myself, if I had not been before, a conquered, subdued slave, as I could not help being, and, I fear, wished to be. I found myself surrendered, and wanting to be owned. On Earth I would have denied, in my vanity and pride, that I could be mastered, but I had found on Gor that I could be mastered, and would be mastered, and wanted to be mastered, and was mastered. I now knew any man could master me. I now knew myself a slave.

Toward morning I had turned to him, rising on my elbow, and had addressed him. “I love you,” I had whispered, “—Master.” He had then risen, and, without speaking, had dressed, and left the room. “Master?” I had said.

An hour or so later he had returned, bringing with him another man, unknown to me. I was still naked, and chained, by the left ankle, to the foot of his couch. The other man turned me about, and tested the soundness of my flesh. I was not even asked to rise. I then lay on my stomach, over a portion of the straw mat. I heard coins change hands. “Master?” I said. “Master?” “Be silent,” he snapped. “Yes, Master,” I said. I felt my hands drawn behind me, and thonged together. My left ankle was then freed of its shackle. Then, as I lay prone, my hands bound behind me, my collar was removed, and another was snapped about my neck, and then a slave hood was drawn over my head, and buckled shut, behind the back of my neck. I then felt leather about my neck, and the snap of a leash.

“Get up,” I was told.

I then felt the draw of the leash against the leash collar-ring. I was apparently to be conducted from the room.

“No, Master!” I cried, wildly, miserably, unable to see, from within the hood. “Please, no, Master!”

“Be silent,” he said.

“Master!” I begged.

I then felt, against the back of my thighs, several times, sharp, and stinging, the lash of a switch.

“Forgive me, Master!” I wept. “Forgive me, Master!”

I was then, on the tether, led from the room.

I heard a cry of anguish, and, to my right, a cage was opened. Its occupant, on all fours, was ordered forth, and, bending down, the dealer fastened a leash about her neck, following which he led her, she on all fours, to a space on the wharf, amongst the cages.

Shortly thereafter she was ordered to stand in that space, within a yellow circle, with her feet widely spread, and her hands clasped behind the back of her neck. Four men then assessed her.

I saw coins change hands.

Shortly thereafter her hands were tied behind her, and the dealer's leash was replaced with a new leash, of collar and chain, and I saw her led away, her head bowed.

In a cage to my left, a girl whispered to another, to her left, “I recognize the livery,” she said. “She is being bought for the looms, in the mills of Mintar.”

“
Ela
,” said her confidant, in the next cage, “and she was the most beautiful of us all.”

I was unnerved by this, and muchly uneasy. It was the first time I had seen a woman sold. I was annoyed, too, and puzzled, that they spoke of her as the most beautiful of all, for, as far as I could see from my sturdy, small, snug, barred confinement, I was far more beautiful.

In the late afternoon, surprising me, there was a sudden cessation of activity on the wharf in our vicinity, and, as precipitately, a lull in conversation. Vendors were quiet, men ceased calling out to one another, stevedores put down their bundles, men ceased speaking, and all drew to the sides, clearing a path between the bales and crates, and the cages.

One figure, alone, high sandaled, clad in a black tunic, caped, a blade at his left hip, a black helmet cradled in his left arm, approached. The hitherto-crowded aisle, the linear center of the wharf, now seemed abandoned. Men on each side watched the stranger's approach. His gait was unhurried, measured. Something about him suggested an animal, in human form, a panther. As he approached, he looked from side to side, as though with a feline intentness. It seemed he might be searching for one face in that throng. He stopped before the dealer. “Tal,” he said, quietly. “Tal, Master,” said the dealer, his voice shaking. Indeed, his entire body trembled. Men on either side of the dealer drew away from him. “I am recently in Victoria,” said the man in black. “I would reach the tavern of Tasdron.” “A thousand paces farther, Master,” said the dealer, pointing to his right, with a shaking hand. “My thanks,” said the fellow in black. “I wish you well.” “I trust you do not seek me?” said the dealer. “No,” said the stranger, “only he whose name is on the paper, folded about gold, in my wallet.” “May I know his name?” asked the dealer. “Perhaps I might be of help.” “Who inherits your business?” asked the stranger. “My brother,” said the dealer, uncertainly. “Do you care for him to do so soon, perhaps this evening?” inquired the tall, lean, sable-clad stranger. “No!” said the dealer. “No, Master!” “So do not inquire,” said the stranger. “Is he expecting you?” asked the dealer. “No,” said the stranger. “I was merely curious,” said the dealer. “Do not be concerned,” said the stranger. “In the morning, his name will be known.” “Perhaps then,” said the dealer, “we shall meet again, in the morning.” “In the morning,” said the stranger, “I shall be gone.” He then turned away, and continued on his way, down the wharf. When he had passed, as though a sigh had escaped a single man, the activities on the wharf resumed, and, once again, the bustle and hum of conversation, of cries and calls, rang out, about us.

“Have you enemies?” asked one of the dealer's assistants.

“I trust not,” said the dealer. “I am an honest fellow, and I endeavor to treat all with understanding, sympathy, and fairness.”

His assistant laughed.

“No rich enemies, at least,” said the dealer.

“None who could pay the black fee?”

“I do not think so,” said the dealer.

“Sometimes,” said the assistant, “one has enemies, even rich enemies, of which one knows not.”

“That is always possible,” said the dealer.

Certainly the general appearance of the stranger was not something that would be likely to invite familiarity. Still I failed to understand the effect his presence had had on the wharf. I saw little that would have justified such regard. I noted, aside from his somber livery, only one oddity in his appearance. On the center of his forehead was a small sign; an emblem or device; it was black; I supposed it had been affixed, or imprinted, there, with ink or paint; I was not clear as to its purport; it seemed to be a schematic representation of a particular object, an unsheathed dagger.

