Dancer of Gor

24 In the Work Camp

"Let me carry water to them," she said. Her legs were excellent. She had a long mane of dark hair. it was no wonder she had once served in a tavern. The brief, clinging work tunic well revealed her. Our feet were covered to the ankles in the sand.

I stepped back. I would not dispute the labor with her. I feared to approach this group of fifty men.

"No," said the guard, grinning. "Tuka."

Ten days now I had been with the "black chain of Ionicus." Never before, however, had I been assigned to this crew. Two girls, commonly, are assigned to each crew. The "black chain," as a whole, consisted of several such groups, most of some fifty men. The other chains of Ionicus, the "red chain," the "yellow chain," and so on, were at other locations, not in the neighborhood of Venna. Ionicus was on of the major masters of work chains. He himself resided, I understood, in Telenus, the capital of Cos, where his company had its headquarters. His work chains, however, were politically neutral, understood under merchant law as hirable instruments. They might, accordingly, and sometimes did, work for both sides in given conflicts. The tarsk of gold is the symbol of such men.

I looked down into the area where the men labored. The men were bagging sand, later to be used in the making of mortar. The Vennans were concerned to repair and heighten their walls.

"Do you hesitate?" asked the guard.

"No Master, of course not, Master!" I said.

"Beware," said the other girl.

My body, and even my legs, ached from the weight of the water bag, slung on its strap over my shoulder. I was pleased when the contents were depleted, for the weight was less, but then, soon, I must hurry back to the wooden tank, to submerge the bag again and, as the bubbles streamed up to the surface, and broke there, refill it. During the day I was not allowed to drink from the bag, but only from the tank. Usually while one girl returned to the tank, the other would remain with the crew. In this way, there was generally water available, except when the guards wished to punish the men. We might then be made to kneel or sit in the sight of them, the damp, bulging water bags beside us, which we were not permitted to bring to them. Sometimes the guards, during such times of denying the men drink, would help themselves to the water before them, sometimes spitting it out, or pouring it over their heads and bodies. Sometimes they would even empty the bag out before them, into the dirt or sand. About my neck, on a long string, threaded through the handle, hung a metal cup. This metal cup hung a few inches below my navel. It was a joke of masters. My chaining was now different from what it had been when I had been brought into the camp, that I might serve more efficiently. The vertical chain joining my wrist and ankle chains had been removed. Additional links had been interpolated into my wrist chain and my ankle chain. My ankles were now separated by some two feet of chain. There was apparently a rationale to the distance. The guards, at any rate, had taken measurements. The distance, seemingly rather small, on the one hand, and rather large, on the other, was seemingly dictated by a twofold consideration, the preclusion of my capacity to run and the convenience of the guards, particularly when I was supine, a position in which they sometimes placed me. My wrists were separated also by a similar, but somewhat shorter, length of chain. This, in its normal placement, allowed me to use my hands fairly well. This usage was restricted, of course, if the chains were thrown behind me, which tends to hold the hands, as they might twist or struggle back, near my waist or hips. These chaining arrangements were fairly normal with the female work slaves in the "black chain of Ionicus." The only differences between our chainings were usually the numbers of links separating our ankles, this being a function of the length of our legs.

"You know that he is down there, among the others," said the girl, near me, she, too, chained, standing in the sand, on the top of the small hill, her own water bag on its strap over her shoulder.

"Yes," I whispered, frightened. It was he I feared most, of all of them. "Beware," said the girl, again.

I nodded, sick.

"Do not fear," said the guard. "It is unlikely that they will attempt to kill you while they are in their chains. How could they (324) escape? Too, if they do attempt to kill you, I might attempt to intervene. I might even be in time." "Yes, Master," I whispered, fearfully. If they did wish to kill me, I knew, however, they could do so quite quickly. The guard, if he remained at the top of the rise, as he apparently intended, of this low, sloping sandy hill, could never reach in time. I could be strangled in an instant, the cartilage in my throat broken, ruptured, by strong hands. Similarly, in an instant, my neck, or my back, thrown over their knees, could be broken. I cast a frightened glance at the other girl. She, like myself, had been sold in Samnium. She, however, had been sold directly to an agent of Ionicus, and sent to the black chain, which, at that time, had been at Torcadino. She had come with the chain east to Venna. The agent in Samnium had purchased her. I had been told by another girl, one apparently sold at about the same time and also purchased by the agent of Ionicus, for seventy copper tarsks. I had brought fifty. The other girl, she who had told me this, by her own account, had brought only forty. It seemed we had all been sold very cheaply. To be sure, we had all been stolen slaves. The recovery period having passed, of course, we were now the legal properties, fully, and in all senses, of out current master, Ionicus of Cos. I was angry that I had sold for twenty copper tarsks less than she. Surely I was as beautiful as she, or perhaps even more so. At any rate, we were both, I was sure, lovely female slaves. Perhaps much depends on the individual man, and how much we interest him? Perhaps I had been sold before the agent had come to the market? Too, my former master, Gordon, had paid fifty copper tarsks for me, and this was undoubtedly a great deal of money for him. Surely that should count for something. He was only an impoverished itinerant musician. He was not the agent of what was, in effect, an international company, with considerable funds, those of his employer, not his own, to expend! I was sure that I was more beautiful than she, or that at least some men, nay, many men, would regard me as so! Surely I had stood higher in several of the lists at the baths than she! I made my way slowly down the hill, through the sand. I went slowly not only because I was afraid but also because I did not want, because of the steepness, or my chains, to fall. It was shortly after the tenth Ahn, the Gorean noon. My shadow was small on the hot, sloping sand in front of me. Here and there a hardy, rough grass, or a patch of weeds, thrust up from the sand.

