Prize of Gor (29 page)

“She wants to be the only one,” whispered a girl to Ellen.

The tarnsman crouched down beside Laura and, with a length of binding fiber, crossed her wrists and bound them together before her body. He then, similarly, crossed her ankles, and bound them, as well. He then carried her to the saddle, over his shoulder, and laid her gently on her back, across the saddle, on the large plain surface before the pommel, perhaps a surface prepared for just such a purpose. It was then but a moment’s work to fasten her bound wrists to the forward ring on the left, and her bound ankles to the forward ring on the right. In this fashion she was bound before him, belly up, stretched over the saddle. He then considered her for a moment, and then took a knife from his belt.

Slaves gasped, thrilled.

Laura’s gown, in a moment, cut from her, cast aside, had fluttered to the roof.

“I am yours, Master!” said Laura.

“You tell me nothing I do not know, slave,” he said.

He then freed the rolled blanket from behind the saddle, opened it, and threw it over the slave, concealing her.

The tunicked, collared free woman, bound in the net, gagged and blindfolded, squirmed and whimpered.

“I suspect,” whispered the girl to Ellen’s right, “our noble little tunic-wearer will be sold in Brundisium.”

“Perhaps he will keep them both,” said another girl.

“Perhaps,” said another.

“She does have pretty legs,” said another.

“The tunic displays them well,” said another.

“Surely,” said another.

The tarn then smote the air, leapt from the roof, soared for a moment, and then, wings beating, rose higher, leveled in its flight, and then streaked from the city, in a direction other than that taken by those in pursuit of the Trevean raiders.

“We may now rise,” said one of the girls, watching the tarn disappear in the distance.

Ellen stood up, uncertainly.

“They take women,” she said, in awe. “They bind us. They steal us. They carry us off. They think nothing of this. They make us theirs. They make us slaves. They use us as they please. We are nothing to them. They buy and sell us. They do as they wish with us!”

“They are men,” said one of the girls.

“I fear you,” she whispered to herself, “beautiful world on which I am a slave.”

“The hatch is now open!” called one of the girls.

“We must clean up things and get back to work,” said another.

Nelsa was gone. Laura, too, was gone. Tonight Nelsa might be performing the whip dance for masters. Ellen did not know what the whip dance was but she was not displeased that it, whatever it was, might be required of Nelsa. She did not think that Nelsa would be a bother or a nuisance to her new masters. The whip takes that out of a woman. She did not know what Laura’s fate might be. Whatever it was, it was in the hands of the tarnsman from Brundisium.

“Have you no work to do, slave girl?” inquired one of the girls.

“Forgive me, Mistress,” said Ellen, and drew toward her, across the roof, under a line, her large basket, and then reached into it for another damp garment, to shake out, smooth and hang.

“There are many more baskets below,” said a slave.

Ellen, with the wooden pins, hung a garment on the line. It was a male’s work tunic. It was large. Ellen wondered what its wearer might look like, and what he might be like, and what it would be like to be owned by him.

“Man!” called a girl.

Instantly the slaves fell to their knees and assumed first obeisance position.

“Is Ellen, who is the slave of Mirus, here?” asked the man.

Ellen was too frightened to respond.

“Who is first girl?” asked the man.

“We have lost two slaves, to tarnsmen, Master,” said blond-haired, blue-eyed Ina. “We could not return to the interior of the cylinder. The hatch had been secured from within. Nelsa and Laura, slaves of the house. Of those upon the roof, Laura was first girl.”

“Last week, our lads took eight from Treve, three of whom were free,” said the man.

“Glory to Ar!” said Ina.

“Glory to Ar!” said several of the others.

“All three were put up for sale yesterday,” he said.

“Excellent, Master,” said Ina.

“Our warriors did well,” said the man.

“Yes, Master,” said Ina.

“I trust the brigands from Treve bagged little or nothing.”

“Let us hope so, Master,” said Ina.

