Prize of Gor (93 page)

She had no doubt what she would be to him!

In his casual, insolent way, he would well know how to handle, and keep, a slave.

I hate him, she thought.

But perhaps she did not hate him, really, that much.

In any event she must strive to please him, and perfectly, with every bit of her intelligence and beauty.

She was, after all, a slave, and his slave.

Then she became afraid, for she sensed that matters perilous were afoot in this disturbed camp of Cos.

There might be brigands who had seen him with gold. And she remembered the men who had been with Mirus. Perhaps somehow, without understanding it, she had seen too much. Too, there were the beasts, the terrible beasts.

And guardsmen might even now be seeking the mysterious stranger, the seemingly lowly fellow, who had had coins from the mint at Jad.

Then there was no longer a sense of the leash draw on the hood ring, and so Ellen stopped, and knelt. This was appropriate. There might be free men present.

Some men, she understood, in a moment, were indeed about.

“Have you secured the guards?” she heard Selius Arconious ask.

“Yes,” said a voice.

As Ellen knelt she felt the leash strap between her breasts. She felt it best to widen her knees, and so did so. This proclaimed her a pleasure slave, but then that was what she was. She did not wish to risk a cuffing for having neglected the position which was appropriate for her. Too, though she hated Selius Arconious, she was sure, it nonetheless pleased her to kneel thusly before him. After all, she was his, and it was only fitting that she display his property suitably before him. Someone was standing, she was sure, before her. Perhaps it was Selius Arconious, her master. She straightened her body even more. Then, in a bit, the leash was unsnapped from the ring at the front of the hood. No longer then was the leash against her body. Presumably it was coiled and put somewhere. Then Ellen felt hands at the back of her neck. The hood lock was undone, and then, to her relief, but fear, the hood was pulled up, over her head, and removed.

It was rather dark, but one could see somewhat. One of the moons was visible through a break in the clouds.

The fresh air was glorious on her uplifted countenance, and she breathed it in, deeply, gratefully. Her face was doubtless reddened, blotched, from the confinement of the hood. Too, her face would be tear-stained.

Selius Arconious was to one side, placing the hood in a pack. There was a cloak about his shoulders, but the hood of the cloak was thrown back about his shoulders.

“Masters!” breathed Ellen.

But Portus Canio and Fel Doron, each in the garb of a Cosian guardsman, cautioned her to silence. Other men were about, their chains apparently removed. Two others, too, wore the garb of guardsmen.

Ellen then observed two more men approaching the group. They must have belonged with it, for their arrival caused no stir. One was dark-haired and lithe. The other was a large man, a strong, a dangerous-appearing man, who moved with the grace of a larl. He was red-haired, and was wiping a dagger on his thigh, which he then sheathed.

“You were followed,” said the lithe, dark-haired fellow who had just arrived with his companion.

“I know,” smiled Selius Arconious. “But I knew you were in attendance.”

“What occurred?” asked Portus Canio. He had a sword, presumably that of a guardsman, slung at his left shoulder.

“He is no longer followed,” said the red-haired man quietly.

“Who were they?” asked Fel Doron.

The dark-haired man shrugged. “Brigands,” he said.

“It was clever of you to publicly purchase this slave, with Cosian gold,” said one of the men about, indicating Ellen, who remained immobile, tense. “Thus, the camp will be looking for a tarnster.”

“Has Tersius Major, the traitor, been apprehended?” asked a man.

“He is in custody,” said the red-haired man. “He will be clad as Selius Arconious, gagged, tied in the saddle of a tarn and set aflight.”

“That will provide the incident needed to begin the disruption of the camp,” said one of the men.

“I would prefer to cut his throat,” said Portus Canio.

“If he can turn his head about and squirm a little that will lend plausibility to the diversion,” said a man.

“Perhaps you can cut his throat later,” said Fel Doron, slapping Portus Canio jovially on the shoulder, and Portus Canio grinned, and snorted in disgust.

“Are the wagons ready?” asked Selius Arconious.

“They are in place,” said a man. “Tarns will be released later and put aflight, and thus pursuit will presumably be directed to the skies, which Cos controls.”

“Then,” said a man, “we will disperse with the hundreds of others, who will break camp tomorrow.”

“The Cosian forces here will presumably march on Ar, to reinforce the occupation, and prevent mutiny,” said another.

“Is it true,” asked Selius Arconious, of the red-haired man, “that Marlenus has been found near Ar?”

