neck.
“You see!” she sniffed.
That she seemed so calm about this convinced me that she had access to the key, that either it would be within the hut, or, perhaps, more likely, on her person. It seemed clear to me, from what I had seen of her relationship with Pertinax, her supposed master, he would not have it.
I was reasonably certain she would be terrified if the key were not in her own possession.
In the hut, it might be available to others.
I supposed, then, that the key would be about her person, somewhere.
“What are you doing?” she said.
“Here,” I said, “at the hem.”
“Do not!” she wept, trying to pull away.
It was a moment’s work, with the point of my knife, to free the key, which I then held before her.
She averted her head, in misery.
I wondered if she knew the penalties to which a Gorean slave might be subject, for such a crime.
I supposed not.
“Come back!” she cried.
I had turned about and walked down, toward the shore, and stood there, my ankles in the lapping water.
“No!” she begged.
I spun the key far out into the waves.
“No, no!” she called.
I then returned to where I had left her.
“The collar is locked!” she said. “I cannot take it off!”
“That is common with female slaves,” I said.
“You do not understand!” she hissed.
“What do I not understand?” I asked.
“Nothing, nothing,” she said, sullenly.
“Do not fear,” I said. “With proper tools the collar may be easily removed. Any metal worker, with the proper tools, could manage the business without difficulty.”
“Beast!” she said.
“How does it feel to be collared, truly collared?” I asked.
“I hate you!” she said.
“Now that you are truly collared,” I said, “I think certain other adjustments would be in order.”
“Stop!” she said.
But, tied, as she was, she could not deter my work, and I carefully, without being extreme, or excessive, in the matter, shortened the skirt of her tunic in such a way that it would be more typical in length for that of a Gorean slave girl.
“Beast, monster!” she hissed.
“I do not think Pertinax will mind,” I said. “And if he wishes to shorten it further, to make it truly ‘slave short,’ or ‘slave delightful,’ he is free to do so.”
“Do you not understand!” she exclaimed. “If someone sees me like this, they will take me for a slave!”
“You are a slave, are you not?” I asked.
“- Yes, yes,” she whispered.
“And I did not slit the skirt at the left thigh,” I said, “so Goreans will assume it is branded. If it were discerned that it lacked the brand, they would doubtless soon see that the oversight, one scarcely pardonable, was remedied.”
In her distress I do not think she even understood what I was saying.
I then fastened my hands at the neckline of the tunic.
“No,” she said. “No!”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I am not a slave!” she said. “I am a free woman!”
“Perhaps you are a slave and do not even know you are a slave,” I said.
“No, no!” she said. “I am free, free!”
I did not remove my hands from the neckline of the tunic.
“Speak!” I said.
“I was hired!” she said.
“You and Pertinax,” I said.
“Yes!” she said.
“To whom are you in fee?” I inquired.
“Men,” she said, “anonymous. I was approached on Earth, and it was I who recruited he whom you know as Pertinax.”
“Your Gorean is acceptable,” I said.
“We were given weeks of intensive training on Earth,” she said, “and more on Gor.”
“Continue,” I said.
“I was given a retainer of one hundred thousand dollars,” she said, “and so, too, was Pertinax, and we are to receive one million dollars each at the accomplishment of our mission.”
“The deposit was seemingly made to a given bank, one selectively chosen, and you were furnished with what appeared to be documentation of this,” I said. “But I am confident the money was never in actuality deposited.”
She regarded me, wildly.
“To be sure,” I said, “you were doubtless given funds, which led you to believe the business was in earnest.”
“More than five thousand dollars,” she said.
“I see,” I said.
“I shall collect the rest when I am returned to Earth,” she said.
“Of course,” I said.
“I shall return to Earth shall I not?” she said.
“You are on Gor, girl,” I said, “and on Gor you will remain.”
“No,” she said. “No!”
“And there will be others,” I said, “as greedy, and foolish, as you.”
Wide were her eyes.
“You are, doubtless unknowingly, a minion of a life form known as Kurii,” I said. “Kurii, however one views them, have a sense of honor, a sense of what is appropriate, of what is proper. I assure you they have little respect for traitresses.”
“I do not believe you!” she said.
“As you wish,” I said.
“What would be my fate?” she asked.
“You are nicely faced, and figured,” I said.
“No!” she said.
“It would amuse Kurii,” I said, “that you would sell for a handful of coins.”
“You are trying to frighten me,” she said.
“You were not to be trusted,” I said. “Why should you expect that others were to be trusted?”
“I will not be frightened!” she insisted.
“When the iron is put to your thigh,” I said, “you will know what you are.”
“No!” she said.
“Then you will finally be worth something. Someone will get some good out of you.”
“No!” she said.
“Continue to improve your Gorean,” I said. “You may be well whipped for errors.”
“Let me go!” she said.
