“I will send
“Have them wait until morning,” I said.
“Lord Nishida will not be pleased,” said Tajima.
“Have them wait until morning,” I said.
“Very well, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Tajima.
I then turned to the slave, who was still kneeling, slimly erect, hands down on thighs, head up, in
“You were spared,” I said to her. “You could have had your throat cut, and been thrust from the saddle to the forests below, shortly after the flight had begun, as soon as it became clear there was no obvious pursuit. You were extra weight for the tarn to carry and would thus reduce its speed and shorten its range.”
“Yes, Master,” she said, not daring to look at me.
“But you were spared.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Though only a slave,” I said.
“Yes, Master.”
I did not tell her that now, too, another had been spared.
“You must clearly understand,” I said, “that you needed not have been spared.”
She gasped, in sudden terror.
“No,” I said, “slave.”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
Her situation, of course, had been unusual, for, after the first few moments of her flight, she would have been little more than a hampering burden to the fugitive, and yet he had not disposed of her. She was fortunate. Licinius Lysias had spared her. I had spared him.
Normally, of course, as an animal, and booty, the female slave on Gor has little or nothing to fear as power arrangements and assortments are determined at the points of weapons. She will only have a new rope on her neck, be whip-herded with others on an unfamiliar road, toward an unfamiliar destination, and market, will only find herself in a new cage, pen, or kennel, will have on her neck a new collar, and such things. Indeed, when a city falls, amidst its burning and sacking, free women will often strip and collar themselves, to escape the sword. When it is later discovered they are not branded, they are often severely whipped, but the blood lust, by then, is commonly dissipated, and they are spared. To be sure, they will soon be put under the iron, have transition collars hammered about their necks, and put with other female slaves who will doubtless have their vengeance upon them, switching them and using them as their own serving slaves, as though they might be the slaves of slaves. How eager then the new female slaves, former free women, will be, to be sold, and put their lips to the feet of a male master.
I stepped away from the slave.
“I am thinking of Cecily,” I said to Pertinax.
“Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, is heated, and aroused,” said Tajima.
I nodded. That is not unusual, of course, after battle. It is common then, when the blood has been shed, when the weapons are quiet, when one lifts one’s head and surveys the field, and realizes one is alive, to think of the softness of women, eagerly, even angrily and aggressively. Are they not the prizes of battle? Are they not flesh loot? Are they not, so to speak, lovely morsels, to be seized, to be aligned, to be examined, to be selected forthwith, to satisfy the appetites of masters? After the suppers’ desserts, surely then the slaves who served it. When one has survived it is natural to think of pleasures and playthings. There is a Gorean saying that the female slave is the warrior’s prize, and toy. The needs of males are many and they have their various assuagements, for hunger food, for thirst drink, for pleasure the slave.
I felt it well to remove myself from the proximity of Saru.
She was attractive, and a slave, and I was no more than what I was, a male in the vicinity of a woman who perhaps did not even understand the impact and lure of what she was, a female slave, an impact and lure so much more powerful than that of a mere free woman, indeed, a slave who might not, as yet, even understand fully the meaning of the collar on her neck.
It could, of course, be soon taught to her.
No, I thought, I must leave.
I had little doubt that Cecily would be still within the rope circle, though perhaps now asleep, with some others. Most, presumably, would have been taken from the rope by now. As mentioned, when the slaves are awake, they must be within the circle, grasping the rope. Later, to be sure, Ahn afterward, if not extracted from the circle, the same rope is usually looped and knotted about the slave’s waist. The effect then is rather like a circle which contains a number of smaller circles, each of which encircles the waist of a slave.
I looked about.
A tharlarion snorted nearby.
Beast by beast, over the past Ahn, several of the stampeded tharlarion, now slowed or milling, even grazing, many hemmed in by trees, and snared by brush, had been gathered in. I doubted that more than seven or eight were still missing. Tharlarion are not sleen, panthers, or larls. They leave an easy trail to follow. I did not doubt but what they would be eventually found and returned to the stable, perhaps, with some luck, by noon of the next day.
I looked about.
There was little to do now, here, by the stable.
I was thinking of Cecily. A woman in a collar is very easy to think of. Indeed, it is hard not to think of them, as they are beautiful, and slaves. How lovely to return to one’s domicile and be greeted by an eager, ready slave, who kneels, and looks up, happily, into one’s eyes, and then, humbly, lowers her head, before her master. Perhaps she lifts her small wrists to you, hoping that you will bind, or bracelet, them. Slaves wish to be in the power of their masters, and know themselves within the power of their masters. Soon, with your permission she is in your arms, her lips to yours.
There was to be a feast tomorrow, after the day’s work, as Lord Nishida had suggested. It would probably take place toward evening, even after dusk. After that, the next morning, I had gathered the camp would be abandoned. The plans of Lord Nishida, it seemed, given the discovery of the camp, were to be advanced.
What might be involved in these plans was not clear to me, but I was confident they involved, ultimately, no local objective.
Given the rough, narrow road leading from the camp, cut from the forest itself, muddy, unpaved, deeply rutted, the wagon loads of timber and planking transported almost daily upon it, its direction and such, to the southeast, I conjectured that it would lead to a waterway. There was no large town within hundreds of pasangs. The waterway would drain to Thassa.
Pertinax had spoken, long ago, of the Alexandra.
Pani were unusual in known Gor.
The waterway would provide access to Thassa.
We saw some torches, down the road, approaching, from the central camp.
”
“They will be coming for Licinius and you, Saru,” I said. “They will not find Licinius, and will be dissuaded to search for his body until tomorrow, given the darkness, and such. On the other hand they will find you.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Do not call men ‘Master’,” said Pertinax, angrily.
“I must,” she said, “Master. I am a slave and must address all free men as ‘Master’, and all free women as ‘Mistress’.”
I was glad Saru understood this. To be sure, I suppose she had encountered few free women since Earth. She may have encountered some on Gor, of course, earlier, when she had thought herself to be masquerading as a slave, before arriving in the northern forests. I supposed, then, she might have, perhaps to her amusement, used the term “Mistress” to some free women, enjoying the supposed pretense. I gathered she had done this well. Had she not she would probably have been leaned against a wall, the palms of her hands on the wall, and had her calves switched. At the time, of course, as she had been entered earlier on an acquisition list, she had actually been a slave, unbeknownst to herself. Had she realized that, it might have given a very different cast to her docility. Indeed, she would have been a slave, though not yet a collected slave, weeks, or more, before her transition to Gor.
