Quarry of gor, p.16
Quarry of Gor, page 16
I remained as I was, patient, not moving, quiet, the goblet pressed against my tunic. I had announced my arrival. Were I to be so unwary, or naive, as to repeat myself, it might well irritate a master, suggesting I was impatient, or that he might have failed to note my presence. For such an error a girl might be fortunate, were she only cuffed.
I became apprehensive.
I sensed the men were ready to speak with one another.
Sometimes the less a girl hears, or knows, or learns, the safer she is.
“You have come from a great distance,” said one of the original two men to the newcomer.
“Gold is a beacon visible from afar,” said the newcomer.
“You have your men?” asked the first man of the original two.
“Of course,” said the newcomer. “And you have yours?”
“Of course,” was the reply.
The newcomer then turned toward me and I instantly lowered my head, hair falling about my face, pressed the goblet back, low, firmly, against my body, feeling the metal pressing into my belly, and then I lifted it to my lips and kissed it, deferentially, and then, my head down between my extended arms, holding the goblet with both hands, proffered it to the newcomer.
He took the goblet and turned back to the other two men.
As he turned away, not seeing me, I had glanced upward, preparing to rise. He had paid me little attention, and had scarcely looked at me. Too, my head had been lowered, and my hair had been about my face. Too, the light was dim. I rose to my feet and backed away, and then looked back, for only a moment, and then hurried back to the girl wall, where we wait to be picked out by a customer, or sent to a given table by the Vat Master or the taverner’s deputy. In that way we are not free to choose whom we wish to serve.
We attempt to be very pleasing to the Vat Master and the deputy, that we might be sent to one table, rather than another.
I stood against the wall, leaning back, my back against the wall.
I was sure, given the light, the serving, and such, that he had not recognized me.
Before, in Brundisium, when I had been unhooded, my captors had been masked. His mask, that of the leader of my captors, had covered most of his face, but not all.
The tavern light had been low and poor, to be sure, and I had had only a fleeting glance at him, looking up through my hair, as he had turned his head away, but I was sure I knew him.
I recognized the scar on his face, as I had seen it before, in Brundisium, that scar on the right side of his face, low, to the right of his mouth, that small, triangular scar.
Chapter Eleven
Euphrosyne;
I Encounter a Former Acquaintance,
One I Had Known on Earth,
Who Now Sees Me as I Am
Within the sprawling seawalls of Port Kar there are many canals, perhaps hundreds, fed with the waters of the Tamber Gulf. In many places, a portal can be reached only by means of a vessel, commonly one of the small single-oared skiffs which ply the canals. The sides of buildings often seem to rise from the very waters of the canal itself. In this way, many of the buildings, worn and stained, often touched with lichen, dampened by the lapping waters, swelling and ebbing with the tides of the gulf, are, in effect, island fortresses. In many places, windows, several feet above the level of the canal, may serve as coigns of vantage, and ports for the discharge of missiles. The roofs are commonly flat, and equipped with stones, debris, and covered vessels of pitch which, uncovered and ignited, might be cast down toward the water, and, in places, leaders are found through which, suitably adjusted, burning oil might be directed with what, from the point of view of those below, would doubtless seem to be a most alarming precision. The northern and eastern seawalls of Port Kar abut on the vast marshes of the Vosk delta, the western and southern on the Tamber. And beyond the Tamber, less than an Ahn’s rowing, lies Thassa, the sea. In the marshes of the delta may be found the scattered, floating villages of the Rencers. These villages are formed from the interwoven stalks of the rence plant, from which a common form of cheap paper is made. Fresh rence is added to the surface of the villages, as older, submerged layers deteriorate, break apart, and rot. The delta is rich in fish and birds. Also, as would be expected, given the abundance of game, it is home, as well, to various predators, in particular, the marsh shark and various forms of tharlarion, some, like the Ul, winged. One gathers that relationships between the Rencers and those of Port Kar, relationships which are now warily cordial, were once strained. It seems that the Rencers adopted the peasant bow, a weapon used in peasant villages on the continent to maintain and defend the freedom and sovereignty of the villages. This bow is particularly effective in the delta, given the stands of rence. It is hard not to respect a foe who, unseen, can kill from a distance. Also, it is difficult to attack or retaliate against such villages, as they can be easily moved, being towed to new locations. Furthermore, these villages are now loosely confederated, a political development traced to a man named Ho-Hak, sometimes referred to as the Ubar of the Marshes. The Rencers, it seems, once predominantly hunters and gatherers, have now added transport and trade to their economic repertoire. In transport, Rencers guide and maintain barges, poled, sailed, and drawn by large, swimming tharlarion, this linking, through the trackless marshes of the delta, the Vosk towns with Port Kar and the coast, and Port Kar and the coast with the Vosk towns. Trade has primarily to do with rence, but some attention is devoted elsewhere, for example, to salted fish, mostly parsit and grunt, to tharlarion oil and leather, and to feathers, in particular those of the Vosk gull, which are commonly preferred in the fletching of arrows. It is speculated that these economic interdependencies may have done as much to assure peace in the delta as the peasant bow. As coin abets commerce, so trade abets peace. Whereas slave girls are not allowed on the walls unaccompanied, some will seek escape by scrambling to deserted segments of the walls and diving into the marsh waters below. Those who do not fall prey to the predators of the marshes are picked up by Rencers. The Rencers will then brand their foreheads and keep them as rence slaves, which, as I understand it, is a most laborious and unpleasant slavery, or, swathing them with ropes, return them to Port Kar for punishment, a tarsk-bit for returning a less beautiful slave, and two tarsk-bits for returning a more beautiful slave.
