Explorers of Gor (23 page)

“You could have told me,” she said.

Msaliti did not respond to her.

“How did you know I was on the roof?” I asked. The askaris had been waiting for me.

“It is an old Schendi trick,” said Shaba. “Look, up there. Do you see those tiny strings, those little threads?”

“Yes,” I said. There were several, about a foot in length, dangling from the ceiling. At the end of each there was a tiny round object.

“It is not uncommon for burglars to enter houses through these grilles,” said Shaba. “Those are dried peas on threads. They are inserted under certain boards and in certain cracks in the ceiling. When the roof is stepped on the tiny movements in the ceiling boards, and the pressures, release the peas. It is then known that someone is on or has been on the roof.”

“It gives a silent warning,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “The house owner may then, if he wishes, warn the intruder away or, if he wishes, fall upon him when he enters the house.”

“What if the dwellers in the house are asleep?” I asked.

“Small bells are attached to the grille slats,” said Shaba, “which dangle down, near the ears of the sleepers. If one attempts to cut the strings or draw the bells up, of course, a noise is made, one usually sufficient to waken the occupants of the house.”

“That is clever,” I said.

“Actually,” said Shaba, “you did extremely well. Only a few of the threads have been dislodged. Your step was light. Indeed, none were dislodged apparently until you withdrew from the roof.”

I nodded. To be sure, I had withdrawn from the slatted grille with less care than I had approached it. I had feared little in my retreat. I had thought it secure. I had not known about the simple device of the threads and peas.

“Why was I not told that I was to be followed?” asked the girl.

“Be silent,” said Msaliti.

She stiffened, angrily.

“You eluded me brilliantly in the tavern of Pembe, the Golden Kailiauk,” I told Msaliti. “The exchanging of the girls was ingenious.”

He shrugged, and smiled. “It required, of course,” he said, “the aid of Shaba, and the ring.”

“Of course,” I said.

“I did my part well, too,” said the girl.

“Yes, you did,” I said.

She looked triumphantly at the men.

“You took the girl into the tavern,” I said, “and covered her with your aba, that she might not move. Shaba, under the cover of the ring, drugged the paga which I drank. When my attention was distracted he, under the cover of the ring, carried away the blond girl, and this female, by prearranged plan, took her place.”

“Yes “said Shaba.

“My pursuit of you was foiled,” I said, “by the results of the drug you placed in my paga.”

“The drug,” said Shaba, “was a simple combination of sajel, a simple pustulant, and gieron, an unusual allergen.

Mixed they produce a facsimile of the superficial symptoms of Bazi plague.”

“I could have been killed,” I said. “by the mob.”

“I did not think many would care to approach you,” said Shaba.

“It was not your intention then that I be killed?” I asked.

“Certainly not,”. said Shaba. “If that was all that was desired, kanda might have been introduced into your drink as easily as sajel and gieron.”

“That is true,” I said.

“We only wished to make certain that you did not contact us before our own determinations were made. You see, we did not know who you were. We wished to find out first what we could from the girl. Perhaps it would not be necessary to contact you at all.”

“The stupid slave,” said the dark-haired girl, “knew nothing.”

“Had I not found your headquarters tonight, then,” I said, “you would have contacted me?”

“Of course,” said Shaba, “tomorrow. But we speculated that you would find us tonight. We speculated that you would discover or reason out the girl’s role in our business and try to use her as a lead to find us. This possibility was confirmed when you made inquiries of Kipofu, the beggar, in the Utukufu square.”

“You were there,” I said.

“Of course,” he said, “under the cover of the ring, but I could not approach as closely as I desired. Kipofu has unusually keen hearing. When my presence was detected I simply withdrew.”

“Why did you not just contact me directly?” I asked.

“For two reasons.” said Shaba. “We wished, a second time, to interrogate the blond-haired slave, before making contact, and, also, we were curious to see if you could find us by yourself. You did so. You have our congratulations. You are obviously worthy of conducting business on behalf of the Kurii.”

“How long have you known I was in Schendi?”’ I asked.

“Since the arrival of the Palms of Schendi,” he said. “We could not be certain, at first, that your arrival was not a coincidence. Soon, however, it became clear that you were an object for our concern. You appeared at the market of Uchafu. You trailed Msaliti from the market You waited in the Golden Kailiauk.”

