Captive of Gor (43 page)

diaphanous silk. Always, about her left ankle, fastened, were two golden

bangles.

“Do you know who she is?” asked Ena, smiling.

“No,” I said. “Who is she?”

Ena smiled.

“El-in-or!” snapped Ute. “Get to the shed!”

I leaped up and, frightened, angry, fled through the camp to be locked in the

shed.

* * *

I would soon learn who the beautiful dark-haired girl was.

Verna had her own tent in the camp of Rask of Treve, though often, when he was

in camp, she dined with him. Sometimes, too, she would range beyond the

palisade, beyond which other girls were not permitted, to walk and hunt.

It was not infrequently that Verna requested that it be I who would tend her

tent, and prepare her food, and serve her. I, collared, did so, fearfully. But

she was not more cruel (pg. 301) to me than to any other female slave assigned

such servile duties. I effaced myself as much as possible, serving her as

unobtrusively and anonymously as I could. She tended to ignore me, as one would

a female work slave. I made certain I pleased her in all respects, for I greatly

feared her.

Then, one night, on a feast night, for Rask had returned with new fair

prisoners, Verna feasted in his own tent, and I, to my amazement, was ordered to

serve them. Other girls had prepared the repast, which, for the war camp, was

sumptuous indeed, containing even oysters from the delta of the Vosk, a portion

of the plunder of a tarn caravan of Ar, such delicacies having been intended for

the very table of Marlenus, the Ubar of that great city itself. I served the

food, and poured the wines, and kept their goblets filled, remaining as much in

the background as possible.

They talked of hunting, and war, and of the northern forests, as though I was

not there.

Sometimes Verna would say, “Drink,” and I would pour wine into her goblet,

saying, “Yes, Mistress,” and sometimes Rask of Treve would command me, saying

“Drink,” and I would then, similarly, serve him, saying “Yes, Master.”

Verna sat cross-legged, like a man. I knelt, as a serving slave.

She threw me one of the oysters.

“Eat, Slave,” she said.

I ate.

In so doing this, she, the guest, had signified that I might now feed. It is a

not uncommon Gorean courtesy, in such situations, to permit the guest to grant

the feeding permission to the slaves present.

“Thank you, Mistress,” I said.

Rask of Treve then threw me a piece of meat, that I might satisfy my hunger, for

I had not been fed.

With my hands I ate the meat, a collared slave, while the free persons drank,

and conversed.

Rask of Treve snapped his fingers. “Approach me, El-in-or,” he said.

I bolted down the meat. I approached him, across the low table behind which he

sat on the rugs.

(Pg. 302) He extended his goblet to me. “Drink,” he said, offering me the cup.

I looked at the rim of the cup. I shook with terror. “A slave girl dares not

touch with her lips the rim of that cup which has been touched with the lips of

her master,” I whispered.

“Excellent,” said Verna.

“She was trained in the pens of Ko-ro-ba,” said Rask of Treve.

He then, from his own cup, poured some wine into a small bowl, which he handed

to me.

“Thank You, Master,” I breathed.

With his head back Rask of Treve gestured me to one side, and I went and knelt

to one side, as I had before.

I put back my head and drank the wine. It was Ka-la-na wine. I felt it almost

immediately.

“I have a surprise for you,” Rask was telling Verna.

“Oh?” she asked.

I put down the wine cup, to one side.

Rask of Treve looked at me. He was in an expansive mood. He cut a large slice of

juicy bosk meat. My mouth watered. He smiled, and then he threw it to me. I

caught it, happily, and with two hands, began to feed on it.

“What is the surprise?” asked Verna.

Rask clapped his hands once, and four musicians, who had been waiting outside,

entered the tent. And took a place to one side. Two had small drums, one a

flute, the other a stringed instrument.

Rask clapped his hands twice, sharply. And the black-haired, green-eyed,

olive-skinned slave girl stood before him. “Put her in slave bells,” said Rask,

to one of the musicians. The musician fastened leather cuffs, mounted each with

three rows of bells, on her wrists and ankles.