It must be understood, of course, that there are many dry, expansive, level areas in Port Kar, for example, plazas, markets, and exercise yards. Too, several of the canals are bordered by walkways, often on both sides. Indeed, I myself was now on one such walkway, called the Thieves’ Way. Port Kar, I have been told, is the only Gorean city in which there is an officially recognized Caste of Thieves. To be sure, most of the thieving, I gather, is done outside the city, in other cities, Port Kar then affording a refuge to which successful members of that unusual caste may repair to enjoy the profits of their labors. One may pass over the canals to the other side by means of bridges. These are usually arched, small, and easily burned. I have never been in a Gorean high city, a tower city, but I understand that the towers of such cities are often joined by graceful, narrow, arching bridges, often high above the street level, bridges which may be easily defended or destroyed in the case of an attack, this rendering each tower an independent, defensible keep, each supplied with food, water, and weaponry. One conjectures, similarly, that the vulnerability of many of the bridges in Port Kar, like ornamented, lanterned, lovely, painted tinder, is unlikely to be mere coincidence. A collapsed, charred bridge is not only an inconvenience to the progress of a foe, but an impediment should he wish to make an expeditious withdrawal.
The walkway on the Thieves’ Way was some ten feet in width, on both sides of the canal. To my left was the canal; to my right were buildings, some portaled with stout, carved doorways, their associated barred gates now open, to be closed at dark, and several housing open-sided stores and shops, furnished with folding, wooden screens, to be shut after the time of business, which, as with most Gorean businesses, opened at daylight, and closed either in the early afternoon or at dusk.
I was well within a pasang of the great arsenal of Port Kar, with its warehouses, shops, vast shipyard, and inner harbor. By means of four large, deep canals, in which even two round ships could pass one another, one could, passing through the arsenal sea gates and the western and southern sea gates, communicate with the Tamber, and thence, shortly, with Thassa, the sea.
The reputation of Port Kar, I fear, is a dark one. I recalled the terror and misery in Euphrosyne’s eyes and voice at the very mention of its name. Port Kar is sometimes referred to as the “Scourge of Thassa.” I think this epithet was generated in an earlier time when Port Kar had no Home Stone, when it may have been, indeed, little more than a “a den of pirates, thieves, and cutthroats,” as dangerous to its own citizens as to its enemies, in particular, the great maritime Ubarates of Cos and Tyros. Indeed, many of the buildings abutting directly on the canals, those fortresslike dwellings earlier alluded to, may have been designed originally to provide a defense not so much against foreign aggressors as local, domestic predation. It is interesting that men who might rob and slay one another without thought or compunction when ashore will when at sea, and “of the ship,” as it is said, constitute a reliable, loyal, efficient, disciplined crew. Port Kar is protected not only by its walls, but by the vastness of, and the dangers of, the delta on her east and north, and by the sea on her south and west. There are few who have met the long, low, swift, knifelike ram ships of Port Kar, often painted green, which color blends in with many of the moods of Thassa, either as corsairs or attack vessels, who do not respect, even dread and fear them. As the story goes, Cos and Tyros, some years ago, built, equipped, manned, and launched a mighty fleet, to destroy Port Kar, to be done at last with “the Scourge of Thassa.” This fleet was not only massive and formidable, but was generally seen as invincible. Panic, like wind and darkness, swept the streets. Goods were hastily gathered together, crated, and bundled. Ships were frenziedly readied for escape. As scavengers flee from the killing beast come to reclaim his prize, as urts speed from the path of the stalking larl, as bandits hasten to elude nearing, searching, avenging guardsmen, so the thieves, brigands, rowdies, miscreants, cheats, liars, cowards, and criminals of Port Kar, men without a Home Stone, prepared to burn and abandon their city. In the midst of this confusion, fear, and chaos, an amazing, startling rumor was suddenly abroad, first whispered, from ear to ear, and then shouted out, ringing from wall to wall. Men who had betrayed Home Stones, men who had abandoned them, men who had, by deeds or words, dishonored Home Stones, men who had lived for years, lost and separate, alone and miserable, without Home Stones, looked suddenly at one another, wildly. Port Kar had a Home Stone! Men then, resolute and joyous, no longer fled, but, weeping, embraced one another as fellows and brothers, and rushed to the great arsenal to seize oars and take their places on the rowing benches of waiting ships. Later a great sea battle took place. This battle is recalled, and celebrated, each Twenty-Fifth of Se’Kara. Port Kar had a Home Stone.
