Quarry of gor, p.48
Quarry of Gor, page 48
“There is no time!” cried the confederate of Seremides. “See the horizon! Ships approach, rowed with earnest purpose! A dozen craft will land within Ehn! The longboat will pull away!”
Vas of Anango growled with fury, but, wavering, uncertain, did not approach us more closely.
“This one,” said a man, he who held Euphrosyne, “wears the collar of the Golden Chain.”
“I, too!” I cried.
“We are stolen!” cried Euphrosyne. “Return us to our master!”
“Yes,” I cried, “Ho-Tosk, of Port Kar!”
“I know him,” said a man.
“Save us from thieves!” cried Euphrosyne.
“Please, Masters,” I cried.
“They are ours, duly purchased,” snarled Vas of Anango.
“An inquiry will be made,” said one in the crowd.
“It seems you can afford bells, but not a tunic,” called a man from the crowd.
I had been belled from the night of the celebration, before the attack on the holding of Bosk of Port Kar. I had not been tunicked since my caging on the same night, and had been commanded forth, as I was, unclothed, from my cage early this morning by a red-scarfed intruder. It is not unusual to keep a captive slave stripped. Indeed, captive free women are likely, as well, to soon find themselves fully bared. Due to the danger of inadvertently encountering concealed poisoned pins or knives, they are usually stripped by the sword or knife, or ordered to tear away their own clothing and place themselves naked in a posture of submission before their captor. Commonly this act is performed in something of a frenzy for the unfortunate captive is given very little time in which to accomplish this act, the time being determined by a tiny sand glass or the captor’s measured counting. This helps her to understand that a command is to be obeyed immediately and unquestioningly. This stripping of the free women, however it may be accomplished, helps them to better understand their imminent fate, that they will soon be marked and collared. As a slave, I had very little sympathy for free women. I was pleased to think of them, once so haughty, so lofty and arrogant, now on their knees, stripped and collared, subject to the switch or whip. How their life is changed! Will they be given permission to speak? Will they be given a rag to wear? Will they be fed? When they were free, did they ever anticipate that they would one day crawl to a master, a switch in their teeth? They soon learn, as we all do, to throw their legs apart at a snapping of fingers.
“Come away,” said the confederate of Seremides to Vas of Anango.
“You did not mutilate the slaves,” said Seremides to Talena.
“No,” said Talena.
“Ubara,” said Seremides, in awe.
She returned his knife to him, and he returned it to its sheath.
“Haste!” said the confederate of Seremides. “Pursuers will dock momentarily!”
From where I was held, I could see several of the boats from Port Kar. The longboat from the Cosian ship was across the skerry. I did not think it could be seen by the approaching pursuers. I did not doubt but what it would make its departure, laden or not, shortly before or after the pursuers had reached the pier.
“Hurry, Ubara,” said Seremides to Talena.
“Hold!” said Vas of Anango.
Seremides turned about.
“My fee,” said Vas of Anango.
“You were paid,” said Seremides. “This morning, the morning of the action, as was agreed, two gold staters of Brundisium.”
From this I gathered that Vas of Anango was somehow preeminent amongst the others. Perhaps he had assisted in their recruitment.
Surprise coursed amongst the men present. I knew little of Gorean coinage, but, from the reaction, I gathered that the gold stater of Brundisium was a coin of considerable value.
“I raise my fee,” said Vas of Anango.
“Very well,” said Seremides, with an anxious glance to the sea. “A third stater.”
“The slave,” said Vas of Anango, drawing his sword.
“Approach,” said Seremides.
“I am content where I am,” said Vas of Anango. “I do not care to step within the compass of your blade.”
“Have you gone mad?” said Seremides. “Look to the sea!”
I could now hear men in the approaching boats, shouting to the shore. Men were crowded in the bows. The note of a guardsman’s canal trumpet carried across the water to the pier.
“Noble Vas,” cried the confederate of Seremides, hurrying to Vas of Anango. “Reconsider, I beg of you!”
