Quarry of gor, p.21
Quarry of Gor, page 21
“Precisely,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said, rather pleased. “Need I be hooded?”
“Do you wish to be switched?” he asked.
“No, Master,” I said.
“Perhaps you are curious as to the purpose of this interview,” he said.
“Very much so, Master,” I said.
“Slave girls, as other properties,” he said, “are subject to theft. Even you, a barbarian, understand that.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“For example, as you are doubtless aware, an attempt was made in Brundisium to steal Adraste.”
“Yes, Master,” I said. “A one-legged man was trying to recover a slave, Luta, who had, as it turned out, been sold under the name ‘Adraste’. During a dock fire, sheeted slaves were to be removed from the house of Anesidemus. Sheets were exchanged, mine with Adraste’s, in such a way that abductors thought me Adraste.”
“And thus was the attempt to steal Adraste foiled,” he said.
“Clearly,” I said.
“Let me tell you of Luta,” said the voice.
“Please,” I said.
“This is to be held in the strictest of confidences,” he said. “You must not even mention this to Adraste, lest she collapse in dismay, fearing her discovery.”
“I understand,” I said.
“The slave, Adraste,” he said, “was originally a free woman of Ar, the Lady Julia Leta, of a minor banking family, the Claudian Marcelliani. It is an unimportant house on Ar’s Street of Coins. Indeed, few know of the establishment or would even recognize the name. I do not think it is any longer in business. Do not inquire into the matter further. The Lady Julia Leta, cunning and vain, and fond of expensive raiment and jewelry, turned to peculation and the falsification of records. Bit by bit, over months, funds were drained into an account which was her own, held under an assumed name. But, ela, how unsatisfactory was this arrangement. How could one exhibit and enjoy the display of luxurious goods beyond one’s presumed capacity to own? Surely explanations would be required. Too, there was always the danger that, sooner or later, her embezzlements might be detected. Accordingly, under the pretense of conducting business at the Fair of En’Kara, she determined to flee the city. Her intended destination might have been either Harfax or Besnit, or even Market of Semris. We do not know. In order that her disappearance might be successfully managed, she changed her name and changed caravans at the caravanserai of Hogarth on the Viktel Aria. In certain ways this was an intelligent choice as the new caravan was small, plain, cheap, nondescript, and obscure. Neither it nor its goods or passengers would be likely to be much noted. It consisted of six wagons two of which were closed. In one of the latter, the Lady Julia Leta, her passage arranged and its fare paid, concealed herself. Unfortunately for the plans of our lovely thief what the caravan offered in the way of obscurity it lacked in the way of security. It was ill-guarded. No more than fifty pasangs from the caravanserai of Hogarth it was set upon, in a desolate area, by a small pride of rogue tarnsmen, or, possibly, licensed raiders from Treve. A state of war, as you doubtless know, exists between Treve and Ar.”
“I did not know,” I said.
“Surely you are familiar with Treve,” he said.
“No, Master,” I said. “Forgive me, Master.”
“The richest prize for the raiders,” said the voice, “a welcome and unanticipated bonus, was our curvaceous fugitive, our absconding beauty, the clever Lady Julia Leta, together with her baggage, rife with notes and coins. Shortly thereafter she had been stripped and tied, belly up, over a tarn’s saddle apron, and was well on her way to some camp or other, where she was marked and collared. Soon after, she was disposed of to an itinerant slaver exhibiting goods at a roadside market. Thus, the proud, free woman, the Lady Julia Leta, became a slave. The name ‘Luta’ might have been suggested by ‘Leta’, or it might have been suggested by ‘Lita’. As you know, ‘Lita’ is a common Gorean slave name.”
“Yes, Master,” I said, “I know.” I was pleased that I knew this, at least, for I was acutely conscious of my ignorance of thousands of things Gorean. I was often derided by my chain-sisters, if I may use the term, for my ignorance. But I was learning. I was learning, every day. I was not stupid, but ignorant. Gorean slavers prize intelligence in a woman. I found this gratifying. What powerful, intelligent man, say, an Addison Steele, would want a stupid slave?
“Some attribute the very downfall of the Claudian coin house in Ar, that of the Marcelliani, to the Lady Julia Leta, her thieveries and flight supposedly undermining confidence in the house,” said the voice. “This charge is scarcely credible but it is taken seriously in some quarters. It became clear, in Brundisium, that some, presumably failed coin merchants and defrauded patrons, presumably through one or more agents, were seeking the former Lady Julia Leta, now the slave, Luta, to return her to Ar’s Street of Coins, one supposes for use in restoring the name of the Claudian house and serving more generally as an example of what might be done with thieves, her punishment serving as a warning to any who might be tempted to abuse a house’s trust.”
“How would she be punished?” I asked, frightened.
“Presumably to be exposed, naked, on the Street of Coins itself, in a tiny, dangling cage, in heat and cold, in wind and rain.”
“I would not wish such a thing, even on Adraste,” I said.
“It is particularly unpleasant in the summer, when the body is smeared with honey,” said the voice.
