Rebels of Gor (67 page)

“Noble one,” said the peasant, holding up, addressing the magician.

The magician bowed, slightly.

“Twice,” said the peasant. “The noble one divided a grain of rice on the forehead of this miserable creature, but was paid but once.”

“There was but one wager, and so but one prize,” said the magician.

“Izo, sword of the shogun’s guard,” said Eito, the peasant, “slew four men of my village.”

“I am sure that was not necessary,” said the magician.

“And you slew Izo,” said the peasant.

“That, I fear, was necessary,” said the magician.

“I am pleased, my village will be pleased,” said Eito.

“Then I, too, am pleased,” said the magician.

“Behold,” said Eito, “I have fetched forth this ill-begotten, worthless, scrawny creature, but even warriors, I have noted, have looked upon her with interest.”

I found that easy to believe. Her slave curves were slight, but surely of interest. In two or three years even the Pani might think of collaring her, to keep her more securely theirs.

“Rice is expensive,” said Eito. “And coins are rare.”

“Nothing is owed,” said the magician. “Keep her.”

“For what you have done,” said Eito, “slaying Izo, the scourge of a dozen villages, the village itself would not suffice.”

“Keep her,” said the magician.

The slave herself dared not speak.

Eito released his grip on the girl’s hair. “Stand up, stand straight, worthless creature,” he said. “Put your hands behind your head. Bend backwards!”

Yes, I thought, slave curves. How beautiful are women!

“She is not pay, noble one,” said Eito. “She is not even a gift. But I will unclaim her in your presence.”

“Do not do so,” said the magician.

“Then,” said Eito, “we will take her back to the village, cut her throat, and leave her for the feeding of jards.”

“Unclaim her,” said the magician.

“You are unclaimed, slave,” said Eito. He then smiled, bowed, and took his leave.

Eito, I thought, was a clever fellow. It was no wonder that he, though of the peasants, had a string of coins.

The girl looked at us, frightened.

“Get on your knees,” I told her.

Swiftly she went to her knees, before us.

I did not want her to bolt away, either in foolishness, or terror.

Kneeling is not merely a posture of submission; it is also a posture in which the slave realizes she is relatively helpless.

It is interesting, how the same position, say, kneeling, can be experienced. It might be experienced as unspeakably humiliating and degrading to a free woman, even debasing, but, to a slave, it is experienced as welcome, warm, fulfilling, desirable, and appropriate. It is a lovely expression of the servitude for which she has longed and in which she revels. It is a lovely expression of her submission to her master, her surrender, wholly, as a female, to him. She is no longer hers, but is now his. On her knees, submitted, is where she is and wants to be. She wants to love and serve, wholly and selflessly. She does not want to be her master’s equal. She wants to be her master’s slave. Even free women understand this, for they, too, are women.

“You are now an unclaimed slave,” I told her.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, frightened.

“As a rightless slave,” I said, “you may be claimed by any free person.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“And you will then belong, wholly, to that person,” I said.

“I understand, Master,” she said.

“And there is nothing you can do about it,” I said.

“I know, Master,” she said.

Sometimes women are enslaved, but not claimed. They must then wait, in trepidation, perhaps being inspected and appraised, to see who will claim them. They are free, of course, as they are unclaimed, to beg to be claimed by a given male. Similarly even an owned slave who is up for sale may utter the “Buy me, Master” solicitation. Indeed, the “Buy me, Master” solicitation is not unoften required of girls exhibited in selling lines, on slave shelves, in exposition cells and cages, and such.

“No one will want me, Master,” said the girl. “I am only a work slave, and not even a good work slave. That is why my master used me in the wager. I am the smallest and weakest in my kennel.”

“There are many sorts of slave,” I said. “There are field slaves, draft slaves, female fighting slaves, racing slaves, many sorts.”

“And pleasure slaves, Master?” she whispered, looking up.

“Yes,” I said.

“I am scrawny,” she said.

“Not at all,” I said.

“I know nothing of pleasure,” she said.

“You have never moaned and squirmed,” I said, “caressed as a man’s plaything?”

“No, Master,” she said.

“You may have the experience,” said Pertinax.

“Certainly we must search for someone to put slave fires in her belly,” said Tajima.

“Yes,” said Pertinax. “It might be interesting. Do you have anyone in mind?”

“Anyone in the cavalry,” said Tajima.

“What of Ichiro?” asked Pertinax.

“Why not?” said Tajima.

“What is your name?” I asked the slave, who was visibly disconcerted.

“Whatever Master wishes,” she said.

“What were you called in the village?” I asked.

“Aiko,” she said.

“That is a lovely name,” I said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“We will keep it for a time, until you have a master,” I said, “and he can then think about it.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“In the meantime,” I said, “stay with us, and do not tell anyone you are unclaimed. I do not want to lose you to the first fellow who glances at your ankles.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Do you think she is pretty enough to collar?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Tajima.

“Yes,” said Pertinax.

“I am unworthy of a collar,” she said.

“Do not underestimate yourself,” I said. “Besides, masters collar their slaves or not, as they please.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

On the continent, of course, almost all slaves are collared, even pot girls, and kettle-and-mat girls. It is prescribed, as indicated earlier, by Merchant Law. When young women of Earth are brought to the Gorean markets, they are sometimes unclear as to their status. For example, might not even a free woman be herded about, with switches, naked and chained? On the other hand, once their thigh has encountered the searing iron, leaving behind for all to see a lovely
kajira
mark, once they find their neck fastened in an attractive, locked metal collar, clearly a slave collar, once they find themselves in a single, simple, brief garment which could be naught but the garment of a slave, they are in little doubt as to their status. If any doubt should linger, it is dispelled when they are sold.

