Kajira of Gor (14 page)

was adjusted on him.

“I now leave Corcyrus,” he said. “When I return, I shall have an army at my

back.”

“You have insulted our Tatrix,” said Ligurious.

“Your Tatrix,” said Miles, “belongs in a cage, a golden cage.”

There were further cries of rage from those about me. I did not understand,

clearly, the nature of this insult, or the meaning of the reference to a golden

cage.

Here,” said Miles, reaching into a pocket on his belt, “if you of Corcyrus are

so eager for the silver of Argenturn, I will give you some.” He held tip the

coin. “This is a silver tarsk of Argentum,” be said. He flung it to the foot of

the dais. “I give it to you,” he said. “It is about the worth of your Tatrix, I

think, in so far as I am now able to assess her. It is, I think, about what she

would bring in a slave market.”

Blades flashed forth from sheaths. I saw Drusus Rencius restrain one man from

rushing upon Miles of Argentum. In the small retinue of Miles blades, too, had

leapt from sheaths.

“Strip him, and chain him to the slave ring of the Tatrixt” cried a man.

I shuddered. I would be terrified to have such a man chained at my couch. It

would be like having a lion there.

Too, I thought, surely it would be more fitting for women, in their softness and

beauty, with their dispositions to submit and love, irreservedly and wholly, as

king nothing, giving all, holding nothing back from the dominant male, their

master, to be chained to a slave ring. This, in its way, is a beautiful symbol

of her nature and needs. On the other hand, symbolic considerations aside, it

must be noted that the chain is quite real. She is truly chained there.

Miles turned about and, followed by his retinue, left the great hall.

Those about the throne, most bf them, began to take their leave.

“Do you think there will be trouble?” I asked Ligurious.

“No,” he said. “Argentum, upon reflection, will think the better of her rash

decision. Even Claudius knows that behind’ us stands the might and weight of

Cos.”

The ambassador, he, Miles, the general of Argentum,” I said, “seemed very,

firm.”

“He is a hothead,” said Ligurious. “In time, have no fear, when there is a more

objective assessment of realities, cooler wisdoms will prevail.”

“I would not like for there to be trouble,” I said.

“Do not worry about it in the least,” said Ligurious. “Put all such matters from

your mind. I assure you that there will be no trouble whatsoever. You have my

word on it.”

“You relieve my mind,” I said. “I take great comfort in your words.”

“What did you think of Miles of Argentum?” asked Ligurious.

“I thought he seemed very strong, and handsome,” I said.

“I see,” smiled Ligurious. “Incidentally,” he said, “would you like for me to

have Susan whipped for you?”

ords of Ligurious there was a

“Why?” I asked. At the small sound from the chain of Susan. She shrank back,

cowering beside the throne.

“Surely you saw her,” said Ligurious, “when she knew herself to be under the

gaze of the sleen from Argentum. She was dripping to the tiles before him.

Forgive me. I did not I mean to offend your sensibilities.”

“She is only a slave,” I said, lightly. Surely I could not admit to Ligurious

that I, too, had been made uneasy by the presence of the ambassador from

Argenturn.

“True,” laughed Ligurious. “I must take my leave now. Drusus Rencius will see

you to your quarters.”

I nodded, permitting Ligurious to take his leave.

“Thank you, Mistress,” said Susan to me, kneeling beside the throne, “for not

having me whipped.”

Is it true,” I asked her, “that you might possibly have experienced feelings of

a sexuW nature before Miles of Argentum?”

“I cannot help myself, Mistress,” she said. “Before such a man I begin to

secrete the oils of submission.”

“The oils of submission” I said.

“Yes, Mistress,” she said.

“I have never heard them called that,” I said.

“It is what they are,” she said, “at least in a slave.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Does Lady Sheila wish to return to her quarters now?” inquired Drusus Rencius.

“What of the treasures here,” I asked, “and Susan, and the other slaves chained

here?”

“Scribes from the treasure rooms will be along shortly,” he said, “to gather in

and account for the cloths and coins. The palace slave master will be along

later, too, to release the girls and put them back about their more customary

duties.”

I then began to precede Drusus Rencius to my quarters.

“Miles of Argentum is an arrogant knave, isn’t he?” ; I asked Drusus.

“So it would seem, Lady,” said Drusus.

I remembered the sight of the silver tarsk from Argenturn, in the hand of Miles

of Argenturn, and the way it had looked, on the soft carpeting of the dais, on

one of the broad steps leading tip to the throne.

“Do you think,” I asked, lightly, “that I might bring a silver tarsk in a slave

market?”

“It would be difficult to say, without assessing Lady Sheila naked,” he said.

“Oh,” I said.

“Does Lady Sheila wish me to assess her naked in her quarters?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “No, of course notl”

We continued to walk along the carpeted, ornamented corridors toward my

quarters.

“But, from what you know of me,” I said, “do you think that I might bring a

silver tarsk?”

“As a Tatrix,” he asked, “or only as another woman in the market, another mere

female, up for vending, one about whom there is nothing politically or socially

special, one who, like most others, will be priced and sold only on her own

merits?”

“Like that,” I said, “one whose price is determined merely by what she is, and

nothing else.”

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, “as one whose value is determined only by herself.”

“I would think, then,” he said, “the price would be too high.”

“Oh?” I said, angrily. “And what do you think I would go for?”

“Lady Sheila must remember,” said Drusus Rencius, “that even if she might prove

to be quite lovely, she is still untrained.”

“Untrained!” I cried.

“Yes,” he said.

“You speak as if slaves were mere animalsl” I said.

“they are,” he said.

I turned to face him, angrily. “And if I were such an animal, and for sale, what

do you think I would bring?” I asked.

“May I speak with impunity?” he inquired, smiling.

