Magicians of Gor (67 page)

the stones, rather as in common obeisance or in kneeling to the whip, holding

the note beneath her. “No, Master!” she said. “Forgive me, Master!”

“Slut!” he cried, and kicked her, again.

“Hold,” said his fellow. “You are under orders?” he asked the slave.

“Yes, Master!” said the girl. “The note may be given to one, and one alone!”

“Very well,” said the second fellow.

Lavinia then, gratefully, rose to her feet, and went to kneel before the slave.

How well she knelt before him! how well she looked at his feet, though he were

only a slave. She then lifted the note to him, her head down between her

extended arms, holding the note in both hands, proffering it to him, much as in

the manner in which a slave offers wine, and herself, to a master. The fellow

gasped, and seemed shaken by this, the sight of the beauty so before him. I

almost feared he might fall, so beautiful she was. Never I suspect had he had a

woman so before him. In that instance I think he may have first begun to sense

the glories, the exultancies, the fittingness, the perfections and powers of the

mastery. I watched Lavinia surrender the note to him. it was almost as though it

were her own note, offered pleadingly to him on her own behalf, and not

putatively the note of another, in whose transit and delivery she was merely

humble courier. To be sure, she had written the note herself. I was much puzzled

by her behavior. I was also much impressed by it. I had never hitherto realized

she was that beautiful.

“You have delivered your note, slut!” said one of the men, angrily. “Now, be off

with you!”

“Yes, Master!” she said.

He drew back his hand, angrily, as though contemplating giving her a cuff.

“Yes, Master!” she said, and scrambled to her feet, not at all gracefully, in

her haste, and raced past me, going west on Tarn Court. Clearly she would not

have relished further attentions from the fellow. Already she was a bruised,

thrice-kicked slave. I do not think that he intended striking her that time,

incidentally, but was only threatening to do so. The threat, however, had been

sufficient to speed her on her way, and had she not (pg. 393) leaped up and

departed with suitable dispatch I did not doubt but what her lovely face in an

instant, flashing and burning scarlet, might have suffered the sting, and

perhaps more than once, of that ready, harsh masculine hand.

“She is pretty,” said one of the fellows, he who had questioned her, looking

after her.

“But she is only a female,” said the other, he who had threatened her.

“And a slave,” said he who had questioned her.

“Yet they are the prettiest and best, “ said he who had threatened her.

“Yes,” said he who had questioned her. “There is no comparison.”

The handsome slave stood in the street, under the trellises, in the light and

shade, looking after the slave, wonderingly. In his hand, neglected, was the

note. It seemed he could not take his eyes off the retreating figure of Lavinia.

Could it be that he found her of interest, and in the most profoundly sexual way

in which a man may find a woman of interest, of slave interest? I had not

counted on that. I trusted that this would not disrupt my plans.

“Read the note,” ordered one of the fellows.

Absently, almost as though not aware of his surroundings, except for the now

tiny figure of the slave, hurrying away, he opened the note. He could,

apparently, read. I had counted on that. He was a high slave. Too, it would have

been difficult for him, I supposed, as he was a well-known actor, to have

learned parts without being able to read. To be sure, some actors do, having the

parts read to them, and they memorizing them from the hearing of the lines. This

is particularly the case with women, as most parts of women on the Gorean stage,

other than those in high theater, which tend to be acted by boys or men, are

acted by female slaves, many of whom cannot read. Also, of course, as is well

known, singers, scalds in the north, and such, transmit even epics orally.

Because there are many Goreans who cannot read, many stores , shops, and such,

will utilize various signs and devices to identify their place of business. For

example, a large, wooden image of a paga goblet may hang outside a tavern, a

representation of a hammer and anvil outside a metal-worker’s shop, one of a

needle and thread outside a cloth-worker’s shop, and so on. I have known

extremely intelligent men on Gor, incidentally, who could not read. Illiteracy,

or, more kindly, an inability to read and write, is not taken on Gor as a mark

of stupidity. These things tend rather, in many cases, to be associated with the

caste structure (pg. 394) and cultural traditions. Some warriors, as I have

indicated earlier, seem to feel it is somewhat undignified for them to know how

to read, or, at least, how to read well, perhaps because that sort of thing is

more in the line of, say, the scribes. One hires a warrior for one thing, one

hires a scribe for another. One does not expect a scribe to know the sword. Why,

then, should one expect the warrior to know the pen? An excellent example of

this sort of thing is the caste of musicians which has, as a whole, resisted

many attempts to develop and standardize a musical notation. Songs and melodies

tend to be handed down within the caste, from one generation to another. If

something is worth playing, is it worth remembering, they say. On the other

hand, I suspect that they fear too broad a dissemination of the caste knowledge.

Physicians, interestingly, perhaps for a similar reason, tend to keep records in

archaic Gorean, which is incomprehensible to most Goreans. Many craftsmen,

incidentally, keep such things as formulas for certain kinds of glass and

alloys, and manufacturing processes, generally, in cipher. Merchant law has been

unsuccessful, as yet, in introducing such things as patents and copyrights on

Gor. Such things do exist in municipal law on Gor but the jurisdictions involved

are, of course, local.

“What does it say?” asked the fellow.

The slave clutched it to him. “It is private,” he said, “and, I fear, personal.”

“Let me see,” said one of the fellows.

“Better that only I and Appanius see this,” he said. He seemed white-faced,

shaken.

“Very well,” said the fellow who had spoken, stepping back. He had judged from

the slave’s response, it seemed, that the matter was not one for just anyone to

press.