“It would be better that she not be here,” said the magician.

“One did not wish to have her throat cut,” I said. “One would not wish her to be given over to the feeding of jards.”

“No,” said the magician. “But there is killing to be done.”

“One need only claim her,” I said, “and then one may sell her, or give her away.”

“True,” said the magician.

“The peasant Eito,” I said, “though seemingly well to do, and presumably peaceful and law-abiding, respectful of authority, and such, was clearly pleased at the slaying of the warrior, Izo. He even unclaimed a slave in our presence.”

“The rule of Lord Yamada,” said the magician, “is one of edged steel and terror. He is a tyrant. There is much unrest amongst the peasantry.”

“That is why, I suppose,” I said, “the peasantry is to be disarmed, and kept in its place.”

“The peasantry is dangerous,” said the magician.

“There are a great many of them,” I said.

“The peasants may be discounted,” said Pertinax. “They are simple people, quiet, peaceful people, who stay much in one place, people with limited ambition and vision, who are happy with small comforts, and look for little more, people concerned with fields, and crops, plantings and harvestings.”

“Arashi, the bandit, is of the peasantry,” I said.

“But,” said the magician, “they can go mad. They can be like a raging beast with no head.”

“And then, in the end,” said Haruki, who had long been silent, “men die, and villages are burned.”

“Will you join me for supper?” inquired the magician.

“We will be pleased to do so,” I said.

The magician then indicated that the girl should rise from her knees, for she had not been given permission to break position, pick up the large bowl of rice, and accompany us.

We then followed Nodachi, the swordsman, from the market square.

Chapter Forty-Seven

What Occurred on the Archery Range

“It is the test of twelve arrows,” said Lord Yamada. “You have perhaps heard of it.”

“Yes,” said Nodachi, “and that none have survived it.”

“I am not a fool,” said Lord Yamada.

“It was not thought so,” said Nodachi.

“Nor is my patience inexhaustible,” he said.

“It was not thought so,” said Nodachi, not moving within the ropes which held his body bound to the post, his hands free, in the exercise yard.

“I am in touch with the negotiations being pretended in the holding of Temmu,” he said. “Message vulos keep me informed, and I have intelligence by tarn, as well. The pretended negotiations, obviously not in good faith, were a transparent ruse to buy time, but for what? Temmu has no army rushing to his rescue. My forces lie before the holding. He is trapped. The tarn cavalry cannot withstand the fire of the iron dragon, which is even now poised to spread its wings. So time was bought for what, obviously an attempt on my life. And I have awaited your tiny league of assassins with interest. Was it not amazing that an allegedly remarkable swordsman should approach through the villages and towns at just such a time? Is that not an astonishing coincidence? And accompanied, as well! Yes, three or four must be available to assure matters. One might not be enough. I viewed you at the gate, with the Builder’s glass, on the walks, approaching through the garden, even to the great portal itself. And so there was our swordsman, and his cohorts! And what cohorts, their features concealed with wind scarves! Who could they be? Would they not be, if possible, individuals familiar with the palace and its grounds, those who would have been within its rooms and corridors, who would know their way about? And the grounds! Did I not, through the Builder’s glass, see one of your number adjust the vines of the blue climber on the railings of the garden bridge? Who but a gardener, and the finest of gardeners, would note, or be disturbed by, so small a fault in such a place?”

“We are fools, indeed, great lord,” said Nodachi, “but there was little else to be done. We did what we could. We failed.”

“I have discontinued the mockery of negotiations,” said Lord Yamada. “The siege is laid. Time is on the side of those who control the rice.”

“If the rice can be obtained,” said Nodachi.

“It can be harvested with the sword,” said Lord Yamada.

“It is often so,” said Nodachi.

“Do you think, swordsman,” asked Lord Yamada, “that the fool Temmu, the wicked, will surrender his holding?”

“No,” said Nodachi.

“Nor I,” said Lord Yamada.

“Do you think he understands that it can be destroyed by the iron dragon?”

“Yes,” said Nodachi.

“Does he wish it destroyed?” asked Lord Yamada.

“No,” said Nodachi.

“Nor I,” said Lord Yamada.

Nodachi did not respond.

“I am prepared to offer a truce,” said Lord Yamada. “And gold, and amnesty to him and his men, should they withdraw from the holding.”

“Lord Yamada is generous,” said Nodachi.

“They need only withdraw unarmed,” said Lord Yamada.

“It is the generosity of the ost,” said Nodachi.

“Do you think that Temmu will destroy the holding, rather than surrender it?” asked Lord Yamada.

“Yes,” said Nodachi.

“I do, as well,” said Lord Yamada. “The matter is thus perplexing.”

“The great lord desires the holding,” said Nodachi.

“As it seems the holding is to be destroyed, in either case,” said Lord Yamada, “either by the breath of the iron dragon or the torches of Temmu, one may as well be done with it, and free the iron dragon.”

“But the great lord desires the holding,” said Nodachi.

“We shall offer the truce, and the bounty for surrender,” said Lord Yamada. “If it is declined, we shall issue an ultimatum. On the third day following, the iron dragon will fly. The holding will be destroyed. It will be mine or cease to exist.”