Authors: John Norman
Tags: #Science Fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Fantasy, #Adventure, #Erotica, #Gor (Imaginary Place)
them are marked, or calibrated, candles, sun dials, sand glasses, clepsydras and
oil clocks.
She was breathing deeply.
I sat down, cross-legged, opposite her.
“Master, too, seems apprehensive,” she said. “Forgive me, Master.”
“Catch your breath,” I said.
“Thank you, Master,” she said.
She had not neglected to have her knees in proper position. She was, after all,
before a free man.
(pg. 359) We must soon to the theater of Pentilicus Tallux, the great theater,
which was more than two pasangs away.
“I am frightened,” she said.
“How went it?” I asked.
At this point the eleventh bar rang.
“It is only the eleventh bar,” she said, gratefully.
“Yes,” I said.
She closed her eyes in relief.
“You are frightened, aren’t you?” I said.
“Yes,” she whispered.
She was entitled to be frightened, I supposed. She was, after all, only a slave.
“Why are you frightened?” I asked.
“Because of he before whom I must shortly appear, and as only a slave!”
“Ah, yes,” I said. I myself would have thought her terror might more plausibly
have been motivated by what had occurred earlier this morning.
“Tell me of what occurred in the Central Cylinder,” I said.
“It was much as you had anticipate,” she said. “I approached the Central
Cylinder. I knelt before the guards, my head down. The capped message tube even
touched the stones. I looked up. I made known my errand, that I bore a private
message emanating from the house of Appanius for the Ubara. They read my collar.
It seemed then surely that I was a girl of Appanius. The guards were skeptical
that I would be admitted. However, to their surprise, I was to be permitted to
enter the presence of the Ubara.”
“That the message might emanate from a particular person in the house of
Appanius, and presumably not Appanius himself, who would not be likely to have
any direct business with the Ubara,” I said, “was what gained your admittance.
The Ubara would suspect, and perhaps even hope, from whom the message might
come. Too, of course, that the message was considered “private” would tend not
only to confirm her suspicions, but to excite and intrigue her.”
“Yes, Master,” said the girl.
She had, of course, reported to the guards at the Central Cylinder
back-braceleted, with the message tube about her neck. In this way, she could
not have uncapped the tube and read the message. She would presumably be in
ignorance as to its contents. Indeed, in a sense she was ignorant of its
contents as Marcus and I, with Phoebe’s expert assistance, as it turned out, had
composed it yesterday evening, while she had been scouting the public boards for
us, for any news that might be of (pg. 360) interest. It is best for slaves to
approach the public boards in the evening or very early morning, when it is less
crowded in their vicinity. In that way they are less likely to be beaten. She
did know, of course, its general purport, and its role in our plans. The letter
itself, of course, had been written by Marcus. I had removed the bracelets from
her and the thong, the tube attached, from about her neck, of course, when we
had had our rendezvous, after her departure from the Central Cylinder. I had
given her the cloak then and we had made our separate ways back to the insula of
Torbon.
“Go on,” I said.
“My bracelets were checked,” she said. “It was found that I was perfectly
secured.
“Yes,” I said. Having her back-braceleted, of course, was also a convenience to
the guards. That would save them putting her in their own bracelets, before
conducting her into the presence of the Ubara.
“Then I was double leashed,” she said.
“A single metal collar,” I said, “with chain leashes on each side?”
“Yes,” she said.
There are several double leashing arrangements, sometimes with two collars, and
sometimes with a single collar, with leash rings on opposite sides. The collars
are usually of leather, metal or rope. The leashes, too, are of similar
materials. Some collars, stocklike, are of wood. The point of double leashing is
security and control. A prisoner is not likely to be able to pull away from two
leashes. At least one is likely to restrain him. Similarly, by two leashes, he
can easily be immobilized, kept in place, held, say, between two leash masters,
unable to reach either of them, or a third person. In the case of females double
leashing is primarily aesthetic. Certainly a girl would not be likely, more than
once, at any rate, to attempt to attack a leash holder, say, to bite or kick.