I was furious that Kurik, he of Victoria, to whom I had belonged, who had so peremptorily, so routinely, so ruthlessly deprived me of my virginity, not that a slave's virginity is of more worth than that of a pig, and who had, despite my will, dared to caress me into eager, helpless, begging servitude, had sold me. Would not another man have given kingdoms for me? How could I have been sold? Could he not see how beautiful I was? He had dismissed me, even on Earth, as a pot girl, or a kettle-and-mat girl. Was he mad? Could he not see what a beauty I was, and I was in his collar! He had dared to suggest that I was not worth keeping! And then he had not kept me! On Earth I had been able to pick and choose. Offers of dates had abounded. Certainly I knew my power. Men sought my attention. I could elevate with a smile, or crush with a frown, as the moment might seize me. It was I who would, at as little as a whim, permit or terminate relationships. I ruled, smugly, and imperiously. Then I had found myself in the arms of a Gorean male, a mere slave, and then it was I, I feared, who had begged, pleaded, and hoped!

How weak is the slave, how helpless, how much at the mercy of the free!

There are many differences between a free woman and a slave. The free woman rules; the slave kneels, and hopes to please.

So I decided I would be a free woman, once again.

It would be necessary only to appeal to a free person, to win my freedom. This person, obviously, might be either a male or female.

To whom then might I most productively appeal?

Surely my instructresses in the house of my training had been mistaken. They had warned me against Gorean free women, and encouraged me to look to men for protection and comfort.

But I knew something of the lust of men.

They seemed unlikely redemptors. If a man sees a beautiful woman, naked and collared, will he rush to free her? Perhaps a suitably conditioned male of Earth, taught to betray his blood, might, sweating, trembling, and averting his gaze, consider doing so, but I did not think a Gorean male would be likely to do so. He has better things to do with a beautiful slave than free her. He would rather have her wait upon him, hand and foot, docile to his bidding, submissive to his least wish, would rather have her at his feet, would rather own her, would rather put her to use, in a thousand ways, that she may know herself owned, owned as only a woman can be owned, and he her master.

Considering the satisfactions, delights, and pleasures attendant on the mastery, men, in my view, were not the most auspicious candidates for the purpose I had in mind.

Were not free women our sisters? Might one not depend on a woman to understand the harrows of slavery, and sympathize with another woman, one of her own sex, one so unfortunate as to be collared?

My instructresses, then, were wrong.

Few free women wandered unescorted on the wharf, but they occasionally made their appearance. I thought it best to avoid a woman who was in the company of a male. I wanted to make my appeal to the woman, as woman to woman, uncomplicated by the possibly inhibiting presence of a male. It was on the wharf that I saw my first Gorean free women. How well they moved, so gracefully! There was no mistaking those movements, those of graceful forms, within those colorful, layered, beautifully draped robes, so flowing, so feminine, and it was easy to conjecture the exquisite features that, doubtless in many cases, might be concealed behind those colorful, silken, matched veils, or, if it were worn, the lengthier, heavier street veil. What man would not want to tear aside those veils, of either sort, to remove those flowing, concealing robes, to have such a thing naked, chained at his feet? Occasionally I saw slippers, not sandals, beneath the hem of those robes. Surely there was no danger of confusing such creatures with the occasional slave who sped past, tunicked, hurrying amongst the cages, sometimes hooted at by the stevedores. I was particularly concerned to choose with care. The richer the robes, I reasoned, the more likely the wealth.

A free woman would understand me, and my helplessness!

Alas, how little I knew of such women!

I should have considered more carefully a matter of possible relevance, that several of these visions held, in their small, gloved hand, an object, about a yard in length, of supple leather, and though of a much richer quality, familiar to me from the house of training, an object much like that often carried by the instructresses. Too, if I had been more aware, and more familiar with Gor, I would have noted that the slaves, as much as possible, went to great lengths to avoid finding themselves in the proximity of such women, often turning about, and hurrying away, or slipping to the side, sometimes even hastening to conceal themselves amongst the boxes and bails, the assorted cargoes, on the wharf, removed from, or waiting to be loaded upon, the long, brightly painted galleys moored but yards away.

Later there approached a free woman, alone, resplendent, one I assumed would well answer to my purposes. It would be easy to sway her, I was sure, with my tale of woe. I could not see her features, for the public veiling, the long street veil wrapped about her head and features, and extending to the golden cord low upon her waist, from which dangled an ample, embroidered purse, but I trusted they would be understanding, and kindly.

I scarcely noticed that, in her right hand, she carried a switch.

As she passed by, I called out, “Dear sister, pray attend me!”

She looked about, startled, intently, expectantly, scanning the wharf. Clearly she did not recognize the source of that unhappy solicitation. It had apparently not occurred to her that such a cry might have had its origin from within one of the tiny, barred enclosures strewn to her right, as she was passing. Surely that surprising cry could not be traced to so unlikely a venue. Such a linkage would be unthinkably preposterous. What marked beast would dare, unsolicited, to address a free woman?

“Dear sister!” I called. “I am such as you, a woman, but, hapless, have fallen upon hard times. Behold, I am afflicted by a most grievous plight! I find myself in the throes of misery and helplessness. See how I am! See what has been done to me! I would be free. Free me! Have pity! Have mercy upon me! Buy me, and restore me to freedom!”

I noted, but scarcely registered it at the time, that the girls in the cages about, those in the vicinity, had knelt, and pressed their heads fearfully to the metal floors of their tiny, sturdy confinements.

The free woman approached, seemingly incredulously. Her robes seemed hardly to move. Might not a looming rainbow of ice, floating in some arctic sea, have moved so, with such even, sedate, chill menace? She looked down. I looked up, through the bars. The sun was high, and I felt the warmth of the metal bars I grasped.