Kamchak went to her and took her head in his hands. She lifted her head and seeing the wild, fearsome scarred face that stared into hers, she suddenly screamed hysterically, and tried to jerk and tear herself away, but the lance held her in place. She kept shaking her head and whimpering. It was clear she could not believe her eyes, that she understood nothing, that she did not comprehend her surroundings, that she thought herself mad.
I noted that she had dark hair and dark eyes, brown. The thought crossed my mind that this might lower her price somewhat.
She wore a simple yellow shift, with narrow orange stripes, of what must once have been crisp oxford cloth. It had long sleeves, with cuffs, and a button down collar, not unlike a man's shirt.
It was now, of course, torn and soiled.
Yet she was not an unpleasing wench to look on, slim, well-ankled, lithe. On the Gorean block she would bring a good price.
She gave a little cry as Kamchak jerked the shoes from about her neck. He threw them to me.
They were orange, of finely tooled leather, with a buckle. They had heels, a bit more than an inch high. There was also lettering in the shoe, but the script and words would have been unfamiliar to Goreans. It was English.
The girl was trying to speak. 'My name is Elizabeth Cardwell,' she said. 'I'm an American citizen. My home is in New York City.'
Kamchak looked in puzzlement at the riders, and they at him. In Gorean, one of the riders said, 'She is a barbarian. She cannot speak Gorean.'
My role, as I conceived it, was to remain silent.
'You are all mad!' screamed the girl, pulling at the straps that bound her, struggling in the bonds. 'Mad!'
The Tuchuks and the others looked at one another, puz- zled.
I did not speak.
I was thunderstruck that a girl, apparently of Earth, who spoke English, should be brought to the Tuchuks at this time at the time that I was among them, hoping to discover and return to Priest-Kings what I supposed to be a golden spheroid, the egg, the last hope of their race. Had the girl been brought to this world by Priest-Kings? Was she the recent victim of one of the Voyages of Acquisition? But I understood them to have been curtailed in the recent subter- ranean War of Priest-Kings. Had they been resumed? Surely this girl had not been long on Gor, perhaps no more than hours. But if the Voyages of Acquisition had been resumed, why had they been resumed? Or was it actually the case that she had been brought to Gor by Priest-Kings? Were there perhaps others somehow others? Was this woman sent to the Tuchuks at this time perhaps released to wander on the plains inevitably to be picked up by outriders for a pur- pose and if so, to what end for whose purpose or pur- poses? Or was there somehow some fantastic accident or coincidence involved in the event of her arrival? Somehow I knew the latter was not likely to be the case.
Suddenly the girl threw back her head and cried out hysterically. 'I'm mad! I have gone mad! I have gone mad!' I could stand it no longer. She was too piteous. Against my better judgment I spoke to her. 'No,' I said, 'you are sane. The girl's eyes looked at me, she scarcely believing the words she had heard.
The Tuchuks and others, as one man, faced me.
I fumed to Kamchak. Speaking in Gorean, I said to him, 'I can understand her.'
One of the riders pointed to me, crying out to the crowd, excitedly. 'He speaks her tongue'
A ripple of pleasure coursed through the throng.
It then occurred to me that it might have been for just this purpose that she had been sent to the Tuchuks, to single out the one man from among all the thousands with the wagons who could understand her and speak with her, thus identify- ing and marking him.
'Excellent,' said Kamchak, grinning at me.
'Please,' cried the girl to me. 'Help met'
Kamchak said to me. 'Tell her to be silent.'
I did so, and the girl looked at me, dumbfounded, but remained silent.
I discovered that I was now an interpreter.
Kamchak was now, curiously, fingering her yellow gar- ment. Then, swiftly, he tore it from her.
She cried out.
'Be silent,' I said to her.
I knew what must now pass, and it was what would have passed in any city or on any road or trail or path in Gor. She was a captive female, and must, naturally, submit to her assessment as prize; she must also be, incidentally, examined for weapons; a dagger or poisoned needle is often concealed in the clothing of free women.
There were interested murmurs from the crowd when, to the Gorean's thinking, the unusual garments underlying her yellow shift were revealed.
'Please,' she wept, turning to me.
'Be silent,' I cautioned her.
