Plunder of Gor (43 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

“That is interesting,” said Kurik of Victoria.

“I thought you would be interested,” I said. “I had never thought to see her again.”

“I would not have thought so, either,” he said.

“I recall you so speculated,” I said, as I cleared the dishes of our simple repast.

“And Ar,” he said, “is so large a city, and we are here so briefly.”

“You do remember her, do you not?” I said.

“Of course,” he said. “Who could forget such a beauty?”

“‘Such a beauty'?” I said.

“Of course,” he said.

“I know something you do not know,” I said, lightly.

“You doubtless know many things I do not know,” he said.

“She was sent to Ar shortly after arriving on this world,” I said, “and sold in the Curulean, from the Central Block.”

“I am not surprised,” he said.

“It has been speculated,” I said, “that I might bring two silver tarsks at auction.”

He need not know that the speculation was mine. What did that matter? Surely I thought I was worth at least two silver tarsks, and perhaps more. Why not? Had I not been lovely even on Earth? And I was now in a Gorean collar! Too, had I not seen men regard me, as though I might be a two-tarsk girl?

“It is easy to speculate,” he said.

“Perhaps Master concurs,” I ventured.

“Perhaps,” he said, “in some auction, where slaves are scarce.”

“Am I not worth two silver tarsks?” I asked.

“You might bring that,” he said, “in one market or another, where slave raids are infrequent, and the walls of cities have held.”

“Please, Master,” I said, plaintively.

“Very well,” he said. “I conceive it possible that you might go for two silver tarsks.”

“Well,” I said, “Paula, with whom you were so impressed, went for but a single coin.”

I waited, for his response.

“I am not surprised,” he said.

“I thought you might be,” I said.

“Not at all,” he said. “You mentioned that she was a display slave of Decius Albus.”

“Yes,” I said.

“The trade advisor to the Ubar?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Then I am not surprised,” he said, “for the wealth and taste of Decius Albus, high counselor to the Ubar, trade advisor to the Ubar, are well known in Ar, as is the quality of his display slaves. He never pays less than eight silver tarsks for a slave. If your Paula sold for a single coin it would have been a gold tarsk, or a gold tarn, probably a gold tarsk. A gold tarsk is usually valued at ten silver tarsks, and a gold tarn, in today's market, might well purchase two draft tarns, a racing tarn or a war tarn.”

“Oh,” I said.

“She herself suggested a rendezvous at the fountain of Aiakos?” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “Master.”

“Not you?”

“No,” I said.

“That is far,” he said, “from the market of Cestias, from the Central Cylinder, from the Plaza of Tarns.”

“Yes,” I said.

“But not far from Emerald,” he said.

“No,” I said.

“You are a little fool,” he said, “but I would grant you that your flanks are not without interest.”

“Master?” I said.

“Did you not think it strange that a display slave should be loose in the streets of Ar, not on a chain following a borne palanquin, not reclining on flower petals or luxurious furs, on the steps before a curule chair, not shut within a pleasure garden?”

“I did not think of it,” I said.

“Be careful of the dishes,” he said. “Do not drop any. I do not wish to switch you now. I must think.”

“Our meeting,” I said, “was not a coincidence?”

“Do not be absurd,” he said.

“I know Paula,” I said. “She was as surprised as I.”

“Why do you think she suggested the fountain of Aiakos?” he asked.

“I mentioned it first,” I said. “And it is a well-known fountain. It is much frequented. It is a familiar meeting place. Even free persons have trysts in its vicinity.”

“That is possible,” he said. “Too, as she is doubtless highly intelligent, she may have wished a rendezvous in a popular place where two slaves might attract little attention, and, more importantly, one far from the Central Cylinder and the Plaza of Tarns, where she might be recognized.”

“I am sure that is it,” I said.

“And it is on Emerald,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Near the housing of Lord Grendel,” he said.

“She did not know that,” I said.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Why was she loose on the streets?” he asked.

“I do not know,” I said.

“She is a slave,” he said. “She was instructed, or manipulated.”

“It was all a coincidence,” I said.

“I do not think so,” he said. “I am sure she was released, with the speculation of such an encounter, perhaps even commanded, on some pretext, to make her way to the market.”

“It was surely a coincidence,” I said.

“Do not be concerned,” he said. “It is quite possible that she is as innocent as you.”

“As I?” I said.

“Why do you think I ordered you, for three days now, to frequent the central portions of the city, the Central Cylinder, the Plaza of Tarns, the market of Cestias, and such?”

“That I might become more familiar with the city,” I said.

“To allow a contact to be made,” he said, “which contact now, obviously, has been made.”

“I do not understand,” I said.

“As Tyrtaios used you to locate me,” he said, “so might another, and as easily.”

“To do you harm?” I said, frightened.

“Perhaps to do me assistance,” he said.

