Conspirators of Gor (71 page)

“I am not sure that Master Desmond is a Metal Worker,” I said.

“What then?” he asked.

“I do not know,” I said.

“I think,” I said, “they had an overweening confidence in your capacity to attack and destroy the band of the outlaw, Trachinos.”

“It seems, then,” he said, “they were in more danger than they realized.”

“I suspect they did not know that Tiresias was blind,” I said.

“At night,” he said, “it would not have been difficult, in the darkness, moving from body to body. In the day, without suitable weapons, it would have been more difficult, if not impossible.”

“I think they did not understand that,” I said. “I think they thought there were two of you, armed, whole, and dangerous.”

“I would, of course,” he said, “have done what I could.”

“An attack, it turns out, was to have been made, and was signaled, but it never took place. Men and Kurii from here, this facility, destroyed the outlaws.”

“I could not have prevented the attack,” said Lord Grendel. “I was taken into custody, and chained, shortly after returning Tiresias to his fellows.”

“He betrayed you,” I said, “you who had saved him.”

“Do not think ill of him,” said Lord Grendel. “He knew things I did not. I had no idea what was going on in the Voltai. He was thinking clearly. Worlds are at stake.”

“He is not being treated as a hero,” I said.

“He is now useless to them,” said Lord Grendel.

“He has done much for them,” I said.

“He will be put out for larls.”

“I do not understand.”

“It is the Kur way,” said Lord Grendel.

“I think one human, at least,” I said, “had some notion as to what might be afoot, somewhere, if not in the Voltai.”

“Some probably suspect,” said Lord Grendel.

“Master Desmond of Harfax,” I said.

“Interesting,” he said.

“He knew of your existence,” I said.

“Many did,” said Lord Grendel.

“He may have thought you implicated somehow, in something,” I said.

“And would spy upon me?”

“Or others, too,” I said.

“You have often heard, have you not,” he asked, “that curiosity is not becoming to a kajira?”

“Many times,” I said.

“Perhaps there should be another saying, too,” he said, “that curiosity in many places and at many times can be extremely dangerous, to anyone.”

“Do not kill him,” I said.

“Why not?” asked Lord Grendel.

“I want his collar,” I said.

“I must attend to my meal,” he said. “Go to the gate, as though you could not be too near to it.”

I hurried and knelt near the gate.

Shortly thereafter the two guards appeared. I gathered that Lord Grendel had heard their approach.

I put my hands through the bars, pathetically. “Please let me out, Masters,” I begged.

In a short time Lord Grendel had finished what provender had been provided him, and finished the tankard of water which, too, had been on the tray.

“Fetch the tray,” said the first guard, by means of the translator.

“Please do not make me approach him,” I begged.

“Now,” came from the translator.

I crept back and, as though frightened, retrieved the tray, the plate and tankard, and then rose to my feet, and backed toward the gate, which was opened for me, and I exited the cell, following which the gate was again closed.

“Did she groom well?” the first guard asked Lord Grendel. He had apparently left the translator on. It still hung about his neck, on its simple iron chain. Lord Grendel responded, and, a moment later, I heard, “Yes.”

“That is fortunate for you, kajira,” came from the translator.

I was silent.

I wanted to leave the area of cells.

“Perhaps,” came from the translator, “you will sometimes groom me.”

“I would be honored to groom Master,” I said, and then, as I was not detained, hurried past the second guard, with his heavy weapon, exiting through the outer gate.

Chapter Thirty

“Ho, kajira,” said a voice, not heard for days.

I spun about, delighted, and rushed to Desmond of Harfax, knelt before him, pressed my lips quickly to his sandals, knelt up, and then knelt close to him, holding him about the legs, and putting my turned head humbly against his legs, rather as I had seen Mina do with Trachinos.

“Here, here,” he said, surprised.

I supposed many women of my old world would not have understood something this meaningful, and simple, the love and gratitude, the pleasure of a slave in the presence of a master. Perhaps that is because they do not know themselves slaves. Perhaps that is because they have never met a true male, so mighty, so innocently and naturally the master of such as we. Perhaps they have never met a male before whom they could hope to do little but kneel, and hope to be found pleasing.

“Here, here,” he said. “You are not my slave.”

I looked up at him. How did he know whose slave I was?

“Stand up, back away,” he said. “Let me see you.”

I obeyed, smiling. I pulled down the camisk a little, self-consciously. How meaningless that gesture was when camisked!

“Turn,” he said.

I turned, and then, again, faced him.

“Lovely,” he said, admiringly. “The camisk becomes you.”

A slave, I was muchly pleased. We love our bodies, and our beauty, and are thrilled to be choicelessly displayed as the slaves we are. What free woman would not, in our place, wish to be brazenly exhibited to the eyes of men as the treasure she is?

Too, what woman, I wondered, would a camisk not become?

“In the past weeks,” I said, “I have not seen Master.”

“Nor I you,” he said.

“I trust Master is well,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “and you?”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“You are looking well,” he said.

“We are carefully dieted and routinely exercised,” I said.

“That is common with animals,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“Your hair,” he said, “is far from slave long, but I have seen many barbarians whose hair, in their first sale, was no longer, or not much longer.”

“Many barbarian females,” I said, “wear their hair as they please.”

“When they are collared,” he said, “they will wear it as their masters please.”

“Of course, Master,” I said.