“I trust Adraste is now safe, here in Port Kar,” I said.
“We think so,” said the voice. “I think there is little to fear. We are far from Ar, and, in any event, very few, in any case, could recognize the former Lady Julia Leta, given the veiling common to the free woman.”
“She is then safe,” I said.
“Yet her master, for whom my confederate purchased her, remains apprehensive that another attempt might be made on his property.”
“You are not her master,” I said.
“No,” he said, “nor is Ho-Tosk, your master. Her master is my principal, he on behalf of whom I act.”
“May I inquire as to his name?” I asked.
“No,” said the voice.
“Surely Adraste knows the name of her master,” I said.
“She thinks her master is Ho-Tosk, proprietor of the Golden Chain,” said the voice.
“Why should her master wish his identity to remain undisclosed?” I asked.
“Should her identity be discovered,” said the voice, “that she was the former Lady Julia Leta, might that not prove embarrassing to her master?”
“Particularly,” I said, “were her master of the Merchants, and most particularly if he should be a Merchant of Coins.”
“You are extremely clever, Zia,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“Your inferences are uniformly shrewd,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“And invariably in error,” he added.
“Oh?” I said.
“Do not be displeased,” he said. “One expects little of a barbarian.”
“I see,” I said.
“Doubtless,” said the voice, “as you kneel here before me, in nadu, chained and hooded, you wonder what all this might have to do with you?”
“I did not wish to press Master on the matter,” I said.
“That was wise,” he said.
One learns many things in a collar, amongst them that masters seldom like to be importuned.
“But you are curious, are you not?” he asked.
“Very much so,” I said.
“Adraste is a valuable slave,” said the voice.
“I suppose so,” I said.
“It is obvious,” he said.
“Perhaps,” I said.
“Her master wishes to keep her, at least until he would give her away, sell her, lose her at dice, or such.”
“If he fears her being stolen,” I said, “why does he not keep her in his house?”
“And make nothing on his investment?” asked the voice.
“I see,” I said, “he is then indeed of the Merchants.”
“Perhaps,” said the voice.
Hearing this, I was pleased. I suspected then that my inferences might be much sounder than my interlocutor would have me believe. I suspected that, for some reason, he wanted to confuse and mislead me.
“Your role in this is simple,” said the voice. “You are to watch Adraste and, more especially, any who might seem to watch Adraste or pay her any attentions other than those likely to be accorded to any other paga girl. You are to be aware of words, or looks, or movements, which might seem odd, surprising, uncommon, untoward, or suspicious. If you sense that theft is plotted, or portends, contact Ho-Tosk immediately, directly, or indirectly, through another.”
“My master, Ho-Tosk,” I asked, “is apprised of these matters?”
“Certainly,” said the voice.
“I am afraid,” I said.
“Do not be afraid,” said the voice. “I think there is little, if any, danger. Presumably none know that the former Lady Julia Leta is in Port Kar. She was last noted in Brundisium. Moreover, almost no one, either in Port Kar, or elsewhere, would know her by sight.”
“I am a barbarian,” I said. “I am not native to this world. I know little of it. Please select a Gorean girl for this task. That would be far more apt for your concerns and designs. They, given their background and knowledge, would be quick of apprehension. The slightest discrepancy in speech or behavior would be instantly apparent to them. They would know thousands of things I do not. They would be much more aware than I, if Adraste were threatened, or in any form of danger.”
“You will do very nicely,” said the voice.
A moment or two later I heard the leather straps closing the alcove being undone.
“Master?” I said.
And then I knew I was alone in the alcove.
A few moments later the taverner’s deputy entered the alcove. Shortly thereafter, he freed my left ankle of the chain and removed the hood. “Return to the floor,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
Across the floor, some yards away, I saw Adraste, in the yellow tunic, fetching paga.
Chapter Fourteen
Adraste and I Exchange Pleasantries
“I see no reason, Adraste,” I said, “why we cannot be friends.”
“That is because you are a barbarian,” said Adraste.
We, with some others, were at work in the kitchen.
A girl may be demoted from the floor to the kitchen, particularly if she is seldom alcoved, this suggesting a lack of customer interest. Kitchen work, too, is often a consequence of a customer’s suspected dissatisfaction. That is one thing. An explicit complaint is quite another. That would normally be followed by a whipping, that followed by an assignment to the kitchen, for a greater or lesser time. We six, however, for there were four others, had little to fear in such respects. Ho-Tosk, our master, was well enough satisfied with us. For example, we were allowed kitchen rags and our ankles were not even shackled. He, as many other taverners, who had the resources, would occasionally vary his girls on the floor, rather in the same fashion that items on a menu might be changed or adjusted. Customers, those who pay attention to such things, are quick to notice a new girl on the floor or the absence, perhaps alarming, of an expected one. Indeed, when the taverner’s men notice a frequent preference for a given girl by a certain customer, she may be removed from the floor. Perhaps she is to be marketed? Fearing the loss of a favorite, the customer might then buy her. The more an object is desired the more likely its price will go up. Owners are seldom unaware of this economic probability. Indeed, the fellow had probably already reached the stage where he is annoyed when his favorite is alcoved by others. He would prefer to have her for himself. Again he is thinking of buying her. Now he is well motivated to do so. Gorean men, despite their belittling of, and mocking of, slaves, can become difficult to deal with, even unpleasantly, discourteously selfish, in such matters. Many men will die for a slave they publicly scorn. In any event, as I may have suggested, a tavern’s stock of paga slaves is seldom constant. Paga girls can come and go. And often do. And what slave does not desire to be the single slave of a private master? Another reason, I suppose, for putting even a satisfactory girl in the kitchen might be to remind her that such or worse could always be her fate. With this in mind, will she not strive to be even more pleasing on the floor? In this respect, however, I think some masters, at least, might be a bit naive; they might confuse what a girl does not want with what a girl does want. It is not so much that she does not want the drudgery of the kitchen as that she does want the opportunity to obtain a master, her own master.
