Conspirators of Gor (68 page)

“Hold!” he said, and we stopped, instantly, not looking back.

He then came about, before us.

“Do not kneel,” he said.

How naturally we, as kajirae, had been on the point of kneeling. I felt decidedly uneasy, being on my feet before a free man. I suspect Jane and Eve felt similarly. I did not wish to be switched, or lashed. He had, of course, told us not to kneel. The three of us standing there, in our collars and tunics, were small before him. Much depends on context, of course, and one grows sensitive to what the master may wish. Sometimes one will stand before him but then, commonly, with the head bowed. If the master is sitting, one might, too, sit, but on the carpet, or tiles, at his feet. Too, one might lie before him, or near him, perhaps beside him, as might another animal, curled, or languid, or such, and so on. We are taught much in the slave house, how we should be. Sometimes one might await him, naked, in the furs, spread on the floor, at the foot of his couch. We flame, in need. One hopes he may deign to caress us.

“There!” he said, indicating a portal, to our right.

Jane thrust open the door, which was heavy, and she, followed by Eve and myself, entered. Behind us we heard the door close, and heard a bolt thrown into place.

We looked about ourselves, apprehensively, but there seemed little in the room to suggest a cause for alarm. It was a large room, well lit, with red walls and a yellow ceiling. Its floor was also yellow and formed of what appeared to be smoothed wooden beams, fitted closely together. There were two doors, that through which we had entered, and one at the far end of the room. The room was bare, containing no rugs, no hangings, no draperies, no furniture.

“What are we to do?” asked Eve.

“What is there to do?” said Jane.

We would wait. After a time, weary from the trail, and perhaps worn from the fear and amazement generated by our new surroundings, we lay on the beams of the yellow wooden flooring.

I am not sure how long we waited, but I do not think it was long, only longer than we might have anticipated.

Perhaps ten or twelve Ehn.

“Perhaps they do not know we are here,” said Eve.

“Perhaps you would like to call out, or pound on the door,” said Jane.

“No!” said Eve.

We waited a little longer.

“I do not think we are to be housed here,” said Eve.

“No,” said Jane, “I do not think so. I see no blankets, no slave mats, no rings.”

“Or cages,” I said.

A bit later the door at the far end of the room opened, and a large-handed, brawny fellow, bearded, with a leather cap, entered, carrying a lidless tool box by its triangular handle. As soon as we saw that the entrant was male we went to first-obeisance position, kneeling, head to the floor, hands, palms down, at the side of our head.

The tool box was set down near us and we, not looking up, heard the fellow reaching into the box, moving one or another of its contents about.

A bit later I heard Jane gasp, heard a sharp, cutting sound, and, a bit later, the dropping of a light metal object into the tool box.

“May I speak, Master?” I begged.

“Yes,” he said, moving toward me.

“There is some mistake,” I said. “We are the slaves of the Lady Bina, honored guest in this household. We belong to her!”

“There is no mistake,” he said. “Keep your head down.”

I felt a thick, curved blade thrust between my neck and the collar, and knew this was matched with a similar blade, one with which it was paired. The tool had two stout handles which were spread, and would then be brought muchly together. The fellow held the two handles rather at the ends, where the most leverage might be exerted. I sensed him strain, then apply more pressure, and then I heard the breaking of the metal. He put the tool down and spread and pulled the sides of the rent collar from my throat. I heard it put into the tool box. In a moment or two Eve had been similarly served.

“Kneel up,” he said. Then he said, “Beg me to accept your tunics, and then present them to me, properly.”

I was frightened, without my collar.

We slipped from our tunics.

“I beg you to accept my tunic, Master,” said Jane. She then held it to him, her arms extended, her head down between her extended arms.

Eve and I then uttered the identical ritual phrase, and, as had Jane, proffered our tunics, and properly, to the fellow, who then turned about and left the room.

We looked at one another.

“I am afraid,” I said.

“I, too,” said Jane, uneasily.

Eve smiled, and stood up. She posed, and pointed to her throat. “Look,” she said, “I am a free woman!”

“Show me your left thigh,” said Jane, angrily.

Eve then knelt beside us, quietly.

She was well marked, as were we.

A few Ehn later the far door opened once more, and a fellow we recognized, one of Kleomenes’ hunters, entered, but not the one who had brought us earlier to this chamber. We went to first obeisance position. I was vaguely aware that a woman had entered behind him.

“Kneel up,” had said the man. The woman was at his side, a little behind, on his left.

“Nora!” I cried.

“Nora!” exclaimed Jane, joyously.

“Nora!” wept Eve, with relief.

Then I saw the look in her eye, and I shrank back, a Gorean slave. Her first reaction, when we knelt before her, our faces clearly to be seen, was one of astonishment, but then, almost immediately, one of pleasure, and gratification, and then, as her eyes fell on me, one of hostility and triumph.

“These slaves know you?” said the man.

“Yes!” she said.

“‘Yes’?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, quickly adding, “Master.”

She was a strikingly beautiful slave, with lovely features, long dark hair, and a figure that would easily bring silver on the block. As with the rest of us, masters had seen to it that she would be improved. She had been stunningly attractive on Earth, and I thought her more so now. And I was certain that I, and others, such as Jane and Eve, had become more attractive on Gor, as well. I am not sure to what factors, perhaps several, these transformations might be attributed, but I suspected they might, at least in part, have something to do with the naturalness, the openness, the honesty, the lack of hypocrisy, of the Gorean world itself. She was camisked, as Mina had been. On her neck there was a dark metal collar. Mina had worn such a collar. From what the Lady Bina had said on the trail, based on the lettering, I took it to be a Kur collar.

