Magicians of Gor (68 page)

alive, vital and responsive.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Even required,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You would not wish to be whipped for insufficient heat, would you?”

“No, Master!” she said.

“Think no more about it then,” I said. “Surrender, rather, as you now must, and

wish to do, to your deepest needs and desires, to your most profound and

helpless passions, to those truths, hitherto concealed in the most secret

recesses of your belly.”

“Take me somewhere, Master!” she begged. “Take me somewhere!”

“You are somewhere,” I informed her.

She looked wildly at me, and I then, by the upper arms, lifted her up, against

the wall.

She looked down at me. “Master!” she begged.

(pg. 398) I kept her to the wall with my body, and, in an Ihn or two, got my

hands to her waist, lifting her up. She put her arms about my neck, sobbing.

“Oh, yes, Master!” she breathed. “I yield me, as a slave, your slave!”

For an Ehn or two I held her.

“Aiiii,” I breathed, gasping.

“I am yours,” she whispered, “your slave!”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, you are.”

Shortly thereafter I became aware of a presence behind me. I turned. There was a

guardsmen there, a regular, not an auxiliary. I had never seen him before. He

did not seem angry. I lifted Lavinia upward. “Ai!” I said, softly. I then put

her to her feet in the doorway. She kissed at my arm, and kept her arms about

me. Surely she was aware of the observer, as well. “Do you not know enough to

kneel in the presence of a free man?” I asked her. Quickly she removed her arms

from my body, smoothed down her tunic, and knelt, properly, in the doorway.

“Does the whip master know where you are?” asked the guardsmen of Lavinia.

“No, Master,” she said.

“You are pretty,” he said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“These state sluts are all the same, “ said the guardsmen.

“Oh?” I said.

“I liked it better when they were belled,” he said.

“That was nice,” I said.

“It made it easier to keep track of them, in alleys, in doorways, and such.”

“Doubtless,” I granted.

He looked at Lavinia, who lowered her head.

“I suspect it is lonely for them, in their chains, at night,” he said.

“I suspect so,” I said.

“She has duties,” he said. “Do not stay here long.”

“We shall be gone in a moment,” I said.

He then turned about and went south on Varick.

Lavinia was trembling.

I had her rise and put the short cloak about her. Then, on a thought, as it

pleased me, I had her adjust the hem of the garment she wore so that it was

slave short. I then, too, adjusted the cloak so that it barely covered the

raised hem of the garment. She would hold the cloak high, bunched, about her

neck, to cover the collar. In this fashion it was concealed that she wore a

garment resembling that of a state slave and her (pg. 399) legs, quite contrary

to the intent of the statelength garment, were extensively and delightfully

bared.

“I delivered the message,” said Lavinia to me.

“I know,” I said.

“You saw?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

She looked down.

“Do not be afraid,” I said.

“I could not help myself,” she whispered.

“I effect nothing critical,” I said.

She looked at me.

“You are a female slave,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said, wonderingly. “That is it. I am a female slave. I have

now become a female slave.”

“Do you object?” I asked.

“No, Master,” she said. “I love it!”

“You did your work well, excellently,” I said. “I am very pleased.”

“Thank you, Master!” she said.

I then looked out from the doorway. The guardsman was nowhere in sight. Indeed,

the street was deserted.

“We will now return to the insula,” I said.

“Shall I heel my master?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “Precede me.”

“Yes, Master,” she smiled.

23
   
A Message is to be Delivered

“The dung of tharlarion be smeared upon the Home Stone of Ar’s Station!” cried

the portly fellow. “Let it be spattered with the spew of urts!” He seized up the

Home Stone from the plank on which it sat, the plank resting on two inverted

wastes vats, of the sort used in insulae, in the park of the Center Cylinder,

within which likes the Central Cylinder. “Not even jards of stone would pick the

bones of this loathesome rock!” cried the fellow. There was laughter at this by

the guards about, and several other folks, too, outside the roped-off enclosure,

within which was the Home Stone on its mock pedestal. Indeed, several fellows,

expecting some sort of show, had hurried to stand outside the rope, to watch.

