Tribesmen of Gor (34 page)

Soon Tarna, with her men, and loot and slaves, entered the great gate of her for-tress. She lifted her arms and scimitar, acknowledging the cheering.

"Hurry, Slave," said the tall, dark-haired girt, bare-armed, in her ankle-length, flowing white garment. "The mistress will be ready for you soon."

"Is your mistress pretty?" I asked her. I had not, because of the purple sand veil worn by Tama, which she had looped loosely about her face, well looked upon her. What I had seen of her seemed to me not only pretty, but beautiful. I bad little doubt that she was a proud, striking female. I had not been able, of course, to well judge, in her mannish garb, and burnoose, the lineaments of her body. The beauty of a woman can only be judged well when she is naked, as female slaves are sold.

"She is as ugly as a sand sleen," snapped the dark-haired girl. "Hurry!"

"We have never seen our mistress," said the other girl, in long garment, who was in charge of the bath oils.

"Hurry, Slave," said the first girl, "or we will call the guards, to have you beaten!" She looked anxiously about. I had little doubt that it might be she who would be held responsible if I were not ready on time for the pleasure of the mistress. I saw the other girl laying out a light tunic of red silk, and a necklace of yellow, rounded beads, which I supposed way for me. "Get out now," she said, "and towel yourself!"

I rolled back in the water. I had been well fed. I had slept much since morning. I felt refreshed, and rested. I had a long kaiila ride before me tonight.

"What," I asked the girl, "is the fate of the female slaves taken from Red Rock?"

"Even now," she said, "under guard, in wagons, they are bound for the markets of Tor, where they will be sold."

"Are there, then, few girls kept in the fortress?" I asked.

"Girls are kept, of course, some girls," she said, "for the men."

"Where?" I asked.

"On the lower levels of the kasbah," she said.

"But you are not kept for the men?" I asked.

"Of course not!" she said, angrily.

There were several of Tarna's males sitting about, in silken tunics, some with jewelry, curious about Hassan and myself. Some of them were rather sullen. The mistress had not, this night, chosen one of them for her evening's pleasure. One of them, earlier, a fellow in a ruby necklace, had said, "I am more handsome, surely, than he," referring to me. I supposed it were true. On the other hand, Hassan and myself had a certain advantage, I supposed, in freshness and novelty. I was pleased that I had been selected for the night. I found the kasbah's seraglio pleasant, but I did not wish to remain here longer than necessary.

"I do not understand how it is that I, Hassan," Hassan had said, "was not first picked for the pleasure of the mistress."

"Doubtless I am the most fascinating," I said to him.

"There is no accounting for the taste of women," he had said.

"That is true," I said. "I have noted that Alyena much prefers you to me."

"That is true." he said.

"She is, of course," I pointed out, "only slave."

"It is true that she is only a slave," he said, "but she, though slave, is an extremely intelligent young woman."

"That is true," I admitted. The slave raiders of the Kurii, the Others, selected, among other things, for high intelligence in their victims. Their two major criteria, as neither as I could determine, were femininity and intelligence. These two traits, hormonal and intellectual, almost always produce a vulnerable, fragile, alert, sensitive beauty, one almost ready for the collar. Extremely intelligent, feminine girls, as most Goreans know, make excellent slaves, Goreans show little interest either in stupid women, though some are sexually attractive, or in mules. Stupid women are too stupid to be good slaves; mules are not even women. But the true female, the awakened, helpless prisoner of her instincts and blood, with a fine mind, a deep, lovely, sensitive mind, imaginative and inventive, is the one the Goreans want, head down, at their feet. What man would want his collar on anything less precious? "Yet, Tarna," I suggested, "does not seem to be obtuse."

"No," he admitted. "That is true."

"And it is I who have been first chosen," I pointed out.

"There is no accounting for the taste of women," be said. "Alyena," be said, "who is better, prefers me."

"I have not seen Tama stripped and tied at the slave ring," I said. "I do not know if Alyena is better or not."

"Let us assume she is," proposed Hassan.

"Very well," I said.

"She prefers me," he said, "There is no accounting for the taste of women," I said.

At this point I had been summoned by the two bare-armed, white-garbed girls, for my bath.

"Do you object, Ali?" asked one of the silken fellows.

"No, I do not," snapped the girl in the white garment, with towels.

I had not understood, for a moment, to whom he might be speaking. The girl,

however, had answered him. I recalled I had asked her if she were kept for the men, and that she had responded, angrily, "Of course not!" He had then asked, "Do you object, Ali?"

I swam to the side of the bath and looked up at her. "What is your name?" I asked.

She stepped back. "Ali," said she.

"That is a man's name," I said. "Or a boy's.

"My mistress," said the girl, "gives me what name she pleases." She was angry.

The fellow who had spoken before laughed.

"Be silent, Fina!" she snapped, sharply.

His face turned white. He put his head down. "Yes, Mistress," he said.

"Fina," I said to her, "is a woman's name, or a girls."

"It pleases the mistress," said she, "to give us what names she pleases." She glanced at the males about, in their silk. "Each," said she, "all of them have such names, the names of girls." She glared at Hassan, and myself. "You two, too, will be so designated!" Then she cried, "Go! Go to your alcoves, Slaves! Go!"

The men, some of them frightened, with the exception of Hassan who sat, puzzled, by the side of the bath, scurried to their tiny alcoves.

The two girls, in white garments, as I had come to understand, were dominant in the seraglio, rather in the nature of eunuchs, imposing order upon it and keeping its slaves in harmonious discipline. Their word, imperiously delivered, with the confidence of unquestioned command, doubtless backed by the whips and scimitars of male guards outside, served as law to the inmates of Tarna's seraglio; when they spoke, men obeyed; when they spoke sharply, men feared; in the seraglio, backed by the power of Tarna's guards, these two beautiful women were dominant over the men; they, particularly the taller, dark-

haired one, obviously despised the silken males in her charge; openly she held them, to their misery, in contempt.

