Conspirators of Gor (56 page)

Jane and Eve were present, with me, near the first wagon.

He turned away.

“Please, Master!” cried Jane, falling to her knees. “Master!” said Eve.

Master Desmond turned to regard them.

“Please, Master,” said Jane. “Please permit Allison to speak! I do not know what she did, but I am sure she is sorry. She has suffered much. Please let her speak!”

“Yes, Master,” said Eve. “We beg it for her, as she cannot speak! Please let Allison speak.”

“She is only a slave, a collar girl, as we! Please be kind, Master!” said Jane.

“Forgive her, Master,” said Eve. “She is miserable! She is penitent! Please, Master!”

“It seems,” said Master Desmond, “that you two wish to be placed in the modality of the mute slave, as well.”

“No, Master!” said Jane.

“No, no, Master!” wept Eve.

“There is a wide place here, a clearing, for wagons,” said Master Desmond. “We are not the first wagons to stop here, nor will we be the last. Work parties camp here, perhaps others, hunting parties, and such. There will be a well about. Find it. Fetch water, water the tharlarion, and rub them down.”

“Yes, Master,” said Jane, leaping up.

“Yes, Master,” said Eve, leaping to her feet, as well.

He then turned to me.

He was looking upon me!

“Your friends are foolish,” he said.

I made a tiny sound, a grateful, single sound. Tears were in my eyes.

Had they thought to sway a Gorean male? Had they no sense of the discipline under which their chain sister had been placed? How dared they think of interceding, of interfering? Did they not know the risk they undertook? I supposed not. Perhaps they did not yet understand they were slaves. Had they not yet ascertained the significance of their collars, what it meant to be in a collar? Many masters, I was sure, would have had them bound and lashed for their temerity. The will of masters is not to be questioned. The head is to be bowed before the master’s will.

“I would not have thought,” said he, “that a slave such as you would have had friends.”

I did not understand his words. How was it that he might think so of me? Ela, I could not speak!

Then I recalled that Astrinax, now with the caravan, long ago, had arranged my purchase from Menon, on behalf of the gambling house. I recalled both Astrinax and Menon had thought I would be a good buy for such a place, a girl willing to wheedle and smile, to pretend to emotions of excitement and enthusiasm, one who could adroitly feign dismay and sympathy, one who would ply customers with drink, urge them to remain at the tables, encourage them to recklessness in wagering, though it might lead to the loss of estates and honor, to shame, vagrancy, and destitution.

But surely they must realize that I was in a collar, that I had no choice in such matters!

Did they want me to do such things poorly? Such duties were easy, and silken. Did they want me to risk the fields, the laundries, the public kitchens, the stables, the mills?

And I remembered the test of the candy.

Of course, I would have stolen the candy, if such might have been accomplished with impunity. What intelligent girl with her wits about her would have forgone such an opportunity? What rational girl, in the conjectured circumstances, would not have done so?

And Astrinax had doubtless brought he in whose charge I was, Master Desmond, into fee!

“Put your head to the dirt,” said Master Desmond. “Keep it there for ten Ehn, and then you may rise, and do as you wish.”

He had not even seen fit to assign me a duty!

As I knelt so, different people passed me, Jane and Eve, with their buckets, and one or two of the free men.

When I rose up, I was crying.

I walked along the side the wagons, toward the back of the wagons. It was hot. Usually there is no one there. It is usually a good place to hide, to be alone. Suddenly I stopped, for, visible from where I stood, under the high channel of the aqueduct, on a distant hill, I saw a sharp flicker of light.

“Ho, slave,” said a voice behind me, that of fierce, bearded Trachinos.

I turned about.

A slave grows accustomed to being looked upon as a slave, having her lineaments frankly appraised, being undressed with a glance, and such.

I was taken in his arms.

He then took a free man’s liberties with the lips of a helpless slave. I whimpered, a weak, half-intended protest. I feared the responsiveness of my body. How weak we are, how needful we are, once a collar is fastened on our neck! Would you be different, noble Mistresses, were one fastened on your neck? Of course, for you are not slaves! Once before, at a night camp, our second day from Venna, he had put his hands on me, as well, and thrust me, standing, back against one of the mighty columns, or pylons, supporting the aqueduct. Astrinax had summoned him to the wagons, and, when he had flung me from him, he had had but a taste of slave.

“Yes,” he grinned, now holding me out, a tiny bit, from him, “you would be a hot little tasta.”

I squirmed a little, but was helpless in his grasp. How could he say such a thing? Surely I had given him no satisfaction, or only a little. I was a collared female. How could I help such things?

Do we not belong to males, such males?

There was sweat on his arms, and my tunic was damp from the heat.

“What did you see?” he whispered.

I shook my head, frightened. Surely he knew I stood under the sentence the mute slave.

He thrust me back against the broad, high wagon wheel, and I saw the point of a knife at my lips.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “You are silenced.” He then said, “It is difficult to speak when one is silenced. And, of course, it is difficult to speak well, if one’s tongue is slit. And it is impossible to speak, if one’s tongue is removed. Do you understand?”

I whimpered, once.

“And,” said he, holding the blade crosswise, I felt it touch my throat, under the collar, “it is quite impossible, as well, if one’s throat is cut. Do you understand?”

I whimpered, again, once, desperately, plaintively.

He then turned about, and left me.

I looked back, beneath the loftiness of the aqueduct, to the hills in the distance. There was no longer a flicker of light.

“Ho, Astrinax,” called Lykos, ahead in the wagons.

