Magicians of Gor (50 page)

“Quite pretty,” I said.

She looked up. Perhaps free men wished to inquire directions of her? Then she

looked down. I saw that she would be quite lively in a man’s hands. She had a

common band collar, flat, close-fitting. She wore a brief tunic of white

rep-cloth. She was barefoot.

“You are a girl of this house?” I asked, indicating the villa behind her.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You have the look of a woman who is well and muchly mastered,” I said.

She smiled suddenly, charmingly, gratefully, in embarrassment.

“It seems you have been laundering,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“I see that the water source is not far away,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Your tunic is damp,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said, shyly.

“And it seems you are a careless laundress,” I said.

“Master?” she said.

“The tunic is quite wet,” I said.

She lifted her right hand a bit from her thigh, as though she might cover

herself, but quickly returned it to position.

“The wet tunic sets you off well,” I commented.

“Forgive me, Master,” she said, frightened.

“Perhaps your master will notice it,” I said, “as you return flushed from your

labors, delighted, your hair washed, your body freshened.”

She put down her head, quickly.

“But doubtless it is not the calculated act of a scheming slave girl, one

cleverly aware of what she is doing,” I said. “Doubtless it is a mere

inadvertence, a merely accidental calling to your master’s attention of your

beauty, a totally unintentional, never-dreamed-of reminder of him of the promise

of its delights.”

She would not raise her head.

“What a clever little slut she is,” said Marcus.

“But she did not plan on meeting two strange fellows on the road,” I said. “Did

you, slave?” I asked.

“No, Master!” she said.

“Do you fear our armbands?” I asked.

(pg. 293) “Yes, Master,” she said.

“Do not do so,” I said.

“Thank you, Master,” she whispered. Some apprehension on her part was not

irrational. Those of Cos, and in the pay of Cos, could do much as they pleased

in Ar and its environs, and particularly in the case of slaves. Who would have

the courage, or foolishness, to gainsay them the use of such an object, to

challenge the employments to which they might put such a mere fair article of

property? Too, she was barefoot and slave clad. And in the garmenture of female

slaves, even in spite of its customary scandalous brevity, nether shielding is

almost never provided. In this way the girl is kept aware of her vulnerability

and is immediately available to the attentions of the master. Also, out here, in

the vicinity of the villa of her master, I doubted that she was in the iron

belt. Also I did not detect, beneath her dampened tunic, any signs of the

close-fitting apparatus, no sign of either its horizontal component, usually a

bar or metal strap tightly encircling the waist, nor of its vertical component,

usually hinged to the horizontal component in front and swung up, then, between

the girl’s legs, to the back, where the whole is usually fastened together,

there, at the small of the back, with a padlock. She blushed, perhaps sensing

the current purport of my scrutiny. She was lovely, and much at our mercy. Her

apprehension was not irrational, as I have mentioned. It would not have been

difficult to have her and then, with a few horts of binding fiber, leave her

behind in the ditch, bound hand and foot, at the roadside. More alarmingly, we

might have confiscated her, in the name of reparations, or such, bound her and

put a rope on her neck and led her off, at my stirrup. In the last few months

that sort of thing had happened to hundreds of slaves in Ar who had happened to

catch the eye of one fellow or another. Too, if one tired of them, they could

always be sold afterwards.

“Do you think I would object,” I said, “to a slave girl’s desire to please her

master, to call herself to his attention, to signify to him her desire, to

request his touch, to beg him for her mastering?”

“I think not, Master,” she said, shyly.

“It is not the same as the wearing of the bondage knot in the hair, the offering

of fruit, the serving of wine, the moaning, the prostrations, the obeisances,

the gently, supplicatory licking of the feet?”

“Yes, Master!” she said.

“What is your master’s name?” I asked

“Teibar,” she said, “of Ar.”

(pg. 294) “And what are you called?” I asked.

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

“I have seen you before,” I said, “months ago, outside the walls, at the camp of

refugees.”

She looked up at me.

“You dance well, slave girl,” I said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“You dance better than many women I have seen in taverns,” I said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“But perhaps you, too,” I said, “once so danced.” I could well imagine her in

such a place, in a bit of silk, belled, with bangles, pleasing men.”

“Yes, Master,” she said. “Once I so danced.”

“And do you now so dance?” I asked.

“When my master chooses to put me forth,” she said.

“Doubtless upon occasion,” I said, “you dance privately for your master?”

“It is my hope that I please him,” she said.

“And if you did not please him?” I asked.

“He would whip me,” she said.

“He is strong?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You love to dance?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“But as a slave?” I asked.

“I am what I am, Master,” she said, looking up at me.

“I see,” I said.

“Surely all women desire to appear before me as a slave, and to so move, and so

serve, and to dance for them, to please them.”

“Do you suggest that all women are slaves?” I asked.

“It is what I am,” she said. “I do not presume to speak for all women.”

“You have an accent,” I said.

“Forgive me, Master,” she said.

“Where do you come from?” I asked.

“From far away, Master,” she said.

“What is your native language?’ I asked.

“I do not know if Master has heard of it,” she said.

“What is it?” I asked.

“English,” she said.

“I have heard of it,” I said.

“Perhaps Master has owned girls such as I?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

(pg. 295) “From Earth?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I have heard of it,” said Marcus. “It is far away.”

“Yes,” I said.

“It is an excellent source of female slaves,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Thank you, Masters,” she said.

“What is your name on Earth?” I asked.

“Doreen,” she said. “Doreen Williamson.”

“Doreen,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Is that a slave name?” I asked.

