Players of Gor (21 page)

"What am I to do?" called the lovely Brigella to the crowd, the hem of her garment clutched up about her neck. her lovely lips pouted. It seemed she was almost in tears. How seemingly distraught she was, how seemingly dismayed she was with her dilemma!

"Kneel down!" called a man jovially.

"Take off your clothes!" called another.

"Lick his feet!" suggested another.

"Slave!" said the free woman, coldly, imperiously, obviously addressing the Brigella, and in no uncertain terms.

"Mistress," responded the girl immediately, frightened, breaking out of character, turning about and kneeling down. She had been addressed by a free woman.

"Head to the boards!" snapped the free woman.

Immediately the girl put her head down to the boards. She trembled. Such women are totally at the mercy of free persons.

"Are you the owner of this slave?" asked the free woman of Boots Tarsk-Bit.

"yes, Lady," he said.

"I suggest that she be beaten," she said.

"Perhaps an excellent suggestion," said Boots Tarsk-Bit. "as she is a lave, but have you any special reason in mind, not that one needs one, of course."

"I do not care for her performance," said the free woman.

"It is difficult to please everyone," Boots admitted. "But I

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assure you that if I, her master, am not fully satisfied with her performance, I will personally tie her and see that she is well whipped."

"I find her performance disgusting," she said.

"Yes, Lady," said Boots.

"And I find it an insult to free women!" said the free woman.

"Yes, Lady," said Boots, patiently.

"Let's see the rest of the play," said a man.

"So beat her!" said the free woman.

"I see no reason to beat her," said Boots. "She is doing precisely what she is suppos4ed to be doing. She is obeying. She is being obedient. If she were not being obedient, then I would beat her, then I would see to it that she were suitably and lengthily lashed."

"Beat her!" demanded the free woman.

"Shall I beat her?" inquired Boots of the crowd.

"No!" called a man.

"No!" shouted another.

"On with the play!" shouted another.

"Have you a license for this performance?" inquired the free woman.

"Have mercy on me, Lady," said Boots. "I am come on hard times. Only yesterday I had to sell my golden courtesan, just to make ends meet."

It is difficult to run a Gorean company of Boots's sort without a golden courtesan. That is one of the major stock characters in this form of drama. That character occurs probably in fifty to sixty percent of the farces constituting the repertory of such a company. It would be like trying to get along without a comic merchant, a Brigella, a B9ina, a Lecchio or a Chino. I already knew of Boots's difficulty. I had learned of it yesterday evening. Indeed, I had already seen fit, for reasons of my own, to engage in certain actions pertinent to the matter.

"Have you a license?" pressed the free woman.

"Last year I did not have one, admittedly, due to some fearful inadvertence," admitted Boots, "but I would not risk that twice at the Sardar Fair. I have settled my debts here. Indeed, no sooner had I settled one than I seemed that a thousand creditors, guardsmen at their backs, descended upon me, like jards upon an unwatched roast. At the point of their steel I became enamored with the satisfactions attendant upon the pursuit of punctilious honest. And destitution, when all is said and done, is doubtless a negligible price to pay for so glorious a boon as the improvement of one's character."

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"You do have a license then?" she asked.

"I had to sell my golden courtesan to purchase one," said Boots.

"You have one then?" she asked.

"Yes, kind lady!" said Boots.

"It is my intention to see that it is revoked," she said.

"Good," said one of the men. "Go off, and see to it."

"Get on with the play!" called another.

"Have mercy, kind lady," begged Boots.

"I do not think that I will see fit to show you mercy in this matter," she said.

"Take the clothes of the scribe female and put her under the whip," said a man.

"Enslave her," growled another.

"Silence, silence, rabble!" she cried, turning about, facing the crowd.

"Rabble?" inquired a fellow. Assuredly the crowd was composed mostly of free men.

"Rabble!" said another fellow, angrily.

"Beasts and scum!" she cried.

"Enslave her!" said a man.

"Get her a collar," said a man. "She will then quickly mend her ways."

"Take off her clothes," said another. "Bracelet her. Put her on a leash."

"I have bracelets and a leash here," said a man.

"Put them on her," said another. "Conduct her to an iron worker."

"I will pay for her branding," said another.

"I will share the cost," said another.

"I am Telitsia, Lady of Asperiche," she said. "I am a free woman. I am not afraid of men!"

I smiled to myself. She was perfectly safe, of course, for she was within the perimeters of the Sardar Fair. How brave women can be within the context of conventions! I wondered if they understood the artificiality, the fragility, the tentativeness, the revokability of those subtle ramparts. Did they truly confuse them with walls of stone and the forces of weaponry? Did they understand the differences between the lines and colors on maps and the realities of a physical terrain? To what extent did they comprehend the fictional or mythical nature of those castles within which they took refuge, from the heights of which they sought to impress their will on worlds? Did they not know that one day men might say to them, "The castle does not exist,"

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and that they might then find themselves once again, the patience of men ended, the folly concluded, the game over, struck to their place in nature, gazing upward at masters? Asperiche, incidentally, is an exchange island, or free island, in Thassa. It is south of Teletus and Tabor. It is administered by merchants.

"Let us continue with the play," suggested a man, irritably.

"yes, yes," said others. "On with the play!" "Continue!" "Get on with the play!"

"I understand that your Brigella is good," said a man. "I want to see her, fully."