“I was well manipulated,” I said.

“You are a slave,” he said.

“We are pieces on a kaissa board,” I said.

“And pieces,” he said, “of little value.”

“I see,” I said.

“But still,” he said, “you might bring two silver tarsks. It is hard to know.”

I began to attend to the washing of the dishes, in the washing pan.

“Stop crying,” he said. “I must think.”

“Forgive me, Master,” I sobbed.

“Perhaps I will caress you later,” he said.

“Master may do with me as he wishes,” I said. “I am his slave.”

“We came quickly to Ar,” he said. “The enemy, the three Kurii, carrying the captive female, Eve, must proceed more slowly, and more judiciously. They would not wish their presence to be broadly known. It would stir notice, interest, and, doubtless, alarm. And they must house their captive. I conjecture then they have not yet contacted Lord Grendel.”

“For what purpose would they contact Lord Grendel?” I asked.

“They must have some purpose, some dark purpose,” he said. “But what it may be is not clear to me.”

“You suspect they have confederates in Ar?” I said.

“Of course,” he said. “And I suspect, further, that word of the doings in the house of Flavius Minor has already reached Ar, perhaps even the steel world of Lord Arcesilaus.”

“From the fire,” I said, “from the fled men of the house of Flavius Minor?”

“Borne, perhaps, if not otherwise,” he said, “by a single tarnsman.”

“Master Tyrtaios?” I said.

“Possibly,” he said.

I placed the last dish in the wooden drying rack.

“From your encounter this afternoon,” he said, “it is clear Decius Albus is somehow involved in this matter.”

“He is in league with Kurii?” I said.

“Clearly,” he said, “but with what faction, that of Lord Arcesilaus, or Lord Agamemnon?”

“Lord Agamemnon?” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“That is the name,” I said, “of a Greek king.”

“An Argive king,” said Kurik, my master, “a name chosen doubtless with something in mind.”

“It is not his true name,” I said.

“Of course not,” he said. “We could not pronounce his true name, no more than we could pronounce the true name of Lord Arcesilaus, or Lord Grendel, or the Kur name of Eve.”

“Should we not attempt to contact Lord Grendel?”

“We do not have the female,” he said. “What credential might we proffer? Why should he believe what we might say?”

“It might be dangerous?” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “he might tear off our heads.”

“What are we to do now?” I asked.

“Nothing now,” he said.

“‘Nothing now'?” I said.

“No,” he said, “but tomorrow, as though nothing had occurred, you will resume your customary duties.”

“My customary duties?” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “such as drawing water at the fountain of Aiakos.”

“They would contact you through me?” I said.

“I think so,” he said. “Slaves are often used for such purposes. Recourse to an intermediary is likely to be judicious. A slave is less likely to attract attention, or be suspected. Too, he who has made contact through your Paula may not know my location.”

“Why would they wish to contact you?” I said.

“If our friend, Decius Albus, is of the faction of Lord Arcesilaus,” he said, “doubtless to welcome me to Ar, to offer me instruction, and abet my cause.”

“And if he is not of the faction of Lord Arcesilaus?” I said.

“Then,” said he, “doubtless to assure himself that I will not interfere with certain plans.”

“How might he assure himself of that?” I asked.

“How do you think?” he said.

“I see,” I said, shuddering.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “as though nothing had happened, fetch water at the fountain of Aiakos.”

“Master will not withdraw from the dark games?” I said.

“No,” he said.

“I am afraid,” I said.

“That is acceptable,” he said. “You will not be switched for that.”

“Flee, withdraw!” I begged.

“Do not be foolish,” he said.

“Please!” I begged.

“No,” he said.

“Please, Master!” I said.

“Are you importunate?” he asked.

“I trust not,” I said.

“For that you can be switched,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“The matter is then closed,” he said.

“I cannot prevail upon you?” I said.

“No,” he said.

“Please,” I wept.

“Beware,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I wept, lowering my head. He had spoken. My will was nothing. He was master. I was slave.

I feared I had displeased him.

“Master,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“I would be caressed,” I whispered.

“You beg attention?” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“Spread the slave mat on the floor,” he said.

This took but a moment. I then knelt beside it, head down, waiting.

“Prepare yourself for being used as what you are, a slave,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I put down the wooden pail, which I had just filled.

“What is wrong?” asked Paula. “Dear Phyllis, there is something wrong!”

“No,” I said.

“Here, to the side,” said Paula, concerned.

“No,” I said. “I must return, soon, to my master.”

“Surely there is time,” said Paula.

“How promptly this rendezvous takes place,” I said.

“Surely you do not object,” she said.

“We met but yesterday,” I said.

“To my joy,” she said.

“I did not expect our rendezvous to occur so soon,” I said.

“Surely you are as pleased to see me, as I you,” said Paula.

“It seems you are free of your house again, so soon,” I said.

