Plunder of Gor (21 page)

“Phyllis?” asked the voice.

“There,” said the kitchen master, doubtless indicating me.

I turned about, and put my head the floor.

Two days ago I had stolen a tospit from the fruit bin, and had been switched for my trouble, a slight, betraying yellow stain having been noted at the corner of my mouth. Surely that was done with. Surely I was not to be punished again, at least not for that. What then had I done? I did not think the kitchen master's favorite, Fina, would have been switched!

I wondered if she gasped and leaped better in his arms than I. I doubt­ed it. There is no accounting for the tastes of masters.

We, kitchen slaves, were all at his disposal. We all responded to him. Certainly I had writhed in his arms, on my chain, pleading, as I succumbed, helpless under his Gorean touch.

But Fina had golden hair, and loved him.

Perhaps that made a difference.

I had now recognized the voice of the fellow who had entered the kitchen. He was Faisal, Lysander's house manager, his bailiff or chamberlain, so to speak.

I had seen him twice before. He rarely came to the kitchen.

“You are Phyllis?” he asked, standing near me.

“Yes, Master,” I said, my head down, to the floor.

Though different names had been put on me, from time to time, I was usually named ‘Phyllis'.

“You have been chosen to serve, at this evening's supper,” he said. “Follow me.”

He turned about, and made his way to the portal, without looking back. I rose and looked about. I saw that the kitchen master, and my sister slaves, even Fina, understood no more of this than I.

Certainly I had had no special training, at serving so.

He had disappeared down the hall. I hurried after him.

Chapter Fourteen

I ladled the grain and vulo soup, seasoned with brown, ground tur-pah, carefully into the bowl.

It would not do to spill it.

Serving slaves, and slaves, in general, were not expected to be clumsy. Clumsiness may be ignored or dismissed in a free woman, but it is not acceptable in a slave. An accident or mistake that will be routinely overlooked in the case of a free woman may, in the case of the slave, bring the whip.

Four served, and there were nine to be served, five men, including my master, Lysander, and four women. I knew none of those served other than my master, and I had scarcely seen him, since having been presented before him, tunicked, after my purchase. He had never so much as touched me.

Being a serving slave in a great house is, by many, viewed as an envied slavery, at least with respect to the lightness of its labors. Surely it is preferable to the fields, the laundries, the mills, bearing water in the mines or quarries, and such. Being a kitchen slave, on the other hand, in a great house is not much different from being a kitchen slave in any large house.

“Enough,” said the guest, lifting his finger.

I backed away, head down, as I had been told, and then approached the next guest.

We slaves who served were decorously gowned, though our arms were bare. We wore white, woolen gowns, which descended to our ankles. Our necklines were shallow, and nothing that might distress a free woman. We had washed thoroughly, our bodies and hair, and our hair was bound back, tightly, with fillets of white wool. Our feet were bare.

There was, of course, an obvious difference between us and the free women, other than our serving. We were collared. Too, of course, if one were to investigate, it would be discovered that our left thighs were marked, high, below the hip. We all wore the Kef, the most common slave brand.

The first girl amongst us was Selena, who had been captured on Teletus by raiders from Hunjer, and, with others, sold in Brundisium, where prices seem to run high. Teletus was somewhere to the west, and Hunjer was north, north even, I gathered, of the Vosk. Brundisium, apparently a port, was north, but, as I understood, it was south of the Vosk. I would later learn that both Teletus and Hunjer were islands.

Free Goreans commonly eat at low tables, the men sitting cross-legged, and the women kneeling, their knees closely together within their robes. On the other hand, in certain high houses, and surely in the house of Lysander, often, particularly given the presence of guests, dining couches were employed. It was so this night. On these couches, usually arranged in a square or rectangle, sometimes in a circle or oval, the guests recline and help themselves from the low, narrow tables, these set before the couches. The height of these tables, a bit higher than the common Gorean table, is matched to the surface of the couches, for ease of access. The serving, given the spacing between the couches, may be done from either outside or inside the parallel concentricity, so to speak, of couches and tables. Guests occupying the central position on the couches are, as would be expected, served from the inside, namely, from within the arrangement. In this arrangement the men and women may recline beside one another which, doubtless, in the way of a nice fillip, adds to the informality, stimulation, and delight of the occasion. What male appetite is unlikely to be stirred by the presence of a lovely woman reclining at his side?