I looked back, once, at the guard, and the girl, another work slave, at the top of the tiny hill.

I approached the work group. It was in a shallow trough among the small hills, working at the sand in the trough. It was, by the hills about it, in its sandy valley, screened from the other groups in the area. At the time I did not give this any thought. My main concern was that the guard could see what was going on.

I was then on the level, moving through the heavy sand, it deeper, though affording better footing, than the sand on the incline.

I stopped. The men in the group, fifty of them, half-stripped, sweating, brawny, chained together in ankle coffle, turned to regard me. I had feared muchly, since coming to the chain, that I might have to serve this crew. I had not, however, been assigned to it until last night. I had hoped on being presented, days ago, to the overseer, that he might find me of interest and keep me in his tent, as a personal slut. But it was not I who was to be chosen. When I had been put before him, kneeling in my chains, my tunic pulled back and down, behind my shoulders, already a girl was at the side of his chair. It was she who had been first in the coffle, she who had once been the spoiled, rich woman. she was on all fours, still chained. Her work tunic, however, had been removed and a narrow rectangle of silk, thrust in a leather thong knotted about her waist, hung down before her. Our eyes met. She looked down. The overseer had already made his choice. To be sure, I, too, once or twice, as had other girls, had worn the rectangle of silk in his tent. He had the call of all of us.

I would approach the men, head down. I would ask, "Water, Master?" of each. Before those who wished water, I would kneel and pour them a cup. It was appropriate that I knelt, as I was a slave, and they were free, though currently bound, justly or unjustly, in servitude. It is common, incidentally, for a slave to kneel before free men in serving them drink. "Wine, Master?" is a common expression. In it the slave usually offers the master, not only drink, say, the wine in the cup, but also, implicitly, the wine of her love, body and beauty. I had begged not to serve this chain. My pleas had been ignored, or mocked. If they had no concern for my feelings, had they, too, no concern with their employer" s property, that they would subject it to such risk? Then I recalled that Ionicus of Cos had paid more for me, a great deal more, than is common for a female work slave, and that this had to do with his "amusement."

I looked at the chain, and shuddered. There were fifty men on the chain. Twenty-three of them I had helped to entrap in Argentum.

I moved slowly through the sand, toward them. Then I stopped and looked wildly back, upward, toward the top of the rise. Could I not be given a gesture of mercy, that I might turn about and flee back, scrambling up that loose sand to the comparative safety of the ridge, to seek shelter within the compass of the guard" s whip and sword? The guard, however, made no motion. The girl, standing beside him, seemed very frightened. "Will I never see the last of you?" she had exclaimed, angrily, when I had fist been thrust into the pen, then still wearing the chaining in which I had been brought to the camp. I had avoided her as much as possible. Now, however, I could not well do so. We were assigned to the same crew. I think she did not care for the idea any more than I. She was frightened. I think her fear, thought, was not primarily for me. Perhaps she most feared what might be the action of one of the men below, an action for which he might well be punished, or even killed. Whereas I had begged not to be assigned to this group, she had, weeks ago. I had learned, begged to serve with it. To be sure she had no more to fear from it than would any other girl. I, on the other hand, had a very great deal to fear from it. The guards had acceded to her pleas. She apparently worked very hard to keep her position with this chain, carrying water, sometimes double bags, frequently and uncomplainingly, and, in the evening, zealously, and desperately, and with subtle and delicious skills, well pleasing the guards. It was whispered about in the pens, seeing the frequency with which she was summoned forth, that she had not always been a common work slave. It was speculated that she had once been a pleasure slave, that she had once been in a tavern, and had even, once, been first girl.

I was now within a few feet of the first man. I remembered him from Argentum. He had been a metal worker and I had lied, pretending to be of his own caste. He whom I most feared, however, was at the end of the chain. I considered the tools in the grip of these men. One of those shovels could with a single blow cut my head from my body. I knew I could be killed quickly, very quickly. I looked from face to face. I realized then that these men would probably not wish to kill me quickly, not at all. If they wished to kill me, they would presumably prefer to do so slowly. I did not want to serve this crew. For days I had been left free of it. Then, last night, a girl had been transferred very sudden. I suspected that the girl had been transferred from it in order to make a place for me on it. I did not know, however, why, only now, this had taken place.

"Water, Master?" I asked.

These men were chained together only by an ankle. Their hands were free. They had implements.

"Yes," he said.

I knelt down in the sand, before him, my head down. I removed the metal cup on its string from about my neck. My neck was exposed to him. I attended to the filling of the cup, and capped the spout of the bag. I feared I would be struck with the shove, it cutting down at me. He did not raise it, however, I kissed the cup and, holding it with both hands, my arms extended toward him, my head down between them, proffered it to him. He took it, and drank, and handed the cup back to me. "Thank you, Master," I whispered. I was alive!