The Brigella trembled, but she, still kneeling, could not lift her head from the boards. She had not yet received permission to do so. She did not, accordingly, know who it was who had expressed interest in her. I had little doubt, however, that she would now perform marvelously, that she would not play superbly to the entire crowd, that she would now make a special effort to be a deliciously skillful and juicily appealing in her role as possible. Someone was out there, doubtless with money in his wallet, who might be interested in spending it one her, buying her. This doubtless thrilled her, and pleased her vanity. It is a great compliment to a woman to be willing to buy her. It is then up to the girl to see that the man gets a thousand times his money's worth, and more. I licked my lips in anticipation.

"With your permission, Lady Telitsia?" inquired Boots, addressing himself politely to the haughty, rigid, proud, vain, heavily veiled, blue-clad free female standing in the front row below the stage.

"You may continue," she said.

"But you may find what ensues offensive," Boots warned her.

"Doubtless I will," she said. "And have no fear, I shall include it in my complaint to the proper magistrates."

"You wish to remain?" asked Boots, puzzled.

"Yes," she said, "but do not expect a coin from me."

I smiled. The Lady Telitsia was obviously as interested in seeing the rest of the play as the rest of us. I found this interesting.

"The simply beneficence of your presence, that of a noble free woman, is in itself a reward far beyond our deserving," Boots assured her.

"What is he saying," asked a man.

"He is saying that she is more than we deserve," growled a fellow.

"That is true," laughed a man.

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"She could be taught to be pleasing," said a man.

"True," said a man.

"That might be amusing," said a man.

"You may continue," said the Lady Telitsia, loftily, to Boots Tarsk-Bit, ignoring these remarks.

"Thank you, kind lady," he said. He then turned to the Brigella. "Girl!" he snapped. His demeanor toward the Brigella was quite different from that toward the free woman. She, of course, was a slave. She leaped to her feet, clutching her skirt's hem again about her neck.

"Shameless," said the free woman.

The Brigella anxiously surveyed the crowd, trying to guess who it might be who had expressed interest in her. It could, indeed, have been any one of several men. Then she smiled prettily and flexed her knees. It was very well done. I think she probably made every man in the audience want to get his hands on her. She then, pouting and affecting her expression of dainty, ladylike consternation, resumed her character in the interrupted farce.

"Continue," signaled Boots Tarsk-Bit, himself returning to his comedic role.

"If I lift my skirt it seems I must reveal my modesty to a stranger," she wailed to the audience, "whereas should I lower it I must then, it seems, face-strip myself before him as brazenly as might a hussy! Oh, what is a poor girl to do?"

" myself, putatively, lovely lady, have in my pack the answer to your very problem," announced Boots.

"Pray, tell, good sir," she cried, "what might it be?"

"A veil," said he.

"That is just what I need!" she cried.

"But it is no ordinary veil," he said.

"Let me see it," she begged.

"I wonder if you will be able to see it," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"But, of course, you will be3 able to see it," he said, "for you are obviously a free woman!"

"I do not understand," she said.

"It is a veil woven by the magicians of Anango," he said.

"Not them!" she cried.

"The same," he agreed solemnly. Anango, like Asperiche, is an exchange, or free, island in Thassa, administered by members of the caste of merchants. It is, however, unlike Asperiche, very far away. It is far south of the equator, so far south as to almost beyond the ken of most Gorean, except as a place both remote

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and exotic. The jungles of the Anangoan interior serve as the setting for various fanciful tales, having to do with strange races, mysterious plants and fabulous animals. The "magicians of Anango," for what it is worth, seem to be well known everywhere on Gor except in Anango. In Anango itself it seems folks have never heard of them.

"And it is the special property of this veil," Boots solemnly assured the girl, "that it is visible only to free persons."

"It would not do then to wear it before slaves," she said.

"Perhaps not," said Boots, "but then who cares what slaves think?"

"True," she said. "Let me see it! Let me see it!"

"But I have it here in my hand," said Boots.

"How beautiful it is!" she cried. There was much laughter. The device of the invisible cloth, or invisible object, a stone, a sword, a garment, a house, a boat, supposedly visible only to those with special properties, is a commonplace in Gorean folklore. This type of story has many variations.

Boots h held the supposed cloth up, turning it about, displaying it.

"Have you ever seen anything like it?" asked Boots.

"No!" she said.

"It is so light," he said, "that one can hardly feel it. Indeed, it is said that slaves cannot even feel it at all."

"I must have it!" she cried.

"It is terribly expensive," he warned her.

"Oh, woe!" she cried.

"Perhaps you have ten thousand gold pieces?" he asked.

"Alas, no!" she cried. "I am a poor maid, with not even a tarsk bit to her name."

"Alas, also," said Boots, gloomily, proceeding to apparently fold the cloth. He did this marvelously well in pantomime. He was very skillful. "I had hoped to make a sale," he added.

"Could you not cut me off just a little piece?" she asked.

"A thousand gold pieces worth?' he asked.

"Alas," she wept. "I could not afford even that."

"To be sure," he said, "the veil is quite large, containing easily enough cloth to conceal an entire figure."

"I can see that," she said.

"Stinting on their work is not allowed by the magicians of Anango," he said.

"Everyone knows that," she said.

"In any event," said Boots, "surely you would not be so cruel, so heartless, so insensitive, as to suggest that I even