Magicians of Gor (10 page)

“On your belly,” I snapped. Swiftly did she fling herself, a slave who might

have been displeasing, in terror, to her belly. I seized her ankles and parted

them, widely, pulling her toward me. “Perhaps you deserve a full lashing,” I

said. “No, please, Master!” she wept. “How much are you?” I asked. “Only a tarsk

bit, Master!” she wept. I considered the matter. I could afford that. I dragged

her back to me. She gasped, mine. “Oh!” she cried. “Oh! Oh!” Then I thrust her

from me, and stood. She was then on her side, looking back at me. She was

grasping. I kicked her, angrily, with the side of my foot. She winced. “Forgive

me, Master,” she wept. “I beg forgiveness!” “Perhaps you will learn manners,” I

said. “Yes, Master,” she said. “Perhaps you will know enough next time to be

respectful, and to kneel before men,” I said. Yes, Master,” she said. “Forgive

me, Master!” I looked down upon her angrily. I think she feared she might be

again cuffed, or kicked. Then she crawled to my feet, and kissed them. Then she

looked up at me. “Buy me, “she begged, suddenly. “It is to a man such as you

that I wish to belong!” I dragged her to her knees by the hair and, she sobbing,

trying to hold me, thrust a coin, a tarsk bit into the coin box. I then thrust

her back to the dirt, on her side, and, turning about, angrily, left her.

“Master!” she called after me. “Please, Master!” In a time I turned back to

regard her. She was where I had left her, except that she was now kneeling. Her

shoulders shook with sobs. She had the coin box, on its chain, lifted in her

hands. Her head was down, and her hair fell about the coin box. She pressed her

lips to it, again and again, sobbing. I did not think that she was a poor slave.

I think rather that she merely needed a strong master.

“Well done,” said a fellow, passing me.

I looked back at the girl again. She did have pretty thighs, well revealed in

the ta-teera. But then I steeled myself against softness, and reminded myself

that this was no time to acquire a bond maid, even one with a lovely little

figure and pretty thighs, one who was now clearly ready to obey instantly, and

with perfection.

I looked to the lofty walls of Ar. Within them lay what danger, what treachery,

what intrigue I dared not guess.

“Oh!” said a slave, slapped below the small of the back by a peasant.

“She is in the iron belt,” said the fellow, looking at me, grinning.

(pg. 58) The girl hurried on.

“Perhaps it is just as well,” I said.

He laughed.

She looked well in the tunic.

I passed a couple, the master enjoying his slave.

I looked up at the moons of Gor. They have, it seems, an unusual effect on

women. Sometimes female slaves, or captured free women, are chained beneath

them. I do not know the nature of this effect. Perhaps it is merely aesthetic,

for surely the moons are very beautiful. On the other hand the logical approach

the moons may have a profound subconscious symbolism, in its waxings and

wanings, clearly suggestive of feminine sexual cycles. But even more

interestingly the effect on the female is possibly biological. There are many

biological vestiges in the human being. One which is typical and interesting is

the tendency of the skin to erupt in tiny protuberances, “goose bumps,” when it

is cold. This response presumably harkens back to a time when the human animal,

or its forebear, had a great deal more hair from the flesh, thusly forming an

insulating layer against the cold. So, too, the sight of the moons, and their

rhythms, and such, so interestingly approximating the periods of feminine sexual

cycles, may at one time have played a role in mating cycles. Perhaps the female

came out into the moonlight, in her need, where she might be located and

appraised, thought not in the harsh light of day. Perhaps in the moonlight, away

from darkness, with its dangers of predators and such, she cried out, or moaned,

her needs, attempting to attract attention to herself, calling for the

attentions of the male. Perhaps those which would seek to mate in the fullness

of light distracted the group from feeding, or were too much fought over.

Perhaps those who sought the darkness were not as easily found or succumbed to

predators. Perhaps, in time, as a matter of natural selections, operative upon a

relatively, at that time, helpless species, those tended to survive whose mating

impulses became synchronized with the moons. This might explain why, even today,

and doubtless numerous genetic codings later, codings obviously favoring

frequent and aperiodic sexuality, some women are, so to speak, in addition,

still “called by the moon.” It would be a vestige, like the rising of hair on

“goose bumps.” Aside from this, it might be noted, of course, that the sexual

cycle of various species do tend to be correlated with the cycles of the moon,

presumably through one natural (pg. 59) selection or another. The Kurii, for

example, seem to have retained some vestiges along these lines, for in that

species, as I understand it, it is not unusual for females to go to the mating

cliffs in the moonlight, where, helpless in their sexuality, they cry out, or

howl, their needs.

I passed a few fellows playing dice. There are many forms of dice games on Gor,

usually played with anywhere from a single die to five dice. The major

difference, I think, between the dice of Earth and those of Gor is that the

Gorean dice usually have their numbers, or letters, or whatever pictures or

devices are used, painted on their surfaces. It is difficult to manufacture a

pair of dice, of course, in which the “numbers,” tow, three and so on, are

represented by scooped out indentations. For example, the “one” side of a die is

likely to have less scooped-out material missing than the “six” side of a die.

