Vagabonds of Gor (74 page)

I looked about the floor, at the numerous patrons. Although most of them were doubtless fellows from Brundisium, citizens of that polity, there were many others about, as well, in particular, oarsmen from the galleys in the harbor, not far away, and soldiers from the camp outside the walls, mostly mercenaries, on which Cos depends heavily, but some, too, who were apparently regulars.

I considered the doors leading off the main paga room. Some of those were undoubtedly the doors to private dining areas.

One of those doors opened and a luscious, dark-haired slave emerged, clad in a light brown tunic. She turned to the paga counter to fetch paga, which she then, carefully, carried back into the other room, closing the door behind her.

The last time I had seen the luscious wench had been earlier this evening, returning from the wagon of Ephialtes. She had been naked, her hands braceleted behind her back, being marched at her master's stirrup, chained to it by the neck.

I had, of course, seen her before, and not merely this evening, neck-chained at the stirrup. I had seen her months ago, helpless in chains beside her master's desk. Indeed, at that time, she had not even been a legal slave, the legalities of her condition, to her distress, given what had been done to her, and what she had become, being denied to her by her master. Now, however, she was not merely a natural slave, aware of herself, reduced, and self-confessed, begging the resolution and solace of the collar, but a legal slave, fully and perfectly imbonded in law.

Once she had been the Lady Cara, of Venna. She had been overheard making disparaging remarks about a certain city. A mercenary captain from that city, learning of this, saw to it that she was brought naked and in chains into his keeping. Soon she had learned what it was to be in the power of such a man. In his office I had heard this female, who had spoken disparagingly of his city, who had then been well taught her chains, beg from him the brand and collar.

What now would be done with her? Even though she had then been turned in effect into a pleasure slave, much as might be purchased in any market, he had, it seems, considered having her serve in his city as a mere house slave, or even, in spite of what she had now become, if it pleased him, denying her the collar, as a mere cleaning prisoner, a confined servant, a mere housekeeper in captivity. But he had, it seems, relented, acceding to her piteous entreaties, at length accepting her as the slave she begged to be, for earlier this evening, she in a position of the display slave, at her master's stirrup, given her exposure, there had been no mistaking the brand on her thigh, the common Kajira mark.

There had been some other slaves, too, following the slim line of mercenaries on the road, beauties serving as pack slaves, bearing burdens. I had recognized one among these, as well, one struggling, bent over, with a burden perhaps somewhat heavier than those of the others. She had once been Lucilina, the preferred slave of Myron, Polemarkos of Temos, cousin to Lurius of Jad, Ubar of Cos, commander of the Cosian forces in the south. Indeed, she had been not only a high slave, and the preferred slave of the Polemarkos, but his confidante, as well. She had, thus, been privy to many secrets.

Too, through her wiles and his weakness, she had exercised great influence over him. She had, thus, though ultimately only a slave, become a force in his retinue. Even free men had shamefully courted her favor. Her influence might be the difference between the favor and the disfavor of the Polemarkos, between advancement and neglect, between promotion and disgrace. Then, tricked and captured, she had been smuggled out of the Cosian camp, to a nearby city, to find herself there in common chains as a common girl. She had then been put under suitable disciplines and subjected to exact, sustained Gorean interrogation.

Later, emptied of all sensitive and pertinent military and political information, and retaining merely her values as a female, she was given away as might have been any other spoil of war, she in this instance, and by design, to one of the captain's lowest soldiers, a rude and common fellow of the lowest rank, to serve him in absolute and uncompromising bondage, as one of the lowest and most common of slaves. Her name, at last I had heard, had been Luchita. I did not know if it would be the same now or not.

Similarly, I did not know what might now be the name of the former Lady Cara, of Venna. I would have supposed 'Cara', that seeming to me suitable for a slave name, but I did not know. It could be anything. The city of which the former Lady Cara had spoken disparagingly, before being brought into the custody of the mercenary captain was Tarnburg. The city to which the former Lucilina, the former preferred slave of Myron, the Polemarkos, had been smuggled was Torcadino, then held by the same mercenary captain, Dietrich of Tarnburg, of course.

This evening I had seen a line of mercenaries, perhaps a hundred in all, with some slaves, mostly pack slaves, some eight or ten of them, approaching Brundisium. The leader of the mercenaries, and several of them, astride their tharlarion, wore wind scarves, rather like those worn in the Tahari, protecting themselves from the dust of the journey. These served, as well, doubtless inadvertently, to conceal their features. I would have thought little of the passage of these mercenaries, what with so many hundreds about, here and there, coming and going, had I not recognized the slave at the leader's stirrup, and, indeed, later, one of the beauteous pack slaves. As I stood back, with others, off the road, as they passed, the leader, and the others, would not recognize me.

