Savages of Gor (35 page)

One or two of the other Dust Legs now came over to where lay the kailiauk hide, concealing Margaret, the stripped English girl. The first Dust Leg was now showing signs of impatience. He was no fool. It was clear to him that Grunt, if he truly, seriously, wished to hide a girl, would presumably cache her, bound and gagged, out of sight, perhaps in a slit trench a pasang or so away. As it was, the kailiauk hide was presumably a device to arouse the interest of a possible buyer. The Dust Leg doubtless realized this. Further, he doubtless realized that his interest, in spite of the obviousness of this stratagem, was piqued. I could not blame him, accordingly, for feeling some irritation or resentment. I hoped Grunt knew what be was doing. He had already, in his trick with Ulla and Lenna, in my opinion, been treading on dangerous ground. Suddenly the Dust Leg, Grunt speaking to him, broke out in laughter. It took me a moment or so to understand what was happening, but, in an Ehn, it became quite clear. The Dust Leg, if interested, was to bid, sight unseen, on what lay beneath the kailiauk hide. The whole thing was, in effect, a joke and a gamble. The matter now put in a clearer light, the Dust Leg, and his fellows, were delighted. He tried to walk about and peep beneath the hide and Grunt, with great apparent earnestness and seriousness, hurried about, tugging down the hide at the edges. Red savages, on whole, are fond of jokes and gambles. Their jokes, to be sure, might sometimes seem a bit eccentric or rude to more civilized folk. A favorite joke, for example, is to tell a young man that his kaiila offer to the parents of his prospective woman has been refused, thus plunging him into despair, until with roars of laughter, he is informed that it has been accepted. This type of thing, incidentally, does not count, culturally, as a violation of truth telling, a practice which the red savages take with great seriousness. Gambling, too, is of interest to the savages. Common games are lots, dice and stone guessing. Betting, too, may take place in connection with such things as the fall of arrows, and the appearance and movements of animals, particularly birds. Kaiila races, perhaps needless to say, are very popular. An entire village is likely to turn out to watch such a race. What was going on, further, could not be clearly understood unless it is understood that the Dust Legs knew and respected, and liked, Grunt. Such a game they would not have played with a stranger. Theoretically, one supposes, a high bid might be made on what lay concealed beneath the hide and then the hide, the bid accepted, might be withdrawn to reveal a wench as ugly as a tharlarion, but the Dust Legs knew, in the practical context, that Grunt would not do this to them. They understood, in the context, that he would be sure to put something not only good, but very good, beneath that hide. Similarly, since bids are almost always lower on an unseen commodity, he would be, in effect, making them a gift. The Dust Leg refused, with great drama, to go higher than two hides for what lay beneath the hide. Grunt, he made it clear, must now either accept or reject that offer. It was, of course, accepted, and Grunt, with some flair, threw off the hide. Margaret, suddenly exposed, cried out with fear. She blinked against the light and made herself, lying on her side, as small as possible. Curled naked on the grass, revealed, terrified, owned, she was exquisite. The two friends of the Dust Leg shouted out with pleasure and, striking him about the shoulders and back, congratulated him on his good fortune. Margaret cringed at their feet. The Dust Leg, more than pleased, tried to get Grunt to accept at least one extra hide for the girl, but this, of course, Grunt magnanimously refused to do. A bargain struck was, after all, a bargain to be adhered to. He was, after all, was he not, a merchant? Margaret was jerked to her knees and the Dust Leg tied his beaded collar on her throat. He then bound her small wrists tightly before her body with a long thong and, pulling her to her feet, led her away, by the free end of the thong, followed by his friends, to his kaiila.

"They are very pleased," I said to Grunt.

"I think so," he said.

We watched the Dust Legs mounting up now, most of them, both men and women, preparing to take their leave. Ulla and Lenna were now on their feet, their hands still tied behind their backs, their neck thongs tied to the high, decorative pommels of their masters' saddles. Their masters regarded them. They then slapped the girls' naked flanks with possessive pleasure, as though they might have been kaiila. They then climbed to theft saddles, leaving the girls afoot, naked, neck-thonged, near theft stirrups. The girls looked up at their masters with fear and then, as the kaiila moved, hurried along beside the lofty animals, the grass to their thighs. I had little doubt but what they would soon be taught their duties, both those outside the lodge and those within it. I then saw Margaret, looking wildly over her shoulder, being drawn along, by the thong on her wrists, at the side of her own master's beast. She, too, would doubtless soon receive instruction on the modalities of pleasure and service to be exacted by a red master of a female slave, and one who was merely white.

We watched the Dust Legs moving away, across the grasses.

"It was a good trading," I said.

"I think so," said Grunt. "We were all, I think, well satisfied."

"Do you think the two fellows with Ulla and Lenna are sufficiently pleased?" I asked. "You did, it seems, maneuver them to some extent."

"I do not think they minded being maneuvered," he said. "Did you not see how they struck the girls on their flanks, so possessively, so pride fully, so good-naturedly? They are more than enough pleased to have such girls on their tethers, to lead them home, to add them in with their kaiila and other stock."

"You are right," I said.

"Take this one to the stream," he said, indicating the dark-haired girl we had acquired for the three hatchets, she lying on the grass near us, "and see that she has a bath."

"I will," I said. "What are you going to do?"

"We will make camp here," he said.

"Here?" I asked.

"There is water nearby," he said, "and wood."

"You are going to stay for a time at the trading point?" I asked. This puzzled me. This was the last trading point in the territory of the Dust Legs. It did not seem to me likely that more Dust Legs were to be expected, certainly not for some time. I myself was anxious to move eastward.

"For tonight," he said.

"We could make five pasangs before dark," I said.

"We will camp here tonight," he said.