“I have been under surveillance since arriving in Schendi,” I said.

“Yes,” said Shaba, “from time to time.”

“You know, then, doubtless, my new residence,” I said, “that which I acquired following my departure from the Cove of Schendi.”

I had taken a large. room on the ground floor, behind a cloth-worker’s shop, just off the Street of Tapestries. Wearing the aba taken from Msaliti, hooding myself with it, that my face and eyes .not be seen, Sasi on my shoulder, rolled in a blanket tied tightly closed with ropes, I had acquired the lodging. The free woman who rented me the room asked no questions. When I had given her a copper tarsk as a tip she had looked down at the tightly tied blanket, containing its helpless burden, and had looked up at me, grinning. “Enjoy yourself,” she had said, slipping the tarsk into a pouch tied at her hip.

“If we knew it,” said Shaba, “men, even now, would be ransacking it for the ring and notes.”

“Of course,” I said.

“You moved quickly,” said Shaba. “By the time I had brought the blond slave here and returned to the cove of Schendi, you had already made your departure.”

“I see,” I said. I was pleased that I had made the haste I had.

“But now,” said Shaba, “we are all friends.”

“Of course,” I said.

“When will you deliver the notes?” he asked.

“And the false ring,” pressed Msaliti.

“Tomorrow evening,” I said.

“You choose to move under the cover of darkness?” asked Shaba.

“I think it might be wise,” I said.

“Very well,” said Shaba. “Tomorrow evening, at the nineteenth Ahn, meet us in this place. Bring the notes and the false ring. I will have the true ring ready then for exchange.

“I shall be here,” I promised.

“Our business then,” said the dark-haired girl, flushing with pleasure, “will at last be well consummated.”

“Let us have a drink,” said Shaba, “to celebrate this long-awaited rendezvous.” Then he smiled at me. “You do not fear to drink with us, I trust,” he said.

I smiled. “Of course not,” I said. “Do you have the paga of Ar, of the brewery of Temus?”

“Woe,” smiled Shaba. “We have here only Schendi paga, but I think it is quite good. It is, of course, a matter of taste.”

“Very well,” I said.

“You will find it is better without sajel and gieron in it,” he said.

“That is reassuring,” I said.

“The symptoms induced by the paga tendered to you at the Golden Kailiauk,” he said, “should have disappeared by the following morning.”

“They had,” I said.

“My dear,” asked Shaba, of the dark-haired girl, “would you bring us paga?”

She stiffened.

“Fetch paga, Woman,” said Msaliti. “You are least among us.”

“Why am I least among your’ she asked.

“Forgive us, my dear,” said Shaba.

“I will bring the paga,” she said.

In a few moments she returned with a bottle of Schendi paga and four cups. She filled these cups.

“Forgive me,” I said to Shaba, taking the cup which she had placed before him.

He smiled and extended his hands. “Of course,” he said.

Then the four of us lifted our cups, touching them, one to another.

“To victory,” said Shaba.

“To victory.” we said, and drank. I had little compunction about drinking this toast. Each of us may not have had in mind the same victory, of course.

“I have not been introduced to this lovely agent,” I said, regarding the dark-haired girl.

“Forgive me,” said Shaba. “It was careless of me. I did not wish to be rude.” He looked at me. “You are going by the name of Tarl of Teletus, I believe,” he said, “if my inquiries in Schendi have served me properly.”

“That is correct,” I said. “That name will do. It will serve to cover my true identity.”

“Many agents use code names,” said Shaba.

“Yes,” I said.

“Tarl of Teletus,” said he, “may I introduce Lady E. Ellis? Lady E. Ellis, Tarl of Teletus.”

We inclined our heads to one another.

“Is ‘E’ an initial or a name?” I asked her.

“Any initial;” she said, “It stands for Evelyn. But I do not like that name. It is too feminine. Call me ‘E.’”

“I will call you Evelyn,” I said.

“You may do as you wish, of course,” she said.

“I see that you know how to treat a woman,” said Shaba. “You impose your will upon her.”

“Is Evelyn Ellis your real name?” I asked, smiling.

“Yes,” she said, “it is. Why do you smile?”

