Rogue of Gor (6 page)

"'You cannot put me out into the street!" had cried the free woman.

"I can," he informed her soberly.

"I am a free woman of Vonda," she said, "a member of the Confederation."

"I am an innkeeper," said he. "My politics are those of the ledger and silver."

I had sipped the sul porridge while listening to this conversation.

There are various reasons why Gorean men, upon occasion, resort to masks. Oneander had worn a mask, as had others in the loot camp, because of his fear of the anger of the men of Ar, concerning his trading venture with Lara, and, doubtless, because of his shame at his failure in that venture. Several men in the main room of the inn wore masks now presumably to conceal their identity for various reams. Times were troubled. It might not well serve their purposes to be recognized, as perhaps men of wealth or position, now in difficult straits. Some might have been seized or held for ransom. Others, perhaps, shamed by the fall of Vonda, or the necessity for their flight from the city, did not wish to be recognized in Lara. Masks, too, are sometimes worn by men fn disgrace, or who wish to travel incognito. I recalled the Lady Florence. Doubtless the young men of Vonda, and the estates about Vonda, who would attend her secret auction might wear masks. She might not know who had purchased her until she knelt his slave, before him, at the foot of his couch. I wore a mask because I had not wished to be recognized in Lara. In Lara there were many refugees from Vonda and its vicinity. Some might have watched me in the stable bouts. I did not think my tasks would be either expedited or facilitated by being recognized as a former fighting slave. Now, however, for an independent reason, I was pleased to have worn the mask. Sometimes, incidentally, free young men wear masks and capture a free woman, taking away her clothing and forcing her to perform as a slave for them. She is then commonly released. Afterwards, of course, in meeting young men she does not know for which of them, if any of them, she was forced to perform as a slave. Such a woman commonly begins to take risks inappropriate for a free woman. She is, sooner or later, caught and enslaved. She is then, as she has wished, sold, and will truly wear the collar. Perhaps one of the young men will buy her, and keep her as his own.

"I am a free woman!" the woman at the counter cried.

"That condition," said the innkeeper, "could prove temporary."

"I have nowhere to go," she said. "I am safe here. River pirates may still be within the city. It is not safe for me to be put out."

"You owe me a silver tarsk," said he, "for your last night's lodging. Too, if you would stay here this night, you must pay me another tarsk."

"I do not have them," she wept.

"Then you must be ejected," said he.

“Take my baggage," she said, "my trunks!"

"I do not want them," he said.

It was my plan to arrange transportation downriver in the morning. My business lay not in Lara but further west on the river. Many refugees, incidentally, had not remained in Lara. It was too close, for them, to the war zone. It lay well within the striking distance of a tarn cavalry, such as that which had been employed so devastatingly on the fields and hula south of Vonda. Small ships, coming and going, made their trips between Lam and the nearer downriver towns, such as White Water and Tancred's Landing.

"You cannot put me out into the street!" she cried.

Strobius, the innkeeper, then, in irritation, motioned to one of his assistants. The fellow came up behind the free woman and took her by the upper arms, holding her from behind. She was helpless.

"Eject her," said Strobius.

"You cannot put me out into the street!" she cried.

"Rejoice," said Strobius, "that I do not strip you and sell you into slavery."

"What is going on here?" I had asked, rising to my feet and going to the counter.

"We are putting her out," said Strobius. "She owes me money. She cannot pay."

"But she is a free woman," I said.

"She cannot pay," he said.

"What does she owe?" I asked.

"A silver tank for last night," he said, "and, if she would stay here this night, another tarsk, and in advance."

"I believe this is the proper sum," I said. I placed two silver tanks on the counter.

"Indeed it is," said Strobius. He swept the coins from the counter into his hand, and put them in his apron.

"There is your money, Fellow," said the free woman to Strobius, haughtily, as haughtily as she could manage, still the helpless prisoner of his assistant's grip.

"Yes, Lady," said he, bowing deferentially to her.

"Perhaps, now," she said, squirming in the assistant's grip, "you will have this ruffian unhand me."

He regarded her.

She shuddered. Her Home Stone was not that of Lara, times were troubled, and Strobius was master in his own inn. Too, she had, for a time, owed him money. Would he like to see her stripped, and collared?

"Please, Kind Sir," she said. Gorean men are sometimes slow to release their grip on the bodies of females. They enjoy holding them. They are men.

"Of course, Lady," said Strobius, smiling, again bowing. He then signaled the fellow to release the woman, which he did. She then drew back, angrily, and smoothed down her garments. Then, straightening herself, she came regally to where I stood.

"My thanks, Sir," she said, looking up at me.

"It is nothing," I said.

"I am grateful," she said.

"Perhaps you would care to join me at my table," I suggested. "There is little but sul porridge, but I could order you a bowl," I said.

"One must make do in trying circumstances," she said, "with what there is."

"Do you have any wine?" I asked Strobius.

He smiled. "Yes," he said.

"Would you care for some wine?" I asked her.

Her eyes glistened over her veil. It had been some days, I gathered, since she had been able to afford or had had wine. "Yes," she said, "it would give me great pleasure to drink your wine. "

"Please go to the table," I said, indicating the table, "and I will make the arrangements."

"Very well," she said, and turned away, going to the table.