That is something she would never do again. On the other hand, in Lavinia’s
case, clearly the guards would not wish to risk her approaching the Ubara too
closely, even back-braceleted.
“I was then conducted by five guards within the double gate of the Central
Cylinder,” she said. “The leader went first. Two were with me, one on each side,
each holding a leash. Two followed, with spears. Inside the double gate, I was
hooded, and then I was led through what seemed to be a maze of passageways, and
levels, and turnings. Sometimes I was even spun about. I had no idea where I was
in the Central Cylinder. Then I was told to kneel and my leashes seemed to be
fastened (pg. 361) down, on either side of me. “Bring me the message from my
dear friend, Appanius,” said a woman’s voice.
“What was the voice like?” I asked.
“It seemed friendly, even kindly, and charming,” she said, “but, somehow,
underneath, cold, or cruel.”
“Continue,” I said.
“I felt the tube being taken in hand, and uncapped, and heard the message being
removed from it. The leader of the guard, I presume, did this, and then
delivered it to the woman. For a time I heard nothing. Then she spoke again. “It
is nothing,” she said, “this little note from my dear friend, Appanius, news of
a coming play. But leave us now, alone. And before you go, unhood the slave. I
would see her.”
I was unhooded.
“I was kneeling in what appeared to be a private audience chamber. It must have
been well within the cylinder. It was lit by lamps. The hangings were scarlet
and magnificent. There was a dais a few feet before me, and on this dais,
resplendent in robes of concealment, beautifully veiled, on a curule chair,
there sat a regal figure. I was speechless.
“ ‘We await without,’ said the leader of the guard. He then, with his mem,
withdrew.
“The hood which had been removed from me lay to one side. The message tube, with
its cap, attached by its tiny thong, was still about my neck.
“I looked timidly to the woman on the curule chair. It seemed she did not notice
me. She read the letter in her hands over and over, seemingly avidly.
“The chain leashes attached to the leash rings on the metal collar I wore were
fastened to rings on each side of me. I was held in place. I could not rise to
my feet.”
“The woman on the curule chair looked down upon me. I put my head down to the
floor. The message tube then, on its thong, was on the floor as well.
“ ‘Is that how you kneel before a free woman?’ she asked.
“ ‘Forgive me, Mistress!’ I wept. ‘The guards were about!’
“ ‘They are not about now,” she said, ‘and even if they were, it is I who am
Mistress here, not they.’
“ ‘Forgive me, Mistress!’ I begged.
“ ‘You will kneel before me demurely,” she said.
“ ‘Yes, Mistress,’ I said. You can now well imagine how modestly and humbly, and
demurely, I then knelt before her.”
“I warned you about that sort of thing,” I reminded her.
“Am I to be beaten?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “Such knee positions become almost instinctive (pg. 362) in a
female slave, and I would not wish to complicate your training by punishing you
for having failed to alter them in a particular case. I do not want your
dispositions to respond to become too complex, or inconsistent.”
“Thank you, Master,” she said.
“Too,” I said, “the guards were men, and had been present.”
“Yes, Master!” she said.
“But for your own sake, when you are before free women,” I said, “I would advise
you to be alert to such matters.”
“Yes, Master!” she said.
“Continue,” I said.
“The woman looked down at me. I scarcely dared look at her. Muchly did I keep my
head down. I even trembled. You can well imagine how small and meaningless I
felt there.”
“Certainly,” I said, “in such a place, in the presence of such a personage, the
Ubara of Ar herself.”
“Oh, yes, Master,” she said, “certainly that. But it was not just that.”
“Oh?” I said.
“I think it was even more that she was a free woman, and that I was before her,
only a slave.”
“I see,” I said.
“ ‘This note does not come from Appanius,’ she said to me.
“ ‘No, Mistress,’ I said.
“ ‘Do you know from whom it comes?’ she asked.
“ ‘From the beautiful Milo,’ I said.
“ ‘Do you know its contents?’ she asked.
“ ‘No, Mistress,’ I said.
“ ‘Can you read?’ she asked.
“ ‘Yes, Mistress,’ I said.