Ellen was certain that the raiders had captured at least one free woman, as she had seen her helpless in the grasp of a tarn’s talons. This was not to take account of the fate of the Lady Temesne, for her abductor had been a spurned suitor from Brundisium. The Lady Temesne, who had regarded herself as too fine to accept his suit, might this very night be at his feet, begging to please. But she might be sold in favor of Laura. But then Ellen did not know. The Lady Temesne did have pretty legs. It might be noted that the guard had paid little explicit attention to the slaves involved in these transactions, though he had kept track, noting that five slaves had been taken from Treve recently. One does, in that sense, one supposes, count or “keep score,” as one might do with kaiila or tharlarion. The free woman is in theory priceless. Thus she is not comparable with the female slave. As she is priceless, there is a sense in which even thousands of female slaves would not be as valuable as one free woman. On the other hand, reality often embarrasses argument, and it must be admitted that a single female slave, particularly if trained, is often preferred to dozens of free women. But men are that way, she supposed. Ellen did not know what her own value was. It would depend of course, on conditions in the market, and what men were willing to pay. That was an odd, but charming, in its way, thought, that she would now, in a sense, literally for the first time in her life, have value. It is interesting, this sort of thing, she thought. At one moment a woman is free and priceless, and then, in another moment, suddenly, she becomes a very practical, tangible commodity, something very real and very factual, something with a specific value, like any other piece of merchandise. In this sense a woman is without specific or actual value until she becomes a slave; it is then that she acquires specific or actual value. To be sure, these considerations are based largely on legal fictions, for, in fact, free women do have tangible values, the higher born being valued better than the lower born, the upper castes over the lower castes, the more intelligent over the less intelligent, the more beautiful over the less beautiful, and so on. To be sure the slave block commonly introduces a radical common denominator. Stripped of all conventional and social dignities and merits, as well as of their clothing, bereft of all artificialities, what is for sale there is, generally, assuming that there is nothing special about the item, that it is not the daughter of a Ubar, or the daughter of one’s worst enemy, or such, is the intelligence, sensitivity, beauty and personness of the item herself.

It would not be known for a day or two presumably how the Trevean raiders had fared within the city.

Ellen was curious as to her market value, and the thought that she must now have one charmed her. That gave an entirely new dimension to her self-concept. She, earlier, being free, had never had such a value. Now she knew she had one, whatever it might be. She knew that girls were often very vain, about the prices they would bring, and such. She thought that that was silly, but she hoped that she would bring a good price, and, certainly, one superior to that which might have been garnered by Nelsa. But she did not fear that her master would sell her. It thrilled her, of course, to know that he had this power, and that he had this power made her feel so much more a slave, but she was certain he would never choose to exercise it. I am sure he loves me, thought Ellen. Or, at least, that he wants me. Surely he thought that my “flanks were of interest.” I love him!

“Where is Ellen, the slave of Mirus?” asked the guard.

“There,” said Ina. And something about her tone of voice suggested that she had pointed Ellen out.

Ellen looked up a little, and saw the bootlike sandals of the guard before her.

“You are Ellen, the slave of Mirus?”

“Yes, Master,” said Ellen, head down, to the surface of the roof.

“Why did you not identify yourself?” he asked.

“I was frightened,” said Ellen. “Forgive me, Master.”

“You should speak up, instantly,” he said.

“Yes, Master. Forgive me, Master.”

The guard turned to his left. “What is your name?” he asked.

“Ina,” said Ina.

“You are first girl on the roof,” he said. “The work-master can arrange matters differently later, as he might please.”

“Yes, Master,” she said. “Master!” she said.

“Yes?” he said.

“I can keep the guardroom tidy and clean, and make the beds. I can bring food and drink to the guards, and other pleasures,” she said.

One of the other girls made a scarcely suppressed angry noise.

There was a silence, and Ellen gathered that the guard might be looking at Ina. It was difficult to tell, as one’s head was down.

