She flung the garment angrily down.
'What are you doing?' she asked, apprehensively.
'I am removing my belt,' I said.
'For what purpose?' she asked.
'You are going to be lashed as you never believed a woman could be lashed,' I said.
She sank to her knees. 'No,' she said, 'please.'
'Then pick up the garment in your teeth,' I said, 'and bring it to me, on all fours.'
Frightened, she did so.
'Put it here,' I said, indicating a place before me.
She did so.
'You may now beg to wear it,' I said, doubling my belt.
'I shall of course wear it, if it is my captor's will,' she said.
I slapped the belt into my palm, hard.
'I beg to wear the garment!' she said. 'I beg it!'
'Put it on,' I said.
Swiftly she did so, pulling it over her head, not even rising from her knees.
'Stand,' I said.
She did so, frightened, but, with a delightful, typically feminine gesture, adjusted and smoothed down the garment. I have seen slave girls do that even with tiny slave tunics.
'It is not unattractive on you,' I said.
'Oh?' she asked, pleased.
'No,' I said. 'But I suppose it might be more so if it came considerably higher on your thighs.'
'Slave short?' she asked.
'Yes,' I said, 'and perhaps if it had a plunging neckline, one slashed perhaps to your belly.'
'And if it were perhaps accented, at the throat, with a close-fitting, steel collar?' she asked.
'Perhaps,' I smiled.
'Let me alter it!' she said.
'You will wear as it is, unless ordered to do otherwise,' I said.
'Of course, my captor,' she said.
'Kneel,' I said.
'Yes, my captor,' she said.
'Kiss my feet,' I said.
'Yes, my captor,' she said.
'Look up,' I said.
'Yes, my captor,' she said. 'Whose are you?' I asked.
'Yours, my captor,' she said. 'Totally?'
'Yes, my captor,' she said.
'Do not forget it,' I said.
'No, my captor,' she said.
I had then turned away from her.
'Will we enter the city?' asked Ina, eagerly.
'I have not decided,' I said. 'My main objective is to locate my friend, Ephialtes, and I think his wagon, and his goods, would be at the periphery of the encampment.' Most of the sutlers' wagons would be in such a location, at least generally. They are sometimes allowed in the camps, during certain Ahn, to deliver or sell goods.
'There is also, I believe, outside Brundisium, a large slave camp,' said Marcus.
'I think so,' I said. The camp referred to by Marcus had, as I understood it, been in existence near Brundisium for several months, which is a long period for such camps. This had to do, presumably, with the war, and the large numbers of females taken in its prosecution, some thousands from Ar's Station, and its vicinity, alone. Most of the dealers in such camps are wholesalers, looking for cheap buys on excellent females, often bidding on them in lots. The lots are sometimes of mixed value, some including women who are little more than free women, their slave fires not yet ignited, and others which may be captured, needful slaves. One may have to buy ten women to get the two or three one really wants. To be sure, it is likely that all the women, in time, with training, and such, will become superb. All of them, after all, were seen fit to be put in the ropes of masters. It was natural that such a camp would be located at Brundisium. From Brundisium, a major port friendly to Cog, indeed, the port of entry for the Cosian invasion forces, it was convenient to ship loot, females and other loot, to Cos and the islands. I did not doubt that already hundreds of women had passed through the camp, mostly, I supposed, to be shipped or herded to the docks of Brundisium, to be placed on slave ships, chained, their heads and bodies shaved, to be shipped to various destinations. Also, of course, from the camp they could be transported to hundreds of destinations on the continent, for example, Market of Semris, Samnium, Besnit, Harfax, Ko-ro-ba, and elsewhere. Such camps tend not to be placed within the walls of cities. In this fashion, they have more land, obtain cheaper rentals, avoid certain local taxes, and so on. Free women, also, I have heard, object to such camps within the walls, supposedly because of the smells. I frankly doubt that this is the real reason. I think it is rather that they hate female slaves, and are almost insanely jealous of them. Certainly it is understandable that they might not wish to have large numbers of them about, the sight of whom is so exciting to males. The males, of course, may go to the camps, to look at the 'stock.' And with respect to smells, I do not think the free women, either, would smell as well as they might, if, say, they were kept on straw, chained naked in slave cages.
'Let us proceed,' I said. Ina caught her breath.
'What is wrong?' I asked.
'I was suddenly frightened,' she said.
'Do you wish to be leashed?' I asked. 'No,' she said.
'Heel,' I said.
'Yes, my captor,' she said.
I turned to regard her. She would follow me, behind and on the left. In this way the sword arm is not likely to be encumbered.
'Captor?' she asked, looking down.
I was looking at her feet. Her feet were small, her ankles lovely. She was now in sandals, as befitted a free woman. Such, of course, could be removed from her. Slaves, for example, are commonly kept barefoot. High slaves, on the other hand, often have sandals, sometimes lovely ones. To be sure, much depends on the terrain, and such. One would not wish even a common slave to cut her feet or roughen them. That slaves are often barefoot says much, incidentally, for the cleanliness of Gorean streets and the usual paucity of litter. Goreans tend to keep their streets very well. The streets are, after all, the streets of their city, and their city is, after all, the place of their Home Stone.
'Captor?' she asked.
'You have lovely ankles,' I said.
'Thank you,' she said.
'They would look well, as I have hitherto observed,' I said, 'in shackles.'
'Thank you, my captor,' she said.
'Do you not think so?' I asked Marcus.
'Yes,' he said, 'but I, myself, prefer the ankles of slimmer, dark-haired women.'
I recalled Port Cos, and the girl, Yakube, whom we had met on the docks there. I had been afraid Marcus, thinking her of Cos, and hating Cos and all things Cosian, would have cut her throat or injured her, but, fortunately, as it had turned out, she had not been of Cos, but from White Water, on the northern shore of the Vosk, east of Tancred's Landing. She was, however, the sort of woman, slim, exquisite, very lightly complexioned, dark-haired, dark-eyed, to whom I had learned that Marcus was almost madly attracted. It seemed he could barely resist such a female, and, of course, in virtue of this, he, who in my opinion tended to be too self-critical anyway, was often furious with himself.
'Yet,' I said, 'our little Ina is not unattractive.'
'No,' he said, 'she is not unattractive.'
I laughed, and Ina blushed, her face, her arms, the lower part of her legs, and feet.
