Plunder of Gor (56 page)

That there were only five glasses on the tray suggested that either Lord Grendel's presence had not been expected, from the beginning, or that the number of free persons to be served had been discreetly ascertained, perhaps by means of a viewing panel. Had I known more of Gor, a more frightful interpretation might have occurred to me. It is extremely dangerous to serve paga, or ka-la-na, or other such beverages, to a Kur. Would one, say, give paga to a larl or sleen?

“Paula!” I thought to myself.

She was sandaled, even indoors. The sandals had golden straps. Her collar was a fine one, close about her neck. Her tunic was of yellow silk, brief, low-cut, and slashed at both hips. There was no doubt it garbed a slave. Her dark hair was knotted at the back of her neck. When such a knot is undone by a master, and the hair, loosened, falls about her shoulders, the slave is in little doubt that she will soon serve to slake, and well slake, her master's lusts, and as the obedient, comely beast she is.

She, head down, placed the tray on the table, at the empty place. I do not think she had seen me, kneeling, near my master.

Clearly Decius Albus was perusing the slave.

I supposed that Paula might not be all that plain, really, all things considered. Certainly some men had seemed to find her of interest.

“I do not recall this girl,” he said. “Perhaps I have not seen her before. She is lovely enough to be a display slave.”

I did not care for the notion of a display slave. What slave does not wish to be the single slave of one master?

“She has been a display slave,” said Drusus Andronicus. “She is now in the common bondage of a house slave.”

“How long have we owned her?” inquired Decius Albus.

“Since the Curulean sales of En'Kara,” said Drusus.

The En'Kara sales are associated with the time of the vernal equinox on Gor, which, too, is when the Goreans, rather as nature, begin their new year. The Curulean is the major auction house in Ar. It is regarded as a great honor for a girl to be sold in the Curulean, even from a minor block. I recalled that Paula had been marketed from the central block. I was not, however, in the least bit, jealous of her in this respect. Men may do as they wish with us. We are slaves. The harvesters of slaves on Earth, as I understand it, often coordinate their operations with the Gorean calendar. For example, spring tends to be an attractive time to buy livestock, including slaves. Accordingly, the actual acquisitions of earlier-selected merchandise are often timed to allow for transportation and training prior to a given, projected sale, at one time or another, in one market or another. A girl, in the view of the slavers, becomes a slave when she is placed on a harvesting list. Her actual acquisition may not take place for months. Thus, interestingly, from this point of view, a girl may be a slave and not know she is a slave. Perhaps you are such a girl. Then she finds herself naked in a Gorean pen, with chains on her fair limbs. Should she remain in doubt, the collar, and her brand, will make the matter clear.

“What do we call her?” asked Decius Albus.

“‘Paula',” said Drusus Andronicus.

“A barbarian name,” said Decius Albus.

“She is barbarian, noble Albus,” said Drusus.

Paula, humbly, head down, placed the first tiny glass before Decius Albus, who was her master.

“Next, dear,” said Decius Albus, “our noble guest, Tenrik of Siba.”

The Lady Alexina drew back, angrily. She held the shaft of her parasol in two hands. Her knuckles were white.

“Forgive me, lady,” said Decius Albus, “he is our honored guest.”

“Of course,” smiled the Lady Alexina.

As a free woman, she had expected to receive precedence, after the master. And what slave girl would dare not serve her master first?

Paula put one of the small glasses before my master. She saw me, I think then for the first time. Her hand shook. The glass touched the table twice, rather than once, gently.

“Careful,” whispered Drusus.

How shaken Paula seemed, to see me here.

“Yes,” I thought. “It is I, on my knees, while you are standing.”

“What is wrong, Paula?” asked Drusus.

“She is surprised,” said Kurik. “These two knew one another on the Slave World. They were brought here in the same lot.”

“What a difference,” said Decius Albus.

I did not care for this observation.

Paula then placed the third glass before the Lady Alexina.

“Her tunic is a bit short, is it not?” inquired the Lady Alexina.