I then went to the next man, and the next. As I moved down the line I grew gradually more grateful, and elated. Each accepted water from me. It seemed I might have been any water girl serving them. It was impossible to describe my relief. It seemed they did not hold it against me, that I had been utilized in their entrapment. Perhaps they understood something of my helplessness, and that I, only a Gorean kajira, had had no choice but to obey. How astonishing it was that they bore me no ill will! How grateful I was to them for their understanding! Then I knelt before he who was last on the chain, he whom I most feared, and yet best knew, he who had been many times kind to me in Brundisium, and whom I had cleverly tricked in Argentum, bringing him to his current condition.

"Water, Master?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

I poured him the water and in that same fashion in which I had served the others proffered him the cup. He took it, and then, before my eyes, he did not drink, but regarded me, with hatred, and turned the cup, pouring the contents slowly, meaningfully, into the sand. I was terrified. This action on his part seemed some sort of signal to the others. I then found myself in the midst of them, kneeling, trembling, small, in the center of that grim circle.

"Masters?" I asked, frightened. Surely the guard must come down the incline now, to threaten them, to whip them back. But, kneeling as I was, in the midst of them, I could not even see the guard. "Masters?" I asked, terrified. They said nothing. Where was the guard!

"Please, Masters," I said. "I am only a slave. Please be kind to a slave!" "She feigns terror well," said one of the fellows.

"She is an excellent actress," commented another.

"Please, Masters!" I pleaded.He before whom I knelt threw the cup to the side, in the sand. The water bag was removed from me. It was put a few feet from me, by the cup.

I did not dare rise from my knees. I was a slave. I had not been given permission.

"You were an excellent lure girl," said one of the fellows.

"Thank you, Master," I whispered.

Even had I dared to rise, as I did not, I did not know if I, in my terror, could even have found the strength to do so. Too, even if I had dared to leap up, and had found the strength to do so, I could not have escaped them. They were all about me. Too, I could not run, chained as I was.

"She deceived me well," said a fellow.

"And me," said another.

"And me," said another.

"Forgive me, Masters!" I begged.

The guard did not appear.

"Help!" I screamed. "Help! Help, Master! Please, help! Help, Master!" But only silence greeted my cries for assistance.

"Were you given permission to speak?" asked a fellow.

"No, Master," I whispered. "Forgive me, Master!"

the fellow before whom I knelt and one of the men, a brawny fellow, lifted me up from the back, by the upper arms. Another fellow then, as I was held, cuffed me, twice. I was then dropped back into the sand, on all fours, a punished slave. "Let her try to run," said the fellow before whom I had knelt.

I looked about, wildly. I tasted blood in my mouth.

The men behind me moved to one side, opening a place between them, leading back toward the top of the ridge.

My eyes fixed on him before whom I had knelt. I rose to my feet, half crouching, and backed warily away from him, until I was beyond the line of the chain, and then, wildly, I turned about, and tried to run. I fell, again and again, and then, clawing and scrambling, I began to ascend the sandy slope. Again and again, I slipped back, inhibited in my chains. Then I had attained the summit of that ridge. I stood there, wildly. There, now, on the summit, was not only the guard and the other work slave, now kneeling, with her head down to the sand, but the overseer, and a palanquin, with eight bearers, and a man in silken robes, fat and bald, who reclined upon it, holding a short-stemmed lorgnon, in his right hand. Swiftly I knelt, covered with sand, in my chains, before the palanquin, doing obeisance. "Look up," said the overseer. The fellow regarded me through the lorgnon. "This," said the overseer, "is the girl, Tuka, who served your supplier, Tyrrhenius, in Argentum. We had her purchased, following your policy, for a tarsk bit over her former selling price. We had her brought here, as we thought would please you, to the black chain. We are gratified that this should have coincided with your tour of inspection." The overseer gestured to the guard and he open my tunic, and pulled it back. I saw the lorgnon lift a little. "As you might surmise," said the overseer, "she was an excellent lure girl. She figured in the entrapment of twenty-three of the prisoners below."

I trembled, kneeling in the soft, warm sand, it up about my thighs.

"You may greet your master," said the overseer to me.

"Greetings, Master," I said.

The man in the palanquin made a small gesture with the lorgnon, hardly a movement.

The guard seized me by the upper arms, from behind, and flung me back over the ridge, and I tumbled, sprawling, rolling, sliding, down the sandy slope, until once again I was at its foot. There two of the brawny fellows seized me by the arms and, dragging me through the sand, put me again to my knees before he whom I most feared. I looked wildly up, behind me, but there I saw naught but the unmoving, observing group. I understood now why the guard had not come to my assistance. I understood, too, now, I though, why this group was in its present place, screened by the hills from the sight of the other groups.

I flung myself to my belly in the sand before he whom I most feared, he whose shackle was the last on the chain of fifty strong men.

I would have crawled to his feet, to press my bloody lips to them, but my ankles were held.

"Master," I wept, "forgive me!"

but, looking up from my belly, covered with sand, sand in my hair, I saw no forgiveness in his eyes.

At a gesture from him, he who seemed to be their leader. I was drawn to my knees. I tried to pull together my tunic, but one of the men pulled it open again, angrily.

"Let us kill her," said one of the men.

I shuddered.

"Kill her," said another.

"Kill her," said yet another.

"Yes," said another.

"Yes!" said yet another.

But a small gesture from their leader, he before whom I knelt, silenced them. "Are you hips still loose?" he asked. "Do you still sway well?" I looked at him, wildly. He had asked me this in Argentum, before I had deceived him, before he had carried me, trustingly, lovingly, in his arms, back into the alleyway.