The guards, too, it seemed, remembered this fellow, and egged him on with their

cries. There was (pg. 400) a line, as well, behind the fellow, awaiting its turn

to enter the roped-off circle, and, one by one, express their contempt for the

“Traitress of the North” as Ar’s Station was now referred to on the boards.

“Surely I should kill him!” hissed Marcus to me.

“You are under no obligation to do so,” I assured him, irritatedly.

“Honor deems it necessary,” said Marcus, grimly, his hand going to the hilt of

his sword.

“Nonsense!” I said.

“Yes!” he hissed.

“Not at all!” I insisted.

I was now alarmed. When Goreans get the idea that honor is involved they

suddenly become quite difficult to deal with. Moreover, Marcus, an agile fellow,

could make it over the rope and get to the vicinity of the Home Stone in

something like one or two jumps.

“Certainly!” he said.

“Shhh!” a fellow, turning about. “I wish to hear this!”

I hooked my right hand in the back of Marcus’ knife belt. This made it difficult

for him to move forward, let along get the elevation necessary for leaping over

the rope.

“That was a nice blow,” said a fellow nearby, turning to me, “the concept of a

stone jard and likening the Home Stone to unfit mineral carrion.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Deft.” The jard is a small scavenging bird. It commonly moves

in flocks.

“Even brilliant,” said the fellow.

“I agree,” I said. Boots Tarsk-Bit was also, quite unwitting of the fact,

playing with his life.

“That is you holding the back of my knife belt, I trust,” said Marcus, not

looking about.

“Yes,” I said, “it is I.”

He did not remove his eyes from Boots and the Home Stone. His gaze was intense,

fixed and fierce.

“Would you mind unhanding it?” he asked.

“Not at all,” I said, “but not just now.”

“Not even the slime slugs of Anango would take shelter beneath this rock!” cried

Boots Tarsk-Bit, waving the stone about in his two hands.

“Well done!” cried a fellow, congratulating Boots on this sally.

I felt Marcus tugging at the belt.

“I told you not to come,” I said to Marcus. “Then I told you to stay back.”

(pg. 401) “But then I would not have been cognizant of these insults!” said

Marcus.

“That is true,” I admitted.

“Seremides,” cried Boots, “tried to throw this miserable rock into a wastes vat.

Do you know what happened? The wastes vat threw it back!”

There was laughter.

Marcus made a strange noise. Hitherto I had heard such sounds emanating only

from larls and sleen.

I tightened my grip on his knife belt.

“Note these waste vats,” cried Boots, indicating the two inverted vats on which

the plank rested, on which the Home Stone was kept. “They are taking no

chances!”

There was more laughter, even applause, at this.

“That is enough,” said Marcus, grimly.

I restrained him from lunging forward.

Boots turned his head to one side and sneezed.

“At least he missed the Home Stone,” said Marcus.

“Do not be too sure,” I said.

“There is a line,” said the officer of the guard, his eyes filled with tears, so

amused had he been. “I do think another should now have his turn.”

There were some cries of protest, even of dismay, about the outside of the

roped-off circle.

“No, no!” cried Boots to the crowd, cheerfully, pacifying it. “It is true. The

general is quite right! Let others have their chance, as well. Let me not

monopolize time better distributed amongst the needs of my fellow citizens of

free and glorious Ar! Let not this loathsome particle of disgusting gravel,

fitting Home Stone for knaves and traitors, receive the impression that it might

be I alone to whom the perfidy of its city is evident!”

He then moved about, bowing graciously, to one side or another, acknowledging

applause and comments, smiling, waving, touching people here and there, and then

took his way from the roped-off circle.

I removed my hand from Marcus’ knife belt.

Marcus stood there. Now he seemed not angry, but shattered.