“Do not touch me,” said Vas of Anango. Then he addressed himself once more to Seremides. “I shall deliver the slave to Cos,” he said. “You have delegated me in to act in your place. Who shall gainsay that? What are two or three gold staters, even of Brundisium, compared to the wealth I suspect you seek, for which you risk so much, for which you strive and gamble?”
“Great lady,” said Seremides to Talena, “to the longboat! Now!”
“Surely not, Captain,” said Talena. “It is you, not he, who have done all this to save me.”
“To the longboat, noble lady,” said Seremides, “hasten, hurry to safety, security, honor, privilege, and station!”
Talena hesitated, looking from the longboat to Seremides, to Vas of Anango, to the crowd, to the nearing boats, but yards from docking.
“Now, worthless slave!” screamed Seremides. “Are you unaware you are tunicked? Are you unaware of the declamatory mark characterizing your thigh, informing the world of what you are, a purchasable beast? Are you unaware of the collar on your neck, that you are a mere property? Run, to the longboat, now, lest, as you deserve, you be publicly stripped and lashed!”
“Hold, slave!” said Vas of Anango. “We are not done here!”
Talena wavered, sobbing, distraught.
“Let her go!” cried Seremides.
“Cast your crutch aside,” demanded Vas of Anango, “and your knife and sword.”
“Do not do so, noble friend,” begged Talena.
Angrily Seremides slid the crutch to the side, fell heavily to the planks of the pier, and shoved his knife and sword out of reach.
“Now, run!” commanded Seremides.
“Yes, run, slave,” laughed Vas of Anango.
Talena, weeping, hurried toward the waiting longboat.
“You have won,” said Seremides. “Hasten, be off!”
But Vas of Anango did not move.
“Go!” cried the confederate of Seremides.
“I was humiliated in the contests,” said Vas of Anango. “I was publicly shamed.”
“You have taken fee,” said the confederate of Seremides.
“As is my right,” said Vas of Anango.
“Honor!” said the confederate of Seremides.
“Do you think I would leave such an enemy behind me?” asked Vas of Anango.
“I see,” said Seremides.
“Last blood,” said Vas of Anango.
“Be quick,” said Seremides.
“Do not!” cried the confederate of Seremides, clutching at the arm of Vas of Anango. But Vas of Anango angrily shook himself free, turned, and thrust his weapon into the heart of the confederate of Seremides. Men cried out in protest. “He sought to interfere,” said Vas of Anango. He laughed then, and turned back to Seremides. But a figure had interposed itself between Vas of Anango and Seremides.
“I seek to interfere,” said the figure.
“Get out of the way,” said Vas of Anango.
“See,” said Seremides to the figure, “that your blade touches his no more than three times.”
“Get out of the way!” screamed Vas of Anango.
“Last blood,” said the figure, quietly.
Vas of Anango, in fury, lunged forward.
I did not hear a single interaction of steel, but saw Vas of Anango crumple to the pier.
The figure which had interposed itself between Seremides and Vas of Anango wiped its blade on the tunic of Vas of Anango, and then sheathed its sword.
“Excellent,” said Seremides.
“Master,” it said.
At the same moment I heard shouting, and a note from a guardsman’s trumpet, and two or three boats sliding against the pier, and saw men scrambling out of them, variously armed. I caught sight of Decius of Venna, emerging from one boat, followed by men, and Addison Steele, from another, with Florian, of the holding of Bosk of Port Kar, and Miles, too, of that holding. And other boats were docking.
The figure which had interposed itself between Seremides and Vas of Anango spoke sharply, authoritatively. “Those of the red company,” he said, “screen us.” He then, gently, almost tenderly, lifted the body of Seremides in his arms and began to walk toward the pier at which the longboat yet lingered. I saw nothing further then because men of the “red company,” one of the companies of itinerant, licensed swordsmen currently competing at the Skerry of Lars, rushed forward to greet the newcomers.
