Conspirators of Gor (29 page)

Why was I to be picked up after dark?

I was uneasy.

I was looking up, from my knees, these positioned closely together, as though I might still be white-silk, when the woman’s veil seemed to slip, as though inadvertently. I think, however, this lapse was not inadvertent, as she did not immediately restore it, but let it lay loose for a moment, as she smiled.

“Aii,” said the man, softly.

I myself gasped, as well. She was surely one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Her features were exquisite, her eyes a deep, soft, lovely blue. At the side of her hood, there was a strand of bright, blondish hair.

“I am the Lady Bina,” she said. “It is in this name that my agent will call for the girl.”

She then refastened the veil.

I gathered she had well tested her power, to her satisfaction, on the hapless fellow.

I recalled the sternness of her bidding.

This was no ordinary beautiful woman.

“You may find my agent unusual,” she said. “But do not be afraid. He is harmless, save when aroused, or angered.”

I did not understand this.

“I have men,” said the fellow. “Let them conduct you from this place. It is a low place. The streets are not well lit. It will soon be dark.”

“I do not understand,” she said, in a way which suggested she well understood.

“The streets are dangerous,” he said. “Your graciousness should be guarded.”

“I am guarded,” she said, and turned, and left.

“She is beautiful enough to be a Ubara,” said the man to his fellow, who had held the lamp.

“That is an odd name,” said his fellow.

I thought it odd, as well, for ‘bina’ is a common word for beads, generally cheap beads, of colored wood, slave beads.

“I do not think she is Gorean,” said the man.

“What then?” asked the other. “She does not seem barbarian.”

“Did you see her?” asked the man.

“Of course,” said the other.

“What do you think?” asked the man.

“Ten golden tarn disks, at least of double weight,” said the other.

“I think so,” said the man.

“Such women are well guarded,” said his fellow.

“This is an honest house,” said the man.

“Yes,” said the other. Then he looked down at me. “So,” he said, “twenty tarsks.”

I put my head down.

“It is not a bad price for her,” said the man.

On Gor, commonly, slaves are cheap, even beautiful slaves. They are easily obtained. Almost anyone may own one, or more.

“Allison,” said the man, “follow Petranos. He will conduct you to the tubs. There he will shave your head, and then the girls will scour you.”

“May I speak, Master?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

I put my hands to my hair. “Must my head be shaved?” I asked.

He put his left hand in my hair, holding me, as I knelt, and then, first with the back of his right hand, and then with its palm, cuffed me, sharply, stingingly.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said.

I then rose to my feet, and hurried after Petranos.

* * * *

I knelt under the sheet, it wrapped closely about me, sobbing, in an outer room, one with access to the street. I could see the street, through the opened door. It was already dark. My left ankle was chained to a ring anchored in the floor.

It is usually the left ankle which is chained.

My body was sore, for the slaves who had cleaned me had not been gentle. They were larger slaves, thick-bodied, and coarse. They tend to have something of the attitude of free women toward slaves of a sort likely to be of greater interest to men. They tend to despise the needful, lovely, feminine slave, the sort men are likely to seek, capture, collar, and put to their feet.

I was now much different from what I had been.

I was now sparkling, doubtless.

The cleaning slaves had seen to that.

The smell of tarsk was no longer on me. Surely that was to the good. But I was miserable. I put my hand to my head. I remembered the feel of the razor on my scalp. I cried out in misery. Petranos had done his work well.

How ugly I now was!

How could I now attract a desirable master?

For what had I been purchased? For the mills, or the mines, for work at the
carnariums
, the filth pits, for work in the sewers, in the tharlarion stables, at the tarsk pens? I did not know.

Clearly I would now be of little interest in the taverns, in the brothels, in the gambling houses, even in the towers, or inns.

Who now would want the former Allison Ashton-Baker? Not even the boys I used to torment!

I heard then a cry of alarm from the street.

I jerked against the chain, startled, and nearly rose to my feet, but then swiftly resumed my kneeling position. I was a slave. No free person had given me permission to rise.

We are on our knees as easily, and naturally, and as appropriately, as the free person is on his feet, or sits on his bench or chair, or reclines, at ease, on his supper couch.

Two or three men, from the market, who had been loitering outside, in the warm night, backed through the door, warily.

Something very large, and bent over, boulder-like, was in the doorway. It was huge, the form muchly concealed within the ample, thick, sheet-like, hooded cloak it wore.

The hood moved, from side to side, and I sensed that something deep within the hood was considering the room.

“Away!” cried one of the men.

I then heard a noise, a sort of noise, which, this first time I heard it, dismayed and terrified me. It was a noise such as one might expect from some large, wary, suspicious, predatory, carnivorous beast. It was clearly bestial. But, strangely, it seemed no ordinary noise, some sort of signal, or a revelation of a mood, but a subtly articulated stream of sound, and scarcely had it ceased than I heard Gorean, the words clearly sounded, but oddly spaced, produced, apparently, by means of some sort of device, some sort of machine or contrivance.

“Do not be afraid,” it said. “I bear no weapons. I mean you no harm. I come in peace. I come in the name of the Lady Bina, that I might claim on her behalf a female slave.”

“Who are you?” said a man.

“What are you?” said another.

“Are you human?” asked another.

“What is human?” rejoined the mechanical voice. “A mind, a shape, a form? Are you human?”

“It is a beast,” said another. “They are dangerous. They are hunted. They lurk in wildernesses. Some are north, in Torvaldsland.”

