Quarry of gor, p.43
Quarry of Gor, page 43
“Did you really think, little idiot,” said Florian, “we would not know you were about, a naked slave at our knees?”
“Did you snatch up a crumb of fact, lap up some news?” asked Miles.
“Forgive me, Masters,” I said.
“What you heard is no longer sensitive,” said Florian. “It is common knowledge in the holding. Even the slaves know.”
“I did not,” I said.
“You are a barbarian,” said Florian.
“But the matter of the spy,” I said.
“The spy has been recalled,” said Florian.
“That is a good-looking slave,” said Astron.
“Thank you, Master,” I said. “A slave is pleased if Master is pleased.”
“She is not only worthless, but excessively plain,” said Florian.
“Worthless, yes,” said Astron, “but consider the fineness, the delicacy, of the features, the dark-brown hair, the soft lips, which might be easily bruised by the violence of a master’s kiss, the sweet shoulders and vulnerable belly, the trim ankles, which would look so well in shackles, and the eyes. I suspect tears could be easily brought to those lovely eyes.”
“Women are marvelous, naked, and in collars,” said a man.
“Women are troublesome,” said another.
“Not when they are stripped, and collared, and on their knees, in the shadow of a whip,” said another.
“True,” said another.
“That is how they should be,” said a man.
“That is where they belong,” said another.
“Nonetheless,” said Florian, “she is excessively plain. She is a Golden-Chain girl.”
“A Golden-Chain girl?” said Astron.
“Yes,” said Florian.
“I can believe it,” said Astron.
“Thank you, Master,” I said. Then I faced Florian. “May I speak, Master?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“I fear I am not so plain as Euphrosyne,” I said.
A burst of laughter escaped Miles.
“Do you court a lashing?” demanded Florian.
“Not at all,” I said.
“Compared to Euphrosyne,” he said, “you are no more than an ill-bred, mottled she-tarsk!”
I remained silent, but my silence, I assure you, did not betoken agreement. It was true, however, that Euphrosyne was one of the most popular girls in the tavern.
“I gather,” said Astron, “that Ho-Tosk remains adamant.”
I recalled that Astron had been long at sea.
“I would not have Euphrosyne if she were given to me,” said Florian, angrily.
“Of course not,” said Astron.
“That is well known,” said Miles.
I had long suspected that Florian’s belligerent animosity toward the Golden Chain, and all that might appertain to it, had something to do with lovely Euphrosyne.
“Master,” I said to Florian, “I am hungry. May I be fed?” I hoped to be fed by hand, but, often enough, some food is thrown on the floor under the table, which is to be taken on all fours, without the use of our hands.
“Not now,” said Florian. “Perhaps later, if you are fortunate. You have been too inquisitive. We will have to find a way to keep closer track of you. I do not like the way you sneak about. Perhaps, one time or another, we might not be aware of your presence. Crawl to the kitchen. I shall send instructions to the kitchen master.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
I was very hungry. I should have remained away from the head of the table. Had I done so, I am sure I would have been nicely fed by now. Too, I was annoyed that my presence had apparently not been as unobtrusive as I had thought, and that the information I had obtained, congratulating myself on my subtlety and cleverness, had been public knowledge, at least within the holding. No one had told me. To be sure, I was not a familiar member of the household. I do not think the matter really had to do with my being a barbarian. My Gorean was now quite good, and many of the slaves in the holding, as far as I could tell, though unsure of my accent, uncritically accepted me as a native speaker, a mistake which I thought it needless to rectify. If my original Earth name ‘Margaret’ had been put on me, though then, of course, as a mere, perhaps mocking, slave name at the whim of masters, things might have been different. Earth-girl names, incidentally, are sometimes put on native Gorean girls, perhaps to punish them, belittle them, demean them, humiliate them, or so on. They must then answer to that name, of course, promptly and perfectly.
