Mariners of Gor (63 page)

“Please, Master,” said the other slave.

“Perhaps you do not care to be so characterized?” I said.

“Consider, Master,” said one of the slaves, and was then, suddenly, silent.

To be sure, a free woman, and particularly one of high station, would be outraged, and surely justifiably, to be so characterized, so familiarly, so intimately, so dismissively. Slaves, of course, as beasts and properties, to be looked upon with relish and objectivity, are accustomed to such appraisals. Indeed, they are indicative of interest and approval. Such things can warm the thighs of a slave. Do they not suggest that the object within her collar has come to the attention of free men? Do they not portend the possibility of eventual caresses, for which she hopes, which she is zealous to earn?

“Dear fellows,” I said, “it is possible these two were once free women. Many slaves were. Thus, your words may not comport with the dignity of ones who were once such.”

There was laughter at the tables.

“Thank you, Master,” said the first slave, uneasily.

“Thank you, Master,” said the second.

“Are you slaves?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” said the first slave.

“Yes, Master,” said the second slave.

“Very well,” I said, “pretty vulos, little tastas, split your knees.”

“Master!” said the slaves.

“Now,” I said.

A murmur of appreciation coursed through the men.

“How do you like them?” I asked.

“Superb,” said a fellow.

“For such meat,” said a fellow, “chains, and the block, were invented.”

“Do you not think they might prove to be ready juicers, both of them hot little collar puddings?”

One of the slaves gasped. And, even in the lamp light, I thought both turned white.

“Yes, yes!” laughed the men. Some pounded their shoulders, others drummed on the small tables before them.

They had been spoken of as though they might be common slaves.

But, to be sure, they were now common slaves.

“They are ship slaves, of course,” I reminded the fellows. “They are not to be put to slave use, without the permission of their owners, the Pani.”

Moans greeted this announcement.

To be sure, the fellows were well aware of the restrictions involved. This was nothing new to them. Such slaves had not been brought from the continent, months away, to instigate rivalries, generate dissension, undermine discipline, raise issues, occasion brawls, if not killings, and foment disruption at the World’s End. The fellows should have been grateful enough to the Pani that the slaves were made available for serving the general feast, in its several locations.

“What is your name?” asked Leros of one of the slaves.

“Adraste,” she said, “if it pleases master.”

“You are very beautiful, Adraste,” he said. This was said with much the same objectivity with which one might have commended a kaiila.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“And what is your name,” asked Aeacus, of the other slave.

“Alcinoë,” she said, “if it pleases Master.”

“You are not a bad-looking slave,” said one of the fellows.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

I thought I saw the trace of a smile on the lips of Adraste. And, if I am not mistaken, I thought I saw a flicker of annoyance course the features of the lovely Alcinoë, whom I, at least, thought quite nice.

I had two reasons for wishing a private supper, limited to a few, in this case the personnel of the high watches on the great ship, whom I knew and trusted. First, I was much afraid that if the two slaves would, for example, have been assigned to the long tables, those in the courtyard, one or another fellow might have recognized them. I did not think that Cabot was on the grounds, but Seremides surely was. Thus I was trying, for what it was worth, to conceal the identity of the two slaves. The fellows of the high watch, with the exception of myself, would know them, if at all, as only two slaves, to be sure, two rather attractive slaves. The second reason I wanted to have the small supper in a private area, was to give me the freedom to come and go, as I might please. For example, I was much afraid that the sorry return of the exploratory force, and the possible imminence of the forces of Lord Yamada, might further increase apprehension amongst the men, hasten the formation of reckless resolves, and lead to some rash action. If one were concerned to protect an endeavor such as our common enterprise, or forestall or thwart a conspiracy which might result in the ruination of that enterprise, whatever it might be, and perhaps the death of hundreds, subtlety seemed advisable. Certainly it would seem inadvisable to act openly, where one might fall within the purview of conspirators themselves, whoever they might be. One does not, if wise, arouse suspicion, and court a knife in the darkness. But, too, of course, what did I owe, really, to Lords Nishida and Okimoto, or to Lord Temmu, who, as far as I knew, might be as bad as, or even worse than, Lord Yamada. I was loyal, of course, to the ship. And I was reasonably clear that I owed my life to Lord Nishida, from long ago, and perhaps to Tarl Cabot, strangely enough, as he was of Port Kar, enemy to great Cos.

“Let the serving begin,” I said, and the slaves sprang to their feet, and the men cheered.

“Is there paga?” inquired a fellow.

“Enough to keep you drunk for a month,” I said.

This brought another cheer.

The slaves had now retired behind the screen, I think gratefully, to prepare for the serving. I found them bickering as to precedence, as to who might serve what dish, and when. Whereas I knew little or nothing of such things, decisions were in order, so I specified, very clearly, who should serve what, and in what order. I tried to distribute the best dishes, or what I took to be the best dishes, evenly between them. Both, of course, were to serve paga, but demurely, as one might serve another drink, not as it is commonly served in the taverns, or to a private master, in the privacy of his own quarters.

I heard some striking on the tables, in the dining area. The fellows were hungry, and growing impatient.

“Forgive me, Master,” said Alcinoë, “but I am not a serving slave.”

“Nor I,” said Adraste.

“You chose us for this that we would be demeaned, did you not?” said Alcinoë.

“Doubtless it amuses the Master,” said Adraste, “that I, who was Ubara, should serve men, as a serving slave.”

“And that I,” said Alcinoë, “who was second only to the Ubara herself should serve so, as well!”

“Perhaps you would prefer to serve the long tables, in the courtyard,” I said, “serve, say, Tarl Cabot, if he is there, and Seremides, who may well be there, and others?”

