Plunder of Gor (80 page)

“That is for me to decide,” he said. “In any event, worthy or not, you are in it.”

It was surprisingly warm under the blanket.

“I suspected as much, of course, that you would doubt,” he said. “The inference is persuasive. You should have told me, of course, as you did. That was proper.”

I glanced at Paula, who smiled approvingly. I wanted her to know that I had openly confessed my doubts to my master. There are, I recalled, to be no secrets between a master and his slave. I felt gratitude, and relief. Then I recalled the wrong I had done to Paula, how I had attempted to steal the affections of Drusus Andronicus, not because I wanted him, but because, in my vanity, I had been jealous of her. I had been punished for that. Even now, when I thought of it, I could feel the fire of the whip.

“Hurry, fellows,” called the Lady Bina. “We must remove the emblem of Mintar from the wagon, take down the banner, change the canvas to brown, harness the tharlarion, be on our way.”

“A free woman speaks,” said Drusus Andronicus.

“They often do,” said Kurik, my master.

I now understood the contents of the one sack, large, and seemingly filled with cloth, which had puzzled me earlier. With so small a change as the canvasing, our wagon, so conspicuous before, would become only another vehicle on the Viktel Aria.

Chapter Sixty-Six

Paula and I sat in the back of the wagon, on a blanket, naked, amongst the boxes, shackled, hand and foot.

We spoke softly, that we not disturb the masters, Drusus Andronicus and Kurik, of Victoria, who rode together on the wagon bench, Drusus Andronicus handling the reins. We felt comfortable, and meaningful, in our chains. We felt, and were, deliciously helpless, and wholly owned. How ancient and deep was our understanding of our sexuality, and how jejune and shallow then seemed to us the engineered distortions and strained falsities of our former world, distortions and falsities dictated by political agendas subservient to one tyranny or another. Why, I wondered, can one not be left alone, to learn oneself and find oneself? Is that so terrible, to be what one is? Some profit, I supposed, from laws that would make nature illegal. Is that not to the advantage of those who fear nature, who regard it as threatening their ambitions? But why should the goals of one be imposed as demands on others? Why is prescription superior to need and desire? If one desires to submit, to kneel, to serve, and love, why should one not do so? Who is to tell us that our blood is mistaken? How empty and ugly is a road to power that would deny one to oneself!

“I feared Lord Grendel and Eve,” said Paula, “but I wish them well.”

They had left us, left, too, with the Lady Bina. Apparently they would return to Ar. Few Kurii would dare to roam the streets of Ar at will, and more, I was sure, would fear the ax of Lord Grendel. I did not think they were muchly unsafe. There seemed to be, on their part, on the part of Lord Grendel and Eve, two main motivations for their return to Ar. First, they wished to please the Lady Bina, who was fond of the sights and sounds of Ar, and, second, they wished to provide Lord Arcesilaus, the lord of some metal world, with an eye and an ear, an agent and an informant, in Ar.

One might note, at this point, in passing, that the Lady Bina seemed to regard herself as responsible for Lord Grendel and Eve, that they were somehow her charges, and that she must look after them, while, on the other hand, it seemed, contrariwise, that Lord Grendel, and Eve, were muchly concerned about her, and hoped to look after her, and protect her.

We continued on.

I was pleased that we had the cushioning of the blanket, little as it was.

“At least,” I said, “we are not chained behind the wagon.”

“And the wagon is closed,” said Paula. “No one would know it contains two kajirae.”

“Who would have thought,” I said, “that we, once two women of Earth, our former world, would one day have found ourselves naked and collared, on a far world, shackled, owned by men?”

“I am pleased to be a commodity, a property, an owned beast,” said Paula.

“I, too,” I said. How free, simple, natural, rightful, and fulfilling I found my lot.

Paula moved her wrists and ankles a little, moving the shackles.

I stirred, too, relishing my helplessness. How I delighted in the small sounds of the metal, the rustle of an obdurate linkage. How wonderful felt the weight on my limbs. I supposed few women of my former world realized how reassuring it can be to be chained, how secure one can feel, say, lying in a slave cage, owned.

“We are well chained,” I said.

“When a woman is chained,” said Paula, “she knows she is desired.”

“Why do the men of Earth not put collars and chains on their women?” I asked.

“Perhaps some do,” she said.

“Perhaps,” I said, “they do not desire them enough to do so, desire them enough to claim and own them, do not want them so much, so fiercely, so uncompromisingly, that they will make them their slaves.”

“When one truly desires an object,” said Paula, “it is natural that one wishes to own it, to protect it, and keep it.”

“I wonder why women respond so, in the collar,” I said.

“Because,” said Paula, “they know they belong in it.”

“What of Lucilius?” I wondered.