I heard the irritating tinkle of the bells, changed my position, and then lay as still as I could, so as not to jangle the bells, the blanket clutched about me. I had been sleeping, for some Ahn. I supposed it now must be something like the second or third Ahn. I was not sure what, if anything, had awakened me. Perhaps it was the bells. One of the girls, laughing at the bells, told me that after the second night or so I would ignore them or not hear them when asleep. I was not sure why I had awakened when I did. I was naked in my cage, as we, most of us, at least in this holding, are commonly slept. The blanket was large and warm, and served as both mattress and bedding. Sometimes, as a punishment, a girl is denied the blanket. In many establishments, the girls are chained to rings at night. If one has a private master, one is often slept at the foot of his couch, chained there by a neck or ankle, usually the left ankle. In this way, the master, awakening, has the slave at hand, to put to use whenever and however he might wish. A small tug, once or twice on the chain, alerts us to awaken, that we may kneel, head down, awaiting the master’s pleasure. Some slaves with private masters are allowed to share the master’s couch. This is a sign of great favor, and often a slave must serve long and well before being granted so great a privilege and honor. She kneels beside the couch, humbly lifts and kisses the bedding two or three times, and then ascends the couch. Often slaves, as other animals, are not allowed on the furniture. I heard the bells again, to my irritation. They were, in their three rows, locked about my left ankle. I could not remove them. How the other slaves had laughed, that I be so humiliated. The bells were not the sensuous bells whose rustle drives masters wild, not the sort worn by many dancers, where coins are cast to the dancing floor, usually to be retrieved later by a taverner’s man, not the sort sometimes fastened on a slave’s ankle before her use, that they may record her least tremor, and resound to her wildest passion. No, they were tiny, clanking bells, of the sort that might be fastened on a rooting tarsk or a grazing verr, that their location might be more easily noted by local tenders. It seems I had been too inquisitive. “We will have to find a way to keep track of you,” had said Florian. It seemed he did not care for the way I “sneaked about.” How frightful if, at one time or another, they might not be aware of my presence! How bothersome that would be! Well, they had little to worry about now! I could not move a step without those bells marking my every move! As instructed, I had crawled, unfed, to the kitchen. There, chained by the neck to a ring, I had waited while hearing the noises of the feasting, the songs and shouts of men, the glad cries of slaves, rejoicing in their sharing of the feast. At last, the instructions for the kitchen master had reached the kitchen. I was to be given two spoons of slave gruel, after which I was to be belled and put to bed in my cage. Soon, belled, on all fours, I was walked to my cage by a guard. Behind me I could still hear, for some time, the sounds of the feast. The feasters would, I gathered, as Florian had suggested, “eat and drink heavily and sleep late.” Then the cage door was locked behind me.
I do not know why I awakened when I did. Perhaps the bells had sounded, and awakened me. I did not know.
As I lay in the cage, warm in the blanket, trying not to move, many thoughts, as they will, came and went. I thought of my former life on Earth. How free, truly, had I been, without a master before whom I could at last be myself? Was I, or others, really so free then? Had I not been subject to a thousand restrictions, pressures, and forces, not been governed by a thousand bondages of compliance and convention? Had I not been informed how I was to speak, behave, and think? How perilous it had been not to conform! How many falsities and lies were imposed in the name of truth and honesty? Were we truly so free, swarming about, coming and going, in those immense, shimmering hives of steel and glass, their walls blazing in the sun? Was nature, with its wind and sunlight, its rain and snow, its grass and mountains, really so inferior to crowded, noisy thoroughfares, small and narrow at the foot of artificial cliffs and canyons? Was it so wonderful, really, to scratch and fight, to plot and plan, to climb stairs leading to nothing? Is it the best of bargains to spend a life on parties and restaurants, theaters, and night clubs? Is one well advised to seek out for oneself glittering traps? What wise animal would knowingly hasten to enmesh itself in snares, even golden snares? On Earth my life had been shallow and frivolous, pretentious, hectic, and meaningless. How vain I had been! How satisfied, how proud, I had been of myself! How brightly I had sparkled amongst similarly worthless baubles! And then I was brought to Gor, and made a slave. Was it not fitting? Why should one such as I, so cheap and worthless, so meretricious and petty, not be a slave, not be owned and mastered? What else could one such as I be good for? And so I had found myself stripped and sold from a block in Brundisium. At last I had some value, small as it was, the value of a slave. It is lonely in a cage, and collar. How I wanted a master, to fulfill my worthless womanhood!
