Quarry of gor, p.52
Quarry of Gor, page 52
“What else?” he asked.
“Nothing else,” I said. “Only that!”
“Whose slave are you?” he asked.
“Your slave,” I wept. “Your slave! Please, please!”
“Very well,” he said.
I cried out, beside myself, in ecstasy, gratitude, rapture, and relief. Seldom, happily, did he so hold me hostage; seldom, happily, did he make me so wait.
Yet he could do with me as he pleased.
“You were very noisy,” he said.
“Forgive me, Master,” I said.
“I effect nothing critical,” he said. “It is pleasant for a master to see what he has done to his slave, what he has brought about in his slave. It is pleasant to have her helplessly moan, weep, and beg in his arms. This is not Earth where a woman may pride herself on her sexual inertness, live a life of sexual nothingness, and compete with her sisters on her superiority to sex.”
Slaves, of course, are not permitted to hold back. Their responses are expected to be those of the natural woman, that of a slave in the arms of her master.
“Do you know,” he asked, “that there are women of Earth who are sexually unresponsive, who even endeavor to be so, who are frigid, or wish to be so, or try to be so?”
“It is hard to be frigid,” I said, “when one is naked in a collar.”
“In your training,” he said, “I expect that you learned about your slave fires.”
“They required very little kindling,” I said.
“Now,” said he, “they rage.”
“I, as others, am now their helpless prisoner,” I said.
“Good,” he said.
“The masters give us no choice,” I said. “They do what they wish with us. Our slave fires now rise within us, periodically, uncontrollably.”
“Excellent,” said Addison Steele. “Now perhaps we shall have some wine, and, if you kneel nicely and serve well, I may consider caressing you again.”
I rose quickly to my feet, and went to the side, to a chest with four tiers, and two shelves, to fetch goblets and a decanter.
I would do my best to be pleasing.
I wanted to be caressed again. I hoped to be caressed again.
It would be decided by my master.
If he dallied, I would tie the bondage knot in my hair.
Surely he must note it.
It would not do for me to call it to his attention.
I wanted to be owned. I was owned. I loved being owned.
“Master,” I said.
“Yes?”
“In the tavern,” I said, “you had great confidence in me, to have me put on the dancing floor, I, a mere barbarian. That is very flattering. You knew I would be satisfactory. You knew I would escape punishment. You knew, somehow, I would not be whipped. For my part, on the other hand, I fully anticipated that I would be whipped from the floor.”
“So did I,” he said.
“Oh,” I said.
“I gather,” I said, “that Adraste, the slave, was actually the former Talena, once the traitress Ubara of Ar, she who was sought by so many with so relentless a fervor.”
“Yes,” he said.
“I had thought that she was safely housed in Cos, as the guest of her former ally, the Ubar of Cos, Lurius, of Jad.”
“We generated that rumor, to slow or stop the search for her, to dismay and discourage hundreds of bounty hunters and gangs of bounty hunters, to keep her safer and to divert the search from the continent. Similarly, others had concealed her for a time at the World’s End, where Bosk of Port Kar acquired her, and returned her to the continent.”
“There is some relationship between Captain Bosk and Adraste,” I said.
“Formerly,” said Addison Steele. “She was once his Free Companion, but that was long ago, and the companionship is dissolved if not renewed annually. Too, slavery dissolves such a relationship. One cannot be both a Free Companion and a slave.”
“Does Bosk still care for her?” I asked.
“I do not know,” said Addison Steele. “She was cruel, arrogant, and an arch villainess. I am sure, however, that he does not wish her apprehended by bounty hunters and taken to Ar, to be subjected to lengthy tortures and the eventual impalement of what might then be left of her living body.”
“I knew her only as a slave,” I said, “a haughty, unpleasant slave.”
“She was a slave, and is still is a slave, unless she has been freed,” said Addison Steele.
“How strange,” I said, “to think of a Ubara, become a slave.”
“It is not unprecedented,” said Addison Steele. “Wars are frequent. Thus it is occasionally the case that a defeated Ubara finds herself naked and chained, branded and collared, at the feet of her conqueror. She is often, at first, exhibited as a trophy of victory, in triumphs, civil celebrations, court occasions, and such, but later may be simply put with other female slaves of the victor.”
“It still seems surprising to me,” I said.
“Bosk did not free her,” said Addison Steele. “Rather, he realized that she would be safest as a slave. Who would expect the former Ubara of Ar to be in a tunic and collar? Surely most would search for an elusive free woman, hidden somewhere, one of wealth and power. Too, as a slave, she could best be watched, guarded, and protected.”
“But, as a tavern girl?” I asked.
“That, I think,” said Addison Steele, “was most brilliant. Bosk had her sold from a low market in Brundisium, purchased by an agent, and brought routinely to Port Kar, with others, such as you, as a common slave.”
“But people could see her in the tavern,” I said.