“Are you angry, are you frightened?” asked Paula, troubled.

“No,” I said. “I thought you a display slave.”

“I have served so,” she said.

“I am surprised that a display slave could so easily slip her chains,” I said.

“A girl does not slip her chains,” she said. “You are well aware of that. Have you not worn them, felt their weight, felt them clasp your limbs, your throat, so obdurately? Do you think you could slip them? What is wrong with you this morning?”

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“To see you, dear Phyllis,” she said.

“You are far from the house of Decius Albus,” I said.

“I have a coin,” she said. “I was sent to the Teiban market, to buy tur-pah.”

“May I see the coin?” I said.

“Surely,” she said, holding out her hand, opened, in the palm of which lay a copper tarsk-bit, “but why?”

“You are far from the Teiban market,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, “and at considerable risk to myself, to see you, to keep our rendezvous.”

“I see,” I said. Of course, I thought. Decius Albus would see to it that she had a coin, to add credence to her story.

“Are you angry?” she asked. “Have I somehow offended you?”

“How is it that you are free in the city, to wander about?” I said.

“Many slaves are free in the city,” she said, “as you are.”

“I am not a display slave,” I said. “I am not a prize slave. I did not sell for a golden tarsk, or tarn!”

“I did not tell you that!” she said.

“It is common knowledge,” I said, “that Decius Albus will not buy a cheap slave, any who might go appropriately for less than eight silver tarsks.”

“It was only a golden tarsk,” she said. “The bidding must have been irrational. The agent of Master Decius was doubtless inattentive or incompetent. You are far more beautiful than I.”

“If you are so valuable, such a beauty,” I said, “why are you loose, marketing?”

“For weeks,” she said, “I pleaded to be a common slave, to serve in the house, in the kitchen, outside in the garden, anywhere, but free from the misery and sadness of the display chain.”

“And your pleas,” I said, “were acceded to, I take it, but recently.”

“Yes,” she said. “Only three days ago.”

“I see,” I said.

“But I am still a display slave,” she said. “My new service, that of a house slave, is yet on probation, to see if I might prove satisfactory as a house slave.”

“I am sure you will do so, splendidly,” I said.

“That is my hope,” she said.

“What were you doing yesterday, at the market of Cestias?” I asked.

“It is the season for tospits,” she said. “I was sent there to assess their quality, for this early in the season.”

“And we met by chance?” I said.

“Surely,” she said. “What is wrong with you, Phyllis? Do you not believe me? How could it be otherwise? Do not be inexplicably bitter. Do you suspect something? Do not! I am your friend, even from Earth. Let us not be rancorous. Let us, rather, rejoice, as yesterday. How marvelous to be reunited, to see one another again! What joy! We were so happy yesterday! Have I done something wrong? Tell me, tell me, I beg of you, dear Phyllis.”

“No,” I said. “You have done nothing wrong. Of course not. How could that be?”

“You are changed today,” she said. “It is not my fault I sold for a golden tarsk. Do not be angry! Do not hate me! You are far more beautiful than I! I am the first to insist on that. Surely it was a mistake.”

“Men have eyes,” I said.

Tears were running down Paula's cheeks.

“Doubtless you serve your master well,” I said.

“We must,” she said, puzzled.

“I congratulate you on escaping the collar of a display slave,” I said.

“I have not yet escaped it,” she said. “I may be returned to the chain. Why are you angry?”

“I am not angry,” I said.

“It is not my fault I sold for a golden tarsk,” she said.

“Of what interest could that be to anyone?” I asked.

“Hopefully of no interest, to anyone,” she said.

“Doubtless you performed well on the block,” I said.

“The auctioneer had a whip,” she said.

“I expect, in any event,” I said, “you would have done your best to influence buyers.”

“Yes,” she said, “as would you, lovely Phyllis. We are not free women. We are slaves. We want masters. We need masters.”

“Of course,” I said.

“Let the whip snap,” she said, “and you would writhe, and beg, as desperately and piteously as any other vended property, as any other toy offered for the sport of masters.”

“Perhaps,” I said. Certainly I knew I would strive to excite the interest of Kurik of Victoria. And then, too, I sensed how my needs might build up within me, now that my slave fires had been kindled, so much so that I would hasten to lick and kiss the feet of any Gorean master, and perhaps even a man of Earth, though I doubted they would know what to do with a slave at their feet.

“I do not understand you this morning,” she said. “We were so happy yesterday! I have risked much coming here, this morning, away from the Teiban market.”

“Perhaps,” I said, “you have a message for me?”

“Only,” she said, “that I am your friend, that I hold you in affection, that I care for you, that you are dear to me, that you are so dear to me!”

“Do you wish to know where I am caged?” I asked.

“Only if you care to tell me,” she said. “What is wrong with you?”

“Perhaps you would like to accompany me to my domicile?” I said.

