Quarry of gor, p.10
Quarry of Gor, page 10
“I would know the substance of this private matter,” said he whom I took to be the leader of my abductors.
The one-legged man, scowling, was silent.
“Why would you risk two staters of silver, weighty staters, staters of Brundisium, worth several silver tarsks of most cities, to recover a single slave?” asked he whom I took to be the leader of my abductors.
“Return to me my silver stater,” said the one-legged man. “You have failed, abjectly, miserably. You have not earned it.”
“We discharged our commission, in good faith,” said he whom I took to be the leader of my abductors. “We took risks. The streets were troubled. Men of the House of Anesidemus might have noted us. Guardsmen were about. We could have been set upon by citizens. We did our part. The error was not ours.”
“Return to me my stater,” said the one-legged man.
“We brought you the girl under the marked sheet,” said a man. “That was our task. It was done. Give us the second stater!”
“Get out,” snarled the one-legged man. “Get out!”
“He was prepared to pay,” said one of my abductors. “Thus he has the stater with him, and perhaps more. We are ten. He is only part of a man. Let us collect our fee, and more, given our trouble.”
“Yes,” said more than one man, eagerly.
The one-legged man crouched down on his one leg, and both hands gripped the crutch. It was as though he, steadying himself, had grasped a small tree. I sensed how it might lash out. I would not have cared to be the first to approach him. The eyes of the one-legged man moved from one of the men to another. “Who will be first?” he asked.
The men looked from one to the other.
“I will tell you,” said the one-legged man. “He will be first who is most eager to die.”
“Time is short,” said a man. “The tide.”
“Let us be content,” said another. “We have a stater, a silver stater, of Brundisium. That is not a bad fee for a night’s work.”
“But he has more,” said another man.
“Then go, and take the more from him,” said another.
But the man did not move.
“I wish you well, noble Bruno of Torcadino,” said he whom I took to be the leader of my abductors.
“Leave the slave,” said he so addressed. “I can sell her.”
“I think not,” said he whom I took to be first amongst my abductors. He then crouched down, beside me, and, with strong fingers, undid the thongs on my ankles. He then seized me by the left arm and drew me to my feet. He steadied me, holding me, as I might, having had my ankles bound for so long, have fallen.
“You cannot sell her,” said the one-legged man, “not here, not safely, so soon, in Brundisium. She is doubtless in the collar of the House of Anesidemus. Guardsmen may have her description. The wharves may be watched.”
“We will sell her to you for a silver stater, of Brundisium,” said he whom I took to be the leader of my abductors.
There was much laughter.
“Get out,” snarled the one-legged man.
“What is your true name?” asked one of my abductors.
“Bruno, of Torcadino,” said the one-legged man.
“And mine,” said a fellow, “is Marlenus, of Ar.”
There was laughter.
I had heard the name ‘Marlenus’ before. I gathered that he, for some reason, was well known.
“Get out!” hissed the one-legged man.
“Can you stand?” asked he whom I took to be the leader of my abductors.
“Yes, Master,” I said, “now.”
He then, still steadying me, conducted me into the corridor or companionway, outside the cabin. His men followed him. The one-legged man did not follow us, but remained in the cabin. I heard him cry out in frustration and anger, and strike his crutch savagely on the floor behind us. I sensed he was capable of terrible violence. I feared such a temper.
“May we hood you, pretty kajira?” inquired he whom I took to be chief amongst my abductors.
I was terrified that he had addressed this question to me, as though my permission might have been required. “Please, Master,” I begged, “do not whip me!”
The slave girl is always vulnerable to the whip.
He smiled, and shook out the hood, preparing to draw it over my head.
“I do not understand the so-called Bruno of Torcadino,” said one of my abductors. “Why would he not have bid upon this Luta, or Adraste, openly, at the auction?”
“He seems concerned to conceal his identity,” said he whom I took to be the leader of my abductors.
“Why?” asked another.
I did not regard it as wise to be standing amidst free men speaking. Accordingly, I knelt. In such a situation it is common for a slave to be on her knees. In such a situation, is not that where she belongs?
“I do not know,” said he whom I took to be first amongst my abductors.
“What is her interest or importance?” asked another. “Why would he offer so much to have her stolen?”
“He claims to be her former master, desiring to recover her,” said another.
“Perhaps eager to have her again at his slave ring,” said another.
“Or angry, to enact a vengeance upon her,” said yet another.
I knelt among the men, naked, my head down, my hands thonged behind my back. I was not noticed, as slaves are often not noticed. How strange it seemed. How helpless I was! How different things were! How faraway was Earth!
“I doubt he ever owned her,” said he whom I took to be the leader of my abductors.
“Then he is acting for another,” said a man.
“Consider him,” said he whom I took to be the leader of my abductors. “He does not seem to be one likely to act for another.”
“Then her value goes beyond her slave price,” said a man.
“I think so,” said another. “If he was willing to expend two silver staters to obtain her, she is probably worth more to him than two silver staters.”
“I think, somehow, much more,” said he whom I took to be the leader of my abductors.
“How could that be?” asked a man.
“I do not know,” said he whom I took to be the leader of my abductors.