Men crowded together, pushing and shoving, smiling, grinning, holding to one another, buffeting one another. “Welcome!” I heard. “What occurs?” “What do you seek?” “Let us tell you what we have seen!” Mightily must the newcomers have been frustrated. I heard Florian cry out, “Where is the slave, Adraste. We seek the slave, a stolen slave, Adraste, Adraste!” An Ehn or two later I saw again the figure, now returned, which had interposed itself between Vas of Anango and Seremides. It was the young swordsman, Alan, of the red company, he of the unusual hair, so red with the incongruous slash of blonde, he of remarkable blade skills, who had been called to my attention by Seremides weeks ago. The newcomers, freeing themselves of the attentions of the crowd, began to search the buildings, housings, domiciles, emporiums, and barracks of the Skerry of Lars. I saw no sign of the crutch or weapons of Seremides. I did not know what had become of them. It was explained to those to whom it might be of interest that Vas of Anango had murdered a man, and that a member of the red company, attacked, had defended himself and slain the murderer. The purse of Vas of Anango was cut loose from his belt and given to the young swordsman, who refused it, on the grounds that its contents had not been well won, having been tainted with dishonor. The coins were later distributed amongst the lower workers of the Skerry of Lars. “But,” said Alan, to a fellow of his company, “I do have a gold stater of Brundisium.” He then displayed the coin. “Where did you get it?” he was asked. “It was given to me,” he said. “It will pay my way to Ar.” When the pier was less crowded, many of the men dispersing, some arm in arm with the newcomers, to the skerry’s taverns, I looked to the far pier. There was then no sign of either a longboat or the waiting, low-in-the-water, easily unremarked galley which had been visible earlier. I also noted that the blue and yellow lanterns had been removed from the signal pole of the skerry. Shortly after the arrival of the contingents from Port Kar, Euphrosyne and I had been released. We then knelt in place, on the pier, where we had been released, waiting to be claimed. “Tell me of the wind,” said a man. “It is a fine, fair wind,” said another. “And how does it blow?” asked the first man. “To the west,” he was told. “Then it seeks the shores of Cos,” said the first man. “Yes,” said the second.
Chapter Forty-Six
Paga Grows Short;
The Arrangement of Distractions;
I am Conducted from the Tavern
Restless, loud, and rowdy were the patrons of the Golden Chain. Goblets were struck on the low tables. Men shouted. Tables had been overturned. Four mariners had been ejected into the street.
“Hear the patrons,” said Ho-Tosk. “Things grow ugly.”
I hurried past him, a goblet in hand, anxious, the paga swirling. I was barefoot and briefly tunicked, as is common with a paga girl. Happily I no longer wore the three rows of tiny, clanking bells, suitable for a tarsk or verr, which had been placed upon me by order of Florian, supposedly to make it easier to keep track of me, days ago, in the holding of Bosk of Port Kar. They had been, in effect, of course, more than anything, punishment bells, put on me for the amusement of masters, to punish me for my curiosity, a trait which was, as is well-known, despite its ubiquity, allegedly unbecoming to a kajira. How eager we are to understand and know! How cruel are the masters to keep so much from us! How amused they are to treat us as the mere slaves we are! We are nothing, only kajirae, owned objects, kept for their service and pleasure. Would one discuss plans with tarsks? Would one wish to keep kaiila or verr informed of what is to be done with them? How helpless one is as a slave!
“Paga, paga!” called a man.
Euphrosyne hurried to him.
It was ten days since the repelled attack on the holding of Bosk of Port Kar, who was apparently still at sea, supposedly in the vicinity of the Farther Islands, intent on investigating depredation and carnage wrought in his name. But, for all I knew, he was himself a pirate and marauder. Might it not be clever to pose as one’s own imposter, to rob and burn, pretending to be one’s own self? How cunning to seize loot for oneself and meanwhile feign outrage over the supposed exploits of a masquerading other!
I knelt and served paga to a table, lowering my head and extending my arms.
It was late in the low-ceilinged, lamp-hung hall of the Golden Chain.
