Plunder of Gor (26 page)

Chapter Twenty

“Lita,” she said, smiling, and motioning for me to join her in a doorway near the fountain.

“Lita,” I said, recognizing her. We both bore the same name. Her master's name, she had informed me, some days past, was Camillus. We had frequently met at the Teiban market, shopping. Her master had a shop on Emerald, which dealt largely with harnessing, harnessing for tharlarion, for kaiila, for slaves. There are many variations, incidentally, in slave harnessing. I think I may have mentioned that slaves often draw small carts, for their masters, commonly peddlers, and that some free women utilize female slaves to draw their carriages. Too female slaves are sometimes harnessed to, or chained to, poles, by means of which they carry their mistress's palanquin. Similarly, male slaves are occasionally used as draft beasts for purposes of heavier haulage. Much harnessing for slaves, of course, is primarily concerned with restraint, for fastening, say, to poles, stanchions, slave rings, and such. There is a particularly rich assortment of restraint harnessings designed for female slaves, most notably display harnessings. Twice I had seen Lita on her leash, attractively, and helplessly, harnessed, preceding he whom I supposed was her master. On her back was a sign which, I supposed, must advertise his goods and shop. Seeing her so, of course, I dared not speak to her. Once she saw me, and smiled. She was rather proud of her harnessing. Certainly it set her off, nicely. Such arrangements usually have, as well, the capacity to keep a slave in place, for example, to fasten her to a stanchion, say, by her tethered wrists behind her back, or to render her, for most practical purposes, incapable of movement, fastening her hand and foot. Such changes are easily brought about with a few simple adjustments, a few snaps or bucklings. In a lovely variation of such harnessing, the slave is knelt, with her hands fastened before her body, close to her waist, by the waist belt, and then, behind her back, by short, stout straps run from the waist belt, and ankle cuffs, she is held on her knees. It might be mentioned in passing, that metal workers have often devised varieties of chain harnessing for slaves, as well. I had never worn such devices, leather or metal, since the house of training. The leather of harnessing comes in various degrees of quality, and is often available, like slave cords, in different colors. Most slaves, of course, are not harnessed. They are more likely, if abroad, and waiting, say, pending the return of a master, to be chained to public rings, these frequently found in public places, supplied by the municipality as a convenience.

I had not seen Lita in days.

She spit a coin or two into the palm of her hand, for she was obviously on an errand of some sort for her master. Goreans, both slave and free, at least the free of the lower castes, sometimes carry coins so. This frees the hands, and it is not obvious that coins are being carried. The upper castes commonly carry coins in a purse or wallet. This provides a public target, of course, for thieves. The usual theft takes place by cutting the strings of the purse or wallet, commonly in a seemingly inadvertent contact or in the press of a throng. Some thieves are trained in this skill from childhood. There is only one city I am aware of in which the caste of thieves is explicitly recognized, which is a port on the Tamber Gulf, bordering Thassa, the sea. Its governance is in the hands of a Council of Captains. It is north of the great port of Brundisium. It is famous for its canals and “Arsenal,” which is actually a depot and naval yard. Its name is Port Kar. Few Gorean garments, incidentally, save those of artisans, have pockets, which tend to mar the lines, the fall, of the garment. I did not care, personally, to carry coins in my mouth, and, when shopping for my master, would clutch them tightly in my hand.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Surely there is a closer fountain to Venaticus.”

“I am wandering about,” I said.

“With a bucket?” she asked.

“It will not be heavy,” I said. “It is small.”

When out of the house, following the night of the storm, I had re­arranged the nature of my peregrinations. I even took a different route to the Teiban market. I would vary my comings and goings, both with respect to times and routes. This was less to further acquaint myself with the city, of course, than to evade possible surveillance. I supposed this was rather futile, but it seemed to me, however naive or inept this stratagem might prove, that some such activity might prove to be in my best interest, and, possibly, in that of my master, if anything dangerous might be involved, which possibility, I hoped, of course, was not the case. I remembered, clearly, however, the escape from Market of Semris. This memory did not soothe my apprehensions. Too, if I had some value, of which I was unaware, I knew I might be stolen. Slave theft, as that of kaiila and tharlarion, and such, is not unknown. On the other hand, such would be highly unlikely during daylight hours in any public place, and certainly so in a “high city,” such as Ar. It is much less hazardous to buy a slave than steal her. I supposed my apprehensions might be ill-founded, and hoped so, but then, again, I did not know. Precaution then might not be necessary, but, on the other hand, surely no harm would be likely to come from trying to be careful. If an observer failed to note me, I reasoned, he might suppose that I was no longer in the city, for example, that Tullius Quintus had already sold me. Too, by such actions, altering routes, and such, might I not prove a more elusive quarry, if I were a quarry? Frequent changes in itinerary, I trusted, might make me more difficult to trace. I had never asked Lita to read my collar for me. I thought I might be safer, as my master had seemed to think, if I remained in ignorance of its legend.