As I mentioned, there were nine to be served, five men, including my master, Lysander, and four women. All wore chaplets of flowers, both men and women, which is not uncommon, I learned, in many Gorean cities and towns on festive occasions, holidays, celebrations, companionings, parties, and such. As nearly as I could determine none of the four women were companioned, in a strict sense, to any of the men present, but seemed to have been engaged as professional companions, for the pleasantries of their company and conversation. Such women are not slaves, though they are sometimes, in effect, mistresses. In any event, I knew Lysander was not companioned in the sense of the free companionship, and this seemed to be the case with three of the others, as well, as their charming partners gave no indication of being free companions, either of their partners or of any other, who might not be present. The women, though lavishly and abundantly robed, were not veiled, as presumably they would be on the streets, and of them, though all fair, two, I thought, though free, might be beautiful enough to be slaves, perhaps even “high slaves.” The most beautiful seemed to be the dinner companion of Lysander himself. The three other women were paired off with three of the other men. One of the males, a pleasant, handsome fellow, with ringed fingers, in a golden robe, which betokened no caste to my knowledge, was not paired with any of the free women. He was, it seems, an independent, though a congenial, contributor to the evening, chatting, in particular with one or another of the free women who were ensconced beside him. The erudition, and the sparkle, of the conversation of the women tended to confirm my suspicion that they were professional companions. Needless to say, the presence of such women, witty and skilled, much enlivens a dinner. What it costs to hire one for a dinner, I supposed, might frequently suffice to buy a low slave, such as I. Alert to nuances, expressions, and such, I suspected that Lysander's partner might not be averse to a proposal of free companionship. To be sure, such women are seldom taken into the free companionship. It might be added that in many Gorean cities and towns, professional companions are outlawed, their presence being construed as violating sumptuary laws. Indeed, such laws existed in Market of Semris, but it seems they failed to be noted by Lysander, and, I suppose, by other individuals of influence or importance. Laws, it seemed, when inconvenient, might be ignored by the powerful. Laws, as is well known, are not for the mighty. As some concession to propriety, however, that one might not think ill of Lysander and others, it might be noted that women such as those now at the table were, of late, not identified as professional companions but rather as “friends.” And what laws would deny to a host a right to entertain his friends in his own home?

As I mentioned, one of the males, the handsome fellow with ringed fingers, he in the golden robe, which betokened no caste to my knowledge, was not paired with one of the free women. In this sense he was alone, though he participated readily and charmingly to Lysander's small event. Perhaps he had been invited late or had appeared unexpectedly and had had no time to either hire, or have hired for him, a companion.

“What of the paga?” I whispered to Selena.

“Wine now,” she said, “paga later.”

Selena had, in the time at her disposal, coached me in certain niceties of serving, that there was an order to utensils and courses, that one should serve from the left, that there was a way to pour, that free women were to be served first, that one should keep one's head down, and eyes lowered, that one must be quiet, graceful, deferent and unobtrusive, that when one was not serving one was to kneel to the side, head down, that one might be conveniently summoned, and so on. “Watch me, and the others,” she said. “I will do so,” I said. I was surely muchly uneasy, and was more than eager to attend to, and imitate, genuine serving slaves. “You are not beautiful enough to be a serving slave,” she said. “Forgive me, Mistress,” I had said. Actually I regarded myself as every bit as attractive as any of them, including herself, even more so, to be perfectly honest. To be sure, such things are best left to men. “You are not trained as a serving slave,” she said. “No, Mistress,” I said. That was surely true. “Why then,” she asked, “have you been sent to the tables?” “I do not know, Mistress,” I said. “I do not like it,” she said. “If you are clumsy, or spill something, we may all be punished.” I lowered my head, and remained silent.

The courses of the meal proceeded apace.

There were only the two soups, four vegetables, and two meats, roast Vosk gull and seasoned, boiled verr, followed by fruit and nuts.

The supper was pleasant and genteel, suitable for a quiet evening with friends. Nothing was boisterous or rowdy. The ka-la-nas were sparkling and mild, not the sort of coarse ka-la-nas commonly diluted in the wine crater, to a proportion agreed upon by guests, which only wild young men would be likely to drink unmixed, hailing one another with frightful jokes and bawdy songs, awaiting the arrival of the dancers and musicians, the drummers, the flute and kalika girls.

We served the ka-la-nas standing, not as I had been instructed in the house of training.

