Kajira of Gor (16 page)

I clearly understood, in the loneliness of my quarters, slept at the lower end

of the great couch, near the slave ring, and sometimes, seemingly almost unable

to belp myself, had knelt beside it in the darkness, and kissed it.

“The wagon is moving now,” I said. The grain wagons had passed it. It was now,

again, pulling toward the center of the road, the high iron-rimmed wheels

trundling on the stone, seeking the long, shallow, shiny, saucerlike ruts,

polished in the stone by the earlier passage of countless vehicles. I had

“It is natural for slavers to wish to get the highest possible prices for their

girls,” he said.

“Of course,” I said.

I could not see the wagon now. It was somewhere below the wall.

I straightened myself on the riser, behind the parapet.

drew a deep breath. flow pletsed I was that I was freel How dreadful, how

horrifying, it would be to be merely a lowly slave!

“You seem nervous today, Drusus,” I said.

“Forgive me, Lady Sheila,” he said.

“Is there anything wrong?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“What is that sound from within your cloak,” I asked, “as of metal?”

“Nothing,” said he.

One of the tarns moved on the perch, several feet to our right. I did not wish

to approach too closely to such things. I wondered why Drusus had brought me to

this particular place on the wall. The proximity of the tarns made it less

pleasant than it might otherwise have been. the view, however, as I had

remarked, was lovely.

“You do not think much of me, do you, Drusus?” I asked.

“I do not understand,” he said, startled.

“You think that I am petty and ignoble, don’t you?”

“I receive my fees for guarding Lady Sheila,” he said, “not for forming opinions

as to her character.”

“Do you like me?” I asked.

“Having suggested that I might think little of you, and might regard you as

pretty and ignoble, now you inquire if I might like you?” lie smiled.

“It is not impossible,” I said.

He smiled.

“Do you?” I asked.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“No,” I said, angrily. “Of course notl”

“Then,” he smiled, “there is no point in answering.”

“Do you?” I asked, angrily.

“I am paid to guard you,” he said, “not to consider any personal feelings, one

way or another, which I might have towards you.”

“One way or another?” I asked, angrily.

“Yes,” he said.

“You despise and hate me!” I said.

“I could find it easy to despise you,” he said, “and, at one time, from all that

I had heard of the Tatrix of Corcyrus, and know of her governance of the city, I

would have thought it would also be easy to hate you, but now, now that I have

met you, I could not honestly say that I hate you.”

“How flatteringl” I remarked.

“Your official self and your personal self, or your public and private selves,

seem quite different,” he said.

“Perhaps,” I said, irritably.

‘It is doubtless that way with many people,” he said.

“Doubtless,” I said.

He looked from one side to the other, along the walk behind the parapet. For

most practical purposes we were alone on the wall. The nearest people, a couple,

were better than a hundred yards away, to our left. He looked again then to the

tarns. Then he looked at me. Then, angrily, he looked out, over the parapet. His

fists were clenched.

I, too, looked out, over the parapet. I could feel tears in my eyes. I wanted to

please Drusus Rencius. I wanted, desperately, for- him to like me. Yet

everything I did or said seemed to be wrong. Then I was very angry with myself.

It did not matter. I was not a slave at his feet, half naked in a collar,

fearful of his whip, piteously suing for the least sign of his favor. I was a

Tatrix. He was only a guard, nothing! I wondered, shuddering, what it would be

to be the slave of such a man. I did not think he would be weak with me. I

thought that he would, like any typical Gorean master, keep me under perfect

discipline.

“I enjoyed the czehar concert,” I said, lightly.

“Good,” he said.

The czehar is a long, low, rectangular instrument. It is played, held across the

lap. It has eight strings, plucked with a horn pick. It had been played by

Lysander of Aspericbe.

The concert had taken place two nights ago in the small theater of Kleitos, off

the square of Perimines.

“The ostraka were quite expensive, weren’t they?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

It was quite commonly the case, I had learned, that for a concert by Lysander

one could not buy admission at the gate, but must present ostraka purchased

earlier in one of the market places or squares. These were apparently originally

shells or pieces, shards, of pottery, but now were generally small clay disks,

with a hole for a string near one edge. These were fired in a kiln, and glazed

on one side. The glazing’s colorations and patterns are difficult to duplicate

and serve in their way as an authentication for the disk, the glazings differing

for different performances or events. The unglazed back of the disk bears the

date of the event or performance and a sign indicating the identity of the

original vendor, the agent authorized to sell them to the public. Some of these

disks, also, on the back, include a seat location. Most seating, however, in

Gorean theaters, except for certain privileged sections, usually reserved for

high officials or the extremely wealthy, is on a first-come-first-served basis.

These ostraka, on their strings, about the necks of their owners, make

attractive pendants. Some are worn even long after the performance or event in

question, perhaps to let people know that one was fortunate enough to have been

the witness of a particular event or performance, or perhaps merely because of

their intrinsic aesthetic value. Some people keep them as souvenirs.

Others collect them, and buy and sell them, and trade them.

If the event or performance is an important one, and the ostraka are limited,

their number being governed by the seating capacity of the structure or area in

question, it is unlikely that they will be publicly displayed until after the

event or performance. It is too easy to snatch them from about the neck in the

market place. Too, sometimes rich men have been known to set ruffians on people

to obtain them.

Needless to say some profiteering occasionally takes place in connection with

the ostraka, a fellow buying a few for a given price and then trying to sell

them for higher prices later outside, say, the stadium or theater.

“How much did they cost?” I asked.

“Together,” he said, “a silver tarsk.”

