Quarry of gor, p.8
Quarry of Gor, page 8
Chapter Six
What Occurred in the Street;
What Occurred Later, in an Alcove
I followed the gentle movement of the rope on my neck, which rope, over the sheet, by my left side, went back to the throat of the girl behind me.
I could feel the stones of the street with my knees and the palms of my hands. Then the coffle was halted. We were not, I was sure, more than some yards from the house, no more I supposed than would be deemed sufficient for our safety.
I wondered if there were sparks drifting in the air.
The alarm bar was still sounding.
Given the sheet covering my head and fastened about my neck, I could see very little. I could see the light of torches as they passed me, and, blocking the light, often, moving darknesses, which must be men. Most were moving down the street, presumably toward the wharves. Twice I was buffeted. “Make way for the pump wagons!” I heard. Two heavy carts trundled by. I heard the scratching of what might be heavy claws on the stones, and heard shouts, and what might be the pounding of sticks on massive bodies, and angry, protestive, snorting, hissing reptilian noises. I shuddered. I knew little of the world to which I had been brought to serve my masters.
“How goes the blaze?” I heard.
“It rages, it will consume the docks,” I heard.
“No,” said a fellow. “It will be contained. Hundreds are at the wharves. Containers, on their ropes, are cast into gleaming Thassa, and make their way, passed from hand to hand, to be cast upon the fire.”
“What of the ships?” asked a man, anxiously.
“Safe,” said a man. “Some depart their moorings. Others are guarded, masts lowered, decks and sails soaked.”
“What of the house of Flavius Minor?” inquired a man.
“It can scarcely be approached,” said a man. “It is in flames, fiercely so. I doubt the fire can be extinguished before morning.”
“We will lose more houses,” said a man.
“Think of the goods lost,” said another.
“The house of Flavius Minor is done,” said a man. “Little, if anything, can be saved.”
“How did the fire start?” asked a man.
“I do not think that is known,” said another.
“The other houses?” inquired a man.
“Much is being brought forth, set on the wharves,” said a man.
“And there is theft, fighting, killing, looting, all well-lit by the flames,” said a fellow, bitterly.
“Surely there are guardsmen,” said a man.
“Not enough,” said another.
“They dare not interfere,” said a man.
“And some help themselves,” said another.
“Let us hurry to the wharves,” said another, “quickly, before order is restored, where loot, strewn about, invites seizure.”
“Assist, rather, in fighting the flames,” said a man.
“Why should others profit, and not we?” asked a man.
“Let us hurry, before the street is sealed off,” said a fellow.
Some men, I gathered, then took their leave.
“Lawlessness abounds,” said a man, angrily.
“It is strange,” said a man. “Some risk their lives to protect the goods of men they do not even know; others, in the same situation, think nothing of seizing goods not their own.”
“Dismiss such men from your thoughts,” said a fellow. “They are the dregs of the lower districts, aliens, migrants, drifters. They are surely not of Brundisium. Clearly they do not share our Home Stone.”
“Perhaps they have no Home Stone,” said another.
“Can such a thing be?” said another.
“Yes,” said a man. “I have heard that there is a far world, an entire world, without Home Stones.”
“How then,” asked a man, “could there be honor, order, civility, trust, respect, law, harmony, courage, and fellowship?”
“I do not know,” said another.
“It must then be a sorry world,” said a man.
“True,” said another.
“How could it then be respected, treasured, loved, or cared for?” asked a man.
“I only report what I have heard,” said the first man.
