Rebels of Gor (29 page)

“Slaves are despicable,” said Sumomo.

“They have their pleasantries,” said Lord Yamada.

“Their tunics are scarcely covering,” said Sumomo.

“Men will have it so,” said Lord Yamada.

“You can see so much of their bodies,” said Sumomo.

“If you were not present, one might see all of their bodies,” said Lord Yamada.

“Disgusting,” said Sumomo.

“Do not concern yourself,” he said. “They are animals.”

“At least they are not Pani,” she said.

“There are Pani slaves, of course,” he said.

“As these?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.

“I feel faint,” she said.

“You are delicate,” he said.

“What is that on their necks?” she asked.

“Surely you know,” he said, “collars, locked collars, slave collars.”

“I have seen slaves without collars,” she said.

“So have I,” said Tajima, regarding Sumomo.

“It is not necessary, the collars,” said Sumomo, uneasily, the fingers of her right hand lightly, thoughtlessly, at her own throat. “One can tell them by their garmenture.”

“But garmenture might be changed,” said Lord Yamada.

“By their skin color,” said Sumomo.

“But slaves come in many colors,” said Tajima, adding, “as do flowers.”

“They are marked, of course,” said Lord Yamada.

“I see no marks,” said Sumomo.

“They are there,” said Lord Yamada.

“Usually high, on the left hip,” I said.

“The left hip?” she asked.

“Most masters are right-handed,” I said. “Too, that location is commonly recommended in Merchant law, on the continent.”

“The collar is visible, and fastened on the slave’s neck,” said Lord Yamada.

“Accordingly, there is no mistaking a collar slut,” said Tajima, pleasantly, regarding Sumomo.

“Too,” I said, “it is quite meaningful. The girl understands its meaning, and so, too, do those who look upon her.”

“But why here, this evening,” she asked, “are these collared?”

“Because they are slaves, Lady,” said Pertinax, glancing at Saru, who shrank back.

“The collar, of course,” said Lord Yamada, “does not make the slave.”

“Many slaves are not collared,” said Tajima, looking at Sumomo.

“On the continent,” I said, “slaves are almost universally collared.”

“A most excellent practice,” said Lord Yamada.

“Still!” protested Sumomo.

“I think I shall institute it in my domains,” said Lord Yamada.

Sumomo was silent.

“I thought, beloved daughter,” said Lord Yamada, “our guests would be pleased to see them so.”

“I see,” said Sumomo.

“Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Yamada, “are you not pleased to see women in collars?”

“Yes,” I said. “Women look well in collars.”

“Slave collars,” said Lord Yamada.

“Certainly,” I said. Indeed, I thought, what beautiful woman’s beauty is not enhanced a thousand times, aesthetically and meaningfully, in a collar? Too, does she not then know that she is not a man, but quite different, a lovely work animal, a pleasure object, a toy and plaything, a slave?

“Dear Tajima,” I said, in English, quietly.

He reacted, clearly startled, but, almost immediately, regained his composure. I had known from Tarncamp that he was familiar with English, though as a second language. In his way, he was as much a barbarian on this world as I.

“Attend my communication, my friend,” I said, in English, “and despite what you may hear, be as you are now, giving no sign of concern.”

He nodded, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement of his head.

“Sumomo,” I said, “as you now realize, is a daughter of Lord Yamada. Too, she was indeed a spy, as you surmised. As far as I know, Lord Nishida is himself innocent, and unaware of this. You observed her on the outer parapet, apparently communicating with the enemy below. In this act she, unbeknownst to herself, compromised her value as Yamada’s agent.”

“I brought the matter,” said Tajima, in English, “as I am uncertain of the allegiances of Lord Nishida, to the attention of Lords Okimoto and Temmu. It was determined that she would be cast from the parapet to the stones below, at a time corresponding to that at which she had earlier cast the detected message, as it was supposed that at such a time her confederate, or confederates, would be waiting below. In this way, cast from the parapet, she would deliver to the enemy below her last, and final, message.”

“How did you feel about this?” I asked.

“I disapproved,” said Tajima.

“Why?” I asked.

“There are better things to do with a female spy,” said Tajima.

“I agree,” I said.

“When the Ashigaru went to fetch her,” said Tajima, “she was no longer in the holding.”

“She was brought to the palace, here,” I said, “on tarnback, by Tyrtaios.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Sumomo, testily.

“Nothing,” said Tajima, in Gorean.

“Remember,” I said to Tajima, in English, “do not betray a reaction. Lord Yamada is now well aware of the disclosure of Sumomo’s secret commission, the detection of her action on the parapet, that the nature of her role in the holding of Lord Temmu has been brought to light, as she apparently is not. He is not pleased. He fears plans are in jeopardy, even that the role of Daichi in influencing the shogun might be suspected. He is angry. It is his intention to have Sumomo put to death, I gather most unpleasantly.”

“She is his daughter,” said Tajima.

“He has many daughters,” I said.

“He seems well disposed toward her,” said Tajima.

“Lord Yamada is not indulgent where failure is concerned,” I said.

“She must be warned,” said Tajima.

“You are concerned?” I asked.

“No,” he said, “of course not.”

“It will not be easy,” I said.

“Stop babbling in some barbarous tongue,” said Sumomo.

“Forgive us, noble lady,” said Tajima, in Gorean.

“What is going on?” inquired Lord Yamada, pleasantly, from his end of the table.