"Master?" I asked.

I tried to read his intent, but could not.

He regarded me.

"My current master does not use me as a dancer," I said. It was in this fashion, too, that I had responded in Argentum.

He gestured that I should be drawn to my feet.

"Dance," he said.

"Master?" I asked, disbelievingly.

"Need a command be repeated, slave girl?" he asked.

"No, Master!" I cried. I wound the chain a bit about my wrists, taking up its slack. I could use it, in its different lengths, later, in the dance. I lifted my hands above my head, the backs of my hands facing one another. I flexed my knees. Sometimes a woman is permitted, even a free woman, among the fires of a burning city, the glare of the flames red upon her flesh, to dance before masters as a naked slave. She must hope to be found pleasing, and that her fate will be only the brand, chains and the collar. She dances helplessly, desperately. She hopes to be found pleasing. She dances for her life. He was giving me the chance! He must sill care for me! "Thank you, Master," I cried. It had been long, I knew, since these men had had a woman, and they were Goreans. They would be half mad with desire. Too, many of them had found me exciting, and had wanted me earlier, else I could not have lured them. Too, I was a skilled dancer. Too, I was beautiful, or had been told so. Certainly many men of this world have found me attractive, and desirable, and have not hesitated to put me to their services, and fully, as may be down with a slave.

I danced.

I looked at their faces.

Many of these men, I knew, would feel they had a score to settle with me. It was my hope that they might be persuaded to accept in settlement of these accounts, if accounts they were, not my blood but so small and innocent a thing as my mastering, my total ravishing and subjugation. That would be vengeance enough, I hoped, for such men. Certainly I had lured them. But I had not truly chosen to do so. Surely they would understand that! Of my own will I would never have dared to do such a thing! And now I danced before them, for my life, helpless, desperate to please them, in terror. What more then could they want, saving my zealous services, those commonly to be surrendered by a slave dancer to masters.

I danced.

I saw anger, and hatred, turn to desire.

I did many cunning things with the chains.

I began to sense, with timidity, and hope, and then a growing confidence, and with an increasing sense of elation, that many of them, perhaps even most, might be encouraged to find me of at least minimal interest.

"Hei!" cried one of them, smiting his thigh.

"Master!" I called to him, gratefully, then dancing back from him, in the sand. Others restrained him from following me and seizing me. Then I was too near the other side of the circle, and returned, quickly, gracefully, to its center, dancing to first one man and then another. More than one reached out for me. Their grasping hands were but a yard or two from me.

"You were surely never of the metal workers!" laughed the fellow who had been of that caste.

"No, Master," I assured him.

"No woman of my caste could move like that!" he cried.

"Do not be too sure, Master," I cautioned him.

I saw sweat upon his forehead, and his fists clench as he perhaps recalled some women he had known, of that caste. Surely the women of his caste, too, could be taught to dance, and to lick and kiss, and serve, and even superbly, such that they might drive a man wild with desire. Were they not, too, in the final analysis, only females? I had known two slaves who had once been of his caste, Corinne, in the house of my training, and Laura, in Hendow" s tavern. Both had been superb slaves. To be sure, being slaves, they were no longer in his caste. Animals do not have caste.

I danced before another.

It was my desperate hope to turn their wrath, and their desire for vengeance, seemingly at the beginning so adamant, so fierce and unrelenting, to interest, and desire, and passion. "Do not kill me, Master," I begged another, "but let me live, I beg you, to serve and please you, and with all the fullness of the female!"

"Perhaps," he said, licking his lips.

I continued to dance.

There are many forms of placatory dances which are performed by female slaves. Some of these tend to have rather fixed forms, sanctioned by custom and tradition, such as the stately "Contrition Dace" of Turia. Some form of placatory dance is usually taught to the girl in slave training. There is no telling when it might be needed. Though I had had, because of the relatively advanced state of my dancing skills, for a new slave, very little instruction in dance in the house of my first training. I had been taught at least that much. The form of placatory dance taught to a girl usually depends on the girl in question. For example, I had not been taught the stately "Contrition Dance" of Turia. It has been felt that the nature of my body lent itself to a more desperate, needful, lascivious form of dance. I had been taught how to dance on my knees, for example, and, supplicatingly, on my back, and belly. Most placatory dances, however, are not fixed-form dances, but are «free» dances, in which the slave, exquisitely alert to the nuances of the situation, the particular master, the nature of his displeasure, the gravity of her offense, and such, improvises, doing her best to assuage his anger and beg his forgiveness, to reassure him of the authenticity of her contrition and the genuineness of her desire to do better.

"There is no garbage here, on which to make your bed," said one of the men, "and I have learned that, indeed, in any event, you are worth less than it." "Yes, Master," I said.

"Nor do I have a cloak now, doubled, to soften the cruelty of the cobblestones to your back," he said.

"Hot sand will do, Master," I said, "and chains in which my limbs are enclosed." "Yes," he said.

I saw I did not need to fear him, save in the ways any slave must fear a master. I danced then to those whose eyes were hardest. Some of them were not even men I had trapped, but only men who knew what I had done. Some may have been as innocent as those I had lured, others might have been murderers and brigands, suitably enchained for the expiation of sentences, their custody having been legally transferred to Ionicus, my master, at the payment of a prisoner" s fee, by the writ of a praetor or, in more desperate cases, by the order of a quaestor. I danced abjectly. I danced piteously. I danced beggingly. I danced as well as I could. I could not do more. They would either be pleased or not. My fate was in their hands.

