Conspirators of Gor (65 page)

“You are a fugitive slave,” said Astrinax.

She put down her head.

“Who is your master?” asked Astrinax.

She kept her head down.

“Read her collar,” said Astrinax.

“I cannot read,” said Trachinos.

Master Desmond crouched by the slave, and examined the collar. “It is not Gorean,” he said.

“Look up, girl,” said the Lady Bina, and she bent forward, and looked at the collar. “It is in Kur,” she said, “but I cannot read Kur.”

“You see,” said Master Desmond to me, “we are near our goal.”

“Your goal,” I said, “not mine.”

“What is the name of your master?” asked Astrinax.

“Lucius,” she whispered.

“Lucius of Venna, of Ar, what?” asked Astrinax.

“Lucius, of the Cave of Agamemnon, Eleventh Face of the Nameless One,” she said.

“I do not understand,” said Astrinax.

“She cannot say the name,” said the Lady Bina. “She is a lesser form of life. Her speech cannot make the sounds. Accordingly a name is provided which it is possible for her to speak.”

“Rescue me!” begged the slave. “They are monsters, beasts, not human. They can see in the dark! They can kill with their teeth! The strength of one is that of a hundred men! They think less of us than we of tarsk! They kill without compunction, and feast on their kills! Save me! Keep me! Sell me! But do not send me back.”

“It is a lair of beasts,” said Astrinax.

“No,” said Desmond. “I am sure there is more to it. No simple lair or den is involved.”

“My men,” said Trachinos, “were not eaten.”

“And there are doubtless men involved, as well,” said Lykos. “Else why would kajirae be brought to the Voltai. Surely to content, please, and serve men.”

“Pausanias, and his crew, and Kleomenes, with his men, are surely human,” said Desmond of Harfax.

“Yes,” said Lykos.

“And there are doubtless others,” said Desmond.

“I would suppose so,” said Lykos.

“And supplies, fit for Builders, were brought in the wagons of Pausanias,” said Desmond.

“I did not know that,” said Lykos.

“The slave is frightened, beside herself,” said Desmond. “The beasts doubtless have excellent night vision, but so, too, has the sleen. They would not be wreaking havoc amongst human allies. That would subvert the purpose of such an alliance. They are powerful, and dangerous, but their strength, though considerable, would not begin to approximate that of a hundred men, though perhaps that of five or ten. Being newly amongst such creatures she may have become confused, bewildered, disconcerted, mad with fear.”

“I gather they are dangerous enough,” said Lykos.

“Surely,” said Desmond of Harfax.

“Do not send me back!” begged the slave.

“I fear something mighty is afoot,” said Desmond of Harfax.

“Perhaps in this wilderness of danger and loneliness,” said Lykos, “one might incur some favor, and generate some good will, were property to be returned.”

“No!” wept the slave.

“I think so,” said Desmond.

“Please, no!” she wept.

“What do you know of decks of cards?” asked Desmond.

“What?” said the slave.

“Apparently little,” he said.

“Keep me, handsome Master,” she said. “I will be a slave of slaves to you! I will please you in a thousand ways!”

“As a slave?” asked Desmond of Harfax.

“Yes, Master, beggingly so!” she cried.

I decided that slave fires had not yet been lit in the sweet belly of the slave, or she would indeed serve zealously, and beggingly, but for the assuagement of her own needs, as well as those of the master.

I also decided I would hate the former Lady Persinna of Ar.

“What of me?” said Trachinos.

“Yes, yes!” she said.

“You have good legs,” said Trachinos.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

A Gorean slave tunic leaves little to conjecture about concerning the quality of a slave’s legs, and the camisk even less.

“I would hope to please Master,” she said to Trachinos.

She smiled at Trachinos, as though from a slave shelf on which she might be chained, on a fellow she hoped would bid on her. I saw that she had proceeded far in learning her collar since that hot afternoon we had been dragged from the cell in the Metellan district and marketed off the low, circular stone block. Had she smiled so at Desmond of Harfax I would have been tempted to leap to her and yank her about, by the hair. To be sure, I did not doubt but what, in a little time, it would have been I who would have been crying for mercy. Surely I would not have done well as a female fighting slave, those large, misshapen female creatures, some bred, who strike and mangle one another for the entertainment of bettors, and free women.

“Are you hungry, thirsty?” asked Desmond of Harfax.

“She is a runaway slave,” said Trachinos. “Let her be lashed.”

“Her master may attend to such things, as he wishes,” said Desmond of Harfax.

“I am very hungry, very thirsty, Master,” said Mina, the slave, the former Lady Persinna of Ar.

“Tie her ankles together,” said Desmond to Trachinos.

In a bit this was done.

I gather he tied them well, for the awe with which she regarded him. Had she never been bound by such a man, as the slave she was?

“Allison, Jane, Eve,” said Desmond. “Bring her food, and water, and a blanket.”

The binding of a female slave’s ankles is normally quite sufficient in the way of slave security, if the slave is under surveillance. She cannot rise and run, and it would take time to undo the tie, within which time her efforts would be clear to any about. And should the slave so abuse the privilege of having her hands free, she may be bound instead in total slave helplessness. She may then on her belly feed from a pan as best she can, be fed by hand, or, more likely, not be fed.

I recalled how she had viewed Trachinos with awe. Her ankles had been well fastened. I was not sure she could even manage to undo the knots herself.

“It is late,” said Desmond. “Let us camp here tonight.”

“This has to do with the slave,” said Trachinos. “You are feeding and watering her, and then you wish to allow her to sleep.”

“Yes,” said Desmond.

“You seem unduly solicitous for the welfare of a slave,” he said.

“I want her in good condition, in the morning,” said Desmond.