“I have not seen you since the last passage hand,” she said.

“I have been about,” I assured her.

“Have you not come far for water?” she asked.

“Not so far,” I said.

“I know,” she said, conspiratorially, “you have come to see it.”

“What?” I said.

“I heard about it, at the laundry troughs,” she said. “I wager you did, as well.”

“What are you doing in the doorway?” I asked.

“Waiting,” she said. “Join me. It is nearly dusk.”

“What are you waiting for?” I asked.

“To see it,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“You will see,” she said. “It is nearly time.”

“What?” I asked. “Is it permitted? We are collared.”

“Watch that doorway,” she said. “It leads upstairs, to the rooms over the shop of Epicrates, the pottery vender.”

“I should fetch water,” I said, “and return to the house, surely before the fall of darkness.”

We were near the fountain of Aiakos. It is at the intersection of Clive and Emerald. We were on Emerald.

“There!” whispered Lita. “See her?”

“She is lovely,” I whispered. “Why is she not veiled? I have seldom seen a woman so beautiful. Surely she is a slave. But she is clad in the Robes of Concealment, save for veils. Would she not be punished for that? The law!”

“That is no slave,” whispered Lita. “She is a free woman. But I know not her caste nor Home Stone. I know not from whence she derives.”

“She looks about, warily,” I said.

“No,” said Lita. “Not warily, but idly, merely to survey the street.”

“Surely she is a slave,” I said. “She is not veiled. But how would she dare risk the wearing of the robes of the free? What of guardsmen?”

“She is not a slave,” said Lita. “She is the Lady Bina.”

“She is not veiled,” I said.

“She may not be Gorean,” said Lita.

“How dare she so outrage proprieties?” I said. As much is expected of slaves so, too, much is expected of the free.

“It is not unknown for some women of the lower castes to slacken, or omit, veils,” said Lita.

“Her robes do not suggest penury,” I said.

“I think she is vain,” said Lita. “It pleases her to startle, and arouse, men.”

“And,” I said, “she may soon find herself on a slaver's rope.”

“That is unlikely,” said Lita, quietly, backing further into the doorway.

“You have detained me here,” I said, “merely to look upon an unveiled free woman?”

“Scarcely,” she said.

“Why then?” I asked.

Near us a shopkeeper drew down a screen of boards, closing his shop. I noted two men hurrying away.

“I am uneasy,” I said. “I should fetch water, and return to the house.”

“Just a moment more,” said Lita, watching, intently.

“She lingers by the door,” I said. “Does she not understand the danger in which she stands, unveiled, dusk about, the street nearly deserted?”

“I think she is in little danger,” said Lita.

“Why?” I said.

“You will see,” she said.

“She seems to be waiting,” I said.

“Yes,” said Lita.

“For what is she waiting?” I asked.

“Her pet,” said Lita.

I then saw something large, and dark, in the doorway, hunched down, a shadow, a shape. I could not make it out.

“There is something in the doorway,” I said.

It was very still.

“That is what I wanted to show you,” she said. “Attend, make no sudden moves.”

“I am afraid,” I said.

“Be still,” she said. “Do not draw attention to us.”

“It moved!” I said.

I stifled a cry of alarm.

“It is alive,” I said.

“Be still,” reiterated Lita.

The Lady Bina had begun to stroll north on Emerald. She would pass us.

As soon as she had begun to move, it had emerged from the doorway, quickly, lightly for so mighty a bulk, crouched down, bent over, looking about, alertly, from one side to the other, eyes bright, its knuckles on the paving stones, following her, a bit behind and to the left.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“I do not know,” said Lita. “This is the first time I have seen it.”