"She is pretty," said one of them.

"Yes," said another.

Hope sprang again high within me. I sought then to move another, with my helplessness, and the pleas of my body.

"Are you a good slave lay?" asked a man.

"It is my hope that I am pleasing, Master," I said. "Surely I shall endeavor to be so."

He grinned.

"She has the look of a wench who would be good in the furs," laughed a man. I heard the chain move in the heavy staple on his shackle.

"There are no furs here," laughed another man.

I had not had furs touch my body since a cool evening, five nights ago, in the overseer" s tent. I had then worn the rectangle of red silk, that in which he was accustomed to put his use slaves. It is such, it thrust over a leather thong knotted above the girl" s belly, that it may be easily brushed aside, or pulled away. It was my hope that I had pleased him well. Toward morning he had chained me, hand and foot, to a stake near his feet, where I could not reach him. I moaned for a time, but the kick of his foot had taught me that I must then be silent.

"She is an excellent dancer," commented a man, another whom I had lured in Argentum.

"Yes," said another fellow, another of those who owed his chaining to me. I began to be conscious then, as I sometimes was, of the incredible power of the female slave, of how helpless men could be before her, and of what she could do to them."Ah," said one of the men, softly, watching.

I repeated the movement.

"Yes," said another man. "Yes!" said another.

How paradoxical I thought, that she who is branded, and collared, and owned, and is nothing, should have such power!

"Dance, slut, dance!" said a man.

And then again I danced, helplessly, piteously, suing for their favor, striving desperately to be found pleasing. In the end the power belongs to the master, totally, and not to the slave. She is his.

"Excellent," said a man. "Excellent."

I danced.

I danced in such a way that a free woman might only dream of, awakening, sweating, in the night, clutching her covers, in terror, then feeling her throat with trepidation, with the tips of frightened fingers, to ascertain that no cpollar has been locked on it in the night. How could she, a free woman, have such a dream? What could it mean? And what would the men do to her when they came to take her in their arms? She awakened, in terror. Perhaps she hurries to strike a light in her room. The familiar surroundings reassure her. She has had such dreams before. What could they mean? Nothing, of course. Nothing! Such dreams must be meaningless! They must be! But what if they were not? She shudders. Perhaps she then, in her long silken gown, curls up, frightened, at the foot of her bed. What, too, could that mean? She does not know. Surely that, too, means nothing. But what if it did? She lies there, troubled, but somehow comforted, somehow secure, in that position. It seems to her, somehow, that that is where she belongs.

"Superb," said a man.

I saw now that they, or most of them, were pleased. I sensed now that I might be spared, at least if I pleased them, too, well enough in the sand. I had lured many of them, but now I danced for before them, to please them, begging for my life, danced before them helplessly, at their mercy, submitted and dependent on their favor, for my very life, as much as though I might be their own slave. I saw to my joy, coming gradually to understand it, that they, or surely most of them, would accept this, my beauty, my submission and service, abject and total, in lieu of my blood. It would be vengeance enough for them. How mighty they were, and kind! To be sure, I would have to continue to show them perfections of slave service and total deference. How grateful I was to he whom I had most feared, he who was last upon the chain, he who had given me this eagerly embraced opportunity to save my slave" s hide! But it was he, of all of them, who had refused to watch me dance. He stood with his back turned to me, his back straight, his arms folded, looking away. Many times I had danced to him, moving behind him in the sand, but he did not turn. He did not deign to glance upon me. Then, near the end of my dance, as it approached its climax, I was on my knees in the sand, writhing, bending forward until my hair was in the sand, bending back then, exposing the bow of my body, my thighs, my belly, my breasts and throat to them, my hands inviting attention to them, my hair back in the sand, and then I straightened, and then was on my back, and belly, twisting and moving, lifting my hands to them, begging for favor, piteously suing for mercy. Such things I had been taught as long ago as the house of my first training, but I think, truly, even had I not had such training, I would, in the circumstances, have done much the same. Perhaps it is instinctual in a woman. I had, when owned by Gordon, the musician, once seen a former free woman, new to her collar, in an alley in Samnium, performing so for a master, he with whip in hand, encouraging her to adequacy. She did well. She, shuddering, half in shock, learned that she would be spared, at least for the time. he then began to instruct her in how to give pleasure to a man. She attended fearfully, and well, to her lessons.

At the end of the dance, I was on my knees again, behind him. I lifted my hands to him. "Master, please!" I begged. "Look upon me!" But he did not turn. With a cry of joy the men surged about me. I was lifted by my upper arms and flung back in the sand. My legs were lifted up, my kneed bent. My wrist chain was pulled forward and thrust over and behind my feet. It was then jerked up, behind me. I could now not move my hands from my sides. I was helpless. My ankles, each in the grip of one man, were pulled apart, until my ankle chain, its links straightened, permitted no further extension. My opened tunic was thrust back on both sides. I, half submerged in the sand, put my head back, looking up and back. I could see the figures, and the palanquin, seemingly small, seemingly far above me, seemingly far away from me on the ridge. I thought my master, Ionicus, of Cos, might be looking at me, through the lorgnon. "Oh!" I cried, suddenly, as the first of them put me to his pleasure. "Are you alright?" asked Tupita.

"Yes," I said, lying in the sand.