   
We heard the outer gate of the seraglio, at the far end of the corridor, being pounded on.

"Hurry!" cried the girl. "They are coming for you! Get out! Towel yourself!"

I reached out and, from the bath, seized her right ankle. The other girl, she who laid out the red-silk tunic, the yellow beads, gasped. I looked up at the tall girl. "You do not wear a collar," I said.

"No," she said. Then she said, "Release my ankle, bold sleen!"

"This does not seem the ankle of a male," I said. I held her fair ankle in my grip.

"Release me!" she said.

About the ankle there was, welded, an iron ring. "What is this?" I asked her.

"It is thus that Tarna marks her female seraglio slaves!" said the girl. "Release me!"

The pounding was louder. "Release me!" she cried. "I will have you whipped!"

"But then I may not be ready in time for the mistress," I said.

"I will have you beaten to the bone tomorrow!" she hissed.

"Then, tonight," I said, "I will have to explain to the Mistress why I cannot much please her."

The girl turned white. "You seduced me," I explained.

"No! No!" she cried.

"What were you called as a woman?" I asked.

"Lana!" she cried out in agony. She tried to pull away. "Release me!"

We heard the outer gate, by guards, being opened. "They will be here in a moment!" she cried. "Please!"

I released her ankle, and lifted myself, dripping, from the bath.

She thrust the towels at me, almost in a frenzy. We heard the arriving guards outside the inner door conversing with those who guarded it.

"Towel yourself!" she said.

I lifted my arms. "Towel me, Lana," said I.

"Sleen!" she cried.

I looked about at the seraglio. It was lovely. There were high separated, decorated columns, many arches, much carving, rich hangings, much tile, floors marbled and mosaiced, too. It was lofty, spacious, beautiful. I regretted I did not have more time to spend here.

"Sleen!" wept the girl, beginning to rub me with the first of the towels. "Help me!" she cried to the other girl, who was frightened.

"No," I said. "Only you, Lana."

Weeping, furious, Lana applied the towel to my body. "Oh!" she cried. For I then had her in my arms. I reached behind her body. She put her head back. "No!" she cried. "Are you mad? I am your seraglio mistress! No!" The garment, hooks broken, fell to her ankles.

"You do not have the body, either, of a male," I observed.

"Please," she wept.

I kissed her on each breast, for they were beautiful,

"I am your seraglio mistress!" she wept.

I kissed her fully on the mouth, holding her helplessly. "No," I said, "you are only a beautiful slave girl."

I released her and she, clumsily, in haste, applied the towels to my body. When she had finished she was at my feet, drying them. I lifted her to her feet and put her back against one of the cool, narrow marble columns supporting the arched roof of the seraglio. I stood close to her, our lips but an inch parted. With my fingertips, on either side, I caressed the sides of her throat. "This throat," I said, "is aristocratic and beautiful. It would look well in a collar." Her eyes met mine. "I wish it wore yours." she said, "--Master." I kissed her.

I heard the bolt sliding back on the inner door. The other girl threw me the red-silk tunic and I slipped it on, dropping the yellow necklace inside the tunic.

The door opened. Two guards stood there, in purple and yellow burnoose.

"Is the slave ready?" asked one of the guards, looking about. "What is going on here?" asked the other, surveying the exposed beauty of Lana, the seraglio mistress. She, frightened, hands before her mouth, pressed back against the column.

"She is preparing to bathe," I told them. I went to her and took her by the left arm, over the elbow, and the right ankle, and upended the beauty, headfirst, into the pool.

I glanced to Hassan, and to the other girl. "I shall return shortly," I told him.

"Very well," he said, edging toward the other girl.

"The mistress," said one of the guards, "does not finish with her males shortly."

Lana's head, sputtering, blinking, emerged from the bath.

"She will tonight," I told him. Then I turned to Hassan. "Be ready," I told him. "We have a long kaiila ride this night."

"Very well," he said. The guards looked at me as though I might be mad. He was now standing almost directly behind the other girl, she who had handled the bath oils.

"Let us hurry," said I to the guards. "We must not keep the mistress waiting."

"He is eager," laughed one of the guards.

"He is a fool," said the other.

Lana, dripping, head down, crawled from the bath. I saw Hassan measuring the distance between the two girls.

I led the way, swiftly, through the inner door of the seraglio. "Is your mistress pretty?" I asked one of the guards, who was hurrying to follow.

"She is as ugly as a sand sleen,'' he growled.

He bolted the door behind him, shutting and locking the seraglio from the outside. There were two guards, I noted, at the door. Down the corridor, some fifty yards of tile and hangings, there was the outer door. This was knocked upon, and, from the outside, opened. There were two guards there, too.

"Come now," I said, "truly, is your mistress pretty?"

"She is as ugly as a sand sleen,'' said the guard.

"I am Tarna," said the woman. She reclined on the wide couch, resting on one elbow, regarding me.

I looked about the room. I went to the window, and looked down, into the courtyard.

"The drop," she said, "is some seventy feet."

I examined the walls, the door.

"The door," said she, "by the guards outside, opens only to my signal."

"Come," said she, "stand at the foot of my couch."

"We are alone?" I asked.

"Guards stand outside the door," she said, puzzled.

"That is acceptable," I said.

I regarded her. "You are a strange slave," she said. She reclined, resting, on one elbow. She wore a soft gown, flowing, yellow, long, of Turian silk; it was sheer and, with its deep neckline, and about the hips, well betrayed her. Her hair was black, and long, and rich, and well displayed against the yellow cushion behind her.