He then approached me, and my body tensed. I hoped he would gather me into his arms.

He placed his hand, lightly, on the side of my waist, on the left. I made a tiny, inadvertent noise, and drew back a little, my eyes, wide, regarding him, my lips parted.

“From so little?” he said.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said.

“Your slave fires,” he said, “have begun to burn.”

“It is being done to me, Master,” I said. “Please, forgive me.”

“It is acceptable,” he said. “Indeed, it is desirable.”

“I cannot help myself, Master,” I said.

“Nor should you,” he said. “Kneel.”

Immediately I complied. Kajirae are to obey unquestioningly, and instantly.

“I see,” he said.

“I must now kneel like this,” I said.

I was before him in the position of the pleasure slave, in nadu, back straight, head up, hands palm down on thighs, belly in, shoulders back, kneeling back on heels, knees spread. This was common nadu. Some masters prefer the hands behind the back, the right hand grasping the left wrist, if the girl is right handed, and the left hand grasping the right wrist, if the girl is left handed. Some masters, too, prefer for the head to be bowed, in subservience. In the common nadu, as required in the complex, and insisted upon by Nora, the hands are to be visible and the head raised. Some say the hands are to be visible in order that the slave cannot conceal within them a package, a pellet, a powder, a weapon, or such. One supposes that may be a consequence of the position, but, one supposes, as slaves could scarcely have access to such things, that one must look further. Aside from the aesthetic aspects of the matter, namely revealing the small, sweet loveliness of a woman’s hands, the small wrists, almost asking to be bound, and such, it facilitates a common begging gesture, one which is lovely and subtle. One merely changes the position of the hands, by turning the backs of the hand to the thighs. This exposes the soft, concave, curved tenderness of the palms, open, sensitive, and vulnerable, to the master. Another subtle device is the simple bondage knot, loosely tied in the hair. In both these ways, and others, the slave may make her needs known. Perhaps, when she is expected to be tunicked, she appears in a camisk, or naked; perhaps she is discovered, as suggested earlier, stripped, at the foot of his couch; perhaps she kneels before him, bringing him a whip, or rope. Or perhaps she merely kneels, or bellies, and begs to be caressed. Numerous are the variations which might appear in such matters. The point of having the head raised is presumably that the beauty of her features may be well displayed. Too, of course, it makes it easier for her to apprise herself of her surroundings, the master’s moods, and such. It is common with slaves, as with other animals, that they are trained to the master’s tastes.

“You serve, in the complex?” he asked.

“Assuredly,” I said. “I even, from time to time, groom Kurii.”

“You may groom all the beasts you wish,” he said.

“I must also please men,” I said.

“Doubtless,” he said.

“Master does not seem pleased,” I said.

“I dislike the naked feast of you in the arms of others,” he said.

“Master does not own me,” I said.

He made an angry noise, which pleased me, though I attempted to conceal my pleasure.

“Who owns you?” he asked.

“I no longer know,” I said.

“Legally,” he said, “you must belong to the Lady Bina.”

“I do not know,” I said.

“Master,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“The beast who attended on the Lady Bina, he in which you seemed to be interested,” I said, “is here, imprisoned.”

“I had not seen him,” said Desmond. “He is not one of them, then?”

“No,” I said. “Far from it. He was ignorant of this place. As nearly as I can determine, he is opposed to their projects, whatever they may be.”

“They have to do with worlds,” said Desmond.

“How does Master know these things?” I asked.

“Curiosity—,” he said.

“Surely Master does not think we cease to be women when we are collared.”

“No,” he said. “I think that is when you begin to be women.”

“Perhaps Master will one day speak to a slave,” I said.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“I think you would find the imprisoned beast,” I said, “is your ally.”

“How so,” he said.

“He is reluctant to abet the projects of this place,” I said.

“There are many beasts,” he said. “What is one more, or less?”

“He may have influence in a far place, an important place,” I said, “one from which support would be solicited.”

“I see,” said Master Desmond.

“And it is hoped he will solicit this support.”

“And he declines?”

“As of now,” I said.

“Of now?”

“I think they hope to secure his collaboration by means of the Lady Bina,” I said, “one supposes either by means of her influence upon him, or by means of her jeopardy.”

“They would threaten her?”

“I think he would do anything to protect her,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“How could a slave know?” I said. “He is a mere beast.”

“The key then,” he said, “is the Lady Bina.”

“I am sure the beasts flatter her, and enflame her ambitions.”

“She thinks she would be the Ubara of the planet?” he asked. He must have recalled such remarks from the journey.

“The prisoner, Lord Grendel,” I said, “perhaps better apprised than we of possible Kur power, thinks that would be within the realm of possibility, but would not be likely to take place. He thinks, rather, following a Kur victory, after which she would no longer be needed, she would be enslaved or eaten.”

“I see,” he said.

“Perhaps it is the Kur way,” I said. I thought of Lord Grendel’s speculation with respect to the likely fate of Tiresias.

“She must be informed,” he said.

“I do not think she would believe the informant,” I said, “especially if it were the prisoner, Lord Grendel, whom she suspects would wish, for personal reasons, for selfish reasons, to deny her such an exaltation, such station, and grandeur. She might well suppose him jealous of such fortune, and that he would prefer to keep things as they were before, to keep her in modest circumstances, and to keep her muchly dependent upon him.”