“It was the name of a slave,” she smiled. “Though at that time I was not yet

collared and branded.”

“So you are from Earth?” I said. I had, of course, noted her vaccination mark at

the camp outside Ar months before. By such tiny signs may an Earth female be

recognized among other Gorean slaves.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“What are you now?” I asked.

“Only a Gorean slave girl,” she said.

I regarded her. It was true.

“Master,” she said, timidly, looking up at me from where she knelt by the

roadside, to where I was high above her, in the saddle of the tharlarion.

“Yes,” I said.

“Forgive a girl who does not wish to be punished,” she said, “but I suspect that

Master may not be native to this world either.”

“He is from the place called “Earth”, too,” said Marcus. Marcus, of high caste,

was familiar with various tenets of the second knowledge, such things as the

roundness of his world, its movement in space, and the existence of other

planets. On the other hand he remained skeptical of many of these tenets as he

found them offensive to common sense. He was particularly suspicious of the

claim that the human species had an extraterrestrial origin, namely, that it did

not originate on his own world, Gor. It was not that he denied there was a place

called “Earth” but he thought it must be somewhere on Gor, perhaps east of the

Voltai Range or south of the Tahari. Marcus and I had agreed not to discuss the

issue. I had no ready response, incidentally, to his suggestion that the human

race might have originated on Gor and then some of these folks, perhaps

transported by Priest-Kings, had been settled on Earth. Indeed, although I

regarded this as quite unlikely, it seemed an empirical (pg. 296) possibility.

For example, anthropoidal fossils can be found on Gor, as well as on Earth, and

so on. At any rate, Marcus found it much easier to believe that magic existed

than that his world was round, that it moved, and that there might be other

worlds rather like it here and there in the universe. In fact, in his

philosophy, so to speak, the universe was still of somewhat manageable

proportions. Sometimes I rather envied him.

“It is true,” I said. “I am originally from Earth.” Undoubtedly she had detected

my accent, as I had hers. To be sure there are many accents on Gor which are not

Earth accents. For example, not everyone on Gor speaks Gorean. There are many

languages spoken on Gor. For example, most of the red hunters of the north do

not speak Gorean, nor the red savages of the Barrens, nor the inhabitants of the

jungles east of Schendi.

“Strange, then, Master,” she said, “that we should meet in this reality, I, once

a woman of Earth, as now no more than a kneeling slave before you, once a man of

Earth.”

“Do you find it unfitting?” I asked.

“No, Master,” she said.

“It is as it should have been on Earth,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“But such considerations need not concern us,” I said. “They are in the past.

They belong to a different world. You are now of Gor, and only of Gor.”

“Yes, Master,” she said. “But if I am not mistaken, it is not I alone who am now

no longer of Earth, not I alone who am now of Gor, and wholly so.”

“Oh?” I said.

“It seems that we are both now of Gor, and wholly so.”

“Yes,” I said. It was true.

“I as a slave,” she said, “and you as a master.”

“Yes,” I said.

“I am not discontent,” she said.

I was silent.

“Of men who are Goreans, and such as Goreans,” she said, “women are the rightful

slaves!”

“And is your master such?” I asked.

“Yes, Master!” she said.

“Are you happy?” I asked.

“Yes, Master!” she said. “I am happier than I ever knew a woman could be!”

“But you are a slave?” I said.

“It is what I am!” she said.

(pg. 297) “Perhaps that is the explanation of your happiness,” I said.

“It is, Master!” she said.

“The collar looks well on your throat,” I said.

“It belongs there, Master!” she said. “All my life I was craving and desiring

total slavery, and now I have it!”

“That is why you are so happy?” I said.

“Yes, Master!” she said.

“And has your master something to do with this?” I asked.

“Doubtless, Master,” she said. “He is the most wonderful of masters!”

“But what if you had a harsh master, one cruel or unfeeling.”

“I would still be a slave,” she said. “I would still love my condition. It is

what I am.”

“I see,” I said.

Her knees squirmed a little.

“She is uneasy,” said Marcus.

“Yes,” I said.

“May I speak, Masters?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Marcus.

“I fear my master will wonder what has become of me,” she said.

“Do you fear you will be whipped?” asked Marcus.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You are not yet dismissed,” said Marcus.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Your tunic is still quite damp,” I said.

Her hands moved a little on her thighs, but she retained position.

I considered her slave curves, which would not in any event be well concealed by

rep-cloth, and certainly were not so now that it had been splashed with water,

even soaked by it.

“Tuka,” I said, “is a very common slave name.”

“It is fitting for me, Master,” she said, “who am a common slave.”

“What is your brand?” I asked.

“That of most girls,” she said, “the common Kajira mark. It is fitting, as I am

a common girl.”

“You regard yourself as a common slave?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Yet,” I said, “I think you would bring a good price, stripped, and on the

block.”

“I would try to perform well,” she said.

“Tuka!” we heard. We looked up to the villa. From where we were, over the

white-washed wall, we could see the veranda of the main building, where it was

nestled back, in the side of a (pg. 298) hill. On the veranda there was a

well-built fellow, with dark hair.

The girl looked up at us, frightened, agonized.

“Your master?” I asked.

“Yes, Master!” she said.

She squirmed. She looked about. In the beauty there was great agitation.

Obviously she wished to rise up and run to her master, hurrying as she could.

Slave girls do not dally when their masters call. That call takes precedence, of

course, over a detention by strangers, but it is a rare girl who will simply

leap up, not dismissed, and flee from the presence of free men.