Toward the nineteenth Ahn, an Ahn before midnight, the free women withdrew to their waiting palanquins. The dinner companion of Lysander was reluctant to depart so soon, but was, eventually, gently, conducted to her palanquin by Faisal, Lysander's house manager, he who had fetched me this afternoon, for some reason, from the kitchen. Before she disappeared through the portal of the dining chamber, the second of three such chambers, of varying sizes, one of which was smaller, and the other of which was quite large, and might house two hundred guests, at least, she cast us a dark look. I did not understand this. I was pleased she carried no switch. One fears free women.

“You are a barbarian, are you not?” asked Selena.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

“And stupid,” she said.

“I do not think so, Mistress,” I said.

“It is time for paga,” she said.

“Mistress?” I said.

“Get your gown off,” she snapped.

“But then I will be naked,” I protested.

“It is paga time,” she said, slipping from her own gown.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

I gathered that men enjoyed being served by naked slaves. I supposed the men of Earth might merely dream of such things, but, I would learn, if free women were not present, it was commonplace on Gor. What man does not wish to be served by a naked slave? Men, fully clothed, found it pleasant to be served by naked women. Along these lines, when a city falls, the women of the enemy, before their embonding, stripped, often serve at the victory feast of the conquerors, even to the extent of being put rudely to the pleasure of the victors late in the feast. Indeed, whereas a slave would think nothing of this, and expect it, and look forward to its pleasures, it does represent an extraordinary humiliation and disgrace for a Gorean free woman. Afterwards they often beg for the collar for after such usage, irremediably reduced, what are they good for, but to be slaves?

I looked to the side.

On the table, waiting, near the side of the room, were five paga goblets. Also in evidence was the metal paga vessel, with two handles, from which the goblets might be filled. Paga, unlike ka-la-na, is usually not poured at a table. In paga taverns it is dipped from a vat, the goblet itself sometimes used as the dipper, and brought to the table by a paga girl. The girl, if one wishes, commonly comes with the price of the drink. Sometimes a patron will receive paga from three or four girls, before selecting one, if he is so inclined, for thonging and ordering to an alcove, where she, thonged, will await his pleasure. Sometimes, if the patron wishes, one of the proprietor's men will take the girl to the alcove and chain her in place.

“The men will now discuss serious matters,” said our first girl, Selena, “the affairs of the day, trade, crops, jurisprudence, markets, ambitions, intrigues, politics, subjects empty-headed free women would find boring. What do they care for but robes, veils, entertainments, perfumes, and gossip?”

“But they would speak so openly before us?” I said.

“Surely,” she said. “We are slaves. Might they not speak as frankly before verr and kaiila?”

“My dear Phyllis,” said Lysander, Administrator of Market of Semris.

I froze in terror, and went immediately to my knees, my head to the floor. I had been addressed by the high master himself.

“‘Yes, Master',” prompted Selena to me, in a whisper.

“Yes, Master,” I responded.

“Stand up, my dear,” said Lysander, kindly, “there, between the tables, in the center.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“I think this is the one,” he said to the fellow in the golden robe, with the many rings on his fingers.

“Quite possibly,” said he in the golden robe.

“She is only a work slave,” said Lysander.

“I gather that,” said the fellow with rings, regarding me.

“But she is rather pretty for a work slave,” said Lysander.

I was at that moment very conscious of the collar on my neck, and what it meant.

“I have seen some pleasure slaves,” said he in the golden robe, “who were not as attractive.”

“Surely you jest,” said Lysander.

“Not at all,” said he in the golden robe. “Consider her throat, the softness of her shoulders, her forearms, her ankles.”

“Her ankles are too slim,” said Lysander.

“Many men like them so,” said he in the golden robe.

“And you?” said Lysander, smiling.

“I do not object,” he said.

“Phyllis,” said Lysander, “serve Tullius Quintus, our guest, our associate and dear friend, welcome in our midst, though we share no Home Stone.”

Trembling, fearing I might fall, I made my way to the small paga table. My hands shook.

“I will pour,” said Selena, apprehensively.

She then poured golden paga from the metal vessel into one of the goblets. I lifted that goblet, holding it in both hands, as one does. I turned about. Selena was filling the other goblets, which would be borne to the tables.

I noted, gratefully, she had not filled my goblet to the brim. I was then less likely to lose any of the golden fluid. It would not do, I perhaps faltering, to have any slip over the rim.

I must be extremely careful.

I would be extremely careful.

I had the sense that I was being watched.

In a moment, from within the rectangle of low, narrow tables, set before the couches, I knelt before Tullius Quintus, he reclining, eyeing me, the table between us.