“It seems so,” said the red-haired man. “He was discerned by a slave, who had tended him while he was imprisoned in Treve. It seems he escaped and made his way toward Ar, but somehow he seems unaware of the political realities in the city, and neither to understand nor know his true self.”

“We must regain him,” said a man. “He is needed as a symbol of resistance, as a rallying point.”

“Without him, how can Ar be restored?” asked another.

“He is needed to give the people courage, to ignite them, to rouse them to war, to cast out the Cosian sleen and their allies!”

“We need Marlenus of Ar!” exclaimed another. “He is the leader, the Ubar! None can stand against him!”

“Without him, what hope is there?” asked a man.

“He must lead us!” said another.

“Down with Talena, the traitress Ubara!” hissed a man.

“Our vengeance on her will be sweet,” said a man, grimly.

Ellen shuddered at the tones of the voices she heard.

“Death to the traitress!” said a man. “Death to the Ubara!”

“She shall know the penalties for betraying the Home Stone, those to be suitably inflicted upon a traitorous free person,” said a man.

“Perhaps she is not a free person,” said the red-haired man. “Perhaps she is only someone’s slave.”

“Absurd,” said a man.

“She is Ubara,” said another.

“Perhaps she who sits upon the throne of Ar,” said the red-haired man, thoughtfully, smiling, “is only a slave.”

“How would she dare?” asked a man.

“Let her fear then to be unmasked,” said another, softly.

“Yes,” said the red-haired man, thoughtfully. “Let her fear to be unmasked.”

“What would be the penalties for a slave, pretending to be a Ubara,” asked a man.

“It is difficult to conjecture,” said a fellow.

“I would not wish to be she,” said another.

Again Ellen shuddered.

“Is there to be a change of the guard here?” asked the dark-haired man of Portus Canio.

“Not until morning,” said a man.

“Good,” said the dark-haired man. “That will give us time.”

“Have garments been brought for the former prisoners?” asked the red-haired man.

“Yes,” said a fellow, “a variety of such.”

“Have them distributed,” said the red-haired man.

The fellow to whom he spoke left the area.

Ellen, from her knees, looked up to Selius Arconious. “May I speak, Master?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Did you purchase me,” she asked, “as only part of a plan?”

“Do you think you are important?” he asked.

“No, Master,” she said. “Master.”

“Yes?” said he.

“Did you not want me, just a little, if only to beat and whip me?”

“Think,” said he, “stupid little slut.”

“Master?” she asked.

“I could have bid with the same effect, with no compromise to a plan, upon hundreds of other women,” he said.

“Yes, Master!” breathed Ellen, kneeling before him, suddenly again helplessly alive in her belly. She had suspected this earlier, of course, but she had wished to hear it from his lips, those of her master.

“Things fell nicely into place,” he said. “I purchased a worthless slave with a plenitude of Cosian gold, thus felicitously insulting the state of Cos. I arranged matters so that suspicion would fall upon a tarnster, as soon as the news of the theft of Cosian gold would reach the camp. This will help to create a useful diversion. And I obtained a cuddly slut, one who was once troublesome, but one who will now be well advised to learn to serve me zealously, with detailed, abject perfection.”

“You wanted to own me?” asked Ellen, happily.

“Yes,” said he, angrily, “meaningless slut. I have wanted to own you since the first time I laid eyes upon you. I do not know why. Surely there is no good reason for this aberration on my part. I am sure it is irrational. But ever since I first saw you I wanted to own you. I wanted you in my collar, and that is now where you are.”

“Yes, my master!” breathed Ellen.

“Have you not overlooked something?” asked Portus Canio, grinning.

“What?” asked Selius Arconious.

“Let us consider the matter,” said Portus Canio. “She was taken from me by confiscation in Ar,” he said.

“Yes?” said Selius Arconious, warily.

“Now I surely acknowledge that the confiscation was within the letter of the law, given the current sorry state of Ar and the ordinances of the occupation; and I acknowledge further that she has been out of my hands for more than the number of days which, in Merchant Law, legitimate her seizure and claiming by another, and I recognize, further, of course, that she has passed through one or more hands in this time, as his or their slave, and that she was honestly purchased in open auction, in good faith, from her actual and completely legitimate owner, the state of Cos.”

“You see then,” said Selius Arconious, “that you no longer have any claim to her.”

“Of course not,” said Portus Canio. “That is clear. On the other hand, we do share a Home Stone.”

“Very well,” said Selius Arconious. “She is yours. I give her to you.”

“Master!” protested Ellen. Then she swiftly put down her head. “Forgive me, Masters,” she said.

