Savages of Gor (19 page)

I gave my attention again to the central block. By now the red-haired beauty had been put through several slave paces, such as were feasible for her, her hands bound with the cord behind her back. She now, trembling, lay on her belly, licking and kissing at the auctioneer's kaiila boots.

"Is she vital?" called a man.

The auctioneer pulled her to her feet by the hair and turned her about, facing the crowd.

I heard some men shouting outside in the street. The two girls inched more closely to me.

The auctioneer, his quirt now hooked on his belt, stood behind the red-haired girt. He put his left hand in her hair, and pulled her head back, and placed his right hand on her right hip. She suddenly screamed and writhed, squirming. But she could not free herself from his grip. "No, please!" she screamed. "No!" she sobbed. Then she cried out, "No! Oh, no!" Then she sobbed. "No! No! No! Yes! Yes! No. No. No!" Then he released her, and she fell to her knees on the block, sobbing, crimson with shame.

"Good," said the fellow near me, he in the broad-brimmed hat.

I smiled. The lovely new slave, even freshly branded, had, in the hands of the auctioneer, betrayed herself.

"She will make a hot slut," said Ginger.

"She will not be able to help herself, no more than we," said Evelyn.

I was inclined to agree with the tavern girls. Clearly the red-haired girl had strong slave latencies.

"Six!" called a man.

"Six five!" called another.

"Six seven!" called another.

"Six eight!" called another.

"Six nine!" called another.

There was now a commotion at the door. We heard shouting behind us. The auctioneer looked to the back of the room, angrily. Seven or eight men, in the boots and garb of drovers, thrust in the door. Two or three of them carried half-emptied bottles of paga. Two of them had drawn swords in their hands. The tavern girls seized my arms, trying to make themselves small, behind me. The men, I gathered, were drovers, members probably of the same crew that I had seen arrive earlier, those who had driven their kaiila, crying out and shouting, through the streets.

"Gentlemen!" cried the auctioneer. "Do not break the peace! Sheathe your steel! There is a sale in progress."

"There they are!'' cried a fellow, one of the drovers, pointing towards us. He was a young, dark-haired, rough-looking fellow. The tavern girls cried out with misery. I shook them loose from my arms. The fellow slammed his steel into his sheath and strode towards us. Another fellow, one who looked much like him, was but a foot behind him. They were, I assumed, brothers.

"The Hobarts," said a man, "from the Bar Ina."

The fellow in advance seized Evelyn by the arms and shook her viciously. I was afraid he might break her little, collared neck. "I sought you at the tavern," he said to her, angrily. "You knew we would bring stock to town this night."

"And you, little slut," snarled the other, "what of you?" He seized Ginger by the hair with both hands and threw her cruelly to his feet. I was pleased to see that he knew how to handle a slave. She looked up at him, her head held up to face him, her small hands futilely on his wrists, tears in her eyes. "Why were you not in the tavern of Randolph, awaiting me?" he demanded.

I deemed now that I better understood why the two girls had not been at their respective taverns, why they, it seemed, in effect, under the pretense of soliciting business for the establishments of their masters, had been hiding in the sales barn of Ram Seibar. What I did not understand was why the personnel of the sales barn had not driven them away. The presence of two such luscious tavern girls at the sale might surely distract the attention of at least some of the buyers. This was the more puzzling as, in the past, I had gathered, they had been, in similar situations, driven from the premises, being lashed across the calves. This, then, was apparently not their first offense in such matters.

The first young fellow then spun Evelyn about and hurled her a few feet from him, toward the door. "Precede me to the tavern, Slave," he said.

"Yes, Master," she wept.

"And you," said the other, throwing Ginger to her belly toward the door, "get your ass to the tavern of Randolph."

"Yes, Master," she said.

I saw two attendants, at the door, look at one another, tensely, uneasily. I did not understand this reaction. What was it to them if these two women were to be conducted back to their respective taverns, there to be returned to their intimate labors?

The first of the young fellows turned about, and glared at me. I observed the sheath. It was at his left hip. He was apparently right-handed. I observed the right hand. It did not tense to move toward the blade's hilt.

He was obviously angry. I met his gaze, dispassionately.

The girls had now sought me out, I realized, hoping that I might provide them with some sort of shelter, or protection. I presumably seemed large, and strong. I carried a blade. Too, I was a stranger in town and would know nothing of the Hobarts, or the crew of the Bar Ina, or whoever it might be, that might be interested in them. In their way, given my lack of knowledge in these matters, they had been trying to take advantage of me. I found this irritating. They had, of course, seriously miscalculated in this matter. As I was not intending to take them to an alcove myself I would not have afforded them, no more than any other Gorean male, the least protection. They belonged totally to their masters and, more generally, to men. They were slave girls. Still, it would not have pleased me if this fellow, or fellows, these drovers, thought they were taking them away from me.

The fellow lashed out. What occurred then was done rapidly. I am not certain that all present clearly understood what was done. I caught his wrist and, twisting it, jerked him forward and off balance, at the same time kicking forcibly upwards. I then, bending his wrist back, thrust him to the side. The other fellow was caught with a backwards kick, his steel no more then halfway from its sheath. As I had not been facing him he had apparently been taken by surprise by this blow, by its direction, its nature and force. Untrained men often expect assaults to occur frontally. Various options in the martial arts, of course, are available to the practiced combatant. My blade was free from my sheath before his knees began to sag. I faced the drovers then, my blade drawn. He crumpled to the floor. Men quickly cleared space about us.

"Well done!" said the fellow in the broad-brimmed hat.