"The chain is gone," she said. "It has been taken elsewhere."

I nodded, stiff, aching. I had known that it had gone. A little later Tupita had come down the slope.

"Lie on your side," she said. "Pull your legs up. get your knees as close to your belly as you can."

She drew the chain down, from behind me, and, pushing back my ankles, I winced, put it over my feet and ankles. it was then again before me.

"Sit up," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said. She was not the "first girl" of the work slaves, not even the first girl in our pen. Of the two of us assigned to this chain, however, she was surely "first girl."

"You are sure you are all right?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

I turned and looked up to the height of the ridge.

"They are gone," she said.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Can you walk?" she asked.

"I think so," I said.

"I think we should follow the chain now," she said.

"Mirus saved my life," I said.

She was silent.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"I think we should follow the chain," she said.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"It is lonely here," she said.

"I do not understand," I said.

"I heard them talking, up on the ridge," she said. "Something has happened." "What?" I asked.

The sun was still bright. It was in the late afternoon. The sky was very blue. A soft wind moved between the dunelike hills, stirring the rough grass.

"It happened only a pasang or so from the walls of Venna," she said, "closer to Venna than our camp."

"What?" I asked, uneasily.

"A body was found, that of an official of Venna, an aedile, I think." "I am sorry to hear that," I said. "I gather that he was robbed?" "Apparently he was robbed," she said, "either by the assailant, or another. His purse was gone."

"I am sorry," I said.

"The body," she said, "was half eaten."

I shuddered.

"It was torn to pieces," she said. "The visera were gone. Bones were bitten through."

I winced.

"it is frightening," she said, "to consider the force, the power of such jaws, which could do such things."

"There is a sleen in the vicinity," I said. I remembered Borko, the hunting sleen of my former master, Hendow, of Brundisium, "The tracks were not those of a sleen," she said.

"There are panthers," I said, "and beasts called larls. Such animals are very dangerous."

"As far as I know, there has not been a panther or larl in the vicinity of Venna in more than a hundred years," she said.

"It could have been wandering far outside its customary range," I said, "perhaps driven by hunger, or thirst."

"They were not the tracks of a panther or larl," she said.

"Then it must have been a sleen," I said.

"Sleen have no use for gold," she said, uneasily.

"Surely someone could have found the body and taken the purse," I said. "Perhaps," she granted me.

"It must then have been a sleen," I said. "There is no other explanation." "The tracks," she reminded me, "were not those of a sleen."

"Then of what beast were they the tacks?" I asked.

"That is the frightening thing," she said. "They do not know. Hunters were called in. Even they could not identify them."I regarded her.

"They could tell very little about the tracks," she said. "One thing, however, was clear."

"What?" I asked.

"It walked upright," she said.

"That is unnatural," I said.

"Is it so surprising," she asked, "that a beast might walk upright?" I looked at her.

"Or even that they should walk in power and pride?"

"I do not understand," I said.

"Our masters, the beasts, the brutes, those who put us in collars, and make us kneel, those from whose largess we must hope they will grant us a rag, those whose whips we must fear, do so," she said.

"Yes," I breathed. "They do!" Our masters, the magnificent beasts, so powerful, so free, so liberated and masculine, so glorious in their untrammeled manhood, so uncompromising with us, did so.

"But this thing, I think," she said, "is not such a beast, not a human beast, not a man in the full power of his intelligence, vitality and animality, but some other sort of beast, something perhaps similar somehow, but very different, too."

"I would be afraid of it," I said.

"I doubt that you could placate it with your beauty," she said."Am I beautiful?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "I who was, and perhaps am, your rival, grant you that. You are very beautiful."

"You, too, are beautiful," I said, and then I added, suddenly, "and doubtless much more beautiful than I!"

"I think that is not true," she said. "But it is kind of you to say it." "I am sure it is true," I said.

"We are both beautiful slaves," she said. "I think we are (338) equivalently beautiful, in different ways. I think we would both bring a high price, stripped naked on a sales block. Beyond that it is doubtless a matter of the preferences of a given man."

"You are kind," I said.

"Did you betray me in the matter of the pastry?" she asked.

"No," I said. "Its absence was noted. Your presence in the vicinity was recalled. You were apprehended. In the lick of your fingers was revealed the taste of sugar."

"I was whipped well for that," she said, shuddering.

"I am sorry," I said.

"How I hated you," she said.

"I am sorry," I said.

"I was first girl, and you were last kennel," she said. "Now we are both mere work slaves, both of us only common sluts on the black chain of Ionicus." "You are still first girl, of the two of us," I said.

"That is true," she smiled.

"But may I call you by your name?" I asked.

"Do not do so within the hearing of masters," she said, "for I did not wish to have to sleep on my belly for a week."

"No!" I laughed. She could not read or write, but she was a beautiful, highly intelligent woman. too, since I had known her in Brundisium, and Samnium, I felt that a great change had come over her. I felt, too, that she had, in the last few days, come to have some concern for me. I was not altogether clear how that had come about. Perhaps it had to do with her pity for me, only a slave, one as helpless as she, but one in much greater danger here, because of her work for her former master, Tyrrhenius of Argentum. But it had to do even more, I think, with he who had been last on the chain, he who had once been second to my former master, Hendow, in Brundisium, Mirus.

"Perhaps we should rejoin the chain," I said, uneasily.

