'I had thought you might have,' I said.
'You have a very active mind,' he said.
'Perhaps you might even, upon occasion, beat him,' I said.
'I do not think that is very likely,' he said.
'Nor do I,' I said.
'Do not speak to me of Scormus of Ar,' he said.
'Why?' I asked.
'Scormus of Ar is a traitor to his city,' he said.
'How is that?' I asked.
'He failed his city,' he said, 'and was disgraced.'
'In what way did this occur?' I asked.
'He lost in the great tournament, in 10,125 Contasta Ar,' he said, 'to Centius, of Cos.'
'Centius is a fine player,' I said. The tournament he referred to was doubtless the one held at the Sardar Fair, in En'Kara of that year. It had occurred five years ago. It was now 10,13 °C.A., Contasta Ar, from the Founding of Ar. In the chronology of Port Kar, it was now Year Eleven, of the Sovereignty of the Council of Captains. I had been fortunate enough to have been able to witness that game. In it Centius of Cos, one of Gor's finest players, indeed, perhaps her finest player, had, for the first time, introduced the defense which came subsequently to be known as the Telnus Defense. Telnus was the home city of Centius of Cos. it is also the capital of that island ubarate.
'That makes no difference,' said the player.
'I would think it would make a great deal of difference,' I said.
'No,' he said, bitterly. 'It does not.'
'Do you know Scormus of Ar?' I asked.
'No,' he said, angrily, 'I do not know him.'
'I think that is true,' I said. 'I think you do not know him.'
'I do not think we need bother playing again,' he said.
'As you wish,' I said.
'Are you still here?' asked Bina, come from the side of the cooking fire. She carried a pan of water. It was that in which the Lady Yanina had been washing the vegetables. The water was now rather dirty, and in it there floated numerous scrapings from various vegetables. Presumably she was on her way to empty it, outside the camp.
'Obviously,' he said, looking down upon her.
'I thought I told you to go away,' she said.
'I did not do so,' he said.
'Are you being insolent?' she asked.
'I am a free man,' he said. Insolence, if I choose, is my prerogative.'
'Well, I, too, can be insolent, if it pleases me,' she said.
'An insolent female slave?' I inquired.
'I am not speaking to you,' she said. Boots, by now, had returned to the camp.; I was certain that the girl did not realize this. I saw that Boots, who had been sorting through his purchases, from the village, now looked up, in surprise. Lady Telitsia, now unburdened and relieved of the carrying straps, their marks still on her body, lay in the shade near the wheel of his wagon, gasping. It had been a long trek back to the camp from the village and the burdens under which she must struggle, bearing them for her master, had been quite heavy.
'I do not want you in camp,' said Bina to the player. 'I told you to go away. Having you about makes us sick! You are too ugly. None of us want you here. Go away! You repulse all of us! Go away!'
'You speak boldly to a free man,' he said. The player, too, I think, did not realize that Boots had returned to the camp. I could see him from where I stood. He was back, between two wagons, at the side of his.
'You are a monstrosity,' she said. 'Go away!'
'You are insolent,' he observed.
'Yes,' she said, 'I am insolent!'
'I would not advise you to speak generally in this way to free men,' I said.
For a moment she turned pale, but then, as I made no move to correct her behavior, perhaps stripping her and throwing her to her belly, kicking her, thrusting her face into the dirt, or tying her to an elevated, spinning wagon wheel, she turned, again, boldly, to the player. Boots, of course, unbeknownst to either of them, was observing all this.
'Yes,' she said to him, 'I am insolent! I am insolent to you! I may be insolent to you with impunity, for you are not a man! You are too weak to punish me! You are only a beast, a monster, a cringing, wretched, pathetic, ignoble, spineless, monster! You are not a man at all! You are only some kind of monster, some kind of monstrosity, some kind of contemptible weakling!'
I wondered if she thought she was speaking to a man of Earth, and not a Gorean male.
'Weakling!' she cried. 'Weakling!'
She was very small, looking up at him. I considered her angry, curvaceous little form. How inappropriate seemed her anger, given the smallness, the softness, of her body. How absurd it seemed that the little animal should so boldly address itself to the larger, st4ronger brute. On what artifices, on what weaknesses, did it count? How bravely tiny animals may conduct themselves in the presence of caged larls! But how stupid are larls who will lock themselves in cages, being told to do so. But what if the larl should free itself?
'Weakling!' she cried.
Did she not know she was a female? Did she not know she wore a collar?
'Weakling!' she cried.
How the little animals would scurry if the larl emerged from its cage! Did she not know how easy it would be for her to be stripped and returned to her place in nature, at his feet? Did she in her heart fear the larl might one day say, 'The joke is finished. It is enough.' Or did she long for that day?
'Weakling!' she screamed.
The player regarded her, not speaking.
'Go away!' she screamed. 'Go away!'
'Have you finished?' he asked.
'Your robes have dust on them,' she said. This was, of course, the residue of dust remaining on them, after she had, earlier in the afternoon, kicked dust upon them. 'I am a slave. Let me clean them for you!' She then suddenly, angrily, flung the pan of water upon him, drenching his robes from the chest down.
'Kneel, Slave!' cried Boots, in fury, coming up behind her. 'Head to the ground!'
Startled, she cried out with misery. Then, immediately, in terror, she dropped the pan and assumed the prescribed position. 'Master,' she cried, trembling, 'I did not know you had returned!'
'Apparently,' said Boots.
'Forgive me, Master!' she begged. The other members of the troupe, now, and the slaves, and Lady Yanina, in her gown fashioned from a Sa-Tarna sack, gathered around. Lady Telitsia was white-faced. She had her hand before her mouth. She, now well acquainted with her own condition, that of the collared, female slave on Gor, was terrified as to what might be done to the errant Bina. Rowena, too, trembled.
'What is going on?' asked Boots.
'I suggest that you ask the slave to give an accounting,' I said, 'completely.'
'The monster,' she said, swiftly, 'was mocking you, abusing you with may insults, Master. I could stand it no longer! I took it upon myself, risking my own life, to stop him, to defend your honor!'
'Is this true?' inquired Boots of the player.
How clever was the little she-sleen. She knew the possible penalties for what she had done. She counted on the player to support her story, to protect her from the horrifying repr9isals almost certain to be visited on a helpless slave in her position. I wondered how weak he was.
'Is it true?' asked Boots.
'No,' said the player.
'Aiii!' she wept, in misery.
'Speak,' said Boots.
