Quarry of gor, p.7
Quarry of Gor, page 7
“The great Tatrix?” she scoffed.
“What is a Tatrix?” I asked.
“A female administrator, commonly of a city,” she said.
“Was she a Tatrix?” I asked.
“Of course not,” she laughed. “We call her that because her bearing is so haughty, so superior, and offensive. She, no more than a slave, puts on airs, carries herself as though she were free, and of high caste, too, and will hardly speak with us.”
I was surprised that Adraste had not spoken up, that she had not retorted in some way. She had certainly spoken with me, a mere barbarian. I wondered if she feared this new girl for some reason, but had had no fear of me, a barbarian.
“She is very beautiful,” I said.
“She is no different from us,” she said. “She, too, is in a collar.”
“I gather she was once important, even rich,” I said.
“She is a liar, from the World’s End,” she said.
Adraste was lying in her cage, curled up, facing away from us. I could sense a stiffening in her body, and anger, but she remained silent.
“Still she is very beautiful,” I said.
“She went for a silver tarsk, fifty, fifty copper tarsks,” said Fina. “I was behind her. I heard. That is far more than she was worth.”
“She-tarsk!” said Adraste, not turning about.
“She-tarsk!” responded Fina.
“I would tear out your hair, and scratch out your eyes,” hissed Adraste, not turning about.
“And the masters would cut off your ears and nose!” said Fina.
“Where are you from?” I asked Fina.
“From Venna,” she said, “not far from Glorious Ar.”
We heard the gong sound, again, seemingly far off.
“I wonder what she went for,” said Fina.
I lay down, again.
Fina, too, in her cage, lay down.
Adraste was silent.
I had asked Fina from where she was. I had had a reason for doing so. Apparently she was from a place called Venna, somewhere in the vicinity of a place called Ar, even “Glorious Ar.” I certainly did not know where Venna was, or “Glorious Ar,” but I had asked because the accents of Adraste and Fina had seemed strikingly similar.
Many people are unaware they have an accent, though it is clear enough to others, those who do not share the accent.
I lay quietly.
I did not know who owned me, only that I must no longer be the property of the house of Anesidemus, near the wharves, in the coastal metropolis of Brundisium.
I fell asleep.
Chapter Five
We Are Taken from the House of Anesidemus
I do not think I had been asleep very long when I became aware of the ringing of an alarm bar in the distance. I heard, too, the shouts of men, far off. I rose to my knees, and grasped the bars of my cage, frightened. I did not know what was going on. Fina was on all fours, in her cage. “Masters! Masters!” cried Adraste, from her cage, to the right of Fina’s cage. There was terror in her voice. I was startled, because Adraste had seemed, earlier, so cool, so self-assured, so superior and precise. “So,” I thought, “she is a woman, too, only a woman, and a slave, too, no different from us!” But her fear was communicated to me. I clutched the bars more tightly. Adraste knew more of this world than I, a barbarian imported for its markets. Then Fina, too, now kneeling, her cage to the left of that of Adraste, cried out, piteously, “Masters!” Similar cries emanated from other cages in the chamber as well. The only light in the chamber now, this late, was from a single lamp, suspended from the ceiling.
“What is wrong?” I called out, hoping someone would answer.
“Release us!” cried a slave.
I heard weeping.
No one paid me any attention.
I pressed my face against the bars and tried to look to my left, down the passage through which I and the other girls had been brought to this chamber.
It was dark.
“What is it?” cried a slave.
“An attack!” cried one.
“Slavers, a raid!” cried another.
“Cos!” I heard.
“Tyros!” cried another.
“Port Kar!” wept another.
“Do not be foolish!” cried Adraste. “Brundisium hosted and abetted the fleets of Cos and Tyros in the great invasion.”
I did not understand this.
“I smell smoke!” cried a girl.
“It is an attack by Ar!” cried another girl. “Her tarnsmen are aflight, high in the night, in their hundreds, hurling vessels of fire on Brundisium.”
“No,” cried Adraste. “Marlenus would own Brundisium, not destroy her!”
I did not know who Marlenus might be.
“Marlenus is a madman who would destroy what he cannot own!” said Fina.
“It cannot be Ar,” said another girl. “If Ar wished to punish Brundisium, she would have done so long ago.”
“Ar needs Brundisium,” said another girl. “How else could she outfit and supply a fleet for the invasion of Cos and Tyros?”
“I, too, smell smoke,” cried another slave.
A slave screamed.
I was not sure there was a smell of smoke. Imagination can be easily enflamed. In the house of fear, perception and invention are much akin. Then I, too, suddenly, unmistakably, smelled smoke.
“Raiders!” cried a slave.
“We are women, and slaves,” wept a girl, “nothing, only prizes, only loot, only booty.”
“It may not be raiders,” said a slave. “It is an attack in force!”
“You do not know that,” said another.
We knew little on this lower level, in our cages.
“It is Ar!” cried another slave. “It is rumored that Talena, she who betrayed the Home Stone of Ar, Talena, the puppet Ubara, the false Ubara, the traitress, the fugitive, is hiding in Brundisium.”