“But,” said Portus Canio, “I might be willing to sell her to you.”

Ellen lifted her head, hopefully.

“How much?” asked Selius Arconious. “Six gold pieces? I paid five.”

“What was the highest bid in silver for her?” asked Portus.

“Twenty,” said Selius.

“Very well, I will ask twenty-one, in the coin of Ar.”

“But that is my own money!” protested Selius.

“That is my price,” said Portus.

“You should have left him in the chains of Cos,” smiled Fel Doron.

“She is pretty, but she is not worth that much,” said a man.

Slowly, as Ellen watched, delighted, Selius Arconious, angrily, reluctantly, removing them one by one from his purse, placed twenty-one silver tarsks, of Ar, in the hands of Portus Canio.

Portus Canio looked down at Ellen. “You see, little vulo,” he said, “you are worth that much.”

“Thank you, Master,” said Ellen, kissing his sandals.

When she raised her head, Selius Arconious was looking down at her, in fury. She looked away, innocently.

“Do you think you are worth that much?” he asked.

“As a slave girl,” she said, “I dare not speculate on such matters. My value, if value I have, will be determined by men.”

“Gloat now, little she-sleen,” said Selius Arconious, angrily, “but do not forget that it is in my bracelets that your wrists are locked.”

“No, Master,” said Ellen, happily.

“I wanted to see how much you wanted her,” said Portus Canio. “Here are your silver tarsks back. I will sell her to you for less.”

“I do not understand,” said Selius Arconious.

“Give me a tarsk-bit,” smiled Portus Canio. Fel Doron laughed. One of the other men about slapped Selius Arconious good-naturedly on the back. There was much laughter.

Selius Arconious, reddening, replaced the silver in his purse. Ellen stiffened as he then gave a tarsk-bit, the hundredth part of a mere copper tarsk, to Portus Canio. Portus took the coin and put it in the guardsman’s wallet at his belt.

“That is doubtless, objectively, what she is worth,” said Portus Canio.

“Alas,” said Selius Arconious, “there is no smaller coin.”

Ellen looked angrily, from her knees, she back-braceleted, from Portus Canio to Selius Arconious.

“To the feet of your master, slut,” snapped Portus Canio.

And quickly, frightened, Ellen put down her head and began to lick and kiss the sandals of Selius Arconious, once again a slave, once again reminded of the absoluteness of her bondage.

“I am yours,” she said. “I will try to be pleasing to you.”

And as she performed this simple, homely act of respect and obeisance, common amongst female slaves, she groaned inwardly with need. How arousing it was to her to so kneel, naked, back-braceleted, head down, rendering submission to a man, her master. She felt incredibly female, incredibly feminine, incredibly thrilled and fulfilled. Men on this world, she thought, know the proper handling of women. She wondered if these men even realized what such postures, acts and rituals, so much taken for granted on this world, did to a woman. The culture of Gor was not devised to deny nature but to fulfill her. What might seem convention, taken for granted, and scarcely understood, by many on Gor, were profoundly symbolic acts, deeply moving acts, expressions of, and enhancements of, nature, which in their beautiful ways, and forms, stated, and celebrated, profound truths. Even chains, and the whip, were largely symbolic, the woman thusly understanding herself slave, and subject appropriately, as nature would have it, to the will of the dominant sex.

She lifted her head and looked up into the eyes of her master. Tears formed in her eyes. He looked away.

“Some of our men, clad as Cosian guardsmen,” said Fel Doron, “will raise a cry that the suspect tarnster has been seen. Shortly thereafter our friend, Tersius Major, gagged and bound, clad appropriately, will be put aflight on a tarn. There will doubtless be a pursuit. It should take some time to bring the tarn down. Later, say, an Ahn later, other tarns will be freed. This will be taken as the actual departure from the camp of the conspirators, and a new pursuit will be mustered. In the general confusion, and disbandment, of the camp, the former prisoners and the rest of our men will go their hundred ways, afoot, some of the Cosian gold divided amongst them. Those of Ar will attempt to severally work their way southeast to Ar. Our friends, Marcus, of Ar’s Station, and Bosk, of Port Kar, who have been instrumental, with others, in the purloining of the gold, and its subsequent temporary concealment, will in a few days attend a prearranged rendezvous with diverse cohorts, at a place of concealed tarns. There they will convey information as to the location of the great bulk of the gold, in its temporary cache, to these cohorts, who will then, as planned, see to its movement and disposition. Our friends of the scarlet caste will then attempt to return to Ar by tarn, traveling at night, utilizing the cover of darkness.”