“That is more, I recall,” I said, “than you thought I might go for if I were

sold for myself alone, as a slave.”

“Yes,” he said.

I stiffened, somewhat angrily.

“Lady Sheila must remember that she is not trained in the intimate and delicious

arts of the female slave.”

“Arts?” I inquired.

“Yes,” said he, “the complex, subtle and sensuous arts of being pleasing, fully,

to a man.”

“I see,” I said.

“It is natural,” be said, “that some women will bring much higher prices than

others.

“Of course,” I said, irritably.

“Some women,” he said, “do not even know the floor movements of an aroused,

pleading slave.”

“They must indeed be stupid,” I said. I had no idea, of course, what they might

be.

“I do not think they are necessarily stupid,” he said, “merely ignorant, perhaps

because untrained, or perhaps merely because they have not yet been awakened

sexually, have not yet been forced to feel the slave fires in their belly, have

not yet, by strong men, been made the helpless victims of their own

now-enkindled needs

“I thought Lysander played well,” I said.

“He is regarded as one of the finest czehar players on all Gor,” said Drusus

Rencius, dryly.

“Oh,” I said. I felt so stupid. It seemed I could do nothing right with Drusus

Rencius.

I looked out, again, over the fields.

“Is Lady Sheila all right?” inquired Drusus Rencius.

“Yes,” I said.

The last few days had been full - ones. Aside from the markets and bazaars, and

the theaters in the evening, I had seen much else of Corcyrus as well. It had

been pleasant to walk through the cool halls of the libraries, with their

thousands of scrolls organized and cataloged, and through the galleries on the

avenue of lphicrates. The fountains in the squares, too, were impressive. It was

almost hard for me to remember that they were not merely ornaments to the city

but that they also, in the Gorean manner, served a very utilitarian purpose. To

them most people must come, bearing vessels, for their water. Some of the

smaller fountains were worn down on the right side of their rim. That was where

right-handed people would rest their hand, leaning over to drink. I particularly

enjoyed the public gardens. Given the plantings flowers in them, of one sort or

another, are in bloom almost all of the year. Here, too, are many winding and

almost secluded paths. In them, combined, one finds color, beauty and, in many

sections, if one wishes it, privacy.

I knew few of the flowers and trees. Drusus Rencius, to my surprise, whenever I

was in doubt, could supply me with the name. Goreans, it seemed, paid attention

to their environment. It means something to them. They live in it. How few

children of Earth, I thought, are taught the names and kinds of the trees and

shrubs, the plants, the insects and birds, which surround them constantly. I was

also surprised to find that Drusus Rencius seemed genuinely fond of flowers. I

would not have expected, given my Earth background, that a man of his obvious

power and competence could care for anything, and so deeply, as innocent,

delicate and soft as a flower. At one secluded point in one of the gardens I bad

paused and, pretending to adjust my veil, had stood quite close to Drusus

Rencius, but he bad stepped back, and looked away. tic had not kissed me. I had

then, angrily, refastened my veil. I wondered why he had not kissed me. Was it

because I was a Tatrix? I wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. I

wondered if he might, touching my lips, I in his arms, helplessly held there,

suddenly rape my lips with his kiss, and then, unable to help himself, hurl me

to his feet, crouching over me then ferociously, to remove my robes and force me

to his service.

I felt the wind, over the parapet, move my veil.

I bad enjoyed these days with Drusus Rencius but, at night, returned to my

quarters, I would often be restless and lonely. At such times, though I did not

confess this to Drusus, nor even to Susan, I would feel helpless, weak and

needful. I had formed the habit, for no reason I clearly understood, of sleeping

near the foot of the couch or near the ring. I would sometimes lie there

miserably, twisting and turning, almost sobbing, afflicted with helpless

feelings and strange, troubling emotions that I could scarcely begin to

understand. I did not know what was wrong with me. I knew only that I felt

empty, miserable and unfulfilled.

Drusus Rencius occasionally took me to see various portions of local games.

These involved such things as races, javelin hurling and stone throwing. I would

usually stay for an event or two and then leave. On the whole I found such games

boring. When I wished to leave, or change my location, to see something

different, he always deferred to my wishes. I was, after all, the Tatrix and he

was, after all, only my guard. From one set of contests, however, I could not,

to his surprise, be budged. I bad sat on the tiers, close to the fenced

enclosure, thrilled. These were contests of sheathed swords, the sheaths chalked

with red, so that hits might be noted. The contestants were sturdy men, stripped

to the waist, in half tunics, bronzed and handsome, with rippling muscles.

As they thrust at one another and fended blows, moving with great speed and

skill, in their swift passages, under the watchful eye of the referee, backed by

two independent scorers, I could scarcely conjecture what would be involved in

actual swordplay, with steel unencumbered with sheaths. I was terrified to

consider it. And women, I thought, must abide its outcome. On a cement disk,

about “a foot high and five feet in diameter, on the opposite side of the

enclosure, as though in symbolism of this, a young, naked woman was chained. The

chain was on her neck and ran to, a ring anchored in the center of the disk. It

was long enough to permit her to stand comfortably which, sometimes, she did.

Most of the time, however, she sat or lay, almost catlike, on the disk, watching

the fighting. Her body was slim and well formed. Her hair was brightly red and,

when she stood, it fell almost to her knees. When the contests had begun she had

not seemed particularly interested in them, but, as they had proceeded, she bad

become more and more attentive. She was now watching them with great closeness.

She was the prize. She would be given to the victor. “Do you wish to leave now?”

Drusus Rencius had asked once, during an interval between passages.