Vagabonds of Gor (70 page)

"There is also, I believe, outside Brundisium, a large slave camp," said Marcus.

"I think so," I said.

The camp referred to by Marcus had, as I understood it, been in existence near Brundisium for several months, which is a long period for such camps. This had to do, presumably, with the war, and the large numbers of females taken in its prosecution, some thousands from Ar's Station, and its vicinity, alone. Most of the dealers in such camps are wholesalers, looking for cheap buys on excellent females, often bidding on them in lots. The lots are sometimes of mixed value, some including women who are little more than free women, their slave fires not yet ignited, and others which may be captured, needful slaves. One may have to buy ten women to get the two or three one really wants. To be sure, it is likely that all the women, in time, with training, and such, will become superb. All of them, after all, were seen fit to be put in the ropes of masters.

It was natural that such a camp would be located at Brundisium. From Brundisium, a major port friendly to Cos, indeed, the port of entry for the Cosian invasion forces, it was convenient to ship loot, females and other loot, to Cos and the islands. I did not doubt that already hundreds of women had passed through the camp, mostly, I supposed, to be shipped or herded to the docks of Brundisium, to be placed on slave ships, chained, their heads and bodies shaved, to be shipped to various destinations. Also, of course, from the camp they could be transported to hundreds of destinations on the continent, for example, Market of Semris, Samnium, Besnit, Harfax, Ko-ro-ba, and elsewhere.

Such camps tend not to be placed within the walls of cities. In this fashion, they have more land, obtain cheaper rentals, avoid certain local taxes, and so on. Free women, also, I have heard, object to such camps within the walls, supposedly because of the smells. I frankly doubt that this is the real reason. I think it is rather that they hate female slaves, and are almost insanely jealous of them. Certainly it is understandable that they might not wish to have large numbers of them about, the sight of whom is so exciting to males. The males, of course, may go to the camps, to look at the "stock." And with respect to smells, I do not think the free women, either, would smell as well as they might, if, say, they were kept on straw, chained naked in slave cages.

"Let us proceed," I said. Ina caught her breath.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"I was suddenly frightened," she said.

"Do you wish to be leashed?" I asked. "No," she said.

"Heel," I said.

"Yes, my captor," she said.

I turned to regard her. She would follow me, behind and on the left. In this way the sword arm is not likely to be encumbered.

"Captor?" she asked, looking down.

I was looking at her feet. Her feet were small, her ankles lovely. She was now in sandals, as befitted a free woman. Such, of course, could be removed from her. Slaves, for example, are commonly kept barefoot. High slaves, on the other hand, often have sandals, sometimes lovely ones. To be sure, much depends on the terrain, and such. One would not wish even a common slave to cut her feet or roughen them. That slaves are often barefoot says much, incidentally, for the cleanliness of Gorean streets and the usual paucity of litter. Goreans tend to keep their streets very well. The streets are, after all, the streets of their city, and their city is, after all, the place of their Home Stone.

"Captor?" she asked.

"You have lovely ankles," I said.

"Thank you," she said.

"They would look well, as I have hitherto observed," I said, "in shackles."

"Thank you, my captor," she said.

"Do you not think so?" I asked Marcus.

"Yes," he said, "but I, myself, prefer the ankles of slimmer, dark-haired women."

I recalled Port Cos, and the girl, Yakube, whom we had met on the docks there. I had been afraid Marcus, thinking her of Cos, and hating Cos and all things Cosian, would have cut her throat or injured her, but, fortunately, as it had turned out, she had not been of Cos, but from White Water, on the northern shore of the Vosk, east of Tancred's Landing. She was, however, the sort of woman, slim, exquisite, very lightly complexioned, dark-haired, dark-eyed, to whom I had learned that Marcus was almost madly attracted. It seemed he could barely resist such a female, and, of course, in virtue of this, he, who in my opinion tended to be too self-critical anyway, was often furious with himself.

"Yet," I said, "our little Ina is not unattractive."

"No," he said, "she is not unattractive."

I laughed, and Ina blushed, her face, her arms, the lower part of her legs, and feet.

I had, of course, in Gorean generosity, accorded her use to Marcus. And there was little doubt in my mind, given his frequent use of her, that he found her of even considerable interest. To be sure, he was not always gentle with her. She was, after all, a woman of Ar, for which city he now held little love, that city which had abandoned Ar's Station to her fate; too, she was a traitress and such tend, regardless of the side they have betrayed, to be treated with great contempt and severity by Gorean men; thirdly, she had spied for Cos, for which polity he held a profound hatred. Had she actually been of Cos I might have had to protect her from him, lest he kill her. It was little wonder then, these things considered, that the lovely Ina often found herself being rapidly and contemptuously put through her paces by the young warrior, then being used, as it pleased him, with callous, ruthless skill.