It seemed to me that the masters were overlooking a most obvious possibility. I lifted my head to he whom I took to be the leader of my abductors. “May I speak, Master?” I asked.
The men seemed startled that I had spoken. This made me uneasy. One does not care to be kicked or cuffed. Even a master’s frown can be frightening.
I feared I should not have called attention to myself. Commonly a slave is to be at hand, ready to serve at so little as a glance or a snapping of fingers, but is not to be obtrusive.
“Yes,” he said.
“I have gathered that masters are puzzled, as to aspects of the night’s business,” I said.
“Very much so,” he said.
“I think, Master,” I said, “that I understand the mystery of Adraste, the motivation of Master Bruno, and why, apparently, such a large sum of money, surprisingly, was involved.”
“I attend,” he said. “What is your conjecture?”
“I know Adraste slightly,” I said. “We were caged in proximity to one another. She was, I gather, if she was not lying, of high caste, and of some prominence. The matter then is simple. Suppose her family is wealthy and of high station. Perhaps Bruno of Torcadino is a relative, and wishes to recover her, to restore her to the glories of her freedom, but, to avoid shame and scandal, wishes to do so surreptitiously. Better that it not be known that she was ever in a collar. Thus he would not wish to be identified, and would be willing to pay a ransom, so to speak, far beyond what I take would be the value of a mere slave.” I was pleased with this conjecture, and puzzled that something so plausible had not figured in the conversation of the masters.
My words were greeted with amusement. I was chagrined. I saw no cause for merriment in what I had said. I thought it plausible, insightful.
“You are a barbarian, are you not?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said. “Doubtless my accent has given me away.”
“Rather, your ignorance,” he said.
“Master?” I said.
“You have not been long on Gor, have you?” he asked.
“No, Master,” I said.
“Do you realize that you are a slave?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Fully?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said. I had no doubt about that. I realized that every inch of me was a slave.
“Perhaps you realize, and fully, that you are a slave,” he said, “but perhaps you do not realize, and fully, what it is to be a slave—on Gor,” he said.
“Master?” I said.
“Perhaps you do not yet realize the degradation, the debasement, the wholeness of the collar,” he said.
“I do not understand,” I said.
“Consider the stain to a family’s honor,” he said. “Suppose a daughter is enslaved, that she is marked and collared. Who could support such things? She is then no longer of the family. She is then repudiated, and denied. She is ignored and forgotten. She is then only a beast, a slave. What family could endure such shame? What a reproach is there, what a humiliation! She will commonly be kept in her collar. She may be retained as a house slave, no different from the other house slaves, save that she, a former mistress, will now be the least amongst her fellow slaves. Most often she will be sold to a far city, and all records of her past destroyed. At best, she will be hidden away, a humiliation, an embarrassment, kept from view, kept sequestered in her shame.”
“I did not know,” I said.
“Perhaps now you better understand what it is to be a slave on Gor,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I whispered. I now better understood the meaning of my collar, how, as a slave, I was viewed. I was nothing, an object to be bought and sold. My bondage was abject. How abased I was! And yet I relished my abasement. I wanted to be a slave. I had always wanted it. I rejoiced in the collar I wore, which I could not remove.
“Up, kajira,” he said.
I rose to my feet.
The lined canvas hood was then drawn over my head, and buckled under my chin. My hands were still thonged together, behind my back.
Before my head was enclosed in the hood I lifted my eyes, briefly, to those of he whom I took to be first amongst my abductors. His mask, black, covered most of his face. I noted a small, triangular scar on the right side of his face, low, to the right of his mouth. Then I lowered my eyes, fearing that I might be found presumptuous, and the hood was drawn over my head, and fastened in place.
“Masks,” said he.
And I gathered then that the masks worn by the men were removed.
We moved to the open, to the deck. I could feel the change in the air.
“Is the way clear?” he asked.
“Yes,” he was told.
I was steadied on the gangplank, a hand on my arm, as we left the ship.
Chapter Eight
What Occurred at Sea
The hatch was thrown back.
I could see the sky, a bright blue, with white, scudding clouds.
I had been freed of my ankle chain, fastening me to a ring below.
I was to be permitted on deck.
Gratefully, I climbed the ladder.
I was no longer ill. We had been some days at sea. We were moving north.
I paused near the top of the ladder. The sun, Tor-tu-Gor, was high, and hot. The deck would be warm. There was a gentle wind from astern. I saw the long, large, low-rigged sail, so beautiful, sweet with wind. The vessel, gently rolling, was moving well. I could see the shore to our right. Most Gorean vessels remain, when possible, in sight of land. Indeed, many beach at the end of the day, and return to the water in the morning. The oarsmen were idle, resting, or amusing themselves, some with cards, or the game of stones. Two were playing a board game. It is called ‘kaissa’. The pieces had a tiny spike on the bottom, which would be inserted into corresponding holes in the squares of the board. In this way, the movement of the ship, rolling, breasting swells, and such, will not dislodge the pieces. Yesterday, one of oarsmen, in camp, had strummed a stringed instrument, a kalika. The hortator was sleeping next to his mallets and drum. The two helmsmen were in their places, as the ship was double ruddered. The mast was fixed, which is common in round ships. In a ram ship, the mast can be raised and lowered. This makes the ship, when the mast is lowered, more difficult to detect, and, in battle, the mast and sail down, the ship is less vulnerable and more maneuverable. A lookout was currently atop its height. Another was at the stern. He seemed vigilant. I crawled from the ladder, onto the gently rolling deck, and, on all fours, approached the keeper. It would not be my first time on deck. I was, of course, naked. Slaves are commonly transported that way.