“I come on behalf of Lady Bina, to claim a slave,” said the voice.

“We await another,” said a man, he who had bargained unsuccessfully with the lovely Lady Bina, “her agent.”

“I am he,” said the voice.

“How do we know that?” asked a man.

“I come in her name,” said the voice.

I knelt, chained in place, in terror. I do not think I could have spoken, had I wished to do so.

“What is the name of the slave?” asked the fellow who had dealt with the Lady Bina.

“My translator,” said the voice, “does not carry the name.”

“Translator?” said a fellow, puzzled.

“The speaking thing,” said another.

“Then,” said the man who had sold me, “you cannot have her.”

At this point a sound came from within that enormous, cloaked, hooded figure which was not translated, but its menace was clear, and the men moved further back.

I found my voice, to scream, and hide my head.

A hairy, large, paw-like thing had come from under the cloak and brushed back the hood, revealing a broad, furred head, perhaps a foot in width, with large eyes. The ears, large and pointed, moved back, gently, against the sides of the head. The mouth opened, enough to see the movement of a large, restless tongue, and afford a glimpse of thick, spike-like, moist, curved fangs.

I had the sense that those massive jaws might have been capable of biting through a beam, and could easily, like tearing paper, snap away a man’s head, or woman’s.

The beast approached me, the cloak dragging behind it. I could now see its furred chest, and could see, against the chest, the small device, the translator, which was slung about its neck. One massive paw reached toward me.

“Do not!” said the leader of the men, he who had dealt with the Lady Bina. “She is chained! You would tear her foot off!”

The beast reached to the chain that fastened me to the ring, and wrenched it from the floor, with a splintering of wood.

“Stop!” said the leader.

The beast turned and looked at him.

I would not care to have such a thing so look at me.

“I will unchain her!” he said.

“The slave is female,” came from the translator, mechanically, unemotionally, a placidity quite at odds with the roiling, tensed power that seemed to rise now like lava within that immense, living frame, “the price was twenty tarsks, and the buyer is by name Bina, and by title, the Lady Bina.”

“I will unchain her,” said the man. “Forgive us. We wished to be sure of matters. Our mistake is natural. We were not warned, or sufficiently warned. We did not expect an agent such as yourself, noble Master.”

I did not think the beast was flattered.

He seemed to be measuring the distance between himself and the rear entrance, leading to the cage area. The ears were lifted. I heard nothing. There was moisture about its jaws and the fangs were wet with saliva.

Words came again from the translator.

“Tell them not to use their bows,” it said. “Before they could appear in the portal, I could strike away your head.”

“I do not understand,” said the man, disconcerted.

“Tell them to put their bows down, in the portal, where I can see them.”

The man turned about. “Is anyone there?” he called.

“Now,” came from the translator.

“There is no one there,” said the man.

“Now,” repeated the translator.

“There is no one there,” said the man.

“Do you wish to live?” came from the translator.

“Do it, do it,” said the man, “put your bows down, in the portal.”

Two fellows, whom I recognized from the market, then appeared in the portal, and placed crossbows on the floor.

I had heard nothing, nor, apparently, had the others in the room, only the beast.

Could one hear a step so soft, the drawing of a cable, the laying of a quarrel in the guide?

“You will live,” came from the translator.

A key was thrust into the lock on my manacle, and it was turned, moving the bolt, after which the sides of the device were opened, on their hinges.

The sheet was removed from me and I was put to my belly before the beast. I scarcely dared raise my head.

I saw heavy, furred, clawed feet before me.

“Your principal,” said the man, rising to his feet, “made an excellent buy. She is a beauty. But perhaps you cannot see that, as you are different.”

The large head lifted and regarded him. “I can see that,” it said.

I trembled.

“There is an additional charge, of ten tarsks,” said the man.

“Perhaps, after all,” came from the translator, “you do not wish to live.”

“It will be waived, of course,” said the man.

The beast then, bent over, wary, began to back toward the street. It paused in the portal. “Come with me,” came from the translator.

I saw the large eyes on me.

“What would such a thing want of a slave?” asked one of the men.

“Food?” suggested another.

I screamed in terror, sprang to my feet, and tried to run back toward the cages, but had moved not a step or two before I was caught in the rear portal by one of the fellows there, and held. I struggled, wildly, but my strength was no more than that of a child in his arms. I began to shudder. I turned to look at the beast, saw the eyes and fangs, screamed again, and lost consciousness.

Chapter Ten

I folded the ironed sheets carefully.

Afterwards I would deliver them about. One launders the sheets at the public troughs, and later sprinkles them, and puts them under the handled irons, heated on the plate over the house fire.

The tunic I wore was suitable for a woman’s slave, brown, high-necked, and mid-calfed, rather different from what a man would be likely to put on a slave. On the other hand, it was surely not the cruel farce of sul cloth which had been mentioned during the bargaining at the Tarsk Market. In the markets and the streets I had seen the typical garmenture of other women’s slaves, following their mistresses, heads down, modestly, supposedly that they might not reflect upon their mistresses by exchanging glances with passing men, garmentures which served to demonstrate at once the status and taste of the mistress and the presumed, irreproachable deportment of her slaves. To be sure, many a quick smile and sly glance was passed now and then between such a putatively virtuous pet and one hardy, bold fellow or another. Occasionally, caught in such a contretemps, I had seen a girl mercilessly switched, until she cowered, rolling under the blows, sobbing and crying out, and I scarcely dared to speculate what might occur when she was marched home to a whipping ring.