The usual Gorean taste in women, incidentally, tends to run toward the natural woman, short, well-curved, and such, as opposed, say, to unusually tall, small-breasted women. Ina, for example, short and luscious, was an excellent example of this extremely popular type. On the other hand, Gorean men tend to be fond of large varieties of women. In the markets even the sort of women who fulfill certain unusual commercial stereotypes of beauty on Earth, useful for displaying certain types of clothing, such as certain varieties of high-fashion models, will find their buyers. They, too, look well in chains. On Gor, to speak briefly, beauty is not stereotyped, or, if it is, if one wishes to speak in that fashion, there is a considerable number of such stereotypes, a large number of muchly desired types. Indeed, almost any woman, of any type, would be likely to find herself passionately desired, even fought for, on Gor by many men. But, to be sure, if she is a slave, she would have to serve them well.

"Let us approach the camp of Cos," I said.

"What are you going to do with me, my captor?" asked Ina, frightened.

"Curiosity is not becoming in a captive," I said.

"Yes, my captor," she said. My words, of course, were a play on a common Gorean saying, that curiosity is not becoming in a Kajira.

We then, together, continued on our way, toward Brundisium, in the vicinity of which lay the Cosian camp.

I hoped to arrive by nightfall.

Chapter 37 - NEAR THE COSIAN CAMP

"Thigh," I said.

The dark-haired woman turned immediately to her side, exposing her left thigh to me. There was a chain on her neck, run to a stake near the wagon. A small copper bowl was beside her.

"Thigh," I said, to the other woman, also dark-haired, but smaller. With an exciting, sensuous movement she exhibited her thigh. She was confined as was the other. Beside her, too, on the ground, was a small copper bowl.

"Ephialtes!" I called.

A brunet in a brief, yellow slave tunic looked about the wagon. She saw me and immediately knelt, seemingly frightened, though for what reason I could not guess. "Master!" she called.

In a moment Ephialtes, the sutler, came about the wagon, from the other side of it, where they were cooking, where they had their small camp.

"Tarl, my friend!" said he. We clasped hands, then embraced.

"It is good to see you, my friend," I said.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Very well," I said, "and yourself?"

"Excellent," said he.

"Splendid," I said. "How is business?"

"One tries, desperately, to make a living," he said.

"There is gold thread on your tunic," I said.

"Yellow thread," he said.

"Your pouch seems full," I said.

"Tarsk bits," he said.

"I think your fortunes have improved," I said.

"If that is so," he said, "I think you have made your contributions to such matters."

"And the needs of the troops of Cos," I said.

"Of course," he said.

"These are excellent times for a sutler," I said, "what with the numbers of men about, and the success of Cos."

"I speculate those with the troops of Ar are doing less well," he said.

"Some have probably brought their goods to Brundisium," I suggested.

"It is true." he whispered.

Wagons, of course, might be painted different colors. Accents could be feigned, and so on. Sutlers were, on the whole, fellows of business, and could scarcely be blamed for seeking favorable markets.

Ephialtes glanced down at the two women on the ground, chained by the neck to stakes on this side of the wagon, the copper bowls near them.

"Amina," said he, "Rimice, surely you recognize Tarl, our friend, to whom you owed your redemption from the Crooked Tarn?"

I saw by the fear in their eyes that well did they recognize me.

"Then, obeisance!" snapped Ephialtes.

Immediately, with a rustle of chain, they knelt, the palms of their hands on the ground, their heads to the dirt.

"Normally at the stakes," he said, "they are not permitted to rise even to their knees."

"Of course," I said.

I glanced at them, in their positions of obeisance.

"They look well, branded," I said.

"I hope you do not mind," he said.

"Of course not," I said. "It improves a female, considerably."

"I think so," he said, glancing at the girl in the yellow tunic, who put her head down, quickly. I did not know what she was frightened of.

"I gave you carte blanche with the women," I said. "You might have sold them, anything."

"I sold Temione to the proprietor of a movable paga enclosure," he said.

"Perhaps she is in the vicinity?" I asked.

"Not now," he said. "She was purchased by a courier of Artemidorus, a fellow named Borton, and was led away in his chains."

"I have heard of him," I said.

"I think that I never saw a slave so grateful as she, and yet one who seemed at the same time so much in terror for her very life," he said.

"I understand," I said. I recalled the night in the paga enclosure. Doubtless Borton had a few scores to settle with the lovely Temione. I did not think she would be likely, in his ownership, to forget she was in a collar.

"You yourself, I gather," he said, "sold Elene and Klio near Ar's Station."

"Yes," I said.

"Liomache," he said, "I also sold near Ar's Station, even before Temione, to a Cosian mercenary, whom she had apparently, months before, at the Crooked Tarn, tricked and defrauded."

"Excellent," I said. I did not doubt but what Liomache, too, would be in little doubt that her lovely neck was encircled with a slave collar.