“Please, Master,” begged the girl, “not before a woman.” She referred to Verna.

I was only a slave.

Rask of Treve threw the girl one of the oysters, from a silver plate on the low,

wooden table.

“Eat it,” he said.

(pg. 303) There was a rustle of slave bells. She complied with the dictum of her

master.

“It was destined for the table of Marlenus of Ar,” said Rask of Treve.

“Yes, Master,” said the girl.

She stood facing him.

Verna and I watched.

“Remove your garment,” said Rask of Treve.

“Please, Master,” she begged.

“Remove it,” said Rask of Treve.

The beautiful, olive-skinned girl parted the garment and dropped it to one side.

“You may now dance, Talena,” said Rask of Treve.

The girl danced.

“She is not bad,’ said Verna.

“Do you know who she is?” asked Rask of Treve, eating a piece of meat.

“No,” said Verna. “Who is she?”

“Talena,” said Rask, smiling, “the daughter of Marlenus of Ar.”

Verna looked at him, dumbfounded, and then she laughed a great laugh, and

slapped her knee. “Splendid!” she cried. “Splendid!”

She leaped to her feet and, closely, moving about her, examined the girl as she

danced, now slowly, to a barbaric, adagio melody. “Splendid!” cried Verna.

“Splendid!”

Now the melody became more swift, and it burned like flame in the girl’s slave

body.

“Give her to me!” cried Verna.

“Perhaps,” said Rask of Treve.

“I am the enemy of Marlenus of Ar!” cried Verna. “Give her to me!”

“I, too, am the enemy of Marlenus of Ar,” said Rask. He held out his goblet and

I, the meat on which I was feeding clenched between my teeth, filled it.

“I will well teach her the meaning of slavery in the northern forests!” cried

Verna.

I could see fear in the girl’s eyes, as she danced. I continued (pg. 304) to eat

the piece of meat on which I had been feeding.

She was beautiful and helpless as she danced, before her enemies. The firelight

glinted on her collar, which had been placed on her throat by Rask of Treve. But

I did not feel sorry for her. She was no business of mine. She was only another

slave.

“I have taught her something of slavery already,” smiled Rask of Treve.

The girl’s eyes seemed agonized, as she danced.

“How is she?” asked Verna, who had now again resumed her place, seating herself

cross-legged by Rask of Treve’s side.

“Superb,” said Rask of Treve.

Humiliation and shame shone in the eyes of the dancing slave girl.

“Where did you get her?’ asked Verna.

“I acquired her about a year ago,” said Rask of Treve, “from a merchant of

Tyros, who was traveling by caravan overland to Ar, with the intention of

returning her, for a recompense, to Marlenus of Ar.”

“What did she cost you?” asked Verna.

“I do not buy women,” said Rask of Treve.

I shuddered.

“It is marvelous!” cried Verna. “Your secret camp lies within the very realm of

Ar itself! Splendid! And in this camp you keep the daughter of your worst enemy,

the daughter of the Ubar of great Ar itself, as slave! Magnificent!”

I watched the girl dancing, the slave.

Rask clapped his hands again, twice, sharply. The musicians stopped, and the

girl stopped dancing. “This is enough, Slave Girl,” he said.

She turned to flee from the tent.

“Do not forget your garment, Girl,” said Verna.

The slave girl reached down and snatched up the bit of (pg. 305) red silk she

had dropped aside and, holding it, with a jangle of slave bells, fled from the

tent of her master.

Rask of Treve, and Verna, laughed.

I had finished my meat.

They again held out their goblets, and I again filled them.

“Tonight,” said Rask of Treve to me, “because we have brought in new prisoners,

there will be feasting and pleasure.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“So go to Ute,” he said, “and tell her to lock you in the shed.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“Why do you not give Talena to me?’ asked Verna, of Rask of Treve.

“Perhaps I shall,” said Rask of Treve. “I must think about it.”

I left the tent, to find Ute, to tell her to lock me in the shed.