I was pleased that she was as exposed as she was. I had rather resented the modest tunic she had worn in the streets. She was a slave. Let her be exposed as one, as others! To be sure, she was now in the house. Perhaps she should have been grateful to have been permitted clothing. Then I scorned myself. We were slaves, not free women. How excited and pleased we were to be slaves, free to rejoice in our attractiveness, free to revel in our beauty and its power, well aware of its effect on ourselves and others, no longer permitted, lest we be whipped, the curbs and checks, the ten thousand constraints and inhibitions, of the free woman. The collar freed us, giving us no choice but to be ourselves, slaves. Then I remembered that a free woman was present.

“Forgive us, fine lady,” said Decius Albus, “but our guest, the esteemed Tenrik of Siba, is male.”

“I fail to understand,” said the Lady Alexina, clutching the parasol, so anomalous an accoutrement under the circumstances, “what men can see in slaves. What useless, worthless things they are.”

“They do have their purposes,” said Decius Albus.

“Undoubtedly,” she said.

Paula glanced at Drusus, who indicated that Tyrtaios would be the next before whom a glass would be placed. After this, she placed the last glass before Drusus, as though he might have been her master, which behavior, happily, was not noted by Decius Albus.

In any event, Paula, happily, was not subjected to the attentions of the Gorean slave lash.

Paula then, in the same order in which she had placed the glasses, filled each, something like a third full.

How precious then, I thought, must be the beverage!

“I shall not propose a toast,” said Decius Albus, “as I am unsure we share a common sentiment, but let us drink, as might friends.”

My master swirled the tiny ruby lake enclosed within its crystal shores, observed it, and then took its scent, as though it might have been a tiny bouquet of dinas. He then barely touched it to his lips.

“How is it?” inquired Decius Albus.

“I have heard of the ka-la-na of Naxos,” said Kurik. “This is the first time I have tasted it.”

“I trust you find it satisfactory,” said Decius Albus.

“It is exquisite,” said Kurik.

“I once, in Venna,” said Decius Albus, “exchanged five girls for a bottle.”

“A bargain,” said Kurik.

I rather doubted that. Still, who is to say what slave girls are worth? Men, of course.

“Drink again,” said Decius Albus. “One would not ruin a ka-la-na of this rarity by mixing it with poison. Too, we need you to convey our offer to Lord Grendel.”

“My thinking, exactly,” said Kurik.

“Join with us,” said Decius Albus, “and you may swill the ka-la-na of Naxos with the same abandon as vat paga.”

“That,” said Kurik, “would be desecration, like uprooting flowers.”

“True,” smiled Decius Albus, “but it would be a desecration well within your means.”

“There is another slave here,” said the Lady Alexina. “I would be served a second glass, by that slave.”

“I am sure she is not a trained serving slave,” said Decius Albus, “and she belongs to our guest.”

“I would be served by her,” said the Lady Alexina.

“Surely not,” said Decius Albus.

“It is quite all right,” said Kurik. “I am more than pleased. Phyllis, be about it. Serve the noble mistress.”

I rose to my feet, and saw that Paula, now kneeling near Drusus, was frightened. I was muchly unsettled by this. Why should she be frightened? I glanced at the Lady Alexina, and then, swiftly, lowered my head. What I had seen there, in her eyes, was not reassuring. It had not been difficult to detect the interest of the Lady Alexina in my master. Perhaps Paula, too, had noticed that, glances, subtle movements, proximities. Too, free women and slave girls, as is well known, are rivals. The free woman has her freedom, her place in society, her influence, her connections, her resources, her position and power, all that she can offer a man, while the slave has little more than her helplessness, her collar, and her needs. The advantages are clearly with the free woman. It is she who holds the whip. And yet men will seek the slave, worthless as she is, to have her at their feet. I was apprehensive. Certainly I knew I was not a trained serving slave. I had been taught, as any slave will be taught, something of the serving of ka-la-na or paga to men, but I muchly doubted that the same protocols would be appropriate in the serving of a free woman. Indeed, even the hint of such might, I supposed, bring the switch or lash. Then I remembered Paula. She had served the Lady Alexina, and then, as the Lady Alexina was present, a free woman, had served the men, similarly. I would then, to the best of my ability, do as she did. Stand, wait for the nod, and then pour, deferentially, and carefully, very carefully, and then step back, head down, lest one's eyes meet those of a free person, in particular those of a free woman.

“Fill my glass, girl,” said the Lady Alexina, “to the brim, the brim, exactly, and do not spill a drop.”

