yellow tag sometimes indicates that a girl is not to be sold without prior consultation with the slaver. Tags are sometimes, too, used to indicate distinctions among slaves, at least among slavers themselves, being correlated to the classes or grades of slaves. For example, a brown tag commonly signifies a low slave, such as a mere kettle- and-mat girl or a pot girl, little more than female work slaves, and so on, whereas a gold tag commonly signifies a much higher grade of slave, usually a trained pleasure slave or a dancer. There is, however, to be perfectly honest, no absolutely uniform color coding in these matters. different houses have their own conventions. It is unusual, incidentally, for a woman to be tagged in a regular market, except in so far as she might be marked «Sold» or have a «Hold» put on her. It is not hard in a Gorean market, for example, where the women are usually stripped, or will be stripped for they buyer's inspection, to see who is most beautiful or interesting. Too, of course, women in such a market can be literally made to display their beauty and pose and perform in various ways for the viewers. This, too, makes it easier to make choices amongst them.
One form of tagging is fairly common, however, during sales, and that is tagging during auctions, or in preparation for large sales, as when the girls are in exhibition cages, before being brought, usually serially, later, before the public. This form of tagging is the sales disk. It bears the girl's lot number on it. It is usually wired to her collar. This provides not only the seller with a convenience, helping to make certain his records remain clear, but it can be h elpful to the buyer also, who may then, presumably already having established his interests, perhaps in virtue of commands earlier addressed to the lovely chattels in the exhibition cages, simply bid by number.
I regarded the girl. She was quite beautiful, in all fours on the platform, the short chain on her neck descending to its ring in the heavy planks. There was a white disk dangling from her collar. She would be held until the eighteenth Ahn. The slaver's man was now again on h is feet. He had retrieved his whip.
I turned away.
'I know wear a holding tag, Master,' she said to the slaver's man. 'May I break position?'
I heard the lash fall upon her. 'Forgive me, Master!' she cried.
How stupid her question had been. Did she not know that the prospective buyer might not prove to be interested in her, and that she might in the meantime, by lax postures or attitudes, be discouraging other occurrences of interest; too, what of the other slaves and the aesthetic integrity of the display line; too, the prospective buyer might appear earlier than was anticipated. Too, did she think her discipline would be relaxed because someone might be interested in her? No! It would be trebled!
'Ah!' had cried Boots, later, about the seventeenth Ahn, when he had first seen her. 'But wait! She wears a holding disk!'
'Do not fear,' I had said, 'It is for your inspection that she is being held.'
'Oh?' said Boots.
'I arranged it,' I said.
'Let us take a look at her,' said Boots.
In the end Boots got her for two silver tarsks. This is a high price for an untrained slave but, to be sure, all things considered, she was an excellent buy. Too, she seemed ideal for Boots's purposes. She would doubtless make a splendid 'golden courtesan' and, after performances, there was little doubt but what she would prove popular in the sex tents. Too, getting her for two silver tarsks, though perhaps somewhat more than Boots cared to pay, left him a full three silver tarsks, the residue of his profit from the sale of the Brigella. Three silver tarsks would surely tide him over, and his company, until the next performances, presumably to take place somewhere other than on the fairgrounds.
'I do not know what I shall do without my Brigella,' moaned Boots, preparing to pay the slaver's man.
'Look at it this way,' I said. 'You are at least getting a golden courtesan.'
'There are more Brigella roles,' said Boots.
'Well, this girl is not a Brigella,' I said.
'True,' lamented Boots.
'Perhaps you should not have sold your Brigella,' I said.
'I needed the money,' said Boots.
'Two silver tarsks,' said the slaver's man.
'The price is steep,' said Boots. 'Could we not reconsider the matter?'
'Two silver tarsks,' said the man.
'Would you care to make it double or nothing, on the basis of some wager of your choosing, such as in cups and pebbles?' he asked.
'Two,' said the man.
'I have the cups and a pebble, by some stroke of luck, in my wallet,' said Boots.
'Two,' said the fellow. This game, like many such games, of various types, involves guessing. Small, inverted metal cups are used. A coin, pebble, or small object is supposedly placed beneath one of the cups. They are then moved about, rapidly. The odds are with the 'house,' so to speak, particularly if the coin or pebble is not placed under one of the cups. I was already familiar with Boots's skill in slight-of-hand manipulations from Port Kar. 'Two,' repeated the man. Boots then paid him. The slaver's man, of course, was well pleased with the sale. It was a good price, and it was a particularly good one for a slow market.
I had no difficulty in recovering m ten copper tarsks, put down to hold the girl for Boots's later inspection.
'Are you pleased with your buy?' I asked Boots later, when we were leaving the market, the girl following behind us, heeling us, her wrists tied behind her back with a string.
'She was pretty expensive,' said Boots.
'But you are pleased, are you not?' I asked.
'Yes,' he said.
'Are you grateful?' I asked.
'Eternally, undyingly,' he assured me.
'Perhaps you would consider granting me a favor,' I said.
'Just ask,' he said.
'I would like to join your troupe,' I said.
'No,' he said.
'I thought you just said to 'just ask',' I said.
'You are correct,' said Boots. 'That is exactly what I had in mine, that you should just ask, only that, and nothing more. Now, where are my wagons?'
'You are a hard man,' I said.
'Yes,' he said, 'I am a grim fellow. But one does not attain my heights by being soft.'
'Your wagons are in that direction,' I informed him.
'Thank you,' he said.
'You will not reconsider?' I asked.
'No,' said Boots, 'and what am I to do without a Brigella?'
'I do not know,' I said.
'I am ruined,' said Boots.
'Perhaps not,' I opined, hopefully.
'Are you a business man?' he asked.
'No,' I said.
'I will thank you, then,' said Boots, 'to have the decency to refrain from forming an opinion on the matter.'
'Sorry,' I said.
'Do you know where I can find a Brigella?' he asked.
'Perhaps you could buy one,' I said.
'Not just any girl can be a Brigella,' he said.
'I suppose not,' I said.
'I am ruined,' he said.
'At least you now have a golden courtesan,' I said, 'and I expect that she will prove profitable in the tent as well.'