“To be returned to her master?”

“Of course,” said Desmond.

After the abandoning of the wagons, several days ago, after the tharlarion had been driven away, we could no longer be shackled to a central bar. Accordingly the masters had made use of small trees as slave posts, about which we would be ankle-shackled. If no such “post” were available, we were shackled to one another, Jane’s left ankle to my right ankle, and my left ankle to Eve’s right ankle. With the addition of Mina to the “chain,” things were the same, except that Eve’s left ankle, formerly free, was now was fastened to Mina’s right ankle. In this fashion we were all shackled together. I do not think that any of us, saving Mina, were interested in trying to escape, for by now we were well aware we were slaves. On the other hand, we were still shackled. This is not that unusual, even within fortresses, and walled cities. Whereas security and convenience are obviously involved in these matters, I suspect that masters enjoy chaining their slaves. Is there not an uncompromising, ruthless claimancy in such an act, signifying, with heat and pleasure, his absolute possession of the slave? Certainly it well reminds slaves of their bondage. Interestingly, whereas it is seems clear that masters, or many masters, enjoy chaining their slaves, what may be less clear, or more surprising, is that many slaves, indeed most, welcome their chaining; they are grateful for it; what an honor it does them; what a compliment it pays them; they have been found worthy of being chained; they love belonging to their master, and, accordingly, rejoice at, and revel in, their chaining, which is proclamatory of his ownership of them. There is the joy of the mastery, but, too, there is the complementary joy of the submission. They want to submit to a man. They are not happy, fulfilled, and whole until they do so. Hopefully he will keep them, and not sell them. On the chain, they know they are kept. Chaining, too, as is well known, as bonds on the whole, probably because of its relationship to male domination and female responsiveness to male domination, enflames the female, sexually. The most sexual of all females is obviously the female slave. At the feet of a man she learns new worlds of desire and responsiveness. Does this practice, chaining, not say for the master, “You are mine,” and does it not say for the willing, helpless slave, “Yes, yes, Master, I am yours!”

In the morning things proceeded much as usual, except for the addition to our party, Mina. Jane, Eve, and I were unshackled, and set about our morning duties. Mina must assist us, but her ankles were shackled together, with something like a foot of chain. The men were taking no chance that she would run.

When the breakfast was done, the fire extinguished, and the packs readied, Astrinax directed Trachinos to bring Mina, the former Lady Persinna of Ar, this known only to me and the slave, to him.

Trachinos knelt her, shackled, before Astrinax.

She looked up at Astrinax, whom she took, naturally, to be the leader of our party.

She was certainly well-formed, and the camisk, even in its looseness, concealed little. She was blond-haired, and blue-eyed, and collared. I supposed she was very beautiful. I recalled that she had sold for considerably more than I had in the Metellan district. I did not know if that would still be the case. Bondage, commonly, as is well known, softens a woman, and increases her desirability. An owned woman is quite different from one who is free. Indeed, simply that she is a slave increases her desirability. In bondage, she comes closest to the natural woman, and farthest from an engineered product of cultural conditioning, whichever product, whichever manufactured article, it might be, given the particular culture; she becomes a more natural woman, richer, deeper, more profound, ever more real, ever more biological, and ever less an artifact. In bondage, she finds herself. In bondage, she becomes the most radically female of women. It is no wonder that free women, with all their conventions, prescriptions, restraints, and frustrations, hate her so.

Mina looked up at Astrinax.

“What are you going to do with me?” she wept.

“Return you to your master, of course,” said Astrinax.

“No, no!” she begged.

She tried to spring up, but stumbled, shackled, and was then again on her knees before Astrinax.

“It is the law,” said Astrinax.

“Please, no!” she wept.

“We could keep her and sell her,” said Trachinos.

“Yes, yes!” she begged.

“No,” said Astrinax. “She is to be returned to her master. That is the law.”

The slave put down her head, shuddering, weeping.

“Have pity on her!” I said to Desmond of Harfax. “They will listen to you! Tell them! You cannot return her to beasts!”

“It is in accord with my plans,” he said.

“You are heartless,” I said.

“Much is at stake,” he said.

“Hide her!” I said.

“That is not practical,” he said.

“Please!” I said.

“She is a female slave,” he said. “She ran away. She is to be returned to her master.”

“I heard Master Lykos,” I said. “You hope to be welcomed, to incur favor, to generate good will, or such, by returning the slave!”

“Certainly,” he said. “Would you have us incur disfavor and generate ill will, thus jeopardizing our enterprise?”

“What enterprise?” I said.

I then found myself beneath the frown of a free person.

“Forgive me, Master!” I said.

“Would you have us release her here, into the mountains, to die?” he asked.

“Bind and leash the captive,” said Astrinax. “Then unshackle her.”

Desmond of Harfax approached Mina with a short thong. I saw Trachinos drop a widened leash collar about the head of the slave, and then adjust it to her neck. He grinned. Clearly it pleased the brute to do this. Many masters enjoy having slaves on their leashes. It certainly makes clear the relationship involved, both for he who holds the leash and she who is leashed. I wondered if she had ever been promenaded in Ar. Many masters, I supposed, would have been pleased to walk such a slave. She looked ahead, not meeting his eyes, frightened. He jerked the strap twice, against the leash ring. She whimpered. It was a tiny sound. It could scarcely be heard. Almost at the same time Desmond of Harfax drew her hands behind her, and thonged them together, snugly. This made me angry. I did not like to see him tie another woman’s hands behind her. Certainly a woman understands what it means to be tied by a man. It was I who wanted his thongs!

The slave now stood, leashed and bound, her head down.

Lykos crouched down, and removed her shackles.