"Very well," I said.

He went over to the girl lying in the grass. "Womnaka, Amomona," he said. "Womnaka, Wicincala."

"Ho, Itancanka. Ho, Wicayuhe," she said.

"She speaks Dust Leg," he said. "She then will also be conversant with Kaiila. These are two closely related languages, or, better, two dialects of a single language. Fleer is also related to them, but more remotely."

"She responded to your commands earlier," I said. "She must know Gorean, too."

"Do you speak Gorean?" he asked. She might, after all, know only certain commands, much as might a sleen.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"I shall attend to the camp," said Grunt, looking about. "See that she has a bath at the stream."

"All right," I said.

"Do not hurry with her," he said. "There is no hurry in returning."

"All right," I said. Grunt was looking about, scanning the surrounding grasslands. Then he went to the coffle, where Ginger was waiting. He would free certain of the girls and set them about their duties. We would make camp, it seemed, early this day.

I looked down at the girl at my feet. She looked up at me. I kicked her. She winced. "On your hands and knees," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

I indicated to her the direction of the stream.

"Yes, Master," she said.

She would crawl to it. She was a slave.

"You whipped me well," she smiled, kneeling in the shallow stream, pouring water on her body.

"You whip well," I commended her.

"Thank you, Master," she said.

The sexually responsive woman whips well. This is probably a function of the high degree of her skin sensitivity and the depth and vulnerability of her feelings, tier sensitivity and responsiveness make her peculiarly helpless under the lash. She who writhes best under the lash, so say the Goreans, writhes best in the furs.

"The water," I said, "has wrought quite a transformation in you." She was now, substantially, cleaned. Most of the dust and blood, the grime, the dirt and sweat, had been washed away. Her dark hair, wet now, seemed very dark, very shiny. She knelt in the water, removing tangles and snarls from her hair.

"No longer, at least," she said, "Am I womnaka."

"What is that?" I asked.

"Master does not speak Dust Leg or Kaiila?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"It is something which exudes much odor," she laughed.

"What did Grunt, who is your master, the fellow in the broad-brimmed hat, call you?' I asked.

"'Wicincala'," she said, "which means 'Girl', and 'Amomona', which means 'Baby' or 'Doll'."

"I see," I said. I myself prefer the application of such expressions not to slaves, but to pretentious free women, to remind them that they, in spite of their freedom, are only women. They are useful, by the way, in making a free woman uneasy, their use suggesting to her that perhaps the male is considering shortly enslaving her. In speaking to a slave I prefer expressions such as 'Slave' or 'Slave Girl', or the girl's name itself, she understanding clearly, of course, that it is only a slave name. "And what did you call him?" I asked.

"'Wicayuhe', 'Itancanka'," she said, "words which mean Master."

"I thought so," I said.

I sat on the bank, watching her work with her hair. She was now combing it out, with her fingers. She would not yet be entitled, of course, to use the common brush and comb slotted for the use of the coffle. The other girls, unless the masters intervened, would vote on whether or not she was to be granted its use. This is a way of encouraging a new girl to congenial and to participate equitably in the work. One negative vote will keep the brush and comb from a new girl. The suspension of brush-and-comb privileges is also used, upon occasion, by the first girls as a disciplinary measure, within the coffle. Other disciplinary measures practiced among girls themselves involve such things as bonds, the control of rations and switchings. Girls, thus, under the control of first girls, reporting to the masters, commonly keep a good order among themselves. All, of course, including the first girls, are in all things subject, ultimately, to the total authority of the master.

"Ginger!" I called.

Ginger, in a moment, came running to the stream.

"Bring the comb and brush," I told her.

"Yes, Master," she said. Her authority, as that of any slave, could be overruled by any free person.

In a few moments Ginger returned with the comb and brush. "Give her the comb," I said. I, myself, took the brush, which I placed beside me. Ginger waded into the stream and gave the comb to the new girl. "You do not yet have general comb-and-brush privileges," she informed her. "Unless, of course, the masters order it," she added.

"Yes, Mistress," said the new girl, bowing her head to her.

Ginger returned to the bank and, somewhat mollified, turned to regard the new girl, who was now combing her hair with the comb of kailiauk horn.

"She is rather pretty," said Ginger.

"I think so," I said. She was slim, and beautifully shaped.

"She might be worth four hides," said Ginger.

"Perhaps," I said. Ginger then took her leave.

I regarded the girl. She was looking at me, slowly combing her hair.

"Thank you for permitting me the use of the comb and, perhaps later, the brush," she said.

"It is my pleasure," I informed her, truthfully.

I regarded her. She was quite beautiful, and her beauty was a thousand times more exciting than that of a free woman, for she was a slave.

"Master examines me with candor," she said, shyly.

"You are a slave," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said. One might, in the case of a free woman, in deference to her modesty or dignity, avert one's gaze from her beauty. This consideration, of course, is seldom, if ever, accorded to a slave. One may examine her slowly and with care, and with attention to detail, and, if one feels she deserves it, with open and unconcealed admiration. It is not unusual for a Gorean male, who tends to be uninhibited in such matters, to clap his hands, or strike his thigh, or shout with pleasure, upon seeing a bared slave. These responses, which might be thought embarrassing or inappropriate in the case of a free woman, may fittingly be accorded, of course, to slaves, who are only lovely animals. Even in the case of free women, the Gorean male, incidentally, disdains to feign disinterest in female beauty. He, for better or for worse, has not been made a victim of the glandular suppression and life-shortening psychosexual reductionism inflicted, in varying degrees, on so many males in more pathological cultures. His civilization has not been purchased at the price of his manhood. His culture has not been designed to deny nature, but, startlingly perhaps, to some minds, to fulfill it.