Mariners of Gor

you, felt such things.”

“Have you eaten?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Has Master?”

“Yes,” I said.

She looked at me. “It is strange,” she said. “I have come from far away, to find my master.”

“Strange, too,” I said, “that I should so find my slave, in one come from so far a world.”

“Do you think you might care for me, eventually, a little, Master?” she asked.

“I will buy a whip in the morning,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

It was hard to take my eyes from her. How beautiful she was, kneeling before me, in the light of the lamp.

“I am marked,” she said, “as Master determined, the common kef. I am thus well identified as a slave.”

“So?” I said.

“And,” she said, “I think that Master may like me, forgive me, Master, as I could not help overhearing words which gave me such hopes, and surely he knows my antecedents and origins, my affinities, as he will have it, if he is correct, with the Caste of Scribes, so lofty a caste, and my former station and position, as a student in a university, and thus, in a sense, my prestige, dignity, and such.”

“I do not understand,” I said.

“So,” she said, “it will not be necessary to put me in a collar. I am above a collar.”

“You were collared in The Sea Sleen,” I said.

“I was a paga girl,” she said. “They did not know my specialness. I am now the slave of a Scribe, and the Scribes is a high caste.”

“Look to the side,” I said. “Do you see that slave, she, Alcinoe?” I asked.

“Certainly,” she said.

“Well,” I said, “she was once a free woman in imperial Ar, a high lady, a woman of importance and power, of wealth and station. What is on her neck?”

“A collar,” said the slave.

“What sort of collar?” I asked.

“A slave collar,” she said.

“Precisely,” I said.

“But she is Gorean,” said the slave.

“And you are a barbarian,” I said, “a thousand times less.”

The slave touched her throat, lightly, tentatively, apprehensively.

“Master will collar me?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Tomorrow you will wear a collar, a slave collar, and it will be locked on your neck.”

“I will not be able to remove it?”

“No,” I said.

Relief, to my surprise, flooded her features.

“Thank you, Master,” she said. “That is what I want. I want your collar on my neck, and I want it there, locked, as on the neck of any other slave, for I am only another slave. No more! That is what I am, and want to be. How happy you make me! I am grateful! I will try to be worthy of wearing your collar. Thank you, Master. I will love my collar.”

I then lay back on the comforters, which I had spread on the floor.

“Master?” she said.

“Please me,” I said.

She crawled to my side. “I will try, Master,” she whispered.

“Wine, Master?” had said my slave.

“Wine, Master?” had said the slave of my friend, Callias.

“Yes,” I had said.

“Yes,” had said Callias.

As noted, the slaves had served the wine well.

I thought the supper was nicely prepared.

Too, as noted, the ka-la-na was excellent.

This morning we had all ventured to the high piers, bid farewell to Captain Nakamura, and watched that unusual ship, the River Dragon, unusual, at least for Brundisium, take its leave.

We watched it, until it could no longer be seen from the high pier.

“I wish them a good journey,” said Callias.

“I, too,” I said.

“Tersites,” he said, looking out to sea, “had eyes painted on the great ship.”

“I recall that, from your story,” I said. “It pleased me. Now she can see her way.”

“A day out from the cove of the castle,” said he, “we heaved to, and Tersites himself, with his own hands, poured wine, oil, and salt into the sea.”

“I am pleased to hear it,” I said. It seemed then, at last, that Tersites had made his peace with vast, mighty Thassa.

“Where is the great ship now?” I asked.

“I do not know,” he said.

“One wonders what transpires at the World’s End,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “one wonders.”

“You need not have shared so much with me,” I said, “the coins, the jewels, the pearls.”

“Have no fear,” he smiled. “What you received is small, compared to what I retain.”

“I suspect,” I said, “that you would have been more than content with no more than a mere slave.”

“Yes,” he said, “that would have been more than enough.”

“But, surely,” I said, “the gold, the jewels, the pearls, and such, were welcome.”

“Do you not think it would have been boorish, not to have accepted them?”

“Quite,” I said.

We turned about, to join the slaves, one in a scarlet tunic, one in a blue tunic, waiting at the land end of the pier.

The slaves now, at our supper, brought forth the Turian liqueurs.

“These are expensive,” I said.

“One wishes to make his contribution,” said Callias.

“You have done far more than that,” I said.

“Alcinoe,” he said, “knows of such things. She used to approve the menus for banquets, for state dinners, for private suppers, and such.”

“A valuable slave,” I said.

“In many ways,” he said.

Alcinoe smiled. “After supper,” she said, “with master’s permission, I will show him how valuable a slave can be.”

“And I trust,” said my slave, “that I may convince my master that a mere barbarian is not to be despised in the furs.”

As the reader, if such there be, may apprehend, I could now afford furs. To be sure, expressions such as ‘serving in the furs’ are rather general.

Whereas the girls prepared and served the meal, we had them share it with us, as well, they kneeling at the small tables, at which we sat cross-legged. This is not that unusual in small households, where informality is common. We did, of course, take the first bite of the various dishes, the first sip of the various beverages, and such.

“Your vocabulary and grammar,” I told my slave, “is much improved.”