I waited on all fours. I had not been given permission to sit, kneel, or lie down. How helpless I felt, my head down, the sheet tied about my neck, hooding me, on the neck rope, one of several slaves so secured. So positioned and hooded, I did not dare to speak, even to ask permission to do so. I did not wish to be whipped. I had recently been sold. I now had a master, whom I did not even know. I remained in my place, as I had been placed. I was bewildered, and frightened. I trembled on the rope, head down, tethered. So much had occurred, so suddenly, so seemingly incomprehensibly! How inexplicably, how radically, my life had changed! Could this have happened to me, I wondered. Could it be? Surely it was not real! But it was real. It must be a dream. But it was not a dream! I had suspected nothing. How naive I had been, no more, for all my supposed intelligence, than a pretty simpleton and fool! I had anticipated nothing! Then it had happened. I had been noted and acquired. I had not realized such things could exist. I felt the harsh stones of the street on my knees and under the palms of my hands. Beneath the sheet I was naked, as a beast and slave is naked, slave naked. There was a collar on my neck, which I could not remove. On my left thigh, high, below the hip, I was marked. I had anticipated nothing, and now I was on Gor, a slave. I recalled the men I had led on, and then rebuffed. How I had despised them! How I had delighted in raising hopes, which I then, to my delight, dashed. How easy it was to lure and then reject a male, to provoke interest and then, pretending innocence, to feign astonishment and dismay when interest was aroused. How I had gloried in the exercise of such vain, petty powers, attracting and then dismissing and humiliating the weaklings of Earth, so little of the man in them, so little of the master! And now I was a slave on Gor! I had little doubt but what the men of Gor would know what to do with me, whatever they wished. And I must strive to please them, wholly, desperately, and as the most female of all females, the female slave. How I longed, a woman of Earth, to lick and kiss the whips of such men!
I think that I was perhaps some two-thirds of the length of the coffle from its front. As we were hooded, we did not have too clear an idea of what was going on, but we knew, surely, about the fire, and were aware of the speech and movements of men about us, some milling, mostly coming and going. Another pump wagon, I gathered, rolled by. The alarm bar was still sounding. Sometimes, as far as we could tell, from shouts and conversations, it seemed the fire was on the verge of being managed, if not extinguished, and then, later, it seemed it raged even more fiercely. This may have had to do with a shift in the wind, easily marked at the docks, but not evident where we were, on the street between buildings, or, perhaps, it was occasioned when the fire reached different materials in the affected building or buildings. We remained as we were. We had not been moved. There was much smoke in the air. Sometimes we were passed by men, some of them coughing, moving up the street, away from the docks, toward the market district. It was not particularly cold, but, as it grew later, I was grateful for the sheet. Through it one could see the light of lanterns. Twice I heard slaves cry out, startled, presumably having been unexpectedly fondled. Little is thought of such attentions when bestowed on a slave. Slaves must expect such things. Resistance is not accepted, for it might displease a master. One is a slave. I heard some drunken men nearby. There must be, I supposed, a tavern in the vicinity. I suspected we had been something like twenty or thirty Ehn in the street, placed to one side of the street that we might not obstruct traffic, and opposite the house of Anesidemus, presumably that we be on the side of the street farthest from the fire. When we had been brought into the street the coffle had soon been turned, that it might, later, be conducted more expeditiously back into the building. As mentioned, I was something like two-thirds of the way back from the head of the coffle.
“I have come from the wharves,” said a man. “The fire lessens!”
“Again?” asked a fellow.
“No,” said another. “It subsides.”
“Good,” said another.
I was sure then that we would soon be returned to our cages. This was none too soon for me, as the weather had freshened, and the sheet hooding me and draped over my back, afforded me small comfort. The cage chamber was warm, and each cage was furnished with a small blanket. One, as a slave, an animal, a belonging, is grateful for such things.