She looked about herself. "Yes," she said. "It is too lonely here." I arose with difficulty and retrieved the cup, on its string which I put about my neck. I would wash it at the tank. Too, I again put the water bag on its strap, on my back.

"There is something else," she said.

"What is that?" I asked.

"Two girls, too, have been stolen," she said.

"Girls such as we?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Work slaves?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"But not eaten?" I asked.

"Not as far as I know," she said.

"Anyone could steal us," I said.

She shrugged. "I suppose so," she said, "except in so far as our masters protect their property."

"The events are doubtless not connected," I said.

"Probably not," she said.

"Let us be on our way," I said.

"Many in Venna," she said, "as I understand it, are alarmed at the killing, and the mysterious footprints. Some think it is an omen or warning. The archon is consulting augurs, to take the signs."

I stood in the sand, waiting for her.

"They will concern themselves, surely, too, with legalities, and such," she said. "For example, those in the black chain who are not criminals, and for whom Ionicus does not have prisoner papers, will presumably be at least temporarily removed from the vicinity. That would mean many of the masters on our chain." I nodded. This seemed understandable. The archon in Venna would be interested in putting his house in order before the taking of the auspices. He would doubtless regard it as politic, at least from the point of view of soothing possible apprehensions in his constituency, to become a bit more scrupulous about proprieties, at least in so serious a situation.

"Where will we go?" I asked.

"Probably not far, and only a week or so, until the signs are taken," she said. "Our chain will probably be used for clearing and deepening ditches at the side of the Viktel Aria south of Venna. We can return later. Things then will doubtless be the same as before."

"How far south?" I asked.

"Probably not far," she said.

"Beyond the defense perimeter?" I asked.

"Probably not," she said. "Why? Are you afraid of being stolen?" "Not really," I said.

"If I were you," she said, "I would want to be stolen. You do not belong in a work tunic. You should wear a string of silk and be kissing and licking at a man" s feet."

I smiled. "Do you not want to be stolen?" I asked.

"No," she said. "I would prefer, at least for the time, to remain with the chain."

"I see," I smiled.

She adjusted the water bag on her shoulder. It would be a steep climb out of the trough.

"If we are outside the defense perimeter or near its edge," I said, "is there not a danger that the chain might find itself under attack?"

"For what?" she asked. "For deepening ditches?"

"I suppose it is silly," I said.

"Men seldom make war on work chains," she said.

"I am glad to hear that," I said.

"It is not like we were working on siege trenches or repairing the walls of a beleaguered city," she said.

"No, I suppose not," I said.

"I am ready," she said. "Let us go."

With difficulty, carrying the water bags, in our chains, we made our way up the sandy slope. I reached the top first and extended my hand to Tupita, who took it, and, with its help, pulled herself up, until she stood beside me." "You are bruised," she said.

"It is nothing," I said.

"You will be stiffer, and sorer, tomorrow than today," she said.

I shrugged.

From where we were we could see men, and the tank, and the overseer" s tent, on its hill, and our pens, at its foot, and the wire around the camp. I think we were both glad to see these familiar sights.

"How is your back," she asked.

"It is all right," I said.

"The sand stanched the wounds," she said.

The chain, when it had been behind me, had cut at my back a little, sawing there, when I had struggled, grasping and crying out. When I had felt the wetness of blood there, I had tried to keep my hands low at my sides, in the sand, scratching and clutching at it, but then, almost as though unable to help myself, I had again tried to reach for their bodies. This had pulled the chain tight again against me. In the throes of my submission, however, as I, a slave, gave myself from the deepest depths of my belly to masters, I think I was unaware of the pain. If I had been aware of, dimly and fare off, I think I must, in my frustration and joy, trying to reach them, and yet helpless in their hands, have accepted it willingly. I could not even remember, clearly, what had happened.

"There is a little blood at the back of your tunic," she said.

I regarded her.

"Do not fear," she said. "I think it will wash out, at the tank. Besides, it is not your fault."

"I will not be permanently marked, will I?" I asked.

"No, vain slave," she smiled.

Such marks, of course, if permanent, might reduce a girl" s value on the slave block.

I looked down into the sandy trough. "Do you think I will often be put to the pleasure of the chain?" I asked.

"No," she said. "Our master, Ionicus, has had his sport. You will now, presumably, be used more to frustrate them than to please them. To be sure, the guard has seen you move, and please them. To be sure, the guard has seen you move, and please them. This will get around camp. Do not be surprised, accordingly, if they now choose to avail themselves of you more frequently. I would not even be surprised if, say, in an evening or two, you found yourself again in the thong and silk, in the overseer" s tent.

I looked over to the overseer" s tent. It was about a half pasang away. He had the call of any of the slave females in the camp. Too, of course, he could assign us however he wished, and for as long as he wished, to others.

"To be sure," said Tupita, "we might be thrown to the chains, from time to time, as bonuses or rewards."

I nodded. Much as men might throw us pastries or candies, so, too, we ourselves, in turn, or our uses, might be given to others.

"Do you know anything more of the beast who slew the aedile?" I asked. "No," she said.

"Nor anything further of the two slaves who were stolen?"

"No," said Tupita.

"Perhaps they ran away," I said. I shuddered. Even the thought of the possible penalties for such an action struck terror into my heart. Too, given the culture, her marking, the closely knit nature of the society, and such, there was, for all practical purposes, no escape for the Gorean slave girl.

"In work tunics, through the wire, laden with chains?" she asked.