“I would suppose he has returned to the keeping of Decius Albus,” said Paula.

Of what use, now, I wondered, could Lucilius be to the intentions and plans of the trade advisor?

“The Lady Alexina,” I said, “was seized by Tyrtaios, the Assassin.”

“No,” said Paula, “the slave, Alexina, was seized by Tyrtaios, the Assassin.”

“What of her?” I wondered.

“I did not much care for her,” said Paula. “Let her kneel to an Assassin, covering his feet with tears and kisses, hoping not to be beaten.”

I sat back, leaning against the side of the wagon bed. I wondered of Gor, the Priest-Kings, and Kurii, the slave routes, the affairs in Ar. I hoped the best for Lord Grendel, his consort, Eve, and the troublesome, wayward, outspoken, opinionated Lady Bina, their mistress, or ward. What of Surtak, and Lyris, and those Kurii who had followed him? What of Lord Agamemnon, so mysteriously absent? What could they mean, that he might be searching for, seeking, or intent upon obtaining a body, or such? What could that mean? Surely it was unintelligible.

After a time, we had been on the road for six days. At nights we had stopped at one camp or caravanserai or another. Sometimes we made our own camp, off the road. Occasionally, when the masters stopped at an inn, they resided within, and we were chained in kennels, in the inn yard. Slave biscuits and slave gruel were furnished, as part of our board. In these days and evenings, frequently, when we were not kenneled, we pleased our masters, in the many ways of a Gorean slave girl.

At one of the caravanserais, returning from the cluster of slaves about one of the wells, I hurried to Paula. “I have heard,” I said, “that the muchly sought, fugitive Ubara, Talena, has been apprehended!”

“I doubt it,” had said Paula. “There are many such rumors. Put them from your mind.”

“Here is the water, fetched from the well,” I said.

“Good,” she had said.

I was again overcome with misery and guilt, that Paula knew nothing of my indiscretion, or betrayal, when I had attempted to sway the manhood and lust of Drusus Andronicus in my favor. How I despised myself. I wanted to speak to her, but did not dare to do so.

“You are very beautiful, Paula,” I said.

I did not think I had seen her so, until after my being scorned and bound by Drusus Andronicus.

How the blood of a man might demand the ownership of such a woman!

“Nonsense,” said Paula. “You are far more beautiful than I. Now let us attend to the supper. The sooner the masters eat, the sooner, too, we will eat.”

“Paula,” I said.

“Yes?” she said.

“I fear we will part,” I said.

“My master spoke of it to me, days ago,” she said. “I was reluctant to speak to you.”

“Paula?” I said.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “I am sorry.”

I burst into tears.

“They cannot stay together,” she said, holding me. “It is dangerous. Their Home Stones differ. They do not share caste. Each must go his own way.”

“Paula,” I wept.

“In secrecy,” she said.

“Paula, Paula!” I wept.

“Our paths may cross,” she said, consolingly. “Until then, each must heel his own master.”

“Paula,” I wept.

“Hush,” she said, “dear, precious Phyllis, supper is to be prepared.”

Chapter Sixty-Seven

“Please, please, Master!” I begged.

“Very well,” he said, and unsnapped the ring on my leash, and I leaped to my feet and ran after Paula, who was heeling Drusus Andronicus.

“Paula, Paula!” I cried.

We were both naked. Slaves are often kept naked indoors, and, often, in the wild, so to speak. We were now in the informality of a wagon camp, that which we had reached yesterday afternoon. Many slaves about were naked.

Hearing my cries, Drusus Andronicus stopped, and turned about.

I threw myself to Paula's feet, weeping, my head down. “Forgive me, Paula,” I wept. “I betrayed our friendship! I was vain, foolish, jealous! You sold for more than I! You were found of much greater interest than I, by many masters! I wanted to prove myself your equal, indeed, your superior! If you could interest a master such as Master Drusus, could I not do so, as well? I sought to interest him, as what I was, as you, a slave! I would have been pleased to turn him from you! I tried to do so! I failed! I was rightfully scorned and bound. I was punished. Forgive me, dear Paula. Please, please, forgive me!”

“Dear Phyllis,” she said, looking down at me, at her feet.

“I dared not tell you,” I said. “Now, I have spoken. Despise me, scorn me, hate me, as you will!”

“I do not hate you, scorn you, despise you, or such,” she said. “You are dear to me, you are my friend.”

“I could no longer bear you not knowing,” I said.

Kurik, of Victoria, my master, had now joined us.

“But I knew, all along,” she said.

“Paula?” I said.

“Certainly,” she said, “my master informed me of the business that very afternoon.”

I could not speak, I was shaken.

“I told you so,” said Kurik. “Of course Drusus Andronicus would inform his slave of the incident. Why should such intelligence be withheld from her? Surely she should be informed.”