There was suddenly an angry shout from somewhere near the head of the coffle. “Ho!” was the cry. “look, lout, where you are going!” “Move to the side!” “I am here!” “Go about!” “I will not!” “Do so!” “Impede my way, will you?” “Watch your purse!” “Sheath your dagger!” “Beware!” “He has a club!” “They are drunk!” “Peace, peace in the streets!” “Call guardsmen!” “Guardsmen, guardsmen!” I heard a slave scream, from somewhere near the front of the coffle; then another cried out, perhaps buffeted. There was clearly something transpiring, something in the nature of an altercation, some yards ahead, near the beginning of the coffle. I heard harsh words. Then there must have been a scuffle. “Fight!” called out more than one man, eagerly. I heard booted feet racing past me, climbing the street. Brundisium is a major port, her mighty harbor berthing vessels from a thousand ports, vessels large and small, square-rigged and lateen-rigged, clinker built and carvel built, ships mercantile and naval, round ships and long ships, come from as far as Schendi in the south, and Torvaldsland to the north, vessels hailing from Tabor, Asperiche, and Anango, vessels from the mouths of the Cartius and Vosk, from Port Kar, on the shallow Tamber Gulf, whose waters mingle with those of Thassa, from the Ubarates of Cos and Tyros, and the Farther Islands, from as far away, even, as the World’s End. Sometimes these cities are at war with one another, and the “truce of the port,” rather like the “truce of the Sardar fairs,” is occasionally sorely stressed. Even putting aside municipal rivalries, wars, vendettas, blood feuds, and such, it is not difficult to understand, given that quarters are close on a ship, and discipline unquestioning and severe, sometimes for weeks or months at sea, that strong men, brawny, vital oarsmen, and such, come ashore, freed of such restraints, impatient and quick-tempered, copper and silver in their purses, seeking the taverns, brothels, and gambling houses, and thence spilling into the streets, drunk on paga, might enliven civil life, particularly in the wharf districts. “Fight, fight!” called more than one man hurrying past me. Then my part of the coffle was suddenly much alone. Through the sheet I was aware of a lantern nearby. There were also some four or five men, together. But they were not rushing past me, hastening to witness, if not participate in, the ruckus toward the head of the coffle.
“Which is she?” I heard.
The lantern was closer now, no longer lifted, but held lower, at waist level.
“The sheet,” I heard, “consider the sheet.”
“Here!” said a man’s voice.
At the same time a hand was pressed closely over the sheet, over my mouth. I could make not the least sound. My head was pulled up and back, forcibly. Then I felt a knife blade thrusting into, and cutting through the sheet, by my throat. “Be silent, absolutely silent, kajira,” said a voice, “or you die, instantly.” I could not see, for I was still muchly hooded. I felt the blade of the knife, edged like a razor, tight against my throat. I feared if I moved I would cut my own throat. Terrified, I remained absolutely still.
I sensed someone cutting the coffle rope, before me, and then behind me.
“I am going to remove my hand from your mouth, kajira,” I heard. “As soon as I do, you will open your mouth as widely as possible.” I could still feel the knife against my throat. The hand was suddenly jerked from my mouth, upward, and it thrust the sheet up, though not enough that I could see. At the same time, the knife at my throat, I opened my mouth as widely as possible. No sooner had I opened my mouth than a folded leather wadding was thrust into it, deeply, which expanded, as it was secured with cords, tightly, behind the back of my neck, over the sheet. An opaque, lined canvas hood was then pulled over my head and buckled under my chin.
“Get rid of the sheet, as you can,” said a voice softly. “This is to be a common slave, one off the streets, one out of the taverns.”
“Ho,” whispered one of the men. “This is a pretty one.”
The sheet, its neck cord cut, was muchly pulled away. Little remained of it now but part of that which had had hooded me, now enclosed within the canvas hood, and, I suspect, a shred or two caught under the gag’s fastening.
“Bara,” I was told.
Instantly I went to bara. The stones of the street were damp, and cold. My head was turned to the left. My wrists, as I had crossed them behind me, were quickly, expertly, snugly, thonged. Then my ankles, which I had crossed behind me, were similarly served. The fellow was clearly familiar with the handling and binding of slaves. More than once in my training, I had been similarly tied. Once I had been left for Ahn, encouraged to free myself. I could not, of course, begin to do so. Gorean capture knots are not meant to be escaped. The slender thongs might have been burst with a man’s strength, but they were more than adequate to hold a woman. I was helpless, woman helpless, slave helpless.
I do not think that Fina, before me, and the girl behind me, both hooded, were aware of what was transpiring. The men spoke softly, and there was still much shouting and tumult at the head of the coffle. Too, men were passing, in the darkness, to and fro, sometimes conversing, or calling out. I even heard a woman’s voice, as well. The slaver’s men, if aware of what was transpiring, would doubtless have intervened, taking one action or another, but it seems they were at the head of the coffle, trying to soothe disputants. Passers-by might be aware of little but a slave’s being cut out of the coffle, for one reason or another.
