“Yes, Master,” she said.
“I understand your name is Cecily,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said, “if it pleases master.”
“If it pleases your master,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said, putting her head down.
“You are very pretty Cecily,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” she said.
“Cecily,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said, lifting her head.
“You are in the presence of a free man,” I said. “Show him deference. Go to him, put your head down, and lick and kiss his feet, and then kneel before him and take his hands and lick and kiss the palms of his hands, gently, softly, moistly, tenderly.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Yes,” said Pertinax, after a time. “She is a lovely slave.”
The kneeling, and kissing and licking the male’s feet, is a common act of deference in the female slave. Too, the holding of the hands, and putting one’s lips, and tongue, to the palms, humbly and gratefully, and kissing and licking them, is a lovely gesture. It can also, of course, ignite male desire. The slave is caressing the very hands which, if she be displeasing, may cuff and strike her. Interestingly, this same act can be quite arousing for the slave herself. So, too, of course, is something as simple as kneeling before the male.
“Back, girl,” I said. “Position.”
I did not think it wise to let her prolong such ministrations to a Gorean male.
Cecily drew back and knelt beside me, to my left.
“A Pleasure Slave,” said Pertinax, approvingly.
“Yes,” I said. “She is from Earth, as noted earlier. In that place, she is from a place called England.”
“I have never heard of it,” said Pertinax. “Was she free there?”
“Yes,” I said.
He regarded her, appraisingly, as a Gorean may look upon a slave. “Absurd,” he said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Is she any good?” asked Pertinax.
“She now knows she is in a collar,” I said.
“Good,” he said.
I thought Cecily would look nice in a camisk, a common camisk. The camisk is much more revealing than the common slave tunic. It is a one-piece, extremely simple, suitable for slaves, narrow, poncholike garment. It is slipped over the head. It is usually belted with a loop or two of binding fiber. One may use the binding fiber to bind the slave. It is tied with a slip knot, which may be loosened with a casual tug, at the left hip, as most masters are right-handed. The common camisk is seldom worn publicly, in cities. One supposes the reasons for that are clear.
“Women make lovely slaves,” he said, wistfully, I thought.
“As you would know from yours,” I said.
“Of course,” he said.
“They are bred for the collar,” I said, “and they are not whole until they are within it.”
“True,” he said.
“Ai!” he said, suddenly, and, shading his eyes, looked out to sea. I turned, too. The slave started, but remained in position, not daring to turn about.
“A sail,” I said.
It was far off, a lateen-rigged sail, so presumably from the south, not the north. In Torvaldsland the common sail is square. Too, their ships commonly are clinkerbuilt, with overlapping planks, to allow more elasticity in hard seas. Most of the southern ships are carvelbuilt, so they ship less water. The northern ships commonly have a single steering board, whereas most of the southern ships are double helmed.
“Come back, into the trees,” said Pertinax, anxiously.
“I do not think they can see us from there, not yet,” I said, “but we will join you momentarily.” I bent to gather up the small bit of supplies with which we had disembarked the ship of Peisistratus. The girl came to assist me.
“The palms of our friend’s hands?” I said to her.
“Soft, smooth,” she said.
“He is not a forester,” I said.
“Who is he, Master?” she asked.
“I do not know,” I said. “He is, however, a liar and a hypocrite.”
“Master?” she said.
“Pretend something has been dropped, and you are looking for it, in the sand,” I said.
She began to feel about, in the sand.
“He has never seen the Home Stone of Port Kar,” I said. “It is not well-carved, inlaid with gold, and such. It is rough, and of common rock. It is not large, only a bit larger than a man’s fist. It is gray, heavy, granular, nondescript, unimposing. The initials of Port Kar, in block script, are scratched into its surface. It was done with a knife point.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
“I did it,” I said.
“He is not of Port Kar?” she said.
“I do not think so,” I said. “Certainly he did not speak of the 25th of Se’Kara as would one of Port Kar. He was probably not abroad upon turbulent, green Thassa on that remarkable and unusual day.”
“Then he is not a ‘trust brother’,” she said.
“He is no more a trust brother of mine,” I said, “than Myron,
“I am afraid,” she said.
“Do not show fear,” I said. “Too, although we know he is a liar and a hypocrite, he may be a benign liar and hypocrite.”
“Master?” she said.
“I think he was to meet us,” I said. “Things would not make much sense otherwise.”
“But for whom does he work, whom does he serve, Master?” she asked.
“I would suppose the Priest-Kings of Gor,” I said.
“There is no other possibility?” she said.
“There is one other possibility,” I said.
“Master?”
“Kurii,” I said. “But not those with whom we were allied. Others. Others might have had the coordinates.”
“Former minions of Agamemnon?” she asked.
“Or of others,” I said.
“You have now found what you were looking for,” I said. “Put it in the sack.”
She obediently executed this small charade.
I rose to my feet, and she stood, too, beside me. I looked back, at the horizon. The sail was larger now.
“Hurry! Hurry!” called Pertinax, back amongst the trees.
We joined him in the shadows.
The ship, a common Gorean ship, small, light, oared, straight-keeled, ram-prowed, shallow-drafted, would be drawn up on the sand, if the night was to be spent here. It swung athwart, however, some yards from shore.
“Come,” said Pertinax. “It is dangerous to remain here.”
Men, some clambering over the side, lowering themselves, others leaping, entered the water, which at that point was waist to chest high. They began to wade ashore. These men were armed variously. Most had sacks slung about them. These tended to buoy upward in the water. More than one fellow steadied his approach with the butt of a spear.
