“Should I not be thanked?” I asked.
“Are you a free woman?” he said.
“No, Master,” I said.
“Are you a slave?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Then you should not be thanked,” he said.
“I see,” I said.
“I am not sure you do,” he said.
“I do not understand,” I said.
“It is a kindness,” he said.
“I do not understand,” I said.
“It is a lesson,” he said. “It may save your life.”
“Master?” I said.
“The slave,” he said, “is not to be self-concerned, self-seeking, or self-interested. That is for the free woman. The free woman thinks of herself. The slave thinks of her master, and hopes to be found pleasing. The slave serves selflessly, surrendering herself wholly to the master. She belongs to him, as a tarsk or a sandal. She does not obey to be rewarded. She does not serve to be thanked. She is a slave. It is hers, his animal, to obey unquestioningly, immediately, thanklessly. It is what she is for.”
“Surely a master might throw her a candy, or give her a caress,” I said.
“Yes,” he said, “but such things are not owed to her. Rather, let her be grateful for any attention the master may give her.”
“I want to serve so,” I said, “helplessly, mastered!”
“On Gor,” he said, “you will have no choice but to serve so.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“So,” said he, “do you still wish to be thanked?”
“No, Master,” I said.
“But,” he said, “you would perhaps like to know that you have been found pleasing?”
“Oh, yes, Master!” I said.
He then put a great paw in my hair, and shook my head, affectionately, as one might the head of domestic sleen.
“You have been found pleasing,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“We will now light a fire,” he said. “You must be cold.”
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“But you must understand,” he said, “that I am part Kur. A human master might not be so tolerant.”
“I understand,” I said.
“What do you think they buy women for?” he asked.
“To be slaves,” I said.
“And what sort of slaves?” he asked.
“Perfect slaves,” I said.
“Keep that in mind,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
Chapter Forty-Six
Much frustration, fury, and rage coursed through the corridors of the Cave.
Two Kurii, those assigned to execute the prisoner, Grendel, had disappeared. Later, their bodies and parts of bodies, for wandering animals had fed, were discovered near the ashes of an abandoned fire. It was then supposed that the prisoner, presumably somehow abetted, was in flight. Two axes were missing, and two sets of harnessing. A dozen armed search parties were dispatched, over a period of several days. Some of these smaller, more rapidly moving parties may have ranged a quarter of the way to the Aqueduct Road. Then, the winds rising, the chill blasts whistling amongst the mountains, the first scattering of snow hurrying betwixt the peaks, the parties had returned. No trail of the prisoner, or others, had been found. It was supposed then that the fugitives, ill-armed and ill- provisioned, perhaps lost and disoriented, had perished in the Voltai.
The night of the freeing of Grendel I had crept back to the vicinity of the great portal, and, in the darkness, waited on what, if one were facing inward to the portal, would be the right-hand side, my back close to the wall.
About the First Ahn I might have fled within the portal, even into the arms of guards, had it not been for the words of Grendel that the matter, my reentry into the Cave, would be arranged by Tiresias. And so I waited for the moment in which such an entry might be “opportune.” I think that is why I did not bolt inward when, some twenty yards from me, in the darkness, I sensed the movement of a large, sinuous body. Anything that large, moving in such a way, in this vicinity, could only be a larl. I recalled that such a beast had been in the neighborhood of that long, dangerous, winding passageway traversed by Tiresias when he, carrying me, was hurrying to its end, where it opened onto the broad, rocky slope. The beast had raised its head, and peered at us, over a shelf of rock. Tiresias had been aware of its presence, but had scarcely reacted. The larl had not followed us. I had conjectured that it was not hungry. Later, on the night of my reentry into the Cave, I became aware that some relationship existed between the two, although, at the time, I did not understand its nature. In any event, while I backed against the wall, fearing to move, the beast passed me, moving to my right, where it would, in effect, some yards out, cross the slope before the portal. It was scarcely across from the portal when an alarm rang out, and two Kurii, lifting lanterns, ran to the threshold of the portal. Almost at the same time another pair of Kurii, for the guard is doubled after dark, joined them, these carrying spears. In the light of the lanterns the eyes of the larl, catching the light, the body turned toward the portal in the darkness, blazed like tarn disks of gold. The two Kurii with lanterns began to swing them about, which cast startling, darting, awkward shadows on the slope. The two with spears brandished their weapons and stepped threateningly toward the larl, but did not, I noted, much leave the vicinity of the threshold. All four were shouting Kur at the larl. I heard others approaching, and, too, even the voices of kajirae. As attention was fastened on the larl I slipped about the corner of the portal, unnoticed, into the Cave, and, in an instant, was being embraced by Jane and Eve, and there were other kajirae about, too. One Kur, come to the portal, looked at me, and I was indistinguishable amongst others. Looking out, I saw that the larl, as though displeased, had padded away, into the darkness.
“We were afraid,” said Jane.
“You are trembling,” said Eve. “You are cold.”
“It is past locking time,” I said, apprehensively.
“Do not be concerned,” said Jane. “We have enlisted Chloe. See our thighs.”
“You have been claimed for the night?” I said.
“So it would seem,” said Eve.
“My thigh,” said Jane, “claims that I have been reserved this evening for Astrinax.”
“And mine that I have been spoken for by Lykos,” said Eve.
“Chloe!” whispered Jane, and Chloe approached.
“I will mark your thigh, barbarian,” said Chloe. “Whom shall I say has reserved you for the evening?”
“Desmond of Harfax,” I said.
Following the revolt of Lucius, as I have mentioned, certain changes were effected in the routine of the Cave. Three of these were most noticeable to humans. First, there was a significant reduction in the displays, usually ceremonial, of the mysterious container which was commonly believed to contain a treasure, most likely of diamonds, but which was understood by some of us to be somehow relevant to the person of Agamemnon himself. Second, there was the disarming of the Cave’s humans, which muchly uneased the men. One wields a weapon or is subject to the weapons of another. Tyrants prefer disarmed subjects. It is a sensible first step in civil conquest. It is