“Is it important?” asked the other fellow.

“I am afraid,” said the slave.

“Let us return to the house,” said the first fellow.

They then again took their way east on tarn Court and, in a bit, once beyond the

trelliswork, went to the right side of the street, which now, given the lateness

of the afternoon sun, was the shady side. Normally Goreans keep to the left

sides of streets and roads, as is proper, given that most men are right-handed.

In this fashion the sword arm is on the side of the stranger. A similar,

interesting historical detail, though are particularly pertinent to Gor, as most

Gorean garments have buttons, is that, on Earth, men’s shirts, jackets, coats,

and such, have the buttons on the right side, so that the opening of the garment

is held down, and to the right. This is because the (pg. 395) sheath of the

knife or sword is, by right-handed men, commonly worn on the left, facilitating

the across-the-body draw to the right. In this arrangement of the garment’s

fastenings, thusly, the hand, or sleeve, or guard of the weapon, will not be

caught or impeded in its passage to the ready position. A similar provision does

occur, incidentally, in various Gorean garments, having to do with pins,

brooches and such. Also the male tunic of the wraparound variety has its overlap

to the right, presumably for a similar reason. Warriors, in situations of

danger, commonly carry the scabbard over the left shoulder. The scabbard is held

with the left hand and the draw takes place with the right. The scabbard and

strap is then discarded, to be recovered, if practical, later. Obviously the

scabbard attached to a belt is not only an encumbrance but it is something which

someone else might seize, cling to, and perhaps use to his advantage.

I watched them withdraw. I was not even certain that the slave would show the

note to Appanius. On the other hand, since he had been witnessed in receiving

it, which I had not known would happen, it seemed highly likely he would do so.

My plans, as I had laid them, of course, did not require that the note be seen

by Appanius. Appanius did, of course, figure significantly in my plans. The note

did not, as far as Appanius was concerned. It could do its work with or without

his knowledge.

I now went west on Tarn Court.

In a few Ehn I had come to the rendezvous point, on Varick, west of Aulus, which

I had arranged with Lavinia. I waited there, near the doorways. She would not be

loitering in the vicinity, of course, as that would attract attention. She

would, rather, pass this point at certain intervals, in one direction or

another. She may have passed it once or twice already. I would then, in the

concealment of one of the doorways, put her in the small cloak she had worn

before, now folded in my wallet, and we would then make our way home.

I observed her approaching.

How beautiful she had been, how fetching she was now.

“Master,” she said.

“In here,” I said, gesturing to the doorway.

She stepped within the sheltered area and I took her by the upper arms and

turned her about, and thrust her back, sharply, against the wall, to the right.

“Master?” she said.

I looked down into her eyes. I held her by the upper arms, facing me, slave

close. It is not unpleasant to hold a woman (pg. 396) thusly. There were the

tracks of tears, some only half dried, on her cheeks. She had thus wept even

after leaving Tarn Court, probably while hurrying along.

“You are fortunate that you were not cuffed,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You are not unattractive,” I said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

I stepped back a little, not releasing my hold, and looked down at her.

“Even in such garments,” I said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

The recent garments prescribed for state slaves, of course, as such things went,

were quite modest. They had their supposed role to play, doubtless, in the

attempt on the part of Cos to depress the sexual vitality of the males of Ar, to

devirilize them and make them easier to manage. That program, of course, as I

have indicated, was unsuccessful. That the female is a slave is far more

important than her garmenture, pleasant as that may be, dressing her in one

manner or another for your pleasure, for example. That the female is a slave can

double or treble, or more, the sexual interest and vitality of the male. It also

has a considerable effect, an astounding effect, on the sexuality of the

enslaved female, as well. The reasons for this have to do with the order of

nature.

“Is Master angry with me?” she said.

“Stand back against the wall,” I said. “Put the palms of your hands back,

against the wall. Hold them there. Do not move.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

I touched her.

“Ohh,” she said, trying not to move.

“You are still hot,” I said.

“Forgive me, Master,” she said.

“No forgiveness is necessary,” I said. “Being hot is commendable in a female

slave. Indeed, she may be whipped if she is not.”

Yes, Master,” she said, swallowing hard.

“And recently,” I said, “if I am not mistaken, you were steaming, and oiled.”

“Do not be angry, Master,” she begged.

How exciting she had been on Tarn Court! How beautiful she had been on Tarn

Court! I had been tempted to rush forth and seize her, putting her to my

pleasure, I owning her. I had not, of course, done so. That would surely have

interfered with my plans.

“Do not be angry with me, Master!” she begged.

(pg. 397) “To whom do you belong?” I asked.

“To you, Master,” she said.

“And to whom else?” I asked.

“To no one else!” she said.

I regarded her.

“The slave hopes that her master is not displeased with her,” she said.

I then took her once more by the upper arms and drew her, again, close to me. I

held her in this fashion for a few Ihn, and then she made a tiny noise, and

turned her head to the side, to her right.

“You feel my closeness?” I asked.

“Yes, my master,” she whispered.

“And you grow excited?” I said.

She looked up at me. “Yes, Master,” she said.

“And you cannot help yourself?” I said.

“No, Master,” she said, looking away..

“And I could be any man?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“But I am your master,” I said.

“Yes, my master,” she said.

“You are a female slave,” I said.

“Forgive me, Master,” she said.

“I effect nothing critical,” I said. “Your sexuality has been taken away for

you, and out of your control.”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, frightened.

“Do not be troubled,” I said. “It is appropriate that a female slave be sexually