“ ‘But you have not read it?”
“ ‘No, Mistress,’ I said.
“ ‘Have you some concept of its contents,’ she asked, ‘any inkling as to its
purport?’
“ ‘I fear so, Mistress,’ I said.
“ ‘Do you know who I am, girl?’ she asked.
“ ‘The majestic and beautiful Talena,’ I said, ‘Ubara of Glorious Ar.’
“ ‘He could be slain for even thinking of writing such a letter,’ she said.
“I was silent.
“ ‘He has eveb signed it,’ she said.
“I was silent.
“ ‘’What a fool,’ she said. ‘What a poor, mad, infatuated fool.’
(pg. 363) “I was silent.”
“ ‘How could he do anything so compromising, so foolish, so utterly mad?’ she
asked.
“ ‘Perhaps he has been driven out of his wits by some brief glimpse of the
beauty of Mistress,’ I whispered.”
“Excellent, Lavinia,” I commended her.
“ ‘Speak,’ she commanded me.
“ ‘He has given performances in the Central Cylinder,’ I continued, ‘readings,
and such. Perhaps in one of those times, due to no fault of Mistress he was
charmed by her voice, as by the songs of the venminium bird, or again, by her
grace and manner, the consequences of a thousand generations of elegance and
breeding, or again, once more through no possible fault of Mistress, perhaps in
a moment of inadvertent disarray he as so unfortunate as to glimpse a portion of
her briefly unveiled features, or note a width of slender wrist betwixt cuff and
glove, or even, beneath the hem of her robes, fearful to contemplate, the turn
of an ankle?’
“ ‘Perhaps,’ she said. “And I had no doubt, Master, that the royal hussy had
seen to it that such signals, such signs, such intriguing glimpses, such
supposed inadvertencies, and such, had abounded!”
“In this,” I said, “perhaps she was not so different from you.”
“Master!” cried Lavinia, scandalized.
“At least,” I said, “she never knelt at his side, in bangles and slave silk, and
reached out to touch him.”
“Had she been in my place, and only a slave,” she said, “she might have done
so!”
“Perhaps,” I said.
“I think so, Master!” said Lavinia.
“And perhaps have found herself in the fields?”
“Perhaps, Master,” smiled Lavinia.
The thought of the regal Talena shorn and in the fields was indeed an amusing
one.
“Master?” asked the slave.
“Continue,” I said.
“ ‘Do you know that he dedicated the first performance of his “Lurius of Jad” to
me?’ she asked.
“ ‘Yes, Mistress.’ I responded.
“ ‘And he has dedicated many other performances to me, as well,’ she said.
(pg. 364) “ ‘Yes, Mistress,” I responded.
“ ‘Hailed as inspired performances,’ she said.
“ ‘Yes, Mistress,’ I said. Surely, Master , she must understand the political
aspects of such things!”
“Continue,” I said.
“ ‘But then I have inspired many artists,’ she said.”
“Continue,” I said. I smiled to myself. I wondered if the Ubara could be taught
slave dance. If so, she might learn what it was like, truly, for a woman to
inspire men. To be sure, the beauty of almost any slave is seldom ineffectual in
such matters.
“ ‘I should destroy this letter,’ said the Ubara to me. ‘I should burn it in the
flame of one of these tiny lamps.’
“ ‘Yes, Mistress,’ I said.
“ ‘It could mean his death if it were so much as glimpsed by one of the Council,
or by Seremides, or Myron, or his master, or perhaps any free man’ she said.
“ ‘Yes, Mistress,’ I said. But, Master, she did not destroy the letter! She
folded it carefully, and concealed it within her robes!”
“I understand,” I said. I suspected that that letter was too precious to the
Ubara for her to destroy it. Perhaps she would treasure it. I wondered what she
would do if she leaned that it had been written by Marcus. For a brief instant,
a rather unworthy one, I was pleased that my own handscript was so poor,
particularly with respect to alternate lines. To be sure, it also,
theoretically, gave her great power over the innocent Milo. If such a letter
fell into the wrong hands it was not unlikely he would find himself keeping an