“Come away,” I said.

“He failed,” said Marcus to me.

“Come away,” I said. I literally drew Marcus away from the rope. We then walked

away, across the park and thence across the Avenue of the Central Cylinder.

Another fellow was not within the circle. He was spitting, and crying out

insults.

(pg. 402) “We must go back, and try with blades,” said Marcus, suddenly.

“No,” I said. “We have been through that. That is not practical.”

“Then he must try again, tomorrow!” said Marcus. “He must make a new attempt!”

“No,” I said.

“No?” asked Marcus.

“No,” I said.

“We must have the stone!” said Marcus. “I shall not leave Ar without it!”

“Concern yourself with the matter no longer,” I said.

“I should have let him use magic,” moaned Marcus.

“What?” I asked.

“In recommending that this be done by mere trickery,” said Marcus, “we have lost

the stone!”

“Oh?” I said.

“He could have done it by magic,” said Marcus, angrily. “And it was I who

discouraged him from doing so!”

“Do not be too hard on yourself,” I said.

“Surely you remember his recounting of his powers? Surely you remember him

asking if I wished the Central Cylinder moved, if I wished the walls of Ar

rebuilt overnight, if I wished a thousand tarns tamed in one afternoon!”

“Yes,” I said. “I think I recall that.”

“Yes,” he said, miserably.

“Perhaps you should have asked for the Central Cylinder to be moved, instead,” I

said.

“Purloining the Home Stone would be child’s play,” he said, “compared to moving

the Central Cylinder.”

“Probably,” I admitted.

“I would think it very likely,” he said.

“You are probably right,” I said. “But I am not an expert on such matters.”

“It is all my fault,” he said.

“Recall clearly now,” I said. “he only asked you if you wished the Central

Cylinder moved, and such things. Certainly it would have been easy enough for

you to have wished for that, and such things.”

“What?’ asked Marcus.

“It is obviously one thing for him to find out if you wished to have the Central

Cylinder moved, and quite another for him to move it.”

(pg. 403) “I do not understand,” he said.

“It is not important,” I said.

“It is all my fault that we do not have the stone,” he said.

“How do you know we do not have it?” I asked.

“Do not jest,” he said, angrily.

“I am serious,” I said.

“I saw,” he said. “I watched. I did not take my eyes from him. I watched with

care. I watched with attention. I watched closely. I watched like a tarn.

Nothing escaped me. Nothing, not even the tiniest of movements!”

“You did watch carefully,” I said. I certainly had to give him that. He would

have been watching more carefully than anyone there, unless perhaps myself. The

others about, of course, would not have been watching as we were. They would not

have known anything might be afoot. They would not have been suspecting

anything, or looking for anything.

“Yes,” he said.

“But perhaps you did not watch as carefully as you thought,” I said.

“No,” said Marcus. “I watched very carefully.”

“But perhaps you were carefully watching in the wrong place at the wrong time,”

I said.

“I do not understand,” he said.

“It is not important,” I said.

“I must have the stone,” said Marcus. “I shall not leave Ar without it!”

“I do not think you will have to,” I said.

“I do not understand,” he said.

“Perhaps we have the stone,” I said.

“No,” said Marcus. “Even from here I can see it, on its plank.”

“You see some stone,” I said.

“It is the Home Stone of Ar’s Station,” he said.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“It has to be,” he said. “I did not take my eyes off it the whole time.”

“Perhaps you only think you did not take your eyes off it the whole time,” I

said.

“This is not a time for joking,” he said.

“Sorry,” I said.

“I am prepared to rush forth and seize the stone,” he said. “Are you with me?”

“No,” I said.

“Then I shall go alone,” he said.

“I would not do so, if I were you,” I said.

(pg. 404) “Why not?” he asked.

“I really do not think it is necessary,” I said.

“Why not?” he asked.

“I think we have it already,” I said.

“What?” said Marcus.

“Just that,” I said.