A fellow, in the gray of the Metal Workers, was approaching, moving south on Emerald.

Gorean traffic generally adheres to the left side of roads, passages, and such. In this way a right-handed person's weapon hand faces the oncoming stranger. In Gorean, as in many languages, the same word is used for both “stranger” and “enemy.”

“I wager,” said Lita, “that fellow does not know the district.”

The thing following the Lady Bina ceased to heel her and moved quickly to her right and placed itself, moving beside her, and a little before her, between her and the approaching fellow who, apparently surprised, and perhaps alarmed, hurried to his left, giving the unusual couple a wide berth. As he passed, the thing near the Lady Bina and somewhat in advance of her, suddenly bared its fangs and growled. The fellow hastened on.

“They approach,” I said. “Let us flee.”

“We are safe,” said Lita. “We are animals. We have value. No man would kill us, no more than other domestic beasts. We would merely be seized and appropriated. Our collars protect us.”

“That is not a man,” I said.

“Our collars will keep us safe,” she said.

“Tell it to larls or sleen,” I said.

“Do not be afraid,” said Lita. “If we make no sudden moves, I am sure we are in no danger. We will do nothing threatening and will not dash away, perhaps activating a pursuit reflex.”

“It is not leashed,” I said. “And if it was, that slight woman could not hope to restrain it.”

“It is tame, and obedient,” said Lita. “It needs no leash.”

“Did you not hear it growl?” I said. “Did you not see it bare its fangs?”

“It was merely warning that fellow to keep his distance,” said Lita.

“And if he had not?” I asked.

“He gave the fellow fair warning,” said Lita. “After that, unless he were deterred by a soft word or gentle gesture from his mistress, I would suppose he would tear him to pieces.”

That supposition, it seemed to me, was well warranted, given the size and attitude of the beast, its apparent ferocity, its apparent menace, its seeming readiness to attack.

The unusual couple were now close to us. Lita and I were back in the doorway.

They suddenly stopped, and the beast turned toward us, alertly. The large pointed ears turned toward us, inquisitively. Its demeanor did not seem threatening. It did not growl, it did not bare its fangs.

Perhaps we were safe, protected by our collars.

We both knelt, immediately. We were in the presence of a free person, the Lady Bina.

I realized we were not likely to be attacked. That was a welcome intelligence. Certainly, backed into the doorway, and kneeling, we would have been easy prey for such a thing.

Its eyes, for the briefest moment, met mine, piercingly. I lowered my head, instantly.

“Two pretty kajirae,” said the Lady Bina.

Some noises emanated from the beast, strange noises, not altogether like animal noises.

“Come along, shaggy friend,” said the Lady Bina, smiling. “We will proceed.”

“She speaks to the beast,” I thought, “as though it could understand, but then, do not masters and mistresses often address their brutes, however irrationally, as though they might understand? One supposes hunters might hasten sleen on the scent, riders urge on their mounts, drivers encourage their teams. Indeed, did not men and women on my former world occasionally, however irrationally, chat pleasantly to their animals, as though such animals might comprehend their words? Does not such persiflage please the master or mistress, and the beast, as well, welcoming such sounds, however ignorant it might be of the content of such a discourse?”

It was only when they had passed us, moving north on Emerald, that I became very frightened. Surely what I had heard were animal noises, but, in retrospect, there was something very unusual about them. Somehow, they seemed not altogether like animal noises. For example, you may become suddenly aware that a city's time bar has been tolling, apparently without your notice, and then, surprisingly, you realize it has already tolled, say, five times. You heard it without realizing that you were hearing it, and then, later, you recall what you were earlier unaware you were hearing. What had occurred was a bit like this. Noises emanated from the beast, which noises, as I expected, were taken as simple animal noises, and dismissed as such, but, a moment later, as the hair rose on the back of my neck and on my forearms, I no longer heard them as simple animal noises. Without thinking, I must have processed those noises, and, doubtless, substituted phonemes for phonemes, much as one might accommodate oneself to an unusual accent, one which at first seems incomprehensible, but, after a moment, or two, the adjustments made, becomes intelligible.