It was crowded, as was often the case toward the end of a week or the end of a passage hand, that having to do with the paying of wages. There are twelve months in the Gorean calendar, each consisting of five five-day weeks, each followed by a five-day passage hand. The only exception is the five-day “Waiting Hand” which follows the Twelfth Passage Hand, and precedes the first day of the month of En’Kara, or En’Kara-La-Torvis, which is the vernal equinox, the first day of the Gorean New Year. In addition, a convoy of merchant ships, the grain fleet, five ships from Brundisium, guarded by three longships, were moored in the arsenal harbor.
“Away,” said a fellow, with a gesture of his goblet, he sitting cross-legged, at the table, much engaged in conversation.
I rose up, and returned to the vicinity of the Vat Master.
My tunic was torn at the left hip, the result of a patron’s drunken grasp.
No one had recently bound my hands behind my back and sent me to an alcove, to await his pleasure. The alcoves were currently in use, each belted shut from the inside. Gorean males do not hasten with their pleasure. A private master will often devote several Ahn to his slave. After all, she is his to do with as he pleases, and he owns her. Sometimes a day and a night are spent in this fashion. Commonly a morning, an afternoon, or an evening is devoted to such a pastime. The Gorean master does not hurry. The slave, when not bound, chained, writhing, or such, serves him, cooks for him, and brings him food and drink. Often she must pose and dance, frequently naked. How lovely she is! How exciting she is! How desirable she is! How proud he is to own such a possession! What male would not care to own such a property? Occasionally, brought mercilessly to the delicate, tense brink of a wild, cataclysmic, global yielding, the slave orgasm, unknown to free women, concerned with their integrity and personhood, she must wait, and beg her master’s permission to yield, which situation can be fiercely, painfully, keenly frustrating, particularly when the slightest touch of a finger or tongue will set off the explosive charge which makes clear and confirms her unmistakable bondage. How well she then understands herself a slave, and how precious is the release when granted! But, mercifully, such torment is rare. Commonly, as her body is played upon, as a musical instrument, she is brought to successions of crescendos of ecstasy. Several times, as the master pleases, she may be forced to endure such inordinate, unspeakable pleasures. Do not feel sorry for her. She is not a free woman. She has nothing to say about it; she is a slave. The alcoves were occupied. My belly was restless.
“We are busy tonight,” I said to the Vat Master.
“Your tunic is torn,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
After the business on the Skerry of Lars, Euphrosyne and I were returned to the Golden Chain.
For some reason we had both been fitted with new collars. They were both typical, common collars, flat, light, comfortable, closely fitting, and locked. How lovely are Gorean collars. How well they look on us. I wondered if free women envied us our collars. Also, of course, they are extremely efficient custodial devices. A girl could not even think of slipping one. I had learned that my first day on Gor. They are on us.
In the taverns, paga girls hear much. This cannot well be helped. Masters may not care for this, but facts, allusions, loose talk, rumors, and such, abound amongst the tables. As a consequence, I suspect that in most cities, the average paga girl is likely to be more informed, or misinformed, than the average citizen. The attacking force which had beset the holding of Bosk of Port Kar had withdrawn, largely unimpeded, into the delta. To be sure, it was not clear how it would fare in those trackless marshes or at the hands of territorial Rencers. It had doubtless purchased its way to Port Kar. Whether or not it might manage the same in a retreat to the Vosk was not clear. The Delta Gate, I heard, had been repaired. Nothing more had been heard, to date, of the metal monster rumored to frequent the marshes. Decius of Venna, and his men, undetained, had left Port Kar. They, interestingly, in the same way as hundreds of others, had naturally been taken as volunteers in the effort to recover a stolen slave named Adraste. Apparently it was not understood, at least generally, that he himself had wished to obtain the slave, whoever she might be, and whatever worth she might have, for himself. It was generally accepted that the slave, Adraste, had been carried away. Her importance, if importance she truly had, was not generally understood. It was accepted that she did have some interest to those of the holding of Bosk of Port Kar. Little, if anything, was known, at least by most, of a cripple named Seremides. It seemed few, certainly amongst the newcomers, had noted the departure of a longboat from one of the piers of the Skerry of Lars, and fewer yet had noted what may have been its mother ship, a quiet, soft-oared ship, masts down, soon moving westward.
