Rebels of Gor (91 page)

“Perhaps,” she said.

“I may not be as you remember me,” I said.

“Men of Earth do not change,” she said.

“The men of Earth and those of Gor,” I said, “are of the same species. Goreans have an Earth origin, however remote in some cases. Culture is involved. Some cultures deny and suppress human nature; others, for whatever reason, accept it, and liberate it.”

“The Pani,” she said, “allegedly, in virtue of my presence, have some hold over you?”

“That is their view,” I said.

“You are to comply with their wishes, or some lamentable fate is to be imposed on me?” she said.

“That is my understanding,” I said.

I recalled the eel pool in the stadium, or theater, of Lord Yamada. I did not doubt but what some similar arrangement, or worse, would be at the disposal of Lord Temmu.

“Then I am safe,” she said.

“How so?” I said.

“You will protect me,” she said. “You will do as they wish.”

“Why?” I asked.

“‘Why’?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“That I might not be jeopardized, or put at risk!” she said.

“I see,” I said.

“I am again important,” she said, excitedly. “Once again I have power!”

“You are a slave,” I said.

“I do not understand,” she said.

“You are a slave,” I said. “Is that so hard to understand?”

“I am Talena!” she said. “Daughter of Marlenus!”

“No,” I said, “Talena was a free woman, disowned as the daughter of Marlenus. You are Adraste, a slave at the World’s End.”

“You must do as they say!”

“Why?” I asked.

“You are weak, complaisant,” she said. “You are a man of Earth!”

“I shall withdraw,” I said.

“We were Companions,” she said. “We drank together the wine of Companionship!”

“The Companionship is done,” I said, “years ago. It was never renewed. It is void. Too, it is not unusual that a woman who was once a Companion falls into bondage. Indeed, sometimes they come into the possession of their former Companions. You cannot expect a woman who has worn the collar to be accepted into the honor of Companionship. She has been spoiled for that. Too, only a fool frees a slave girl. Surely you know the saying. And, too, a woman who might be an indifferent, or poor, Companion, is often of much greater interest when she is chained to a slave ring, at the foot of a master’s couch.”

“You cannot abandon me!” she said.

“You are mistaken,” I said.

“You cannot do that,” she said. “You are a fool of Earth, as all the others of that smug, feeble orb! You have been nurtured into futility from the cradle! You are sweet, kind, sensitive, thoughtful, understanding, weak, stupid, and manipulable! Beware, lest I shed a tear, or reproach you for ambition, pride, vulgarity, bullying, or manhood!”

“I tremble,” I said.

“Do so!” she said.

“Once, as you say, you thought you knew me, and were mistaken,” I said. “Well, once I, as well, thought I knew you, and was mistaken. I learned of you in the hall of Samos of Port Kar, when I was half paralyzed. I learned of you in Ar, when you dishonored Marlenus, not in begging to be purchased in a far place, but in conspiring with other traitors to secure the throne of Ar, when you undermined and dissipated her military in the delta of the Vosk, when you opened the gates of the city to her enemies, when you had her walls razed, when you confiscated properties and looted treasuries, when you sat in judgment of your fellow citizens.”

“I was justified in all I did!” she said.

“That is denied,” I said, “by ten thousand tarn disks of gold, of double weight.”

“Tarsk,” she hissed.

“I leave,” I said.

“You cannot!” she cried.

“I do,” I said.

“You cannot,” she insisted.

“Why?” I asked.

“You love me,” she said.

“Love,” I said, “for a slave?”

“For Talena, daughter of Marlenus!” she said.

“You are Adraste,” I said, “a slave.”

“Then for Adraste,” she said, “a slave!”

“What fool could love a slave?” I asked.

“What man cannot?” she said.

“There are many slaves,” I said.

“But only one such as I!” she said, triumphantly.

“Each slave is unique,” I said, “and different and special in her collar.”

“But they are all slaves!” she said.

“Yes,” I said, “wholly, and completely.”

“You love me!” she said.

“So I must do whatever Lord Temmu asks?” I said.

“Yes!” she said.

“But I will not,” I said.

“I do not understand,” she said, shaken.

“Do not fear,” I said. “No dire fate will be imposed upon you by Lord Temmu as a consequence of my decision, lest the cavalry retaliate.”