“And in a hundred other cities, as well,” said a slave.
“They would not destroy the city for her,” said another. “She might die in the flames. That would be too easy. It would cheapen the vengeance of Ar. They want her alive for months of torture, followed by slow impalement.”
“It is well known,” said another, “that Talena was given sanctuary in Cos.”
“Yes,” said another slave.
“Then it is Port Kar, her raiders, outside, in the streets, the scourge of Thassa!” cried a slave.
There was a shriek of fear.
“You do not know that,” said she who had spoken before.
How little we knew!
“No, no, not Port Kar!” wept another slave.
“To any city but Port Kar!” cried another.
There was terror in the voices.
“It is said the chains of a slave girl are heaviest in Port Kar,” wept a slave.
“We will be carried there, and, stripped, shackled, and lashed, sold in her markets!” wailed another.
“To pirates and cutthroats!” cried another.
A slave on the other side of the room, in her cage, was hysterically trying to tear the light, obdurate circlet of steel from her neck.
“Struggle in vain, fool,” said another. “It is on you, and will remain there.”
The slave then collapsed, weeping, huddled in her tiny cage, her fingers still clutching the attractive, close-fitting, locked, identificatory device.
I knew nothing of Port Kar, but I gathered that it would be a terrifying fate to be a female slave in Port Kar.
I touched my own collar.
I could not remove it, no more than the others could remove theirs.
We were helpless and rightless. We were properties. It would be done with us as masters might please.
I was very much afraid.
I now better realized what it might mean to be a slave, and a slave on Gor.
“Fools,” said a girl, she who had cautioned patience and skepticism, “cease your screaming and weeping, your babbling and whimpering. There are no raiders, from Port Kar or elsewhere.”
“The alarm bar!” protested a slave.
“I hear no axes on gates, no clash of swords, no screams of slaughtered men,” said the first slave.
“The smell of smoke is stronger!” cried a slave.
“Masters! Masters!” cried another.
“There is no sign of fire here,” said the first slave.
This observation was met with silence.
“Masters will not allow us, their goods, to be destroyed,” she said.
I recalled then something I had heard when I was in training. In many situations, as in war, it was far safer to be a slave than a free person, as the slave, as a domestic animal, had value, as an acquisition. The slave was viewed not as an enemy or combatant, but, as other goods, silks, vessels, coins, and such, as booty.
I looked again to my left, as I could, my face against the bars, to the passageway through which I and the others had been introduced into the holding chamber, with its tiny, sturdy cages.
“A lantern approaches,” I called out.
I could see the light, down the passageway.
“Another, another lantern!” I said.
Three or four, perhaps five, men were in the passageway.
“Masters! Masters!” cried several of the slaves.
“Silence!” snapped the first fellow into the chamber. Instantly the slaves were silent, as a free man had spoken. “You are in no danger, no immediate danger,” he said. He then suspended his lantern from a dangling hook, its chain fixed in the ceiling. “There is a fire on the wharf,” he said, “a warehouse fire. It will surely be contained, and extinguished. Yet we will not risk it. It might spread. As a precaution, the building will be evacuated. You will be taken into the streets.” One of the men, of which there were five, had several coils of rope over his shoulder. Another, with a single key, now moved rapidly from cage to cage, opening the gates. “Out,” called the fellow who had been first in the chamber. “On all fours, tandem, in a line, facing the passageway!” The second lantern was held high by another of the men. The passageway itself was not illuminated.
I crawled from the cage, and took my place in the line being formed by the released slaves. On all fours, the slave is well reminded of her slavery.
“Here, this place, here,” said one of the men, he aligning us.
The first slave crawled to the place indicated, I, and the other slaves, following her.
“What of our new masters?” asked a slave.
“You will be picked up in the morning,” she was told.
Adraste was before Fina, and Fina was before me. There were some fifteen or twenty slaves, several before us, and some behind us.
The fellow with the rope, beginning with the last girl, moved forward, adding us, one by one, to the coffle. I felt the rope looped about my neck, knotted, and then passed on, to the next girl. This is commonly done, from rear to front, presumably so that the girl cannot see the approach of the rope or chain, and then she is added to the coffle. This lessens the likelihood that a slave, presumably a new slave, terrified, may bolt before being secured.
“Where are our tunics?” begged a slave. “Surely we will not be taken into the streets as we are.”
“No, not as we are!” said another slave.
“Clothe us!” begged another slave.
“You are already clothed,” said he who was adding us to the coffle. “You have your clothing, your collars. How could those such as you be more appropriately clothed?”
“Please, Master!” begged a slave.
“Be silent,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered, her head then lowered humbly, as befits a slave.
“Have no fear, pretty beasts,” said another man. “You will not be cold. We will see to that. Each of you will have a nice warm slave sheet.”