I do not know why I had awakened when I had.
I wondered about Dorna.
She must have awakened somewhere in Port Kar, and discovered herself in a tunic of the Golden Chain and a new collar, doubtless also of the Golden Chain. She might try to hide. But where might a tunicked, marked, collared slave hide? Perhaps she had already been picked up by guardsmen and taken to the Golden Chain, there to serve as bait for her master, Pa-Kur, of the Assassins. I trusted that Ho-Tosk would not have her beaten, as she was not truly a fugitive slave. The lash is very painful. But, I thought, to preserve the charade that she had attempted to flee the tavern, a beating might be in order, lest suspicions be aroused otherwise. In the light of this view, particularly as I recalled her treatment of me, I was prepared to view the beating of Dorna with complete equanimity.
I recalled that Florian, while we were proceeding to the observation chamber, had informed me, in his casual way, that someone wanted me. This muchly piqued my curiosity and apprehension, but, as is the way with masters, he did not elaborate on the matter. I did not know who this mysterious someone might be, but I conjectured it might be one of the men in the holding, for several had perused me well, or one fellow or another who had seen me, and perhaps tried me out, in the Golden Chain. I wondered if Ho-Tosk would sell me. I supposed it would depend on the offer.
I also thought of Adraste, whom I had occasionally seen in the holding, put to one servile task or another. It did not seem that her beauty had managed to purchase her an exemption from the common chores of slaves. She seemed to be treated no better or worse than the other slaves. I suspected that that, if nothing else, would have infuriated the arrogant beauty, to be treated so casually, so routinely, so indifferently. I was now reasonably sure that Adraste was not the former Lady Julia Leta of Ar, given my adventure in the delta as the slave of he who spoke of himself as Bruno of Torcadino. The metal monster in the delta, the talk of recruiting men, of the gathering of equipment and the accumulation of resources, and the presence of Pa-Kur, of the Assassins, suggested an enterprise and project far more important and weighty than the mere capture of a lovely, embezzling thief from Ar’s Street of Coins. So I supposed that the identity of Adraste was other than that of the former Lady Julia Leta of Ar. It must be that of someone far more important. Though the thought alarmed me greatly, I might have been tempted to fear that she might actually be the former Talena of Ar, the fabulous, bitterly sought, widely sought, long-sought, treasonous Ubara of Ar. That possibility, of course, was ruled out as Talena of Ar was now safe on Cos, under the protection of her former ally, Lurius of Jad. In my wandering thoughts, I also considered my annoyance with Florian, which went far beyond his reticence to reveal to me even the name of one who was supposedly “interested” in me and his radical and unaccountable disparagement of me and the Golden Chain. He had also, it seemed reasonably clear, though presumably under orders, made me an unwitting participant in political intrigues I did not understand. When I had been chained and hooded in an alcove of the Golden Chain, he had informed me that Adraste was a peculating thief, the former Lady Julia Leta of Ar, sought by the justice of Ar, and had enlisted me in a project to spy upon her, and alert Ho-Tosk to any unusual or suspicious behaviors, inquiries, contacts, and such, which might involve her. Now I suspected that I had been lied to, given false beliefs not only to mislead me, personally, but beliefs which I, say, under torture or interrogation, might convey to enemies, that they, too, would be misled. I recalled my ordeal with the tunic of fire and the fumes of truth. I had been convinced that I had revealed nothing, but I had learned, later, from Addison Steele, to my dismay, that I had spoken fully and volubly. Now, clearly, it seemed likely that I had conveyed nothing but false information, whose only value, if any, was to mislead enemies.