I had made inquiries tonight in Brundisium, of course, to ascertain the whereabouts of these fellows. I learned first what quarter of the city they had entered, and, later, what inns, hotels and taverns they might be patronizing. This was not difficult for most mercenaries in the vicinity of Brundisium were not quartered in the city but in the Cosian camp. Accordingly, they would not be entering the city with their units, but rather, if they entered it at all, as individuals, or in small groups.

"We present to you, Master," said one of two slaves, conducting a woman before my table, "a female."

The two slaves then removed their hands from the woman's arms, and deferentially knelt, on either side of the woman, who remained standing.

I indicated that the two slaves might leave and they did so. I then indicated that the woman might kneel, and she did so. There was a tiny, sensuous rustle of bells.

"You are belled," I said.

"Yes!" she whispered.

"Have you seen yourself?" I asked. "Did they show you to yourself?"

"Yes!" she said.

She might have been a paga slave. She had been made up, with slave cosmetics. On her forehead, suspended on a small tiny golden chain, there was a pearl droplet. About her neck, which wore no collar there were wound several necklaces, some dependent upon her even to her belly. On her upper left arm was coiled a serpentine armlet. Her body was ill concealed, clothed, if such be the word, in a bit of open-sided, diaphanous slave silk, suitable for a casual lifting aside. It was a slave garment, and would have well mocked the modesty of even a bond girl. As her thighs were bared, it could easily be seen that there was no brand there. How absurd, how incongruous this seemed! Her thigh seemed to cry out for the brand.

"Have you ever worn slave silk before?" I asked.

"No!" she said. "Of course not!"

"Some free women," I said, "purchase it secretly, and wear it in the privacy of their own compartments, sometimes weeping with need and sleeping at the foot of their own bed."

"How could you know such a thing?" she asked.

"From slavers," I said, "some of whom have caught the women there."

"I wanted to do that," she said, "but I lacked the courage."

"No matter," I said.

" 'No matter'?" she asked.

"No," I said, "A slaver could always put you in it, if he chose."

"Of course," she said.

"How do you like the feel of it on your body?" I asked.

"It is like nothing," she said, "and yet, frighteningly, something."

"Does it stimulate you?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "terribly so, far more so than I had ever anticipated it could."

"You are very beautiful in it," I said.

"Thank you," she said.

"You will note that it can be easily lifted aside."

"Yes," she said.

"Can you imagine what it would be if it were lifted aside?"

"Yes!" she said. "Every bit of me is alive! Even now my skin is flaming!"

"Do you know the perfume you wear?" I asked.

"It is a slave perfume," she said.

"Yes," I said. It was a heady perfume. It made me wish to reach across the table, seize her, and throw her upon it, and then, there, on that small, smooth, hard surface, put her to my pleasure, ravishing her publicly. "Do you know its name?" I asked.

"No," she whispered. She was, after all, a free woman.

"It is a well-known Cosian perfume," I said, " 'The Chains of Telnus'."

"I see," she whispered.

"Cosian masters sometimes enjoy putting women of Ar, their slaves, in it."

"You speak of it as though it were a collar," she said.

"In a sense, it is," I said.

"I cannot help it," she said. "It, too, like the silk, excites me!"

"That is its intention," said I, "woman of Ar."

"Doubtless there are many slave perfumes," she said.

"Yes," I said, "hundreds."

"I never thought to be put in one," she said.

"But you now are in one," I said.

"Yes," she whispered.

I surveyed her, as a master might have a slave.

"You regard me, boldly," she said.

"Your current appearance calls for candid, detailed perusal," I said.

"As might that of a slave," she said.

"Yes," I said.

On her left ankle was an anklet, locked, on which was affixed a row of tiny slave bells. Her wrists wore bracelets, and two of these, sturdy bracelets, one on each wrist, were locked in place and equipped with snap rings, permitting them to be joined together.

I smiled.

How widely she had spread her knees before me.

"Slave girls did this to me," she said. "They made me up in this fashion. They garbed and adorned me!"

"I ordered you prepared," I said.

"I see," she said.

"You are extremely attractive," I said.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"They did an excellent job with you," I said.

"Take me to an alcove!" she begged. "Please take me to an alcove!"

"The free woman," I inquired, "begs to be taken to an alcove, in a paga tavern?"

"Yes!" she said.

I looked about the main room, carefully. I did not see any of the fellows who had been in the vicinity of the small camp earlier, those who had presumably followed me from the area of the temporary camp to the tavern.

"Yes!" she said.

I pointed to the paga goblet on the table. I had hardly touched it.

Quickly, with a tiny sound of bells, and the small sounds of the necklaces and bracelets, the girl reached for the paga goblet. Then, kneeling there before me, her knees widely, piteously, opened, clad in a bit of slave silk, she kissed and licked deferentially, humbly, at the goblet. Then, head down, her arms extended, she proffered it to me.