“You do love me!” she said.

“You are of little interest,” I said. “But you are a vulnerable, helpless, owned beast. I would do as much for a tarsk, a verr, or kaiila.”

“I hate you!” she screamed.

I then left the chamber.

Outside, I slid the bolt back into place, securing the door.

* * *

“Ho!” I called, on the crowded wharf, noting his approach. “The third gong will ring presently. It is time you arrived. Docksmen are already at the mooring cleats.”

“Tal,” said Pertinax, leading his string of three fair beasts, back-braceleted, strung on a tandem-collared leash. Each was clad in a brief, plain tunic. When he stopped, to greet me, each knelt, her head down. Pertinax trained them well. “It took a bit of time with the vendors at the wharf’s end,” he said, “to find a suitably attractive switch.”
 

“It is a beauty,” I said, examining the implement. It was about two feet Gorean long, supple, of medium width, with a loop at one end, which might go about a master’s wrist. “It should keep good order amongst your beasts,” I said.

“It will,” he said.

“I see you have wasted little money on their garmenture,” I said.

“I had a good buy on cheap cloth,” he said.

“The tunics are rather brief, are they not?” I said.

“Not at all,” he said. “I like them that way.”

“It might scandalize free women,” I said.

“Let them be scandalized,” he said. “Perhaps one day they will be so garbed.”

“You had best board,” I said. “Time is short.”

“
Kajirae
,” said he, “raise your heads.”

“All beauties,” I said.

He held the switch to the lips of Jane, the former Lady Portia Lia Serisia, of Sun Gate Towers, of Ar, a scion of the Serisii, once a major banking power in Ar. It had been obliterated following the restoration of Marlenus, having collaborated with the occupation forces.

She tenderly and lovingly, and humbly, kissed and licked the switch for a few moments, and then looked up, adoringly, at her master, hoping that he would be pleased. I gathered from her position on the tandem leash that she was first girl.

Pertinax next held the switch to Kameko, his lovely Pani slave. From the ministrations, delicate, moist, and tender, she bestowed on the switch I gathered she was well satisfied with her collar, though perhaps she would have preferred to be the single slave of so strong and fine a master.

“What do you think of her?” asked Pertinax.

“She is coming along nicely,” I said.

“Is she not beautiful?” said Pertinax.

“Yes,” I said.

Her lips were slightly parted, and she dared not meet our eyes.

A free woman may look boldly into the eyes of a free man, why not, she is free, but a girl in her collar, aware of her collar, is not likely to do so.

But Kameko was pleased to be spoken of in such a way. What slave would not be pleased, to be found of interest by free men?

“She will be a delight on the continent,” said Pertinax. “She will be exotic, and special. There are few Pani slaves there.”

“You will be pleased to march her, in the promenades,” I said.

“Of course,” he said.

“On a leash of brightly colored leather?”

“Perhaps on a rope,” he said.

“Clothed?” I said.

“I have not decided,” he said.

“But see that she earns her slave gruel, by much labor in the furs,” I said.

“The first duty of the slave is to please her master,” said Pertinax.

“I see that you have a third slave,” I said.

“The poorest of the lot,” he said.

He then held the switch before blond-haired, blue-eyed Saru, formerly Miss Margaret Wentworth, of New York City, on the world, Earth. How far were those two now from the august halls of finance on a far world! She had been far above him, he on that world a worshipful clerk. Never, on that world, might he have hoped to aspire to such a woman. Now she was at his feet, braceleted, leashed, and scarcely garbed, as his slave. In her great financial institution, she had functioned as a solicitor of investment capital, a project in which she well utilized the assets of her intelligence, beauty, and meretricious, seductive skills, promising much and delivering nothing. Naive, gullible men, often of considerable means, strove to please her. Many clients and much wealth did she secure for her superiors. But then she, mercenary, greedy, and corrupt, was approached by agents of Gor. It seemed an easy fortune might be had from obscure employers. Apprised she should have a male colleague to aid in dissembling her true status and role on Gor, she had enlisted Gregory Smith, well aware, from small incidents, of his remote, hopeless, infatuation with her. So she had brought him with her to Gor as a subordinate and menial. As such, he had had to endure her myriad directives, her insufferable, unpleasant temperament, her insolence, her impatience and vanity, her contempt, and her frequent criticisms, disparagements, and insults. Unknown to herself, aside from her brief role in meeting a tarnsman on the shore of Thassa, at the edge of the forest, and seeing that he was brought to Tarncamp, she had been preselected, in virtue of a standing order, for a Gorean collar, and would be delivering herself, as well, to Tarncamp. Her complexion, hair color, and eye color would be rare in the islands. It was supposed, accordingly, that she might constitute a charming, agreeable gift for a shogun. While she, on Gor, had fallen to the mark and collar, her minion, Gregory White, had remained free. Engaged in manual labor, he had grown lean and powerful, quick and agile, fierce and severe; he had studied with Nodachi, the swordsman; he had learned the tarn, the lance and bow, and manhood; he had taken for himself the proud name, Pertinax.

