“Thirty!” he cried. “Yes, yes! Then twenty!”
She spun about. “Done,” she said.
I saw a twenty-tarsk piece put in his hand.
I had been sold, again.
“What is your name?” asked the woman.
“Whatever Mistress wishes,” I said.
Her eyes narrowed, and I sensed, within the veil, she wrinkled her nose. “What of Dung-of-Tarsk?” she asked.
“Whatever Mistress wishes,” I said.
“What have you been called?” she asked.
“Allison,” I said.
“I do not know that name,” she said.
“It is a barbarian name, your graciousness,” said the man.
“Good,” said the woman. “We will keep it. That way others will know that she is a barbarian, or no better than a barbarian.”
“It will help to keep her in her place,” said the man.
“What is your name, girl?” she asked.
“Allison, Mistress,” I said, “if it pleases Mistress.”
“I will have her picked up later this evening, after dark,” said the woman. “In the meantime shave her head and scrub her clean, with kaiila brushes.”
“It will be done,” said the man.
Why, I wondered, was I to be picked up after dark?
Why would she not take me with her, from the market? The men could thong-bind my wrists behind my back and cord-leash me.
Suitably bound and tethered I could no more escape from her than from a man. A slave is often made helpless, absolutely so.
Surely it would not take long to cleanse a slave, or, if one wished, to shave her head.
Why was I to be picked up after dark?
I was uneasy.
I was looking up, from my knees, these positioned closely together, as though I might still be white-silk, when the woman’s veil seemed to slip, as though inadvertently. I think, however, this lapse was not inadvertent, as she did not immediately restore it, but let it lay loose for a moment, as she smiled.
“Aii,” said the man, softly.
I myself gasped, as well. She was surely one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Her features were exquisite, her eyes a deep, soft, lovely blue. At the side of her hood, there was a strand of bright, blondish hair.
“I am the Lady Bina,” she said. “It is in this name that my agent will call for the girl.”
She then refastened the veil.
I gathered she had well tested her power, to her satisfaction, on the hapless fellow.
I recalled the sternness of her bidding.
This was no ordinary beautiful woman.
“You may find my agent unusual,” she said. “But do not be afraid. He is harmless, save when aroused, or angered.”
I did not understand this.
“I have men,” said the fellow. “Let them conduct you from this place. It is a low place. The streets are not well lit. It will soon be dark.”
“I do not understand,” she said, in a way which suggested she well understood.
“The streets are dangerous,” he said. “Your graciousness should be guarded.”
“I am guarded,” she said, and turned, and left.
“She is beautiful enough to be a Ubara,” said the man to his fellow, who had held the lamp.
“That is an odd name,” said his fellow.
I thought it odd, as well, for ‘bina’ is a common word for beads, generally cheap beads, of colored wood, slave beads.
“I do not think she is Gorean,” said the man.
“What then?” asked the other. “She does not seem barbarian.”
“Did you see her?” asked the man.
“Of course,” said the other.
“What do you think?” asked the man.
“Ten golden tarn disks, at least of double weight,” said the other.
“I think so,” said the man.
“Such women are well guarded,” said his fellow.
“This is an honest house,” said the man.
“Yes,” said the other. Then he looked down at me. “So,” he said, “twenty tarsks.”
I put my head down.
“It is not a bad price for her,” said the man.
On Gor, commonly, slaves are cheap, even beautiful slaves. They are easily obtained. Almost anyone may own one, or more.
“Allison,” said the man, “follow Petranos. He will conduct you to the tubs. There he will shave your head, and then the girls will scour you.”
“May I speak, Master?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
I put my hands to my hair. “Must my head be shaved?” I asked.
He put his left hand in my hair, holding me, as I knelt, and then, first with the back of his right hand, and then with its palm, cuffed me, sharply, stingingly.
“Forgive me, Master,” I said.
I then rose to my feet, and hurried after Petranos.
I knelt under the sheet, it wrapped closely about me, sobbing, in an outer room, one with access to the street. I could see the street, through the opened door. It was already dark. My left ankle was chained to a ring anchored in the floor.
It is usually the left ankle which is chained.
My body was sore, for the slaves who had cleaned me had not been gentle. They were larger slaves, thick- bodied, and coarse. They tend to have something of the attitude of free women toward slaves of a sort likely to be of greater interest to men. They tend to despise the needful, lovely, feminine slave, the sort men are likely to seek, capture, collar, and put to their feet.
I was now much different from what I had been.
I was now sparkling, doubtless.
The cleaning slaves had seen to that.
The smell of tarsk was no longer on me. Surely that was to the good. But I was miserable. I put my hand to my head. I remembered the feel of the razor on my scalp. I cried out in misery. Petranos had done his work well.
How ugly I now was!
How could I now attract a desirable master?
For what had I been purchased? For the mills, or the mines, for work at the
Clearly I would now be of little interest in the taverns, in the brothels, in the gambling houses, even in the towers, or inns.
Who now would want the former Allison Ashton-Baker? Not even the boys I used to torment!