"Sul porridge," said Strobius, "is ten copper tarsks. I will charge you forty copper tarsks for the wine, two cups."

"Very well," I said.

In a few moments he had had a fellow bring a tray with the sul porridge and two cups of wine to the counter. I paid him.

"Oh, by the way," I asked, "do you have a packet of Tassa powder?"

He grinned, and reached under the counter. "Yes," he said, handing it to me.

"How much do I owe you for this?" I asked.

"For that one," he said, "it is free. Take it with the compliments of the house."

"Very well," I said.

The girl turned uneasily on the mat. She was then again on her side. Her legs were again drawn up. She moaned. I saw the small fingers of her right hand touch the mat. Her finger tips were soft against the rough fibers. On her legs, where she had lain, there were markings from the mat.

I saved a part of the crust of bread I was eating.

She moved uneasily, and made a small noise. She must now sense that it was morning.

I looked about myself. The inn was deserted. It bore the signs of having been hastily evacuated. Tarnsmen of Ar, the rumors had had it, were soon to be aflight toward Lara. The evacuation of the inn had been a portion of the evacuation of the entire city. Outside the streets were empty, and quiet. There were few persons, I conjectured, now left in Lara. There were, of course, the girl and myself.

She rolled onto her belly on the mat. She lay there, the left side of her face against the mat, her small hands at the sides of her head.

I watched her.

I saw her small fingers move slightly, and her finger tips touch the fibers of the mat.

Then, suddenly, I saw her finger tips press down on the mat, and then, suddenly; her fingernails, frightened, dug at it. Her entire body suddenly stiffened.

"You are awake," I observed

"What is this on which I find myself?" she asked, frightened.

"Is it not obvious?" I asked. "It is a slave mat."

"Where am I?" she asked, lifting her head.

"In the main room of the inn of Strobius," I said, "in the city of Lara."

She rose to her hands and knees. I noticed that her breasts were lovely, inside the rag she wore. "What happened?" she asked.

"You were drugged," I told her.

She shook her head. She looked at me. I did not think she could yet well focus on me.

"You should not have drunk my wine," I told her.

"Where are my clothes?" she asked.

"I discarded, burned or destroyed your luggage and your things," I said, "with the exception of what you now wear, a Ta-Teera and a collar."

"I am collared," she whispered, disbelievingly. She tried the steel.

"It is locked," I assured her.

I saw her hand, subtly, furtively, touch the side of her Ta-Teera.

"The key is no longer there," I informed her. "Too, I have tipped away and discarded the tiny pocket which you had had sewn there. Girls are not permitted to carry things in their Ta-Teera. Surely you know that."

"Where is the key?" she whispered.

"I threw it away," I told her.

She shook her head. "I remember you," she said. "You paid for my lodging. You gave me wine."

"Yes," I said.

"It was drugged," she said.

"Of course," I said.

"Give me the key to this collar!" she-cried, suddenly. She sprang to her feet, her hands pulling at the collar.

"Do not leave the slave mat," I cautioned her. "I threw the key away," I reminded her.

"Threw it away?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"But it is a real collar," she said. "I cannot remove it."

"No," I said, "it has not been designed to be removed by a girl."

She regarded me with horror.

"Do not leave the mat," I told her.

She stepped back more on the mat.

"Kneel down,” I suggested.

She knelt, her knees pressed closely together.

"I found both the Ta-Teera and the collar among your belongings," I told her. "Surely they are unusual objects to be found among the belongings of a free woman."

She said nothing.

"Perhaps you are an escaped slave," I said.

"No!" she cried. "I am not a slave! I am not branded!"

"Reveal your thigh to me," I said, "that I may see whether or not you are branded"

"No!" she said. Then she said, angrily, "You put me in the Ta-Teera. You know well I am not branded."

"That is true," I smiled.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked. "Who are you? Is this some bizarre joke?"

"No," I said, "it is not a joke.''

She turned white.

"Let me go," she said.

"Are you hungry?" I asked.

"Yes, terribly," she said, uncertainly.

I threw her what was left of the crust of bread. It stuck the slave mat before her.

She reached for it.

"Do not use your hands," I told her.

"I am a free woman," she said.

"Place the palms of your hands down on the mat, and lower your head, and eat," I told her.

"I am a free woman," she said.

"Eat," I told her.

She ate, as I had instructed her, not using her hands. I then placed a pan of water within her reach. "Drink," I told her. She then drank, as she had eaten, not using her hands. I then removed the pan of water from her, threw out the water that had been left and put the pan aside. I then again returned to my place and sat down, cross-legged, behind the small table. She looked at me. I did not think she was displeased to have eaten and drunk.

"What do you want of me?" she asked. "Who are you?"

"Spread your knees," I told her.

Angrily she did so.

"How is it," I asked, "that a free woman should have among her belongings such unusual articles as a Ta-Teera and a collar?"

"I have been associated," she said, "with female slavers, of the house of Tima. I have occasionally used such articles in my work."

"I see," I said.

"Do I know you?” she asked.

"Do you?" I asked.

"You are masked," she said. "You have me at a disadvantage."

"It is true that you are well exposed before me," I said.

She reddened.

"Do you know me from somewhere?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"From where?" she asked.

"Vonda," I said.

She shrugged, angrily. "You could be any one of a thousand men," she said.