“You know me, Nora!” said Jane. “I am Jane, Jane, from the house!”

“Remember me!” said Eve. “I am Eve! Eve! From the house!”

“We are so happy to see you!” said Jane.

Eve began to weep with joy.

Nora regarded us. She carried some objects, some of cloth, some of metal. About her right wrist, from its loop, dangled a switch. Across her forehead, bound there, tied at the back of her head, was a talmit.

I looked upon this simple, narrow folding of cloth, and was terrified.

“I am so happy!” said Jane.

“I, too!” cried Eve.

If a free man had not been present I feared Jane and Eve might have leapt to their feet to gather Nora into their arms.

“And you, Allison,” said Nora, “are you not happy to see me, too?”

I put down my head, afraid.

“Kneel up, straightly, more straightly,” said Nora. “Heads up!”

We knelt properly, our heads raised.

She cast three objects, circular metal objects, to the floor before us.

“Collar them,” she said.

The collaring of a woman is almost always done by a man. There are few things which make a woman more conscious of her sex than being collared by a man. The collar functions on many levels. It is an identificatory device, of course, which proclaims her bondage, and often identifies her master. But more subtly it is a symbol of her womanhood, what she is, what she is for, and such. It is a symbol of a natural relationship, the female in submission to the male, or, within the institutions of a natural civilization, within the legalities of a natural culture, the relationship of the slave to the master.

We were not collared gently.

Each of us heard the snap of the collar lock.

Each of us was now recollared.

Each of us wore a Kur collar.

I supposed it was no coincidence that the fellow who had collared us was one of the hunters of Kleomenes. From the wagons, days before, we knew the sort of men who might dare to mount and manage the bipedalian hunting tharlarion, the sort of men who, armed with a slender lance, would match themselves against Voltai tarsk. We were females, small and soft, perhaps lovely, so different from them; they are large, strong, impatient, possessive, demanding, uncompromising, and dangerous. It was obvious with such men, as with Goreans generally, that it was we who would be owned, and collared.

The hunter, done with our collaring, took his leave, paying no attention to Nora. She wore the talmit but, to him, she was only another slave.

The door closed behind the fellow.

“He is gone!” cried Jane, delightedly, in English, one of the barbarian tongues, one we shared. “Dear Nora! Dear Nora!” she exclaimed.

“Yes,” cried Eve, happily, “dear, dear Nora!” She, too, had spoken in English.

“Remain kneeling,” said Nora. “Keep your hands down, on your thighs.” It took me a moment to realize that she had spoken in Gorean.

Jane and Eve, puzzled, knelt back, on their heels.

We then felt bits of cloth with tangles of thong thrown against our bodies.

We let them fall, against us. They lay upon our thighs. We did not pick them up. We had not received permission to do so.

“Nora?” said Jane.

“Nora?” said Eve.

“Put them on,” said Nora.

We slipped the narrow rectangles of cloth, with their simple, centered, circular openings, over our heads, and then wrapped the long leather thong twice about our waist, and knotted it at our left hip. The knot is to be a simple bowknot, so that it may be easily loosened by a man’s casual tug. It is at the left hip because most men are right handed. The length of the thong, or cord, or binding fiber, whatever is used, is intended to allow for a variety of slave ties, or tetherings, hand and foot, or whatever the master may please.

“Nora?” said Eve, uncertainly.

“Be silent,” said Nora.

Nora then surveyed us.

“You are to speak in Gorean,” said Nora, “for it is the language of your masters.”

I sensed that Eve wanted muchly to speak, but she did not do so.

“It is my understanding,” said Nora, “that you have been named Jane, Eve, and Allison.”

These were now, of course, slave names, only that, no more. The slave, as an animal, has no name in her own right, but, as any animal, may be given any name the master pleases.

“Those names will do,” she said. “I am Nora,” she said.

She walked about us, and then was again before us.

“It is a long time,” she said, “since I have seen you three in camisks. It was at a party, as I recall. You looked well in them. You are the sort of women who should be in camisks. All of you! They are suitable for such as you.”

Did she think of herself as a free woman, I wondered. Did she not know that she, too, was now camisked, now collared?

“Allison,” she said, “straighten your body.”

I knelt more straightly.

“Is that how you belt a camisk?” she asked. “Belt it more closely, more snugly. Men prefer it that way.”

I fumbled at the thong,

“Must I do it for you?” she asked.

“No!” I said.

“‘No’?” she asked.

“No, Mistress,” I said.

Jane and Eve gasped.

I then drew the double thong more tightly about me, and knotted it, closely, at the left hip.

“You may thank me,” she said.

“Thank you, Mistress,” I said.

“Who thanks me?” she asked.

“Allison, the slave, thanks Mistress,” I said.

“You are here, all of you,” said Nora, “to work, and please men. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” we said.

“Who is first girl?” she asked.

“You, Mistress,” we said.

Nora then held the switch to our lips, those of Jane, Eve, and Allison. We all kissed it, with deference.

Nora wore the talmit. She was first girl.

“Jane, Eve,” she said. “Go through the far door. You will find the slave quarters. You will find three empty cages there, with the gates ajar, against the left wall, as you enter. Jane, enter the first, Eve, the second. Once within, pull the gate shut. It will lock, automatically. Go.”

Jane and Eve, confused, shaken, distraught, disbelieving, rose up. I would have risen, too, but Nora’s switch, lightly on my left shoulder, indicated I should remain where I was. “The slave girl, Allison, will follow you shortly,” she said.