“Yes,” I said, “of coursel”

“My remarks,” he said, “will be based on the hypothesis that Lady Sheila’s

figure is acceptable, that her curvatures fall within suitable slave

tolerances.”

I looked at him.

“Am I entitled to assume this?” he asked.

“I suppose so,” I said. I had no idea what these tolerances might be. I did

regard myself as being rather pretty.

“We shall further assume,” be said, “that Lady Sheila’s figure is not merely

acceptable, but quite lovely. This, I think, from what I know of her, would be a

fair assumption. In any event, it will enhance the speculation.”

“Very well,” I said.

“Your face, for example,” he said, “is quite delicate and lovely. If your body

matches it, I think you would clearly have the makings of a superb slave.”

“Proceed,” I said. It pleased me to have received this compliment from Drusus

Rencius. Too, I had little doubt but what my body, which is slender and lovely,

and not overly developed, well matched -my face. Surely I would bring a high

price.’

“Let us, further assume,” he-said, “that your beauty had been enhanced

considerably, by being, branded and collared.”

“Very well,” I said. I was beautiful. I would bring a high price indeed I

“Even so,” ‘ be said, “you have had no previous owners, as I understand it.”

“That is correct,” I said.

“Having been unowned,” he said, “it seems natural, then, to assume that you are

inexperienced and untrained.”

“Yes,” I said.

“And there are many beautiful women,” he said. “There is no dearth of them in

the slave markets.”

“And what, then,” I asked, “do you think I would bring?”

He looked at me, smiling.

“What?” I asked.

“I would think,” be said, “that you would bring somewhere between fifteen and

twenty copper tarsks.”

“Copper tarsksl” I cried.

“Yes,” he said.

“Beastl” I cried. “Beastl”

“But remember,” he said, smiling, “it is slaves who are assessed and have

prices. Free women are priceless.”

“Yes,” I said, somewhat mollified,’ stepping back. “Yesl” I must remember that I

was priceless. I was a free woman.

“Shall we continue on to your quarters?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, and then, turning about, once more preceded him down the corridor

toward my quarters.

I had had matters out with Ligurious earlier, about such things as the barring

on my door. My door, now, was no longer barred. The guards remained outside but

that, of course, was an understandable precaution, one clearly in my own best

interests, one pertinent to my personal security. Furthermore I was now free,

almost whenever I wished, to go forth from my quarters. The only restriction was

that I must be accompanied by my guard, Drusus Rencius.

We stood on the height of the walls of Corcyrus, on a stone riser behind the

parapet, which permitted us to look out over the parapet, rather than through

its apertures, on the surrounding fields.

“Not all places in Corcyrus,” be said, “are safe, particularly at night, and not

all are suitable for the sensibilities of a free woman.”

There was a breeze blowing toward us, over, the wall. It was welcome. I felt it

move my veils back against my features. I reveled in its lightness and

freshness.

“You should adjust your hood,” said Drusus Rencitis. ff

I had thrust it back, a few moments ago, to better revel in the breeze. To be

sure, it was now possible to detect the color of my hair.

Angrily I readjusted the hood. Drusus Rencius was so protectivel

He looked about, nervously. Why, I wondered, should be seem so tense or uneasy

here.

I could smell the tarns, gigantic, crested saddlebirds, on their perches some

hundred feet away, to our right. There were five of them.

“Do not approach them too closely,” I had been warned by him.

“Do not fear,” I had laughed. I had a terror of such things.

But why, then, if he were so wary of them, or fearful for my safety, had he

wanted to come to this portion of the wall?

It was he who had suggested that we come this close to those fearful monsters.

“I can still see your hair,” said Drusus Renclus.

I drew the hood angrily even more closely about my features. Little more now

could be seen of me, as is common with the robes of concealment, but a bit of

the bridge of my nose and my eyes. It was five days ago that I had suggested we

come to the height of the wall, that I might look out. He had originally been

reluctant to bring me here, but then, almost too suddenly, it had seemed to me,

had finally agreed.

Now, here on the walls, he seemed nervous.

“You are still angry with me,” I said, “about the Kaissa matches.”

“No,” he said.

“They were boring,” I said.

“Centius of Cos was playing,” he said. “He is one of the finest of the players

on Gor.” The appearance of a player of the stature of Centius of Cos at the

matches in a city such as Corcyrus, I gathered, had to do with the alliances

between Cos and Corcyrus. Otherwise it did not seem likely to me that he would

have graced so small a tournament with his presence. He had won his games easily

with the exception of one, with a quite minor player, which he had seemed to

prolong indefinitely, as though attempting to bring about some obscure and

particular configuration on the board. Then, apparently failing to achieve this,

almost as though wearily, he had brought the game to a conclusion in five moves.

“You are still angry with me,” I said.

“No,” he said.

“Yes, you are,” I said.

He did not respond.

“They were boring,” I said. I had asked to be brought home early.

He did not respond.

The most exciting thing about the matches from my point of view was going in and

out of the grounds. There were several slave girls there, just outside the

grounds, fastened to various rings and stanchions. They had been chained there,

to wait like dogs for the return of their masters.

“After you returned me to my quarters, I wager,” I said, you returned to the

matches.”

“Yes,” he said. “I did.”

“And did you get to see your precious Centius of Cos finish his final games?” I

asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Please do not be angry with me, Drusus,” I said.

“I am not angry with you,” he said.

I wondered why I had spoken as I had. I was a Tatrix. Authority was mine, not

his. He was only a guard, a mere guard. Yet I did not want him to be angry with

me. There was something in me, something deep, I did not know what, that wanted

to be pleasing to him.

I continued to look out over the fields. They were lovely.

In a Gorean city it was not difficult for a woman to travel incognito. By the

robes of concealment this is made easy. I wore the robes of a woman of high,