“Everyone needs friends,” I said.
“I do not,” said Adraste.
I still could not understand why my interlocutor in the alcove, when I had knelt before him, chained and hooded, had charged me as he had, with the task of being alert to possible anomalies or jeopardies which might pertain to Adraste. Why not charge a native Gorean girl with such a task? She would know thousands of things I would not about this world, its culture, history, customs, and politics. She would be aware of hints and subtleties which I, most likely, would not even note. It made no sense to me.
I had finished scouring and washing a plate, and now submerged it in the rinsing basin, after which I inserted it in the rack to my left, to drain and dry.
“Adraste,” I said.
“Do not bother me, slave,” said Adraste.
“I do not like you,” I said, suddenly.
“Nor I you,” she said, handing me a plate.
“Why are you unpleasant?” I asked.
“It pleases me,” she said.
“I see,” I said.
“Of course, you dislike me,” she said. “I am far more beautiful than you.”
“That is a matter of opinion,” I said.
“That of the world,” she said, “with one possible exception, if you are insane.”
“I acknowledge that you are far more beautiful than I,” I said.
“What is so obvious does not require acknowledgement,” she said.
“I doubt that you were ever of high caste,” I said.
“You probably never even had a caste,” she said. “You are a barbarian. You cannot even read.”
“I can read English,” I said. “But, doubtless, you have never even heard of that language.”
“I have heard of it,” she said.
“You were once free?” I said.
“Of course,” she snapped.
“Did you ever have a free companion?” I asked.
“Once,” she said.
“What happened?” I asked.
“He deserted me,” she said.
“I am not surprised,” I said.
I did not actually think that the Lady Julia Leta had ever been companioned. Had she been companioned, it seemed certain that my interlocutor in the alcove would have mentioned this. But perhaps she had once been companioned, long before turning to her villainies.
“Adraste,” I said.
“Do your work,” she said.
“Do yours,” I said.
I had hoped, of course, that I might find some way to relate to Adraste, in such a way as to better facilitate the charge that had been imposed on me. If I was supposed to spy on her, she, her environs and interactions, as seemed the case, the pretense of friendship seemed a plausible stratagem. Do not think the less of me. You do not know Adraste. Who, in fact, could actually like Adraste? A male might like to get his hands on her, to inform her in a thousand ways that she is in a collar, but who else? In such matters, given one’s charge, one considers the means, the tools, at hand. The closeness of a friend is unquestioned; the concern of a friend is likely to be welcomed. Do not false friends betray most adeptly? Do they not make the best spies? Who is better situated to perpetrate treason than the false patriot? But my effort to relate to Adraste had been rebuffed. Again it seemed pointless to me that this task had been given to me, and not to a Gorean girl, one to whom Adraste would be less likely to object. It was difficult for me to express the intensity of my dislike for Adraste. What a liar she was, and how arrogant! In Brundisium, I recalled, she had dared to claim she had been of high caste. Thus I had been pleased to express my doubt of that in no uncertain terms. That should have stung the former Lady Julia Leta, she merely of the Merchants, to the quick! Or did she wish me to think that the Merchants was a high caste? Most did not regard it so. Gorean society is built on the acceptance of rank, distance, and hierarchy. On Gor one does not pretend such differences do not exist or are not important. Indeed, rank, distance, and hierarchy stabilize the society. Is the alternative not social anarchy, envy, jealousy, denial, uncertainty, confusion, competition, dishonesty, scrambling about, frustrated ambition, disappointment, fury, and chaos?
“Adraste,” I said.
“Do not bother me,” she said.
“I have heard something of interest,” I said.
“I think I will go to another basin,” she said.
“Not without permission you will not,” I said.
“I am thinking of scratching your eyes out,” she said.
“You had better settle for a bit of scratching and a handful of hair,” I said, “else they will blind you, too.”
“Why are you talking to me?” she said. “Do you not know you are a mere barbarian?”
“Your collar is on you as well as mine is on me,” I said.
“I was once free,” she said. “You were merely not enslaved.”
“Let us pretend to be friends,” I said. “My plainness next to your beauty will make your beauty even more dazzling.”
“I need no tricks,” she said.