It was quiet in the holding. The feast was now long over. I tried not to move my ankle, with its humiliating bells, such as might bedeck a tarsk or verr. How amused the other slaves would be in the morning! I was pleased that few, if any, knew I was a barbarian. That would have been almost too much to bear.
I do not know why I had awakened when I did.
I knew little of the politics or intrigues of Gor, or of Port Kar. I did gather, however, that yesterday was an important day for the holding. Did the feast not signal that? Much intelligence of interest had apparently been gained from the interrogation of Dorna. No attack or onslaught on the holding was imminent. The tunic of fire and the fumes of truth could not be resisted. I, myself, had learned that. Indeed, some spy within the camp of Pa-Kur had even been recalled, doubtless to lessen that agent’s jeopardy which, as time went on, might be expected to increase, perhaps exponentially.
How quiet it was.
I was careful not to move my ankle.
There had been much relief in the holding following the revelations of Dorna, particularly as Bosk of Port Kar, master of the holding, was absent. As far as I knew, I had never seen or met him. He was apparently at sea, looking into reports that he himself was at large, preying on shipping and ravaging towns on the Farther Islands.
I would now try to return to sleep.
I myself had undergone the ordeal of the tunic of fire and the fumes of truth, in much the same way as had Dorna. Dorna, then, and her confederates, would be well aware that the tunic of fire and the fumes of truth could not be resisted. I had spoken, I gathered, fully and volubly. But what had I revealed, only what I had been told, only what I took to be the truth.
I did not know why I had awakened when I did.
Bosk of Port Kar was far away, at sea. One could understand that. Why would he not, in rage and fury, inquire into depredations enacted in his name?
He was not in the holding.
Suddenly I realized, in terror, why I had awakened when I had. I rose to my knees with a jangle of bells and seized the bars of my small, sturdy cage, clutching and shaking them wildly, futilely. “Masters, Masters!” I screamed.
And almost at the same time I heard shouts and cries, from the corridor outside, running feet, and the clash of weapons.
Chapter Forty-One
How Events Proceeded
In the Holding of Bosk of Port Kar
It was late morning, the Ninth Ahn, when a stranger, in a scarlet scarf, bearded, sword drawn, kicked open the door to the room in which my cage was kept. He looked about, swiftly, taking in the room, and then strode to my cage. I quickly knelt, with my head to the floor of the cage. “Why are you alone?” he demanded. “Are you being punished?”
“I have been kept alone,” I said. “I do not know why. I think it is because I am in the custody of the holding, but not of the holding. I do not think I am being punished.”
He lifted the lamp.
“Put aside the blanket,” he said.
I did so, immediately. Slaves are to obey unquestioningly, instantly.
“You are belled,” he said, “though clumsily.”
I could not help the bells which had been put on me.
“Kneel up,” he said, “head high.”
I did so.
“You are a pleasure girl, are you not?” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Why then,” he asked, “if you are belled, are you not in pleasure bells?”
“I do not know,” I said.
“Get your knees apart, widely,” he said.
I did so.
“You are a well-curved, little beast,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“Are you privately owned?” he asked.
“No, Master,” I said.
“Who is your master and what is your collar?” he asked.
“I am owned by Ho-Tosk, of Port Kar,” I said, “and my collar is that of the Golden Chain.”
“That is a tavern?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
So then he was not of Port Kar.
He sheathed his sword.
“Where is the key to your cage?” he asked.
“On the wall, to the right,” I said.
In moments then I was released from the cage and stood before the stranger.
“Turn about,” he said, “and cross your wrists behind your back.”
With two quick loops of thong and a knot jerked tight, my wrists were fastened behind my back.