* * *

The next day, for the first time, on a leash with another girl, Techne, a girl

of Cos, I was permitted beyond the palisade. A guard was with us, and we were

charged with filling our leather buckets with ram-berries, a small, reddish

fruit with edible seeds, not unlike tiny plums, save for the many small seeds. I

had picked such berries before, with Targo’s caravan. Indeed, the first fruit on

Gor I had eaten had been such berries.

I was pleased to be outside of the palisade. The day was beautifully warm, and I

felt happy.

I had often begged Ute to be permitted to go beyond the palisade to pick fruit.

But, always, she had, for some reason, forbidden me this permission. “I will not

escape,” I had assured her, irritably. “I know,” she had said. What then could

have been her objection? At last, she had yielded to my entreaties and permitted

me, leashed to Techne, to go beyond the stockade and pick berries. It was

glorious to be outside the stockade, even though fastened by a leather neck

strap to another girl. Moreover, today, two more female prisoners had been

brought in, girls who had been (pg. 306) fleeing from unwanted companionships,

arranged by their parents. There would be another feast, as there had been last

night, and this time Ute had told me that, if the berry picking went well, I

need not be locked in the shed early this night. I would be permitted, late, to

serve the feasters. I was pleased that the two girls had been captured.

“I suppose I must be placed in silk then,” I had said to Ute, angrily.

“And slave bells,” had added Ute.

How furious I had been!

“I do not wish to serve men,” I had told Ute. “Moreover, I do not wish to serve

them clad revealingly in a bit of silk and the bells of a slave girl!”

“Well,” said Ute, “you may, if you wish, remain in the shed.”

“I suppose it is not fair to the other girls,” I had said, “that I should be

permitted to remain in the shed while they are forced to serve, so clad and

belled.”

“Do you wish to serve or not?” has asked Ute.

“I will serve,” I had said, with an air of defeat.

“You will then be silked and belled,” she said.

“Very well,” I had said, dropping my head with resignation. I found myself

looking forward eagerly to the evening.

I am sure that I would be among the most beautiful of all the girls. I wondered,

if in silk and bells, Rask of Treve might notice me. How I hated him!

“But,” had said Ute, “if a man seizes you, you are not to yield yourself to him,

for you are white silk.”

A flash of irritation passed through me. “I am charged with the protection of my

market value?” I asked, ironically.

“Yes,” said Ute, matter-of-factly. “Though I, if I were a man, would pay more

for a red-silk girl.”

“I must do nothing,” I said, “to diminish the investment of Rask of Treve?”

“That is correct,” said Ute.

“What if I am simply seized, and my attacker is not prepared to listen to

reason?’ I asked.

(pg. 307) Ute laughed. It was the first time I had seen her laugh in the camp. I

was pleased I had made her laugh.

“Cry out,” said Ute, “and others will take you from him and get him a red-silk

girl.”

“All right,” I had said.

Ute had then said to the guard, “Leash her.” And I and Techne, leashed together,

had been taken from the stockade. “Be careful, El-in-or,” Ute had called after

me.

I did not understand her. “All right,” I had called back to her.

I now felt a tug on the neck strap. “Hurry, El-in-or,” said Techne. “We must be

back soon! Our buckets are not half filled!

I was irritated with Techne. She was young. She was a lovely slave, though fresh

to the collar.

The sun was warm and its heat went through me, and I stretched happily.

When neither the guard nor Techne were looking I stole berries from her buckets,

to put in mine, handfuls. Why should I work as hard as she? Also, when they were

not looking, I placed berries in my mouth, taking care that the juices not stain

my lips, revealing that I had eaten them. I had done this sort of thing often

before, when I had picked berries for Targo’s caravan. Ute and the guard had

never seen. I had fooled them all. I was too clever for them!

At last our buckets were all full, and we returned tot he camp of Rask of Treve.

The guard handed our buckets to other girls to be taken to the kitchen shed, and

he then unleashed us.

“El-in-or, Techne,” said Ute, “follow me.”

We did so.

She took us to that part of the camp near the horizontal pole, some nine feet

high, resting across the two pairs of crossed poles, rather like a pole for