“Yes,” said Addison Steele, “but who would recognize she whom they saw as the former Talena of Ar? Such an identification would be incredible. So obviously displayed, she was best hidden. You must remember that Port Kar is far from Ar, and that few, given facial veiling, hooding, and the robes of concealment, had, even in Ar, looked upon the features of the Ubara. It is not as though her features were publicized in newspapers, magazines, television, and such, not here, not on this world.”
“Here, I suppose,” I said, “Captain Bosk could keep her under surveillance.”
“Certainly,” said Addison Steele, “and he did, often with personal attention, until drawn from Port Kar by depredations perpetrated in his name.”
“Perhaps done to lure him from the city?” I asked.
“Quite possibly,” said Addison Steele.
“Why would he not have kept her in his holding, as other slaves?” I asked.
“One calculates the odds of the cast stones as best as one can,” said Addison Steele. “It was thought that keeping her in the holding, either openly, incognito, or, worse, secretly, given the former matter of the companionship, would be likely, sooner or later, to provoke suspicion. Where else would one look for her?”
“Too,” I said, shuddering, “being so imprisoned would be frightful. Better the tavern, the fresh air and wind, the freedom of the city.”
“Perhaps such considerations,” said Addison Steele, “entered into the calculations of Bosk. I do not know.”
“But she was taken to the holding,” I said.
“When it seemed clear she had been recognized,” said Addison Steele.
“She, Adraste, or Talena, might have been acquired by Pa-Kur, of the Assassins,” I said, “had you, and others, not seized on the stratagem of disguising yourselves as cohorts amongst the intruders, by means of red scarves.”
“Few stratagems were available,” said Addison Steele.
“Why did you not seal off the parapet, to prevent the withdrawal of Pa-Kur’s forces?” I asked.
“Given the number of his men, we would have been unable to hold it, nor, soon, the holding itself,” he said. “Rather we wished to sow uncertainty, confusion, and panic amongst the intruders, and then, while they were disconcerted and fearful, provide them with an inviting, undefended exit from the holding, a beckoning escape route.”
“I see,” I said.
“It is a common ruse of war,” he said. “Strew the road from one’s country with pearls.”
“Long I thought you a duplicitous mercenary, pretending to serve two competitors, Seremides, whom I then knew as Bruno of Torcadino, and Pa-Kur,” I said. “Yet you were a spy for the house of Bosk.”
“Stakes were high, perils were real,” he said.
“Even a slave may undergo perils,” I said.
“Doubtless,” said he.
“When I was on the errand which would bring me to the apartment of Dorna, where I was to be interrogated, my life was threatened. I was fired upon. I could have been killed. A quarrel struck a wall not a foot from my head, scattering bits of stone, some stinging me,” I said.
“You were in no danger,” he said. “It was fired from the bow of Pa-Kur, a superb marksman, to unsettle you, to induce alarm, to make you more readily intimidated, more vulnerable, more receptive, in your imminent interrogation.”
“In the marshes,” I said, “caught in quick sand, unable to free myself, the tide rising, I might have drowned.”
“I gather,” he said, “that you were not drowned.”
“I managed to seize a piece of drifting wreckage, from Pa-Kur’s canal boat,” I said, “and utilized it to free myself.”
“Fortunate that it drifted by so opportunely,” said Addison Steele.
“To be sure,” I said.
“I feared,” said Addison Steele, “that you would be too stupid to get your hands on it, and that I would have to reveal myself in saving you.”
“I do not understand,” I said.
“I followed you, easily done through the broken rence, anticipating that you might be caught in the sand, floating the debris in front of me, and then guided it so that it drifted against your back.”
“I see,” I said.
“Your flanks are not without interest,” he said.
“I am not stupid,” I said.
“I hope not,” said Addison Steele, “else there would be little point in putting you in a collar. Stupidity is acceptable in a free woman, but not in a female slave. Intelligence, as is well known, raises a girl’s price.”
“But we are sold, nonetheless,” I said.
“Of course,” he said, “and more profitably.”
“I gather that my Gorean is quite good,” I said.
“It is excellent,” he said, “and that, too, raises your price.”
“I am told my accent is that of Brundisium,” I said.
“More broadly,” said Addison Steele, “it is a coastal accent.”
“I learned most of my early Gorean in Brundisium,” I said.
“Its nature then,” said Addison Steele, “is not surprising.”
“Many girls,” I said, “think that I am natively Gorean.”
“I have been meaning to talk to you about that,” he said.
“Master?” I said.
“I gather from Florian,” he said, “that you permitted certain sister slaves to labor under that misapprehension.”
“Perhaps,” I said, “if they did not ask me.”
“Slave girls may not lie,” he said.
“I did not lie,” I said.
“But you must have realized their mistaken assumption, and did not hasten to disabuse them of their error.”
“Perhaps not,” I said.
“Is that not tangential to lying?” he asked.
“Surely not,” I said, forcing myself not to look at the whip on its peg.