Kamchak then removed her remaining garments, even the shreds of nylon stockings that had hung about her ankles. There was a murmur of approval from the crowd; even some of the enslaved Turian beauties, in spite of themselves, cried out in admiration.
Elizabeth Cardwell, I decided, would indeed bring a high price.
She stood held in place by the lance, her throat bound to it with the wood behind her neck, her wrists thonged behind her back. Other than her bonds she now wore only the thick leather collar which had been sewn about her neck. Kamchak picked up the clothing which lay near her on the grass. He also took the shoes. He wadded it all up together in a soiled bundle. He threw it to a nearby woman. 'Burn it,' said Kamchak.
The bound girl watched helplessly as the woman carried her clothing, all that she had of her old world, to a cooking fire some yards away, near the edge of the wagons. the crowd had opened a passage for the woman and the girl saw the clothing cast on the open fire.
'No, no!' she screamed. 'No!'
Then she tried once more to free herself.
'Tell her,' said Kamchak, 'that she must learn Gorean quickly that she will be slain if she does not.'
I translated this for the girl.
She shook her head wildly. 'Tell them my name is Eliza- beth Cardwell,' she said. 'I don't know where I am or how I got here I want to get back to America, I'm an Ameri- can citizen, my home is in New York City take me back there, I will pay you anything!'
'Tell her,' repeated Kamchak, 'that she must learn Gore- an quickly and that if she does not she will be slain.' I translated this once more for the girl.
'I will pay you anything,' she pleaded. 'Anything!' 'You have nothing,' I informed her, and she blushed. 'Further,' I said, 'we do not have the means of returning you to your home.'
'Why not?' she demanded.
'Have you not,' I pressed, 'noted the difference in the gravitational field of this place have you not noted the slight difference in the appearance of the sun?'
'It's not true!' she screamed.
'This is not Earth,' I told her. 'This is Gor another earth perhaps but not yours.' I looked at her fixedly. She must understand. 'You are on another planet.'
She closed her eyes and moaned.
'I know,' she said. 'I know I know but how?
how?'
'I do not know the answer to your question,' I said. I did not tell her that I was, incidentally, keenly interested for my own reasons in learning the answer to her question. Kamchalc seemed impatient.
'What does she say?' he asked.
'She is naturally disturbed,' I said. 'She wishes to return to her city.'
'What is her city?' asked Kamchak.
'It is called New York,' I said.
'I have never heard of it,' said Kamchak.
'It is far away,' I said.
'How is it that you speak her language?' he asked. 'I once lived in lands where her language is spoken,' I said.
'Is there grass for the bask in her lands?' asked Kamchak. 'Yes,' I said, 'but they are far away.'
'farther even than Thentis?' asked Kamchak.
'Yes,' I said.
'farther even than the islands of Cos and-Tyros?' he asked.
'Yes,' I said.
Kamchak whistled. 'That is far,' he said..
I smiled. 'It is too far to take the bask,' I said. Kamchak grinned at me.
One of the warriors on the kaiila spoke. 'She was with no one,' he said. 'We searched. She was with no one.' Kamchak nodded at me, and then at the girl.
'Were you alone?' I asked.
The girl nodded weakly.
'She says she was alone,' I told Kamchak.
'How came she here?' asked Kamchak.
I translated his question, and the girl looked at me, and then closed her eyes and shook her head. 'I don't know,' she said.
'She says she does not know,' I told Kamchak.
'It is strange,' said Kamchak. 'But we will question her further later.'
He signaled to a boy who carried a skin of Ka-la-na wine over his shoulder. He took the skin of wine from the boy and bit out the horn plug; he then, with the wineskin on his shoulder, held back the head of Elizabeth Cardwell with one hand and with the other shoved the bone nozzle of the skin between her teeth; he tipped the skin and the girl, half choking, swallowed wine; some of the red fluid ran from her mouth and over her body.
When Kamchak thought she had drunk enough he pulled the nozzle from her mouth, pushed back the plug and re- turned the skin to the boy.
Dazed, exhausted, covered with sweat, dust on her face and legs, wine on her body, Elizabeth Cardwell, her wrists thonged behind her and her throat bound to a