“I did not know you knew,” I said, weakly, to Paula, on my knees. “You gave no sign, not the least indication that you knew.”

“We must be on our way,” said Drusus Andronicus. “We have a wagon to be bargained for, tharlarion to purchase.”

Paula knelt by me, and embraced me. “I wish you well, dear Phyllis,” she said. “Perhaps we shall meet again.”

“I wish you well,” I wept. We kissed, quickly, and Paula sprang to her feet. “Forgive me, Master!” she called after Drusus Andronicus, and hurried to heel him. She turned once to wave, and I waved back, tears streaming down my cheeks. At the same time I heard a snap, and my master's leash had been again fastened to the ring on my leather leash collar, fitted over my regular collar.

“She is such a dear, wonderful thing,” I said.

“She went for a golden tarsk,” he said.

“She gave no sign she knew what I had done,” I said. “She knew all, and yet forgave me. She would not allow my act to impair our friendship. She was willing to give up Drusus Andronicus, if he preferred me. She would have stepped aside, nobly, sacrificing herself, thinking only of him, that he might be happy.”

“You think so?” asked Kurik, my master.

“Surely,” I said, “Master.”

“You seem to think of her as more than human, or as somehow other than human,” he said.

“I suppose so,” I said. “I had not thought of it in that way.”

“As some sort of paragon,” he said.

“Perhaps,” I said.

“Mindlessly obedient to absurd prescriptions,” he said. “Smiling while being robbed, offering her throat to the knife, turning her back on what means most to her?”

“Perhaps,” I said.

“Well,” he said, “foolish, naive kajira, know that she is far more worth being your friend than you think, that she is no icon of idiocy, but a living, breathing, feeling creature, a living, loving animal, profoundly and deeply human. Drusus Andronicus recounted the business to me, which he found quite amusing. Your friend, Paula, was furious. Drusus Andronicus had to bind her to keep her in place. She wanted to tear the skin from your body, pull out your hair, and scratch out your eyes. How she squirmed in her bonds, shrieking with rage. He did not dare let her out, into the street, lest she would have sought you out, and perhaps irreparably impaired your value on a slave block.”

“I did not know,” I said.

“He had to switch her to silence.”

“I see,” I said.

“She was somewhat mollified, of course,” said Kurik, my master, “when he informed her of how he had rejected your offer, and left you bound on the street, his rejection of you inscribed on your bared left shoulder with a marking stick, for all to see. She was further mollified when she learned of your lashing.”

“She gave no sign she knew of my deed,” I said.

“She was instructed not to do so,” said Kurik, my master.

“How she must have seethed with hatred,” I said.

“Not at all,” he said. “She soon calmed down, reassured of her master's rejection of your advances, and having been apprised of your condign punishment. She has always, doubtless, despite what I think is her profound and genuine affection for you, regarded you as weak, shallow, and vain.”

“I see,” I said.

“When one cares for a person,” said Kurik, of Victoria, “one cares for the whole person. Even their weaknesses and faults become precious, and dear.”

“Perhaps I am less weak, shallow, and vain than I was,” I said.

“I doubt it,” said Kurik. “But we must prepare the wagon. We must soon leave.”

“What is our destination?” I asked.

“Curiosity,” said he, “is not becoming in a kajira.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“Down on all fours,” he said.

“Master?” I said.

“You are now in the modality of the she-sleen,” he said.

I went down to all fours, looked up at him, and whimpered, questioningly. One can do much with noises, expressions, and attitudes of the body. Does not any pet animal know that?

“Yes,” he said. “You are now in the modality of the she-sleen.”

I put my head down, on the leash.

I was now in the modality of the she-sleen. One is denied an upright posture. One moves on all fours, or squirms on one's belly. One may kneel, but not rise to one's feet. One is denied human speech. One sound or whimper, as in gag signals, signifies “Yes,” and two sounds or whimpers, again, as in gag signals, signifies “No.” One feels very helpless in this slave modality. And few slave modalities better convince one that one is a slave. It can be terribly frustrating, trying to communicate in this modality, a frustration that is doubtless shared by many pet animals. Needless to say, as well, one is naked in this modality, as I was; one feeds and drinks from pans, head down, not permitted to use one's hands; and when one is put to use in this modality, it is done as one might expect.

“You are pleasant to regard in the modality of the she-sleen,” he said, “or, perhaps, in your case, that of the she-tarsk. When you were so unpleasant in your office that afternoon, on your former world, I speculated how you would appear in this modality. I am not at all disappointed.”

I shook with anger, helpless on my leash.

I was then led through the camp, on all fours, on the leash, as we returned to the wagon.

After a time, I was no longer angry. I realized I belonged on his leash.