“There is no time,” she said. “I may be beaten now. I have dallied overlong. I may be returned to the display chain!”

“Do not let me detain you,” I said.

“Phyllis!” she said.

“I must return to my master,” I said, and turned from her.

“Phyllis!” she cried.

I lifted the bucket, which was heavy, and began to make my way from the fountain, but, of course, not toward my master's temporary rental on Emerald. I must take care that I not be followed.

“Phyllis!” she called after me, once more, plaintively, her voice now well back of me.

I continued on my way, paying her no attention. I did turn about once, after a bit, however, and, to my satisfaction, saw her in the distance, turned away, making her way from the fountain. She was not following me. She was hurrying, perhaps fearing to be late in her return to the house of Decius Albus. Something in her carriage, or gait, hastening, yet uncertain, unsteady, suggested she was miserable, or distraught. Perhaps she was upset that her rendezvous had not been as successful as she might have hoped. Perhaps she would be beaten in the house, when she returned. I hoped not, however, for she had been my friend.

I continued to take a circuitous route to my master's rental. The water was heavy.

In one way I was pleased at the morning's business, but, in another way, frightened. I was pleased that I had not given away the location of my master's domicile, and was eluding any possible pursuit, but, in another way, I was frightened as I had been given no message to convey to my master, for it seemed clear, then, that Decius Albus, whose business Paula was discharging, was no ally of my master. I took him then to be of the party of Lord Agamemnon, and, perhaps, privy to the plot my master supposed was being contrived against Lord Grendel.

I continued on.

I stopped frequently, for the pail seemed to grow ever more heavy. By now, had I proceeded directly, I would have been at my master's rental.

My arms ached.

I stopped, again.

“You have put too much water in the pail, kajira,” said a male voice, concerned.

Instantly I fell to my knees, head down, but, a moment later, looking up, embarrassed, rose to my feet.

“You are obviously too slight for a draft slave,” he said. “You should carry less water, or use a yoke, with two lesser buckets, or each half-filled.”

“I have no yoke,” I said.

“You must have a cruel master,” he said, “to burden so fair a slave so grievously.”

I smiled.

“He is strict,” I said, “but not unkind.”

“One so lovely as you,” he said, “should not be so cruelly laden.”

I fear I blushed. In a slave tunic the exposed portions of one's body, which in a slave tunic are considerable, color.

“What a beautiful smile,” he said. “You must have brought a very high price.”

I put my head down.

Yes, I thought, or, at least, I should have brought a higher price than I commonly did. Surely I was worth at least two silver tarsks, perhaps even three!

“I have not seen you about,” he said.

“Only recently,” I said, “has my master come to Ar.”

“I am sorry for you,” he said, “that you should be so mistreated.”

“I am only a slave,” I said, softly, head down, demurely.

“Our masters can be cruel,” he said.

“Yes,” I agreed.

He was a handsome fellow, in his tunic and collar, bronzed, with fine thighs, and strong arms. He was dark-haired and brown-eyed. It was a bright day, and the street was public. I did not think he would take me by the arm and force me into a doorway, or alley. How like a gentleman he seemed! How gentle, and concerned, he was. How different from a master! Was he not like a man of Earth? Too, it could be dangerous for him to do so, to handle or seize me, or force me to his pleasure, for we belong to the free. Trysts between slaves are clandestine, and fraught with peril. We may be bred, of course, but such crossings are wholly at the discretion of the masters. Such fine handsome slaves, of course, are not unoften noticed by free women, who may even buy them. On the other hand, in the law of Ar, and several other cities, the free woman who pleasures herself with a male slave risks her own enslavement, and becoming the property of the slave's master.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“‘Phyllis', I said. “What is yours?”

“Drusus,” he said.

“You are barbarian, are you not?” he asked.

“I fear so,” I said. “But, I beg you, despise me not!”

“I would not do so,” he said. “Barbarians are marvelous. I am fond of them. They sell well. And many of them, such as you, are every bit as beautiful, as desirable, and exciting, as a native-born Gorean kajira.”

I looked down, pleased, flustered. I fear I blushed once more.

“But you are cruelly overburdened,” he said.

“Mayhap,” I said, “a little.”

“Clearly,” he said, “you are exhausted, you are grievously fatigued.”

“My arms are a little tired,” I said.

“Surely your body aches,” he said.

“A little,” I said.

“I am strong,” he said. “For me the bucket is light. Permit me to carry it for you. For me it is nothing.”

He reached down and lifted the bucket, and, in one hand, raised it up and down, easily, three or four times, beside him.

“See?” he said.

“You are strong,” I said.

“Permit me to help you,” he said.

“You are very kind,” I said.

“Please,” he said.

“If you wish,” I said. “It is not far to my master's domicile. But you must not permit him to see you.”

“We will be careful,” he said.