“Nothing, noble lord,” said Tajima.

“The small chestnuts are excellent,” said Lord Yamada. “Dip them in honey.”

“Indeed,” I said.

“I thought,” said Tajima, turning to Sumomo, on his right, “you were a contract woman.”

“Do not insult me,” she said.

“Forgive me, lady,” he said.

“That was a guise, a role behind which I might abet the projects of my father.”

“Are you angry,” he asked, “that I failed to recognize that you could not be such, but were instead a noble, and fine, lady?”

“Not really,” she said. “Rather, it is a tribute to my talent, and my skill, that you failed to do so.”

“You are beautiful enough to be a contract woman,” he said.

“More beautiful,” she said, “for I am a free woman, and of noble birth.”

“You are no more beautiful now than then,” he said. “Indeed, you might be even more beautiful, if you were a stripped, collared slave.”

“Tarsk!” she said.

“Forgive me, lady,” he said.

“And take your eyes from those slaves!” she said.

“No,” he said, “they are meant to be seen, to be enjoyed, to be commanded, to be owned, to be mastered, to be relished, to be ravished. It is what they are for.”

“Do not think I did not see you hanging about the quarters of Nishida,” she said. “I could scarcely stir about without knowing that you watched me, and followed me about. Anywhere in the holding! Nishida, Hana, Hisui, others. Many knew this.”

“Perhaps I see you differently now,” he said.

“You followed me one night even to the outer parapet,” she said.

“True,” said Tajima. “What were you doing there?”

“Refreshing myself, in the open air,” she said. “What were you doing there?”

“Refreshing myself,” he said, “in the open air.”

“You were following me,” she laughed.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“I wager,” she said, “you even dreamed of purchasing my contract from Nishida.”

“Perhaps,” he said.

“Poor fool,” she said, “you would have aspired to the daughter of the Shogun of the Islands.”

“I did not know you were his daughter,” said Tajima.

“I played my part well,” she said.

“Excellently,” he said.

She then smiled, and seemed well satisfied.

“Why then are you here?” he asked.

“I do not know,” she said. “Perhaps I have been removed from the holding of Temmu for my safety. Perhaps, given my value in the north, I am to be permitted an even more important role.”

“It is hard to see what that might be,” he said.

“True,” she said.

Sumomo glanced to the serving slaves, as, head down and deferentially, they attended to the wants of the diners.

“Half-stripped slaves are disgusting,” she said.

“Not all find them so,” said Tajima.

“They are in collars, like animals,” she said.

“They are animals,” said Tajima.

“I see men observing them,” she said.

“Of course,” said Tajima.

“How terrible it must be,” she said, “serving men, knowing that you are their beast, and will be punished if not found pleasing.”

“They are slaves,” said Tajima.

“Who could have the least interest in such creatures?” she asked.

“They sell well,” said Tajima.

“Slave!” snapped Sumomo, to Cecily, who, startled, apprehensive, looked to the guests’ table, from where she now knelt, near the serving table.

“Approach,” said Sumomo.

Uneasily the slave, once Miss Virginia Cecily Jean Pym, approached Sumomo, and knelt before her, her head down.

“First obeisance position,” I said.

Instantly the slave assumed first obeisance position, kneeling, head to the floor, the palms of her hands on the floor, beside her lowered head. She was, after all, in the presence of a free woman.

“Kneel up,” said Sumomo. “Lift your head. I would look upon your pretty face.”

Cecily’s lip trembled. She was clearly frightened. She was a slave. She was before a free woman. For those unfamiliar with the Gorean culture, it is difficult to convey the gap between the slave and the free. It is not a gap in degree, but a chasm in kind.

“Mistress?” whispered Cecily.

“How are you here?” inquired Sumomo.

“I was selected from amongst others, in the slave pens,” she said.

“Why?” asked Sumomo.

“By men,” said Cecily.

“I see,” said Sumomo.

“There were many excellent choices,” I said.

“Have you stolen any food?” inquired Sumomo.

“No, Mistress!” said Cecily.

“Have you been fed?” asked Sumomo.

“No, Mistress,” said Cecily.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Perhaps,” said Sumomo, “the men will throw you some food later, or feed you.”

“We will hope for such kindness, Mistress,” said Cecily.

“Doubtless such as you hope to please your masters,” said Sumomo.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Cecily, “for we are slaves.”

“Are you a slut?” asked Sumomo.

“I am less than a slut, Mistress,” said Cecily, “for I am a slave.”

“Do you know that men sometimes refer to such as you as sex-tarsks?”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Cecily.

“Are you a sex-tarsk?” asked Sumomo.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Cecily, “for I am a slave.”

“You are a pretty little sex-tarsk,” said Sumomo.

“Thank you, Mistress,” said Cecily.

I did not think that Sumomo was any larger than Cecily.

“You are not your own,” said Sumomo.

“No, Mistress, we are the properties of our masters.”

“Disgusting.”

“We are slaves, Mistress.”

“Surely you are horrified to be in collars.”

“No, Mistress.”

“How is that?”

“We are slaves, Mistress.”

“I do not understand.”

“Perhaps Mistress might better understand us, and assess our feelings, if she herself were collared.”

“What!” cried Sumomo.

“No woman fully understands her sex until she is owned by her master.”

“She-tarsk, worthless she-tarsk!” cried Sumomo, leaping to her feet.

“Forgive me, Mistress!” said Cecily.