The slave moaned, and another man, nearby, laughed. This was, I gathered, a joke. A slave sheet is light. It provides little, or no, warmth. Its purpose is to conceal the slave. The masters, I gathered, outside in the darkness and confusion, did not wish to tempt ruffians, or predators, by the display of attractive slaves, poorly secured and perhaps ill-guarded. Had we been in a chain coffle, as is common in moving slaves, the risk of assault or theft would have been considerably reduced. A blow can render a girl unconscious. A knife can quickly cut a rope. And who is likely, in the darkness, men rushing about, to challenge a fellow bearing away a slave which might well be his own?
We were properties, and properties can be stolen.
“Move, soft, pretty animals,” said a man.
The coffle began to move up the passageway. I wondered how the proud, scornful, Adraste, brought in from the “World’s End,” enjoyed being herded along, in her place, on all fours. She had yet to learn, I feared, that she was truly a slave. She had yet, I suspected, to meet her master. She had cried out, of course, in misery and terror, when the alarm bell had sounded. Clearly she was a slave, for all her airs, no different from the rest of us. Are we not all women, no more? Conquered and subdued, I suspected she would lie contentedly, gratefully at the feet of a master.
I saw no sheets.
In a few minutes we had ascended the passageway and, turning to our right, had crawled down a long corridor, leading to a minor exit from the house of Anesidemus. The exit was open, and I could see the street outside, and men going to and fro. I could feel the fresh air from the exit. I could also, now, even more clearly than before, smell smoke.
There were several men near the door. I was surprised to see the auctioneer amongst them. He must then, I supposed, be an employee of the house. I had not thought him so. I had not seen him about the house, not before tonight. Most auctioneers are hired independently. Some, as I understand it, command high wages. Some exact a set fee; others demand a fee, abetted with a commission. The incentive of a commission is often granted by a house, particularly by a cheaper house, which is likely to be parsimonious with respect to a guaranteed fee. Most such matters seem subject to negotiation. On Gor there seem to be few fixed prices, for vegetables, for boots, for slaves.
Shortly we were in the vicinity of the door. The first slave in our coffle was half across the threshold.
It was cool.
I shivered.
The men at the door were joined by another fellow, who carried an armload of slave sheets.
The typical slave sheet is light, small, square, and cheap. Its usual intent, as suggested earlier, is to conceal a slave. It is not intended for comfort, for who is concerned with the comfort of a slave, nor is it concerned with the slave’s modesty, as slaves are not permitted modesty. It is often thrown over the slave’s head and fastened in place with a cord or thong about her neck. Whereas its common purpose is concealment, it may also be used to provoke interest or curiosity. In such a case, a greater or lesser extent of the slave’s legs will be visible, surely at least the calves, and the rest is left to the imagination of passing masters. This appertains to the slave particularly when she is upright, sitting, or lying. We, of course, were on all fours, and thus the sheet would be likely to do little more than hide the slave from sight. As it was night, and late, and there was confusion in the streets, the masters, I am sure, were more than content with this limited objective. Lastly, it might be noted that the slave sheet, when fastened about the head, not only conceals the slave’s features, but, in its way, to some extent, hoods the slave, thus making her less aware of her surroundings and more manageable.
A sheet was put about the first slave in the coffle. I was uneasy when I noted it was put over her head and fastened in place. Below the fastening it was parted, dangling to each side of the coffle rope. For the rest, it was draped over her back. It hung to the sides, and would not impede her movement. Then the second slave was similarly treated. One fellow carried the sheets and a second fellow affixed them on the slave. The auctioneer stood by, watching. The fellow affixing the sheets then came to Adraste. He then moved on to the next girl, Fina. The auctioneer had seemed suddenly alert. I had noted nothing, however, to have had him stir so, ever so slightly. Then the next sheet was thrown over me, put over my head, fastened about my neck, and then draped back over my body. I was effectively hooded and concealed. He then continued on his way. Shortly thereafter he seemed to have finished his work and taken his departure.
“Are the docks aflame?” I heard a man ask.
“No,” he was told, “only a warehouse.”
“What warehouse?” he was asked.
“That of Flavius Minor,” he was told.
“One of the largest houses,” said a fellow.
“The flames may spread,” said another.
“I do not think so,” said a fellow.
“They are moving the stock anyway,” said a man.
“Of course,” said another.
To my surprise, as I waited, I felt someone unknotting the cord from about my throat, that which held the sheet on me. The sheet was then drawn away. I saw it in the hands of one whom I took to be a slaver’s man. The auctioneer was no longer in the vicinity. I did not wish to risk asking for permission to speak. I feared I might be beaten. I saw the sheet had been removed from Adraste, as well. It lay beside her. The fellow then fastened my sheet on Adraste, picked up the sheet which had been on her, and fastened it on me. I saw no difference between the sheets.
I did not understand this.
Why should the sheets have been exchanged? Were they not all the same?
“Is the house cleared?” called a man.
“It is cleared,” he was told, from somewhere back in the passageway.
“Move the coffle,” I heard.
“Move,” we were told.
The coffle then moved, over the threshold, out into the night, into the cool air.
Even within the sheet, the smell of smoke was strong.
