interest, but then, so, too, did many men, certainly the drivers of the caravan of Pausanias. But I did not see that his binding of me had any particular significance of making a claim. It was not as though I was a free woman, amongst others captured in a city being sacked, and a captor had tied my wrists behind me with his own colored cords, different from those of his fellows, that I might be sorted out appropriately in the temporary slave pens outside the city. If there was any significance to his binding, I think it was merely to teach me better, as though I needed the lesson, that I was a slave. Certainly he had no claim on me, as I belonged to another, the Lady Bina. To be sure, I did not doubt but what it pleased him to bind me. Goreans seem to enjoy making a woman helpless.
What brutes they are!
How they own and master us!
How helpless we are in their hands, those of our masters!
How unfortunate had been those foolish words, “I love you, Master.” They could not be mine. They had slipped out. Surely I could not have meant them! Still, I often dreamed of myself at the foot of his couch, naked, fastened to a slave ring.
What an inexplicable dream!
I wondered if I were capable of loving.
Could I love?
I recalled myself from Earth. It seemed to me unlikely that that Allison Ashton-Baker could have loved. She had been too selfish, too egotistical, too self-centered. She had been too ambitious, too opportunistic, too calculating, too rational. Her relationships with men and boys, when not addressed to her amusement, had been invariably shrewd, prudential, and exploitative.
Much had changed since then.
Now she was on Gor, a marked, collared slave girl.
She was softer now, more helpless, more vulnerable, more dependent, now without status, now scarcely clothed.
Much had changed.
I sensed that the former Allison Ashton-Baker, now in a collar, might now love. I had the sense that when one is locked in a collar, it is easy to love. One hopes for love, one wants love, one needs love.
But how frightful that one might not dare to express this, lest one be beaten or sold!
Desmond of Harfax, I was sure, thought me incapable of love. He thought me too vain, too petty, too shallow.
He was perhaps right.
But, of course, he found me at least of slave interest. He enjoyed, for example, tying my hands behind my back.
He had reservations, too, I knew, pertaining to some further aspects of my character. But why should anyone be expected to sacrifice themselves, or act against their own best interests? Was that not foolish, stupid, irrational?
What had that to do with character?
Surely a girl has a right to look out for herself.
What is wrong with, say, the theft of a candy, if one may manage it with perfect impunity?
One would not wish to be caught, of course. That might mean the switch or lash, close chains, an unpleasant roping, short rations, a slave box, such things.
She is not a free woman.
Strange, I thought, how a better character is expected of a slave than a free woman.
The masters attend to our character, and are concerned with it, in their training, rather, I suppose, as they would attend to, and be concerned with, the character of any animal, a sleen, a kaiila, or such.
Soon we wish to improve ourselves.
We wish to reflect credit on our masters.
We wish to be worthy of our masters.
I suddenly stopped working the oil into the harness leather, as something on the other side of the wagon had caught my attention, without my really being aware of it.
“How long do you think it might be, before we receive our guide?” asked Desmond of Harfax.
I knew curiosity was not becoming in a kajira, but I crawled a little closer, and listened intently.
“We have received him,” said Astrinax.
I remembered that Astrinax commonly held the late watch.
“Where is he?” asked Desmond.
“He has gone,” said Astrinax.
“How then can he guide us?” asked Desmond.
“Easily,” said Astrinax.
I heard the Lady Bina laugh.
“I do not understand,” said Desmond.
“Our guide,” said Astrinax, “is Pausanias, who recently left with his caravan.”
“Pausanias?” said Desmond of Harfax.
“He does not know it, of course,” said Astrinax. “He is an unwitting guide.”
“And how,” asked Master Desmond, “does Pausanias know his way?”
“It was conveyed to him by Kleomenes, of the hunters,” said Astrinax.
“Then,” said Master Desmond, “Kleomenes, at least, knows the way.”
“No,” said Astrinax, “he does not. He merely conveyed the way.”
“I do not understand,” said Desmond of Harfax.
“Pausanias, of the caravan,” said Astrinax, “had the key, without the lock, so to speak, whereas Kleomenes had the lock, so to speak, but lacked the key.”
“Can you not speak more clearly?” said Desmond of Harfax.
“I think you suspect more than you pretend,” said Astrinax.
“It has to do,” said Master Desmond, “with a deck of cards?”
“Precisely,” said Astrinax.
“And how do you come by these things?” asked Desmond of Harfax.
“I am told,” said Astrinax.
“Oh?” said Desmond. “By whom?”
“By one who sees much but knows little,” said Astrinax.
“And who might be his informant?”
“One who sees little, but knows much,” said Astrinax.
This must be, I thought, Lord Grendel and his fellow, the blind Kur he had brought safe from Ar to the Voltai.
“They have not been with us for days,” said Desmond.
He must know then of the two beasts. He might not know that one was blind.
“They have been about,” said Astrinax.
“You are contacted during the night watch?” said Desmond.
“During some night watches,” said Astrinax.
“I think I will keep the night watch tonight,” said Desmond.
“I would not do so,” said Astrinax.
“Why not?” asked Desmond.
“You might be killed,” said Astrinax. “These are dangerous times, and this is a dangerous place. Serious matters are afoot.”
“As you will,” said Desmond.
“I will tell you something else of interest which has been conveyed to me,” said Astrinax. “Trachinos and his fellow, Akesinos, are outlaws, and lately in contact with their band, recently come from Venna. The rendezvous was to be held, it seems, in the vicinity of the six hundredth pasang stone.”
I recalled the flickering light. Master Desmond had been aware of it, too.
“An ambush is planned,” said Astrinax.
“How many in the band?” asked Desmond.
