Conspirators of Gor

Chapter Fourteen

“Groom me,” said the beast.

I brought the brushes and combs to his side, and began at the sides of the head, brushing downward, toward the shoulders.

“You tremble,” said the beast. “Your hand shakes.”

“Forgive me, Master,” I said.

“Do not be afraid,” said the beast.

“Forgive me, Master,” I said.

“You barely arrived home before curfew,” said the Lady Bina.

“Where were you?” asked the beast.

I drew the brush downward.

“The market, the market of Cestias,” I said.

“Good,” he said. “You are familiar, then, with the market.”

Why should he be pleased with that, I wondered. I had not been given permission to go there. Commonly, just as a slave may not clothe herself without her master’s permission, so, too, she may not leave his domicile without his permission, and it would then be expected, of course, that her destination would be specified and her anticipated time of return. She is not a free woman. She is his possession, his animal, his slave. I, on the other hand, in my misery and terror, hurrying past the startled Lady Bina, had precipitously fled the domicile. Such leave takings are not permitted slaves. When I had returned, by then much aware of the enormity of what I had done, I had been contrite and fearful. My lapse had been significant, and I was owned. I had crept up the stairs, and knelt, head down, before the Lady Bina and the beast. “Forgive me, Mistress. Forgive me, Master,” I had said, pressing my lips first to the Lady Bina’s slippers, and then to the clawed feet of the beast. Interestingly, I was not beaten. I was not even scolded. Had I a male master, I am sure I would have been tied and lashed. Male masters tend to be exacting of their girls. I wished I had such a master, who would be firm, and severe, and see to it that I would be an excellent, and pleasing, slave. That is what I wanted, and had always wanted, to be well owned, and wholly mastered. To be sure, I had arrived back before curfew.

“We shop there, frequently,” said the Lady Bina.

“Do you know the praetor’s platform, by the coin stalls?” asked the beast.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

There were two market praetors in the market of Cestias. One was near the coin stalls, and Sul Market, the other, rather across the plaza, not far from the Paga and Ka-la-na Markets.

The coin stalls were, in effect, exchanges, as, in a market of the size of that of Cestias, in a city such as Ar, buyers and sellers from diverse cities might mingle and carry diverse currencies. As would be expected, the most common denominations in the market were those of Ar, her tarn disks, and her tarsks, of copper, and silver and gold. But coins of many cities circulated. Occasionally one encountered a disk from far-off Turia. Some prized coins were the silver tarns of Jad and, on the continent, the golden staters of Brundisium. Many of the transactions were conducted by means of scales. One often encounters, for example, clipped or shaved coins. The professional in shaving keeps the roundness of the subject coin as perfect as possible. Sometimes it is hard to tell, by eye, that a coin has been shaved. Clipped coins are easy to identify but then, of course, one must bring forth the scales, and, not unoften, as well, rough silver or gold, unminted, is presented, perhaps melted droplets, or pieces cut from silver or golden vessels and goblets, which items will also require judicious determinations. Negotiations and bargainings, over the scales, often grow heated. The advantage, of course, lies with the stallsman. Complaints may be lodged with either of the two praetors, who, interestingly, though magistrates of Ar, apparently strive to adjudicate matters to the best of their lights. Their efforts not only redound to the honor of Ar, but, too, one supposes, tend to preserve the value and integrity of the market, which, in the long view, is doubtless in the best interest of the city’s commerce. To be sure, major transactions often take place near the walls, and outside them, in the wholesale markets.

“I have an errand for you to perform,” he said.

The beast’s wide nostrils flared slightly, as though scanning the room. I wondered what might be the consciousness of the beast.

“Master?” I said.

“I will explain it to you later,” he said.

I continued to brush his fur.

“Why are you afraid?” he asked.

How could he ask such a thing? Had he not recognized my horror at the sight of his body, earlier today, in the late morning, the matting, the caking, the stiffened fur?

“Tonight,” he said, “you will not be chained.”

I was then more afraid than before.

Is there not, on the chain, some security?

“Why is that?” asked the Lady Bina. I was sure it made little difference to her whether I was chained or not. Indeed, I was sure that my chaining had more to do with the recommendations of the Lady Delia than any interest which the Lady Bina might have in the matter. The Lady Delia, a Gorean free woman, had definite views as to the proper treatment of female slaves. To be sure, men often chain their female slaves, perhaps because it pleases them to have their animals on a chain. A discrepancy in a routine, on the other hand, would be of interest to the Lady Bina, for, as a highly intelligent woman, such things were likely to provoke curiosity, and require some explanation.

“Because it is my will,” said the beast.

“Very well,” she said.