I, and others, including Jane and Eve, went to the first wagon, where Lykos was again standing on the wagon bench, the glass of the Builders once more in his hands.

“What is it?” said Astrinax.

“I am not sure,” said Lykos. “Join me. See what you make of it.”

“I see nothing,” said Astrinax.

Lykos took back the glass. “It is gone,” he said.

“What was it?” asked Astrinax.

“Something alive, more than one, several perhaps,” said Lykos.

“Larls?” asked Astrinax.

“I do not think so,” said Lykos.

I noted that Akesinos, the fellow of Trachinos, had joined the group. I had not noticed his arrival. I did not know how long he had been there. But Akesinos was the sort of fellow who might be somewhere, and not be noticed.

“The shadows in the Voltai can be deceptive,” said Akesinos.

“It was doubtless a trick of the light,” said Lykos.

“It is no trick of the light behind us, nor to the left, approaching,” said Master Desmond.

“Dust,” said Astrinax, shading his eyes.

“Wagons,” said Lykos, handing the glass of the Builders to Astrinax.

From the left a small group of riders, on bipedalian saddle tharlarion, were approaching.

There were five in the group. Each carried a lengthy lance.

“Tal!” called Master Desmond to the leader of the small group. The wagons, down the road, behind us, approaching from the direction of Venna, might not reach the six hundredth pasang stone until dark.

“Tal!” called the leader of the riders cheerfully to Master Desmond.

“They are hunters,” said Astrinax. “Wild tarsk, Voltai tarsk.”

The Voltai tarsk, as some forest tarsk, are much larger than the common tarsk. They are often ten to twelve hands at the shoulder. The beast tends to be territorial and aggressive. It is particularly dangerous when wounded.

“Racing tharlarion,” said Astrinax, considering the bipedalian mounts of the newcomers.

“No,” said Lykos. “Racing tharlarion are longer-legged, and finer-boned.”

“True,” said Astrinax.

“Those are rugged, powerful animals,” said Lykos.

“Hunting tharlarion,” said Astrinax.

“Consider the saddles,” said Desmond, “there are five boots to a side, as for javelins.”

“So?” said Astrinax.

“Perhaps then,” said Desmond, “cavalry tharlarion, war tharlarion.”

“Let us make festival,” said the leader of the newcomers. “You have meat and paga, I trust, and we have coin, though doubtless your hospitality may be depended upon, and wagons approach, as well, doubtless well supplied.”

“Welcome,” called Astrinax.

“Tonight we drink,” said the leader of the hunters. “Tomorrow we hunt.”

“And tomorrow night,” said one of his fellows, “who knows?”

I felt slightly chilled, even in the day’s heat, and despite the newcomer’s jollity. The results of addressing oneself to the pursuit of wild tarsk, I suspected, were difficult to anticipate.

I trusted such animals would not be in the vicinity of the wagons.

“This is a strange juncture for festival, the clearing at the six hundredth pasang stone, is it not?” asked Trachinos.

“It would seem so,” said Desmond.

Trachinos then turned away.

The newcomers, whom I took to be hunters, had dismounted, and were conversing with Astrinax, and Lykos.

Far down the road, behind us, one could make out a darkness, some dust rising from the road.

Master Desmond, shading his eyes, watched it for a time. He then turned to me. His eyes on me, I immediately knelt, and lowered my head.

It is appropriate for a female slave, gazed upon.

“Lift your head,” he said.

I did so, but feared to meet his eyes.

“You may speak,” he said.

I then looked at him, disbelievingly, my eyes wide.

“I saw you in the arms of Trachinos,” he said.

“Forgive me, Master,” I whispered. It seemed I could hardly form words. In a moment I was sure that this would pass. How strange it seemed, after several days, to hear my own voice.

“I think you will do very well for what I have in mind,” he said.

“There was a flickering of light, in the hills,” I said.

“I know,” he said.

“I tried to resist,” I said.

“But you were not entirely successful,” he said.

“I am a slave,” I said.

“It is interesting what the collar does to a female,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

Certainly it informs us that we are females, and properties, the properties of men.

“Perhaps Trachinos will buy you,” he said.

“I would rather be purchased by another,” I whispered.

“You once served in a gambling house, did you not?” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “on the Street of Chance, in Ar.”

“Good,” he said.

“Thank you for permitting me to speak,” I said.

“I may have need of you, tonight,” he said.

Chapter Nineteen

“A kiss, barbarian slut,” said the driver, reaching for me.

“You have had your kiss, Master,” I laughed. “I must now serve another.”

“You should be lashed to the bone,” he said, but then fell to his side, asleep.

“Paga!” called another driver.

“I hasten, Master!” I said, and conveyed the damp, bulging bota to him.

“To me!” called another.

I hurried to him.

“What is your use fee?” he asked.

“That would have to be arranged with my Mistress,” I said.

“Mistress?” said a fellow, drunkenly.

“Yes, Master,” I said. “I am a woman’s slave.”

“Your tunic,” said a fellow, “is that of a man’s slave.”

“I must be tunicked as my Mistress wishes,” I said.

“She is renting you out, to make coin,” said a fellow. “What is her price for your use?”

I hurried away from him.

“Give me the bota!” cried a driver, and pulled it away from me.

“Master!” I protested.

“Here, by the fire!” called a fellow. “On your back! Lift your right knee. Roll over, in the dirt! On your back now, squirm, to your side, draw your knees up. On your back! Arch your back!”