Saru looked up from her knees at her master, Pertinax. For a moment I thought I detected a flash of resentment in her eyes. Her small wrists struggled against the metal which held them pinioned behind her back. There was a tiny sound of the linkage. “Do you wish to speak, slave?” inquired Pertinax. “No, Master,” she whispered. The switch was before her face. “Do you beg to engage in submissive behaviors?” asked Pertinax, coldly. Fear came into her eyes. “Yes, Master,” she said. She then reached her head forward and kissed, and then licked, submissively, the barrel of the switch. Then, interestingly, she shuddered, and then, more fervently, even desperately, pressed her lips, again and again, to the switch. It was as though something had suddenly changed within her, as though a barrier had fallen, as though a wall of ice had broken apart, and, melting, revealed a lush, arable, inviting terrain beyond, green in its grass and warm in its sun. She then, piteously, pressed her lips again to the switch. And then her small, soft tongue caressed it, twice. She looked up, again. “May I speak, Master?” she begged.

“Yes,” he said, drawing back the switch.

“I always loved you,” she said, “even on Earth, when I despised you, for your weakness. I dreamed of being your slave! Even in my contempt of you, I would take no other with me to this perilous, beautiful world! Now I kneel before you, braceleted, leashed, in your collar, your slave!”

“All of you,” said Pertinax. “Rise up, keep your heads down.”

“Yes, Master,” they said, rising, heads down.

“I take it your gear is stowed,” I said.

“Yes,” said Pertinax, “yesterday, not long after yours.”

“Good,” I said. “I shall see you on board.” I then looked to the large sleen, lying beside me. “Ramar,” I said, “go with Pertinax.”

“Are you not boarding now?” asked Pertinax.

“I want to feel the broad, solid planks of the wharf beneath my feet,” I said. “We will be long enough at sea.”

I watched Pertinax, with his leashed charges, ascend the gangplank. Ramar, with his limping gait, was close behind.

I heard a tiny sound, which I could not, in the instant, place.

“Beware!” cried a loud, startled voice.

Instinctively I dropped to one knee, and a body, dark, robed, hurtled over me, and I glimpsed a flash of metal. Before thinking, I leaped up, and, violently, as though treading on a serpent, thrust down with my boot at the back of the assailant’s neck, and it snapped the vertebrae at the base of the skull. One does not long survive such a blow. In moments I turned over the inert, staring body. “Daichi,” I said. “Who is Daichi?” said Licinius Lysias. “A reader of bones and shells,” I said. “I do not understand,” said Licinius Lysias. “It is a way of allegedly reading fortunes, discovering truths, and foretelling the future,” I said. “Lord Temmu, at one time, took such things seriously. This man, Daichi, was his court reader of bones and shells.” “I see,” said Licinius Lysias. “You have saved my life,” I said. “As you once spared mine,” he said. We embraced, comrades in arms. Men had cleared a space about us. “Did you find your tokens, your mementos, your souvenirs of the World’s End?” I asked Licinius Lysias. “I have some things,” he said. “Here is another,” I said, removing the small box of bones and shells, and its strap, from the body of Daichi. “Keep it,” I said, “as a souvenir from the World’s End.” “Will not Lord Temmu object?” he asked. “No,” I said, “he no longer has use for such things.”