The beast was commonly concerned, sometimes almost pathetically so, to please the Lady Bina. It would unprotestingly accept her pettinesses and abuses, which were not infrequent, would seek to attend to her wants, which were frequent, and, to the extent practical, would indulge her every whim. Sometimes it seemed as though it were no more than a large, agile, hideous, somewhat terrifying, but devoted and harmless pet. At other times, however, one sensed an adamancy in that imposing form, an alarming core of bestial will which would brook neither compromise nor deviation, no more than tides and seasons, a will behind which lay the instincts, the blood, the fangs, and claws, of Kurii. At such times, the Lady Bina would remain silent, and, resignedly, gracefully, withdraw. She was apparently familiar with such things from the metal worlds of which she had spoken. To what end might one remonstrate with a living anvil, or winter, or hunger, or a quiescent volcano which, jarred, might speak with fire?

The Lady Bina had now left the room, crossing the threshold to her chamber.

It was at such times that it seemed to me that it was she, and not he, who was the pet. In any event, I had long been aware that in matters of moment, or times of crisis, there was but one voice and one will in the domicile, that of the beast.

I did not think the beast would kill me in the presence of the Lady Bina.

She was no longer present.

“Do not be afraid, Allison,” said the beast.

“I am afraid,” I said.

“Why?” he said.

“The roof,” I said, “what I saw.”

“I see,” he said.

“There was a killing,” I said, “on Clive.”

“I know,” he said.

I continued to brush him.

“From last night,” I said.

“From shortly before dawn,” he said.

“I will not speak what I saw,” I said.

“I know you will not,” he said.

I felt cold.

“I think the comb now,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“You are trembling,” he said.

“I think Master was not on the roof last night,” I said.

“No,” he said. “On several nights I have departed the roof. One may move from roof to roof, occasionally descending to the street, then climbing to a roof anew.”

I thought of that agile, large form on the roofs, in the streets, moving about, lightly for its bulk, a shadow amongst shadows.

“Master has been about,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“There have been killings,” I said.

“They must stop,” he said.

“A larl, in the streets,” I said.

“No,” he said.

“What then?” I said.

“The Lady Bina is sleeping,” he said.

I could hear nothing, but I gathered that the beast had no difficulty in making this determination.

“I will now explain to you what you are to do,” said the beast.

“Master?” I said.

“You understand that you are a female slave,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said. On Gor, I had no doubt of that.

“And how is a female slave to obey?” he asked.

“Instantly, unquestioningly,” I said, “and, to the best of her ability, with perfection.”

“If you obey with perfection,” he said, “you will not be hurt. If you do not obey with perfection, you will undoubtedly die a quick and most unpleasant death. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“You will not wear your kerchief,” he said. “In that way, your head bare, you will not be confused with a free woman.”

“I do not understand,” I said.

“As a collar girl, I know you are vain,” he said.

“I am a woman,” I said.

“Your hair,” he said, “is still quite short, but, over the months, it is not badly grown out. And some masters have their girls wear it that way, that the girl, and others, may understand that every aspect of their appearance is at the master’s discretion.”

I supposed such girls would beg, and perform desperately, that their hair might be permitted to grow “slave long.”

“I do not understand what is going on,” I said.

“Your hair is now attractive,” he said.

“How would Master know?” I asked.

“You are no longer permitted to wear the kerchief, unless given explicit permission,” he said.

I was silent.

“You are a pretty slave, Allison,” he said. “If you were also helpless in the furs, you might go for better than a silver tarsk.”

I was silent.

“Your helplessness would doubtless be assessed,” he said, “before you were brought to the block. Buyers are interested in such things. One wants not only a pretty girl, but a hot girl.”

“Oh?” I said.

“One uncontrollably hot, helplessly hot,” he said.

“I do not think I am ‘hot’,” I said.

“Coolness, inertness, and such, are acceptable in a free woman,” he said, “but not in a female slave.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“I will now explain what you are to do,” he said.

“Why have I not been chained?” I asked.

“Because,” said he, “you are leaving, almost immediately.”

“Surely not, Master,” I said.

“But, yes,” he said.

“It is night,” I said. “It is after curfew.”

“You will go into the streets, alone,” he said, “and do precisely what I shall explain to you.”

“There are guardsmen,” I said.

“You must elude them,” he said.

“I do not know what is out there, in the darkness,” I said.

“If you obey properly,” he said, “I think you will learn.”

He then rubbed his heavy paw about my head, my neck, and shoulders, and drew me against his side, and then put me from him.

“Master?” I said.

“If all goes well,” said he, “you will not have to groom me after this.”

“As Master pleases,” I said.

“You do not do it all that well,” he said.

“I am sorry,” I said.

“Perhaps,” he said, “you are curious as to why I have required that service from you so frequently of late.”

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“You cannot smell it,” he said, “but my scent is now muchly upon you.”

“I know nothing of these things, Master,” I said. “Be merciful to me! I am only a poor slave, a thigh-marked girl, nothing, a beast, a property, only another poor, helpless kajira, fastened in her collar.”

“Be pleased you are collared,” he said. “It is that which I anticipate will save your life.”

“Keep me here until morning,” I said. “Chain me, chain me!”

“Here are your instructions,” he said.