“You are under no general obligation to frequently and publicly announce your faults and drawbacks, or your lowly and embarrassing origins,” said Addison Steele, “but, in the interests of honesty, you should make no secret of the fact that you are a barbarian. Indeed, as you are quite likely to betray yourself sooner or later by some slip, linguistic or otherwise, it would be wise not to permit any doubt about the matter, lest you be subjected to some appropriate chastisement. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Too,” he said, “being a barbarian makes you interesting and special. It gives you a certain flavor, so to speak. Everyone knows, for example, how sexually helpless barbarians are in their collars.”
“No more so than native Gorean girls,” I said. “We are all women, helpless, in our collars.”
“True,” he said.
“If Gorean girls know I am a barbarian,” I said, “they may beat me.”
“Not all, surely,” he said.
“No, not all,” I said.
“It is a risk you must take,” he said.
“I see,” I said.
“Do not be too zealous to conceal your barbarian origins,” he said, “if only as a favor to me.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Or you will be lashed,” he said. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Is that not the bondage knot in your hair?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Come to my arms,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“I wonder,” said Addison Steele, “what became of the rogue, Decius of Venna.”
“Escaping in the confusion at the Skerry of Lars,” I said, “I suspect he returned to Venna.”
“Perhaps not,” said Addison Steele. “It is rumored a warrant for his arrest awaits him there.”
“He was originally allied with Seremides, whom I knew as Bruno of Torcadino,” I said.
“Do you think he knew the true identity of Adraste?” asked Addison Steele.
“I do not think so,” I said. “I think he only conjectured later that she must have some considerable value, from which feature he hoped to profit.”
“I would not expect to see him again,” said Addison Steele.
“I would not think so,” I said.
“‘Decius’ is a not uncommon name in the vicinity of Ar and Venna,” said Addison Steele.
“I would not know,” I said.
“There is, for example, Decius Albus, the trade advisor to the Ubar of Ar, Marlenus,” said Addison Steele.
“I have not heard of him,” I said.
“From what I have heard of him,” said Addison Steele, “that is just as well.”
“I did fall into the power of Decius of Venna, briefly, in Brundisium,” I said, “when slaves were being removed from the House of Anesidemus, lest they perish in the spreading of a great dock fire.”
“Your covering sheet,” he said, “was replaced with that of Adraste,” he said.
“Yes,” I said.
“That was done to protect Adraste,” he said.
“I later gathered that,” I said. “I could have been killed.”
“You were in no danger,” said Addison Steele. “You are well curved and nicely collared. There are better things to do with a female slave than kill her. That would be a waste of slave. Who discards coins?”
“Were you in Brundisium?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “But Florian and Miles were, both there recruited as agents on behalf of Bosk of Port Kar. Florian arranged for the purchase of Adraste, and Miles was stationed in the house of Anesidemus itself, to protect her.”
“It was Miles,” I said, suddenly, “who changed the sheet!”
“Yes,” said Addison Steele.
“In Port Kar,” I said, “I thought he seemed somehow familiar.”
“It comes back to you now,” said Addison Steele.
“It was dark in the corridor,” I said. “We were on all fours. I caught only a brief glimpse of him, switching the sheets.”
“It was he,” said Addison Steele.
I placed two of Addison Steele’s tunics, washed, ironed, and folded, in a chest at the side of the room.
I paused before closing the lid.
“I am still curious,” I said, “as to how much you paid for me.”
“Curiosity,” he said, “is not becoming in a kajira.”
“Even so,” I said.
“Why are you smiling, sleek, possibly-looking-for-a-switching, well-curved she-tarsk?” he asked.
“This morning, on the street,” I said, “I encountered my former master, the noble Ho-Tosk. I knelt before him and pleasantly passed the time of day. He inquired after you.”
“That was thoughtful,” said Addison Steele. “How is the noble Ho-Tosk?”
“He seems quite well,” I said.
“Good,” said Addison Steele.
“I also asked him what you paid for me,” I said. “I was told four silver tarsks.”
“Ho-Tosk,” said Addison Steele, “has a tendency to gloat over such things.”
“I conjecture,” I said, “that is at least twice what I am worth.”
“The vanity of kajirae is astounding,” he said. “I would conjecture it was some four times what you are worth.”
“You must have wanted me very much,” I said. “I doubt that you could get that much for me, for selling me.”
“Florian paid more for Euphrosyne,” he said.
“More?” I said.
“She is, after all, Gorean,” he said.
“Of course,” I said, not pleased.
I then closed the lid of the clothing chest.
“Four tarsks, of silver,” I mused.
“I plan to get several times that value out of your hide,” he said.
“I have work to do,” I said.
“It can wait,” he said.
“May I speak?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“Much transpires of which you know little,” he said.
I lay at his feet, content.
“Pa-Kur,” he said, “is a dangerous enemy to Bosk of Port Kar, and seeks large resources.”
“Large resources?” I asked.
“Enormous resources,” he said.
“For what purposes?” I asked.