“No, Master,” said Adraste, quickly.

“No, Master,” said Alcinoë.

“But that we should serve, at all,” said Adraste.

“At all,” added Alcinoë.

“It does amuse me,” I said, “that the former Talena, the former Ubara of Ar, and the former Lady Flavia of Ar, her confidante, now slaves, should serve common fellows, as might any other slave.”

“Very amusing,” said Adraste.

“And I will tell you, pretty Adraste, how you will serve them,” I said.

“Master?” she said.

“Remove your clothing,” I said.

“Excellent!” laughed Alcinoë, delighted. She clapped her hands with pleasure.

“There are no free women out there,” I said.

“Surely you cannot be serious,” she said.

“Get it off,” I said.

Frightened, Adraste drew her tunic off, over her head.

“How wonderful, how splendid,” said Alcinoë, “she who was Talena of Ar, now a stripped serving slave!”

“Men,” I told Adraste, “find it pleasant to be served by naked slaves.”

“Master,” moaned Adraste.

Alcinoë laughed.

“It improves the appetite,” I told her.

“Take that, haughty, vain, deceitful slut!” said Alcinoë.

Tears ran down the cheeks of the former Ubara.

“Naked slave!” laughed Alcinoë.

“Alcinoë,” I said.

“Master?” she said.

“Remove your clothing,” I said.

Her eyes regarded me, wide, startled.

“Now,” I said.

“Yes, Master!” she said, and hastily drew off her garment, over her head.

“Slave!” said Adraste to her.

“Slave!” said Alcinoë.

The slaves now wore only their collars. How beautiful are women, so!

“I hate you, Master,” said Adraste.

“I hate you, Master!” said Alcinoë.

“I was Ubara!” said Adraste.

“I was second to the Ubara, her confidante,” said Alcinoë.

“Pick up your plates,” I told them.

They did so.

“I only regret,” I said, “that your rivals, other free women, your enemies, women loyal to Ar, are not out there.”

The slaves moaned, softly.

It is very pleasant, of course, for a free woman to come into the ownership of a former enemy, or rival, and have her serve her guests naked, as the lowest of serving slaves.

I picked up a cloth. The slaves’ hands were occupied, each holding a dish which they might serve. “Let us wipe away these tears,” I said. I wiped the tears from the cheeks of Adraste, and softly touched the eyes of Alcinoë, that her eyes not sparkle with her distress, and shame.

I then went to the men’s side of the screen.

“Two slaves,” I said.

The slaves, miserable, trying to hold themselves erect, each holding a dish, emerged from behind the screen.

“Excellent!” cried men.

Some struck their left shoulders with the palms of their right hand. Others pounded on the small tables with pleasure.

“Now,” said Leros, “we shall have a proper supper, even at the World’s End!”

There was much assent to this.

I then fetched a slave whip which I had earlier put to the side. “Pass the whip about,” I said. “Each slave, when she first serves you, is to kneel and kiss the whip, and then place the plate before you.”

Let them learn well, I thought, what they are, the former Talena of Ar, once Ubara, and the former Lady Flavia of Ar, once her confidante, that they are now slaves, only that.

I tossed the whip to Aeacus. Adraste knelt beside him, at the edge of the small table, bent forward, and kissed the whip, which he extended to her. She then put the plate before him, humbly. He handed the whip to Leros, and Alcinoë knelt at his place, and leaned forward, kissing in her turn the whip proffered to her lips, and then, as Adraste before her, placed the plate humbly before the free man. Soon Adraste would return, with another plate, and the whip would be passed to the next fellow. “Fellows,” I said, and loudly, that the slaves might hear as well, “if the service is not fully pleasing, or is lacking in any respect, use the whip on them.”

“Yes,” said more than one man. “Yes!”

The slaves, I was sure, would be zealous to please. I did not doubt but what they would do their best to serve well.

For the men, of course, it is pleasant to be served by naked slaves. I supposed that free women speculated that private dinners amongst free men, to which they were not invited, were often so served. Let the mother, the aunt, the sister, and such, familiar with a son’s, a nephew’s, or a brother’s quiet, refined, demure, tastefully attired slave not speculate on how she serves his guests at a private party nor, more interestingly, what occurs later at his slave ring.

I went behind the screen, where the slaves were preparing to continue serving.

Now that the feast was in progress, I felt I might slip away, unnoticed.

Alcinoë was standing at the edge of the serving table. She was lovely in the lamplight. She turned, to look at me. Then she fled suddenly to my arms, and I held her to me. Tears coursed her cheeks. Words rushed out of her, as though a stream had broken forth from behind some obstruction, sweeping debris to the side, and, released at last, it rushed forth, threatening its banks, in a churning, grateful torrent. “Thank you, oh, thank you, Master,” she sobbed, “thank you for making me serve naked! I feel so female, so slave, serving men, so exposed, my masters! I am thrilled. I am a different form of life, I know that now, I am now fulfilled. Let them look upon me! It is such as I who belong to them! I am now as I should be! I would serve all your feasts, Master, naked, as a woman, and slave. It is so right, and I am so happy!”

I crushed her to me. She was slave, and in my arms!

“Thank you for giving me no choice, for making me do what you will have me do,” she said. “Thank you for your command, your power, your uncompromised, unqualified domination! Be ruthless with me, be severe. It is what I want! I respond in a thousand ways! I revel in it. I need it, I am a woman, I am incomplete without it! Yes, make me serve men naked, or as you wish! I love it! It is what I am for!”

I held her tightly.

She could not have begun to free herself.