Thus the “one” side is slightly heavier and, in normal play, should tend to land

face down more often than, say the ‘six” side, this bringing up the opposite

side, the “six” side in Earth dice, somewhat more frequently. To be sure, the

differences in weight are slight and, given the forces on the dice, the

differential is not dramatic. And, of course, this differential can be

compensated for in a sophisticated die by trying to deduct equal amounts of

material from all surfaces, for example, an amount from the “one” side which

will equal the amount of the “six” side, and, indeed, on the various sides. At

any rate, in the Gorean dice, as mentioned, the numbers or letters, of pictures

or whatever devices are used, are usually pained on the dice. Some gamesmen,

even so, attempt to expend the same amount of paint on all surfaces. To be sure,

some Gorean dice I have seen to use the “scooped-out” approach to marking the

dice. And these, almost invariably, like the more sophisticated Earth dice, try

to even out the material removed from each of the surfaces. Some Gorean dice are

sold in sealed boxes, bearing the city’s imprint. These, supposedly, have been

each cast six hundred times, with results approximating the ideal mathematical

probabilities. Also, it might be mentioned that dice are sometimes tampered

with, or specially prepared, to favor certain numbers. These, I suppose, using

the Earth term, might be spoken of as “loaded.” My friend, the actor, magician,

impresario and whatnot, Boots Tarsk-Bit, once narrowly escaped an impalement in

Besnit on the charge of using false dice. He was, however, it seems, framed. At

any rate the charges were dismissed when a pair of identical false dice turned

up in the pouch of the arresting magistrate, the original pair having,

interestingly, at about the same time, vanished.

(pg. 60) I stayed to watch the fellows playing dice for a few Ehns. I do not

think they noticed me, so intent they were on their game. The stakes were small,

only tarsk bits, but one would not have gathered that from the earnestness of

the players. A slave girl was kneeling nearby, in a sort of improvised slave

brace, a short, stout pole, drilled through in three places. Her ankles were

fastened to the pole, by means of a thong threaded through one of the apertures,

near its bottom, her wrists by another thong passing through a hole a few inches

higher that the bottom hole, and her neck by a thong passed through the aperture

at the top part of the pole, behind her neck. There are many arrangements for

the keeping of slaves, bars, harnesses, and such. I will mention two simple

ones, first, the short, hollow tube, usually used with a sitting slave, whose

wrists are tied, the thing then passing through the tube to emerge at the far

end, where it is used to secure her ankles, and, second, the longer pole,

drilled four times, used with a prone or supine slave, in which it is impossible

for her to rise to her feet. Her ankles are fastened some six inches or so from

the end, and she is then, of course, secured, in one fashion or another, back or

belly to the pole, as the master might please, at suitable intervals, by the

wrists, belly and neck, the pole usually extending some six inches or so beyond

her head. The girl near the gamblers was apparently not a stake in the game. On

the other hand, it is not unusual for female slaves, like kaiila and other

properties, to serve as stakes in such games, as in races, contests and such.

Indeed, in many contests, female slaves are offered as prizes. I had once won

one myself, in Torvaldsland, in archery. I had subsequently sold her to a

warrior. I trust that she is happy, but it does not matter, as she is only a

slave.

“Larls, larls!” called a fellow. “I win!”

“Alas,” moaned the other. “I have only verr.”

“Larls” would be maximum highs, say, double highs, if two dice were being used,

triple highs if three dice were in play, and so on. The chances of obtaining a

“larl” with one throw of one die is one in six, of obtaining “larls” with two

dice, one in thirty-six, of obtaining “larls” with three dice, one in two

hundred and sixteen, and so on. Triple “larls” is a rare throw, obviously. The

fellow had double “larls.” Other types of throws are “urts,” “sleen,” “verr,”

and such. The lowest value on a singe die is the “urt.” The chances of

obtaining, say, three “urts” is very slim, like that of obtaining three “larls”

one in two hundred and sixteen. “Verr” is not a bad throw but it was not good

enough to beat “larls.” If two dice are in play a “verr” and a “larl” would be

equivalent on a numerical scale of ten (pg. 61) points, or, similarly, if the

dice are numbered, as these were, one would simply count points, though, of

course, if, say, two sixes were thrown, that would count as “larls.”

A lad danced past, pounding on a tabor.

I stood there, in the camp, looking about, at the various fires and the folks

about them. Mostly, as I have suggested, these folks were of the peasants, but,

among them were representatives of many other castes, as well, mostly refugees

from Torcadino and its environs, in the west, and from the vicinity of Ar’s

Station, in the north, folks who had fled before the marshes of Cos.

“Ai!” cried a fellow a few yards away, tumbling off the filled, greased

wineskin. He would not win the skin and its contents. There was much laughter.

“Next!” called the owner of the skin. “Next!” As it cost a tarsk bit to try the

game I think he had already made more than the cost of the wineskin and its

contents.

I wondered if I could balance on the skin. It is not easy, of course, given the

surgent fluid and the slippery surface.

Another fellow addressed himself to the task, but was on his back in the dirt in

an instant. There was more laughter about the skin.

“An excellent effort,” called the owner of the skin, “would you care to try

again?”

“No,” said the fellow.

“We will hole you while you mount,” volunteered the owner.

But the fellow waved good-naturedly and left.

“A tarsk bit,” called the owner. “Only a tarsk bit! Win wine, the finest

ka-la-na, a whole skinful, enough to treat your entire village.”

“I will try,” said a fellow, determinedly.

I walked over to the circle to watch.

The fellow was helped to the surface of the wineskin. But only an Ihn or so

later he tumbled off into the dirt. Fellows about slapped their thighs and

roared with laughter.

“Where is more wine?” called one of his friends.

There was laughter.

How odd it was, I thought, that these folks, who had so little, and might, were

it not for the forces of Ar, such as they were, between Cos and the city, be in

mortal jeopardy, should disport themselves so delightedly.

I watched another fellow being helped to the surface of the skin.

I supposed it might be safe, now, to return to the tent. Presumably, by now, it

would not be a violation of decorum to (pg. 62) return to the tent. Indeed, by

now, Marcus and Phoebe might be asleep. Marcus usually slept her at his feet, in

which case her ankles would be crossed and closely chained, or at his thigh, in

which case, she would be on a short neck chain, fastened to his belt. A major

advantage of sleeping the girl at your thigh is that you can easily reach her