When I reached the keeper I put my head down, and licked and kissed his feet. Such forms of deference are suitable for a slave. The slave is slave. The master is master. I felt happy, and fulfilled, to do this. I had never, on Earth, known men such as those of Gor. Perhaps they existed, possibly in secret, but I never knew them. How privileged I felt, a barbarian, a woman of Earth, in her collar, to be permitted to lick and kiss the feet of a Gorean male. He had permitted it. Not all slaves are permitted to touch the body of a master. “May I speak, Master?” I whispered. “Yes,” he said. “Zia is grateful,” I said, “to be permitted to come on deck, to feel the air, the freshness, the sun, and wind.”
“It will not be necessary to chain you to a deck ring, will it?” he asked.
I was startled. I looked up at him, from all fours. “No, Master,” I said.
“Good,” he said, and turned away. “Is all clear?” he called to the lookout at the stern. “Yes,” he was told. “Is all clear?” he called to the lookout within his ring, near the summit of the mast. “Yes,” he was told. He then went to converse with one of the helmsmen.
The keeper was commonly generous in permitting the slaves time on deck. I certainly looked forward to such interludes, freed from my chain in the hold. I touched the new collar at my throat. It had never been read to me. I did not think the keeper was my master. I did not know to whom I belonged. Not in the vicinity of a free person I rose to my feet, and went to the rail, to look out, and saw the shore in the distance.
“She is a pretty one,” said an oarsman.
I was pleased, pretending not to hear. The air was bracing. I loved the sound of the timbers of the ship, creaking, the sound of the long yard, responding to the wind, the occasional snap of the canvas.
“She will do,” said his fellow.
It was not my fault if many slaves were more beautiful than I, or, in any event, would sell for more than I. I had been found acceptable by slavers, had been brought to this world, had been branded, collared, and sold. Surely some men had found me of interest. Otherwise I would not now be in a collar. To be sure, I supposed that notions of female beauty might vary from one time, and one culture, to another. Interestingly, the figures of most of the slaves I had seen were very much those of the typical, natural woman, a bit short, and well-curved, as opposed to those often favored in commercial advertising on my former world.
“She is a barbarian,” said the first oarsman.
“Barbarians juice helplessly,” said the second.
I blushed. I did not think that this was detected. I trusted not. But why should I have blushed? Surely there was nothing wrong with being vital, and needful. Certainly masters would not object to having a hot, needful, begging slave at their feet. What man, truly, does not want a woman so?
“Perhaps you can buy her,” said the first oarsman.
“I do not think she is for sale,” said the second.
I did not understand that. I thought that I would be for sale.
I looked to one side.
She was there, the girl who, allowed on deck, had sprung overboard. I had heard the splash, and the shouts, earlier in the afternoon. At the foot of the ladder, below the closed hatch, I, and the two other girls, on our ankle chains, fastened to the ring fixed in the floor of the hold, had strained to hear. “I wish you well, Fools!” she had cried. “Now I escape!” “Let her go,” we heard.
I supposed she hoped to swim to the shore, perhaps a pasang or so off to the right.
Why, I wondered, were the masters willing to view her departure with such equanimity?
How she had abused the privilege of being allowed on deck!
Happily, it seemed, her action had not resulted in the suspension of such a privilege for myself and the other two. The four of us had been purchased in Brundisium, from different houses. I was the only one who had been purchased from the House of Anesidemus. Our ship was a merchant vessel, called a “round ship,” though its beam was not that much broader than that of a long ship, as I now know, with its ram and shearing blades. Our cargo, other than ourselves, was largely carvings and vessels of jade, a green gemstone, purchased in Brundisium, and apparently brought in as trade goods from afar, from, as it was said, “the World’s End.”
“She swims well,” had said one of oarsmen, presumably at the rail, watching.
“She was a bath girl, at the Capacian, in Ar,” had said another oarsman, presumably watching, as well.
I had been angry at the fugitive. Perhaps now, I had thought, the privileges of the deck might be denied to the rest of us, privileges we coveted and for which, occasionally, we had long waited.
“Take in some sail,” I heard.
Were they not going to lower the longboat, and pursue the fugitive? The swiftly rowed longboat could overtake her in a short time, long before she could reach the shore. And should she manage to reach the shore, I had little doubt but what her pursuers, young, long-striding men, would easily outrun her and bring her back to the beach on a rope. If not, a sleen might be rented from a village. This beast, of which I had heard, given the scent of her blanket, might then lead her pursuers to her, or, depending on the command, herd her back to the shore, where her pursuers, perhaps encamped, would be waiting.