I faced five drovers, their steel drawn. Bottles were cast aside.

"The first man who attacks," said the auctioneer, from the height of the central platform, "is a dead man."

The drovers looked about. Attendants in the sales barn held leveled crossbows trained on them. The short, heavy quarrels lay in their guides. The cables were taut. Fingers rested on the triggers.

Angrily the drovers sheathed their steel. They gathered up their two fallen comrades and, supporting them, with dark looks, withdrew from the sales barn.

"The two leading fellows there," said the man with the broad-brimmed hat, "were Max and Kyle Hobart, from the Bar Ina. They will not make pleasant enemies."

I shrugged. I resheathed my steel.

The two tavern girls, auburn-haired Ginger and dark-haired Evelyn, frightened, began to move unobtrusively toward the door.

"One moment, young ladies," called the auctioneer, pleasantly.

"We are going, Masters," said Ginger, plaintively.

"Perhaps not," said the auctioneer.

"Masters?" asked Ginger, frightened. Behind her there was the heavy ropish sound of heavy cordage being dropped. She spun about. The exit was blocked by the reticulated structure of a stout, hempen slave net. She caught with her fingers at the net, and then, frightened, looked back over her shoulder. "Masters?" she asked.

Evelyn immediately knelt. "Please forgive us, Masters," she said. "Please do not whip us!"

Ginger then knelt, and swiftly, beside Evelyn. "No, Masters," she said. "Please do not whip us."

"Who is your master?" asked the auctioneer.

"Randolph, of Kailiauk," said Ginger.

"Russell, of Kailiauk," said Evelyn.

"No, pretty little slaves," said the auctioneer. "Your master is the house of Ram Seibar."

"Master?" asked Ginger.

"You have been nuisances long enough," said the auctioneer.

"Master?" asked Ginger, frightened.

"Two days ago you were purchased from your respective masters," said the auctioneer. "You have now, as we anticipated, effected your self-delivery."

The girls looked at one another in terror.

"Your time of being bothers to the house of Ram Seibar Is now at an end," said the auctioneer.

There was much laughter among the men at the rich joke played on the two slaves.

"Remove their collars," said the auctioneer to an attendant. He removed the collars. The keys were correct. Doubtless they had been supplied by their former masters, probably at the time of the transactions effecting their purchase.

"Get your clothes off," said the auctioneer.

Swiftly the girls complied. Ginger removed even the beaded cuff on her left ankle. Evelyn removed even the black-ribbon choker on her throat. They were then stark naked. Both, I saw, had been well branded.

They looked about themselves, frightened.

Their clothing, with the collars, was collected by an attendant. Such articles, doubtless, would be returned to their former masters.

"We have here, for sale," laughed the auctioneer, " two of the prettiest tavern girls in Kailiauk. Should you doubt this, scrutinize them closely."

The girls shrank back. Men laughed.

"We are willing to consider any bid over a silver tarsk for them," said the auctioneer. "However, we encourage their buyers to see that their pretty, curved asses are removed from Kailiauk."

There was more laughter.

"Can you communicate with these other slaves?" asked the fellow in the broad-brimmed hat of the two stripped tavern girls. He indicated some of the girls on the side blocks.

Ginger approached one of the girls. Evelyn, too, approached her.

"Do you speak English?" asked Ginger in English.

"Yes, yes!'' said the girl, startled.

"What of the others who were with you?" asked Ginger. "Can they speak English?"

"Most," said the girl, "as a second, if not a first language."

Ginger then turned to the fellow in the broad-brimmed hat. "I can communicate with most of them, I think," she said, in Gorean. "If there is a particular girl you are interested in I can interrogate her specifically."

The man pointed to the naked red-haired girl, her hands bound behind her, on the central platform.

"Do you speak English?" asked Ginger.

"Yes," said the girl, pulling at her bonds, "yes!"

"Yes," said Ginger to the man in the broad-brimmed hat, in Gorean.

He nodded. I could see that he was pleased by this. That seemed to be the woman he was interested in having understand him, and clearly. I did not think he was particularly concerned, truly, about communicating with the others. The uses to which he intended to put them, I gathered, did not require subtleties of communication. His desires with respect to their performances, I gathered, could be adequately conveyed by such means as the boot and whip.

"What is the language in which you have been speaking to these women?" he asked of Ginger.

"English, Master," she said.

He indicated Evelyn. "Does this slave, too, know this English?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," said Ginger.

Evelyn nodded. "Yes, Master," she said.

I smiled. Two girls, doubtless, could train the red-haired barbarian more quickly than one. For example, they could work her in shifts.

"You speak English " cried the girl on the side block, the collar and chain on her throat, "what is this place and how did I come here!"

"This is the world called Gor," said Ginger, "and you were brought here by spacecraft."

"What manner of place is this," begged the girl, lifting the chain on her collar, "and is this how they treat all women?"

"I shall not expatiate on what manner of place this is" said Ginger, "for you, yourself, shall soon learn, and well. And this is not how they treat all women. Women on this world, most of them, enjoy a status and freedom of which you, from Earth, cannot even conceive. Their raiment is splendid, their station is lofty, their mien is noble, their prestige is boundless. Dread them, and fear them----"

The girl looked at her, frightened.

"For you are not such a woman," said Ginger.

The girl clutched the chain, kneeling on the block.

"No," said Ginger, "you are not such a woman. You are less than the dust beneath their feet."

"I---I do not understand," said the girl, stammering.

"You are the sort of woman who will wear rags,' said Ginger, "who will rejoice if a crust of bread is thrust in your mouth."

"I----I do not understand," said the girl.