Ellen supposed that Ina wanted out of the laundry, and that she did not relish taking Nelsa’s place as the favorite, or one of the favorites, of the work-master. She was, as we have noted, blond-haired and blue-eyed, and Gart, it seemed, preferred putting such slaves to his pleasures. Certainly she could not blame Ina on either score, though she, like several of the other girls, was shocked by Ina’s boldness, and her apparent audacity in seizing this opportunity to shamelessly prostrate her slave beauty before the guard. On the other hand, there might be much more to it. Doubtless, in being addressed, and such, she had lifted her head, and met his eyes. Doubtless something had passed between them. Perhaps she saw in his eyes that he was a fitting master for her and he, looking into her eyes, saw that she was a fitting slave for him, indeed, perhaps even a very special and vulnerable slave for him. Eccentricities and subjectivities, seeming anomalies, often enter into such matters. In such cases a man may bid all his resources, his wealth, his possessions, his life, anything, to obtain she whom he sees at his feet as his own perfect slave.

“Perhaps,” said the guard. “First girl,” he said.

“Yes, Master!” said Ina, quickly.

“The slave Ellen,” said the guard, “is summoned into the presence of her Master, Mirus of Ar, to appear before him in the audience chamber at the eighteenth Ahn. Until supper she is to continue her work on the roof. Instructrices will call for her at the sixteenth Ahn, to bring her to the Chamber of Preparation. A guard in the Chamber of Preparation will have the key to remove the iron belt. In the Chamber of Preparation she is to be washed, combed and perfumed. She is to be presented brief-tunicked and back-braceleted.”

“Slave cosmetics, Master?” inquired Ina.

“None,” said the guard.

Ellen, her head down, trembled with joy.

“You are a pretty slave, Ina,” said the guard.

“Thank you, Master,” said Ina.

“You will see that the slave, Ellen, is ready for the instructrices at the sixteenth Ahn.”

“She will be ready, Master,” Ina assured him.

“The guardroom could use some tidying up,” he mused.

“Ina is well-versed in domestic tasks,” said Ina.

“And others, as well, I trust,” said the guard.

“Master must be the judge of such matters,” she said, shyly.

“I am Varcon,” he said. “My private quarters are on the seventh level.”

“Perhaps Master has a slave ring at the foot of his couch?”

“It is now empty,” he said.

“Might not Ina be privileged to wear a neck-chain there?” she asked.

“Bold slave,” he said.

“Needful slave,” she said.

“We shall see,” said he.

He then turned and went to the hatchlike opening, through which he descended.

“Rise up,” said Ina. “Continue your work.”

The girls obeyed.

“You are a forward she-urt,” said one of the girls to Ina.

“I would watch my words, if I were you,” said Ina, pleasantly, “or you will be subjected to the bastinado.”

“Forgive me, Mistress!” said the girl.

“Return to your work, slave girl,” said Ina.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl, hurrying away.

It is common to set a first girl over others, to see that work is done, to see that discipline is kept, and such. Whereas this is not always done, it is sometimes done even when two slaves leave the house, as on an errand, one then being designated as “first girl.” In this way authority is clearly defined. Goreans like this. And woe to the other girl if she should gainsay the first, prove troublesome or be in any way displeasing. Goreans, you see, tend to be great believers in rank, distance and hierarchy. These things stabilize society. One might, of course, if one’s taste ran that way, prefer a society founded on a hypocritical denial of obvious differentiation, on concealments of power, on group conflict, on greed, on propaganda, on confusion, uncertainty, machinations, character assassination, spying, slander, and such.

“You heard, Ellen?” asked Ina.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Ellen.

“The sixteenth Ahn,” said Ina.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Ellen.

“There is much work to be done before supper,” said Ina.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Ellen.

Ellen seized up her basket by the side handles and, struggling, lifting it awkwardly, resting it against her abdomen, moved it a few feet to her right, further under the line.

“You do not carry your basket properly,” said Ina. “You are from the world called ‘Earth’, are you not?”

“Yes Mistress,” said Ellen.

“They are so ignorant. It is a wonder they make such good slaves.”

“Mistress?” asked Ellen.

“It is easier to carry it in this fashion,” said Ina, crouching down behind the basket and, lifting it up, she placed it on her head, steadying it with her two hands. “This way, you can take some of the weight on your arms, if you wish, or use your head and spine, carrying your body erectly, gracefully. That distributes the weight nicely, and is easier on the back. You can also steady it with one hand, and, if you become skilled, balance it on your head alone, without using your hands.”