Those of Port Kar do not, of course, speak of their city as the “Scourge of Thassa,” though, as I understand it, they find it convenient that others should do so. Many are the weapons of war, and a suitable reputation, one which might inspire caution, or trepidation, in a foe, is not negligible amongst them. Amongst her citizens, Port Kar is often spoken of as the “Jewel of Gleaming Thassa.”
But what do slave girls know of such things, of Home Stones, and such? They are the business of the free. It is our role, as negligible beasts and vendible properties, mocked and scorned, bought and sold, derided and despised, to serve and please our masters.
There is a saying that in Port Kar the chains of a slave girl are heaviest. I doubt, however, that that is true. I suspect that our “chains,” so to speak, are neither heavier nor lighter here than elsewhere. Much depends on the individual master. Such things are up to our masters. They are master. I assure you, however, that our “chains,” wherever we are on Gor, are heavy enough. We are slaves, and, on the whole, we wish to be slaves, rightless, owned, and mastered. It is our meaning, our fulfillment, our happiness, and joy. Were it not for our terror of free women, who so despise us and who, for some reason, are so unconscionably cruel to us, we might pity them, for they do not know the warmth, the reassurance, and joy of the collar. How wonderful to belong, to be literally owned! And yet, sometimes, too, the collar has its miseries and terrors, for in it we are so vulnerable and helpless!
To my left there was a sudden stir, and splash, in the water, and I spun about on the walkway in time to see a large urt submerge, it ears back, its wet, glistening fur slipping beneath the water. I then moved, uneasily, more toward the center of the walkway. I had been to the left, as Goreans keep to the left side of paths, walkways, roads, stairs, and such. In this way, as most Goreans, as most humans, are right-handed, one’s weapon hand faces oncoming traffic. The canal urts, some of which are quite large, are scavengers, and live, for the most part, off garbage in the canals. That is, in effect, their function. They clean the canals. On the other hand, many urts, particularly the larger ones, are aggressive and will attack anything in the water. It is not wise to swim in the canals. Indeed, as the sea gates must be frequently opened and closed, to facilitate ships moving to and from the Arsenal, and inner harbors, to the Tamber, an occasional shark finds its way into the city. The number of urts in the canals are reduced by licensed urt hunters. The usual arrangement is a hunter, in a small boat, accompanied by a slave girl. The hunter is armed with an urt spear, which is essentially a light harpoon with its attached rope, the coils of which are layered in a wooden bucket near the bow of the craft. The slave girl has a rope tied about her waist. This rope is several yards long and is fastened to a stout ring in the boat. The urt then is essentially fished for. The girl, serving as bait, swims near the boat. The hunter, in the bow, his spear ready, watches for urts. When an urt is sighted, the girl moves closer to the boat. Should the urt turn in the water and orient itself toward the bait, the hunter rises to his feet, the spear ready. Much may then happen very quickly, as the urt, in the water, over short distances, can move with great swiftness. Ideally it approaches, low in the water, like a furred streak, little but eyes and snout visible. More dangerously it approaches more slowly, but wholly submerged, either rising in the water below the prey or from the side. In any event, as the urt rushes to make its strike, to seize its prey, the hunter launches his harpoon. The slave girls of urt hunters are often called urt girls. For such slaves that designation is not derogatory, but merely descriptive. It may, however, when applied to other women, be used as an epithet, as though it were comparing the girl, or woman, to an urt. The slavery of the urt girl is not regarded as a desirable slavery. As the girl is attached to the boat by the rope, she is seldom in great danger. She may even be dragged to the boat, the urt still clinging to her body. The urt, in such a case, is an exposed, easy target. Even an ax might strike it. Urt girls are often recognized by means of the scarring on legs and arms. In some cities, free women found guilty of criminal offenses are remanded to Port Kar, with the understanding that they will be branded and collared, and used as urt girls.
“Move aside, kajira,” said a male voice.
“Yes, Master,” I said. “Forgive me, Master.”
I had no time to kneel, as he was already past me.
I moved more to my left.
I had stayed rather near the center of the walkway, as I had been frightened by the nearness of the urt that had suddenly appeared, so near to me in the water below. Surely one would not wish to trip or stumble, or be jostled, into the canal.
Now on the other hand, I would certainly not wish, either, to impede the passage of a free person.
So I kept a yard or so of the walkway between me and the edge of the canal. I deemed that satisfactory.
Earlier in the afternoon, just past the Tenth Ahn, kneeling, head down, I had delivered a message from Boris, deputy to the tavern master, Ho-Tosk, of the Golden Chain, to his friend, Henrak, of the Parsit Market. It had to do with a projected rendezvous, from whence, I gathered, would ensue a convivial evening of taverning and wenching. Upon my return to the Golden Chain, I had been released until the Twelfth Ahn, and left to my own devices. I was not even shackled. To be sure, I was branded, collared, and tunicked. There is little about the scanty Gorean slave tunic to leave one in doubt that one is a slave. A slave, unless commanded by her master, would not dare to touch, let alone assume, the garmenture of a free woman.
