Mercenaries of Gor (55 page)

She whimpered once, angrily.

"Surely you cannot criticize my curiosity," I said. "One does not usually expect to find a free woman chained naked in a slave alcove in a brothel." My investigations concerning brand sites had, as a side effect, of course, informed me that she was unclothed, except for her shackles.

She made a number of angry noises.

"Are you displeased?" I asked.

She whimpered, once, angrily.

"Are you angry?" I asked.

She whimpered again, once, even more angrily. Then she made a number of other angry noises.

"Do you wish to speak?" I asked.

She whimpered once, angrily.

"You would like me to remove your gag?" I asked.

She made a single, short noise, very insistently. I waited. She repeated it.

"Oh," I said. "You do not wish me to remove your gag."

She then whimpered twice, insistently.

"You do want me to remove your gag?" I asked.

She whimpered once, very definitely, very clearly, just once.

"But I have not done so, have I?" I asked. "Perhaps you think I have forgotten to do so, that it has somehow slipped my mind. That is not it at all, however. I was merely inquiring, before and now, if you would like to have it removed. That is what I was interested in. That is all. I have never had any intention of removing it. I am not interested, for example, in hearing from you."

There was a startled noise, and some puzzled ones.

"No," I said.

(pg. 390) I then put my right hand on her neck under her chin and forced her head up and back.

She made a frightened noise.

"You are in no position," I said, "to be displeased, or angry, or impatient, or peremptory, in any way."

She was silent.

I then put my hand on her, and she whimpered, and drew back, pushing back, frightened against the wall of the alcove. I then took her ankles in my hands. I let her try for a moment to resist me. Then I spread her ankles widely. "Do you understand?" I asked.

She whimpered once, frightened.

"Good," I said. I then released her ankles and she drew them hastily back and together, pulling her knees up, and close together, and, as she could, turned her right side to me.

"Were you the female who was brought in a sack, earlier this evening?" I asked.

She whimpered once.

"Are you beautiful?" I asked.

She whimpered twice.

"Then there would be no point in my having my way with you, would there?" I asked.

She whimpered twice.

"I think that I shall strike a light," I said.

She whimpered twice, piteously.

"And if I find that you have lied, and that you are beautiful, I shall use you-and as a slave."

Two whimpers.

"Very well," I said. "I shall give you another chance. Are you beautiful?"

She whimpered once, in defeat.

"Or at least you think you are beautiful," I said.

She whimpered once.

"Then perhaps I should use you," I said.

She whimpered twice, piteously.

"If you are a free woman," I said, "then, from what I have heard, there may be something around here." I felt about the alcove. "Yes," I said, "here it is." I had located some binding fiber at the side, and a leather thong, with a (pg. 391) coin, presumably a tarsk bit, threaded on it. That was to be used, I recalled having heard from my hostess, if she was used in her stay in the brothel. "There is some binding fiber here," I said. "Do you know what it is for?"

She whimpered twice, frightened.

"For binding you," I said. "If you are used tonight you are to be put out naked in the morning, in the alley, your hands tied behind your back with this binding fiber."

She whimpered twice, in protest.

"There is also a coin here, a tarsk bit, I think, threaded on a leather thong. Do you know what that is for?"

She whimpered twice.

I took the thong and coin and, putting my arms about her, tied the thong about her waist, fastening it behind her back. The coin then was at her belly. With my thumb I pushed it back into her belly, that she might clearly feel its shape and know its location. Then I let it dangle there, resting on her belly. "This coin," I said, "when you were put out in the morning, if you were used tonight, was to be tied there. It signifies to all who see it that you have served a man. You are given the coin because you are a free woman. That is your payment. To be sure it is the smallest-denomination coin in common circulation. It is, thus, a comment on your value."

She moaned in protest. I removed the thong and coin from her waist. I laid it, with the binding fiber, to the side.

She whimpered gratefully.

"I know you are a free woman," I said, "but are you prepared now, in the light of your recent experiences, to reform your behavior, to be at least minimally polite, to observe certain basic amenities, and to conduct your life and business at least generally in accordance with simple canons of common civility and courtesy?"

She was silent.

I put my hand on her.

She whimpered once, quickly.

"Good," I said. "Since someone put you here, presumably as a punishment, I gather you have been something of a she-sleen."

(pg. 392) She whimpered once.

"But that is going to change now, isn't it?" I asked.

One whimper.

"You see," I said, putting my hand on her thigh, she trying to pull back, "this is not really much of a punishment. Many other things would have been done to you. For example, from a place such as this, it would be no great trick for you to be delivered to a slaver. Indeed, perhaps a slaver has an appointment with you in this alcove before morning. I do not know."

She whimpered in fear.

"You could be branded and collared before morning," I said, "and shipped out of the city, then a slave, hooded, gagged and helpless, for your first sale."

Two whimpers.

"Indeed," I said, "perhaps I am that slaver."

She whimpered twice, wildly.

"But I am not," I said. "Oh yes, I have done slaving, and doubtless will again. There are few occupations so pleasant and rewarding."

She was silent, trembling.

"Would you look well at a man's feet?" I asked. I put my hand on her throat. "Answer truthfully," I warned her.

She whimpered once, in agony.

"Or you think you would?" I asked.

One whimper, a fearful whimper, in misery.

"But do not be afraid," I said. "I have no intention, at least at present, of carrying you into bondage. Are you grateful?"

She whimpered once.

"Besides," I said, "I have not even seen you."