“It is nothing,” I said.

Msaliti and Shaba, too, smiled. It amused me to see that the girl thought she had a name.

“I must admire the perception of Kur recruiters,” I said. “You are obviously highly intelligent and very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“She has been well trained,” said Msaliti.

“I have been not only well trained,” she said, “but thoroughly and intensively trained, even brilliantly trained. Nothing has been left to chance. The smallest details have been attended to. In order to play my role more effectively here I have even permitted my body to be branded.”

“I recall,” I said. I had seen her in the Golden Kailiauk, of course, in pleasure silk.

She looked at me, angrily.

“My awe at the cleverness and thoroughness of the practices and techniques of Kur espionage knows few limits,” I said, “and I must admit that my admiration for the products of their schooling, as in the present case, exceeds almost all bounds.”

She flushed with pleasure, flattered and mollified.

I threw down the last of my paga.

“I would like to see further evidence of your skills,” I said. “I am out of paga,” I said.

She reached to the bottle, to refill the cup.

“No,” I said.

She looked at me.

“Did they not teach you how to serve paga as a paga slave?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said.

“Show me,” I said.

“Very well,” she said. She drew back, taking the bottle and cup. In most taverns no bottle is brought to the table but the paga is brought to the table, by the paga slave, a cup at a time, the cups normally being filled from a vat behind the counter. She filled the cup there, before me, and left it behind. She returned the bottle then to the table, and went beck again for the cup.

She lifted it in both hands.

“Put it down,” I said.

She did so, looking at me puzzled.

“You are garbed strangely for a paga slave,” I said, indicating the clogs, the black slacks and the black, buttoned top.

“Do you wish me to put on pleasure silk?” she asked, icily.

“No,” I said.

She tossed her head.

“In many Gorean taverns,” I said, “the paga slaves serve naked.”

“Yes,” she said, slowly, “they do.”

“Did they not teach you how to do that?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“I would see evidence of your skills,” I said.

“Very well,” she said, angrily, in her vanity, taunted.

She slipped from the clogs, and was barefoot. She slipped from the black slacks, and removed the black, buttoned top. She slipped from the panties and, in a moment, had discarded her brassiere. She was furious, but yet I could see, too, as doubtless could the others, that she was sexually charged. She was naked, before clothed men. This can be sexually stimulating to a woman. It is hard for her, in such circumstances, not to see them as her masters and herself, before them, as an exposed slave. Similarly she knew that, in a moment, she would be, naked, on her knees, serving them. For reasons that have to do with nature these things can be erotically momentous to a woman. The relation of master and slave, of course, in a psychophysical organism, of a high order of intelligence, such as the human being, is a beautiful and profound expression of the fundamental and central truth of animal nature, that of order and structure, and dominance and submission. It is merely the articulated, legalized expression, to be expected in rational organisms, of the biological context in which human sexuality developed, a context which can be betrayed but can never, because of the ingrained nature of genetic dispositions, be fully forgotten or, in the long run, successfully denied. In denying it we deny our own nature. In betraying it we betray no one but ourselves. The master will never be happy until be is a master. The slave will never be happy until she is a slave. It is what we are.

I looked upon the girl. She bit her lip. I saw that she was lovely.

“Wait,” said Msaliti, “one more item is needed to complete the effect.”

“Of course,” said Shaba

He left the room and, in a moment, returned with the collar. “Oh!” she said, as he, from behind, snapped it about her throat. I noted that he slipped the key into his pouch. I did not think it would be soon removed from the girl.

Msaliti joined us at the table.

The girl stood, loftily, before us. “Do I meet with the approval of Masters?” she asked.

“Serve us paga, Slave,” said Msaliti.

She stiffened. Then she smiled. “Yes, Master,” she said.

I, too, smiled. I saw that she thought she was playing a role. Did she not know that she had been truly branded and that, in the touch of the iron, as it marked her, she had been made truly a slave? I sensed now that her slavery, latent until now, was soon to be specifically activated. Indeed, it had now been activated, but she did not know it. She thought herself a free woman, serving as a slave. She did not know that she was truly a slave, who, amusingly, still thought herself free. It was a rich joke on the proud girl, one fitting to be played on an insolent slave.