When the knife had been at my throat, I had, of course, dared not disobey. Yet, interestingly, I knew that even if the knife had not been poised at my throat, I would have obeyed, instantly and unquestioningly. I was no longer a free woman of Earth. I was now a Gorean slave girl. I had learned my sex, and that I must obey men.
I was lifted to the right shoulder of one of the men, my head to the rear.
I squirmed a little, futilely.
I realized that I was being carried downward toward the wharves.
We had gone only a few steps when one of the men whispered, “A guardsman.”
“Hold,” I heard, a new voice.
We stopped.
“Where are you going with that slave?” asked the guardsman.
“She is a stray,” said he who carried me. “We are returning her to the chains of an alcove.”
“The Sea Sleen?” asked the guardsman.
“Yes,” he was told.
I began to struggle violently, trying to communicate my distress to the guardsman.
“No wonder she is agitated,” said the guardsman. “Is she to be mutilated and hamstrung or merely beaten?”
“That must be decided,” said he who carried me.
I instantly lay quietly.
“Good girl,” I heard.
I would be still.
I did not want to be mutilated or hamstrung. I feared even the whip, as a slave girl fears the whip. I had felt it on the day when I was branded, when my wrists, as those of the other slaves, bound together, had been high over my head, fastened to the overhead chain. I had felt it, too, twice, in my training. Those who do not fear the whip have not felt it. The whip, even hanging inertly on its peg, keeps a girl well in her place. The slave girl attempts to please; she well knows that she is subject to the whip, and that it will be used on her if she is not pleasing. That is fully appropriate. She is a slave.
“How goes the fire?” asked one of the men in our party.
“Well,” he was told. “It is contained.”
“Good,” said a man.
I supposed the reduction of the fire had something to do with the guardsman’s present location, presumably leaving the vicinity of the fire. Also, I realized that the alarm bar was no longer sounding.
“I wish you well,” said the guardsman.
“I wish you well,” said he who carried me.
We then continued on our way, down the street, toward the wharves.
Slaves, as other properties, may be stolen. The common procedure is to take the girl to another city, preferably far off, and sell her there. Many slave girls are chained at night to the foot of the master’s couch, usually naked. Few things better convince a girl that she is a slave. On the other hand, aside from its monitory, custodial, and instructive aspects, and its convenience for the master, this arrangement also reduces the likelihood of slave theft.
What I could not understand was why I should have been stolen and not another. Surely several of my sister slaves were more attractive than I, though, to be sure, much depends on the interests and tastes of a given master. I was even a barbarian.
Surely anyone would have done as well as I. I hoped they would not object to my being a barbarian. On the other hand, some Gorean masters are fond of barbarians, taking them in hand and teaching them the collar.
How startling it is for a woman of Earth to learn that she is no longer free, and is now to be taught a collar.
The intelligent girl learns it quickly.
I knew, even from Earth, that it belonged on my neck.
But I did not want to be stolen.
I wanted a kind, but firm, master, one who would fulfill my slave, that yearning, hoping, needful slave which was I.
The ambiance of our journey suddenly changed, as he who carried me turned to the left. I heard the swinging of the leaves of a door, and then conversation, and the clink of goblets. A flute was playing somewhere inside. I and my party, sometimes stopped, apparently passed through some men and, perhaps, tables. The chamber was crowded. When we were stopped, I was touched more than once, and pinched sharply, twice. I knew such things were done to slaves but I was not accustomed to being subjected to such attentions. Such things, in their way, of course, are compliments. They indicate that the slave has been found of interest. It would be unthinkable of course, to do such things to a free woman. The free woman is not a slave. I heard a stout leather curtain being swept aside. I was then deposited on a bedding of thick furs, and a manacle was snapped about my left ankle. I was then, as far as I knew, left alone. I heard the leather curtain drawn shut. I did not know how many men had been involved in my theft, but I thought at least four. I tried the bonds a little, uselessly, and then lay quietly. Out in the street, there had been mention of the Sea Sleen, which must be a tavern. I was sure then that I lay in an alcove, presumably in the Sea Sleen, a tavern, an alcove to which such as a paga girl, whose use goes with the price of a drink, might be brought.