She whimpered in fear.

"Accordingly I reserve the right of carrying you into bondage later, if I wish," I said. "Perhaps you are too beautiful to be free. I do not know."

She whimpered twice, fearfully, protestingly.

"Be quiet," I whispered. "Someone is coming." Down the tunnel I could see a flicker of light, doubtless from a tharlarion oil lamp. Although it was a very small light, it seemed very bright in the darkness.

(pg. 393) I heard a woman gasp, seeing, I suppose, at least the first body in the tunnel. "Ai" she cried in a moment, the wash of the light moving, lifting, in the darkness outside. I saw it reflecting on the other side of the tunnel, and a bit into the alcove. She had then seen, a bit further down the tunnel, I suppose, the second body. I moved back, to the side of the alcove entrance. I saw the light approaching more closely.

"What has gone on here?" she asked, under her breath, not really speaking to anyone. I gathered she was alone. Her surprise seemed genuine. She made no attempt to call back to anyone. She was now close to the alcove entrance.

"Are you all right in there, little slut?" she cooed. "Are your chains too tight? Would you like to be let loose from the nasty old slave ring? Have you learned now what it is to serve men? Have you squirmed well? Is your pretty little body tired of being chained? Is it sore? Does it ache? It is getting late, my beauty. Would you like some clothing? Of course you would! I have some pretty binding fiber in there for you to wear and, if you have given pleasure to a man, as seems likely by now, a pretty coin to tie on your belly. It is cold out in the alley this morning, and gray. The binding fiber will help keep your wrists nice and warm." She lifted the lamp outside the alcove. "There you are," she said.

The girl, whom I now saw was blond, slender and lovely, with sweet breasts and beautiful thighs and calves, shrank back against the alcove wall. I told myself I could have had her in the darkness, but had not done so! Had I realized how attractive she was I might have done so. She did have the look of a wench that belonged in a collar. She had nice slave curves. I thought that she, objectively considered, would make a very nice slab of slave meat. I would not have minded, for example, seeing her naked on a block, in chains, being put through her paces, under slave discipline, dancing, writhing, squirming lasciviously for the interest of men, being auctioned to the highest bidder. I myself might have made a bid. I forced myself to remember that she was free.

The woman outside held the lamp inside the alcove entrance. I then seized her wrist and drew her forcibly, swiftly, she crying out, on her belly, through the narrow opening. The (pg. 394) lamp, spilling oil, briefly flaming in a rivulet on the alcove floor, went to the side of the alcove, and went out. I knelt across her body. She was carrying only her whip and some keys. I removed these from her. She struggled fiercely, silently. She was strong for a woman. She would have been much stronger than the chained girl. Still, when all was said and done, her strength was only that of a female. It amused me. I let her struggle for a time, until she realized the futility of her efforts. With a sob she ceased struggling. I then removed her leather from her. I thought perhaps the free woman might be able to use it. "Be silent," I warned my captive. She was silent. I then felt on the floor for the binding fiber. I had it in a moment and tied my captive's hands behind her, and then took her ankles and, crossing them and pulling them up tightly behind her, bound them to her wrists. She would not be going anywhere.

"Who are you?" she hissed, on her side in the darkness, pulling at her bonds.

"Tarl," I said, "of Port Kar."

"They were looking for you," she said.

"They found one another, I said. I then thrust my captive to the side. I then felt about for the lamp. I located it almost immediately, and swirled it a bit. There was a tiny bit of oil left in it. I relit the lamp with the lighter, or as the Goreans say "fire-maker," from my pouch. It is a standard flint-and-wheel device, with its tiny wick and reservoir. Goreans do not smoke, of course, but, as they commonly use natural flame for cooking and light, they find such a device, and others like it, utilizing springs and pyrites, with cartridges of oil-saturated tinder moss, and such, of great utility. The common sulfur match, on the other hand, so common on Earth, I have never met with on Gor. The chemistry involved in such a device, interestingly enough, is forbidden on Gor. It is regarded as constituting a violation of the Weapons Laws imposed on Goreans by Priest-Kings. This is not as farfetched as it might sound at first. Sulfur, for example, is one of the primary ingredients in the composition of gunpowder.

"You!" exclaimed the captive. "You told me you were called Bosk!"

(pg. 395) "I am called Bosk," I said. "You appear to be well bound."

She struggled briefly.

"Yes," I said, "quite well bound."

"Release me," she said.

"One of these keys," I said, "has a 27 on it. That, I take it, is the key to the chains in this alcove."

"Yes," said the captive, sullenly.

I took this key and assured myself that it opened the manacles of the blond prisoner.

She threw me a grateful look.

Then I reclosed the manacles, leaving her chained precisely as she had been before. She regarded me wildly, puzzled, in consternation. She jerked at her hands. They were still manacled to the ring behind her. The captive on the floor laughed.

I crouched in the alcove, looking at the blond girl. "She is a pretty thing, isn't she?" I said. She drew her knees up, and shrank back against the alcove wall.

"Yes," said my captive. "Look at her. She is that kind of woman."

"She looks like the kind of woman whom you manage, then slaves, of course, in the brothel."

"Yes," said my captive. "She is exactly that sort of woman. She belongs in a collar. Doubtless one day she will find her neck in one. Who knows? Perhaps one day she will even be here, subject to me, as one of our girls."

"Would you like that?" I asked.

"Of course," said my captive.

"You would make her serve men well?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"You enjoy making women such as she serve men?" I asked.