“Beware the parasol,” whispered my master.

I did not understand this. Did he fear she would strike me with it, with a much more apt tool, her switch, at hand?

I lifted the decanter, gracefully, as had Paula, and went to the place of the Lady Alexina, where I waited, standing. Her eyes glowed, with anticipation. She nodded, curtly.

I began to pour.

“To the brim,” she said, “so that not another drop might be added, and let none run over the edge, not a drop, nor the part of a drop.”

I held the decanter with both hands, and, in misery, poured with great care. Then the fluid was held in the tiny glass by naught but surface tension. I could even note the swelling of the fluid slightly above the level of the glass.

I then stepped back, shuddering, head down.

“Nicely done, girl,” said Decius Albus.

I heard a small, inadvertent sigh of relief escape Paula, which, to her consternation, brought a frown from Drusus Andronicus.

“Not so nicely done, noble Albus,” said the Lady Alexina. “The slave may now lift the glass to my lips.”

Paula, at a nod from Drusus, leapt to her feet and took the decanter from me, for the wine swirled within it, placing it on the tray, which was in the empty place at the table.

“Do not fear, pretty slave,” said the Lady Alexina. “Take the glass in both hands and lift it carefully. I will steady your hands.”

“
Ela
, Phyllis,” said Kurik. “Consider the Ahn. We must convey the proposal of the noble Albus to our principal, Lord Grendel.”

“Yes, Master,” I said, gratefully.

“Lift the glass,” said the Lady Alexina, coldly.

“Attend me,” said Kurik.

I hurried to his side, and knelt at his thigh. I put my cheek against his thigh, frightened. I was still shuddering. Obviously the command of the master takes precedence over the command of one not the master, even though it be that of a free woman.

“I thank you, noble Albus,” said Kurik. “I have muchly enjoyed the gracious and generous hospitality of your house. You are a most estimable host. Too, you have given me the opportunity to see my friend once more, noble Tyrtaios, of the Merchants, as I understand it, whom I had not seen since Brundisium. For that, who would not be grateful? Too, what free man would not rejoice to meet so charming a woman as the lovely Lady Alexina? Compared to these delights, even those of the ka-la-na of Naxos must be overlooked.”

“Surely the pleasure here is that of the house,” said Decius Albus. “We shall look forward to hearing from you, and trust that the response of Lord Grendel to our proposal will be favorable.”

“How could it not be?” said Kurik.

He then turned about to leave the room. We had gone but a step or two when we heard a cry of rage from the Lady Alexina, and the shattering of glass in our wake. Turning about, we saw her standing, enraged, behind the table, looking after us. She had apparently seized the glass and cast it after us. There was wine on her robes, and on the table, and on the floor, amidst a litter of sparkling crystal.

“It is a shame to waste a fine ka-la-na,” said Kurik, regretfully.

I hurried after him, and, shortly, we were in the street.

“Why,” I asked, “did Mistress Alexina wish to have me beaten?”

“First,” he said, “you are a slave, second, you are my slave.”

“She is a very beautiful lady,” I said.

“I would like to see her naked and in chains,” he said.

“Master!” I protested.

“A woman when free is worthless,” he said. “Once enslaved, she is worth something. Then you can put a value on her.”

“I am glad I did not feel her switch or whip,” I said.

“If that were all,” he said, “I would have let her jostle your arm. An occasional slap of a switch or a blow of the whip is good for a slave. It reminds them that they are slaves. What I feared was the parasol.”

“A parasol,” I said, “is nothing. It is innocent.”

“Not all parasols are the same,” he said.

“Why would one such as she, a high woman of the Merchants, of a jewelry house in Victoria, be here, enleagued with Decius Albus?”

“She is not of Victoria, nor of the house of Portia,” said Kurik. “She knows little, or nothing, of Victoria, or the house of Portia. The house of Portia does not use display slaves to exhibit their merchandise. They regard that as demeaning to the merchandise, and to free women. Furthermore, the house of Portia does not import finished work, set pieces, and such, but only the appropriate materials, silver, gold, pearls, stones, and such. These materials are then worked up in the house's own shops. The house is very particular about that. Too, the house of Portia would find it difficult to ship from the wharf of Terence in Victoria, as there is no such wharf.”