I was silent.

"Too, work slaves outside the wire, not in the vicinity of a work chain, not in the keeping of a guard, they would provoke immediate suspicion."

I nodded.

"They would be in punishment yokes, on their bellies before the overseer, within an Ahn," she said.

I nodded. "Who, then, do you think stole them?" I asked.

"I do not know," said Tupita.

"The animal?" I asked.

"I would not think so," she said, "but who knows?"

"It is getting darker," I said.

"Tonight," said Tupita, "I will be glad to be locked behind the bars of our pen."

"I, too," I said, shuddering.

"Come along," she said.

"Tupita?" I said.

"Yes?" she said.

"Call me by my name," I said.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Tuka," I said. That was the name masters had given me. It was my name, as a dog has a name, or a slave.

"Tuka," she said.

"You love Mirus," I said.

"I would beg to lick his whip," she said.

"Does he love you?" I asked.

"I do not think he knows I exista€”in that way," she said.

"He is a kindly and marvelous man," I said.

"He found you pleasing," she said.

"I caught his fancy in Brundisium, a new girl in the tavern, one not yet fully accustomed to her collar," I said. "He enjoyed teaching me, and putting me through my paces. He enjoyed using me, as have many men. He gave me great pleasure, and I hope, too, that I gave him great pleasure."

She regarded me.

"And I think he was fond of me," I said.

"Yes," she said.

"But I do not believe I was ever more to him, really," I said, "than another girl at his feet."

She did not speak.

"I am sure he never thought of me as a possible love slave," I said. She did not speak.

"I am not even Gorean," I said. "I am only a slut who was brought here from Earth, to wear a collar and serve my betters, the masters."

"Do you truly think he is kind?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"And do you think he is so marvelous?" she asked.

"Of course," I said.

"And do you think he is still fond of you?" she asked.

"I know he is," I said. I looked back, down into the sandy trough. "I lured him in Argentum," I said, my voice suddenly breaking, as I considered the enormity of it, "I lured him whom I knew, he who had been kind to me, he who trusted me, and brought him to chains and servitude, and yet, this afternoon, he saved my life."

She was silent.

"I shall be forever grateful to him for that," I said. "Had it not been for him, I would have been killed."

"Beware of him," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why do you think he saved your life?" she asked.

"For caring for me," I said.

"No," she said.

"Then for pity," I said.

"No," she said.

"For desire?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"I do not understand," I said.

"He did not want the others to kill you," she said.

"Of course not," I said.

"He is Gorean," she said. "I do not know if you truly understand such men. Too, he has a long memory. Too, where you are concerned, he is not himself. Where you are concerned I think he is half crazy."

"I do not understand," I whispered.

"Stay away from him," she said.

"I would not try to take him from you," I said.

"He is a determined, intelligent man," she said. "He is biding his time." "Do not fear," I said.

"I speak to you for your own sake," she said, "not mine."

"He did not let them kill me," I said.

"Why not?" she asked.

"I do not know," I said.

"I do," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"It is his intention to kill you himself," she said.

"Surely you are mistaken," I whispered.

"Did he accept water from you?" she asked.

"No," I said. "He poured it out, on the ground."

"Did you not see that he would not even look upon you as you danced?" she asked. "Did you not note that he, of all of them, did not put you to use?" "Why?" I asked.

"He did not wish to risk being softened, or mollified."

I looked at her, frightened.

"That is why he did not want others to kill you," she said, "because it is his intention to do so himself."

I nearly collapsed in the sand.

"But his is in chains," she said. "I do not think you really have anything to fear. Just do not fall into his hands."

I nodded, shuddering.

"I do not really understand what you have done to him," she said, "how you have changed him so. He is very different from Brundisium."

"Yes," I said, "if what you say is true."

"I loved him in Brundisium," she said, "but I did not know how much I moved him until we were separated."

"We are slaves," I said. "We can be bought and sold, and taken, and done with, as masters please. Our disposition need not be in accord with our own wills. Our desires, our feelings, matter not."

"Then I found he was on the black chain," she said. "How pained I was to discover his fate! Yes, too, how my heart leapt to know him near! He was so close, and yet so far! I love him so. Yet I can do little but bring him water. I cannot so much as kiss his feet without the permission of a guard. If I were to put myself within his grasp, he might be whipped, or slain. Too, I now find him to my sorrow other than he was. He is now a bitter man, one so driven with the desire for vengeance, his thirst for the blood of the girl who betrayed him, that he has little time to consider another, one who would gladly die for him." I regarded her.

"Yes," she said. "He is my love master."

"Does he know that?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"When the guard is not looking," I said, "you must tell him. Throw yourself on your belly before him, where we belong before such men. Lick and kiss his feet, with tears in your eyes. Confess that you have acknowledged him in your heart as your love master. He can do little more than kick you from his feet." Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Do so," I urged.

"No," she whispered. "He is now in chains. He cannot now own me. He is not now free. It is not as though he could take me in his arms, if he were so inclined, and claim me by his rape. He is a prisoner of the black chain. He might even think it a trick of the guards. Perhaps in rage he would break my neck with his foot. Perhaps he would understand the whole matter as no more than some deliberate insult or mockery."

"I would do so, if I were you," I said.

"You are not Gorean," she said.

"I would risk all, for a love master," I said.

"You are crying," she said.

"No," I said. "No."

"You have a love master!" she said.

"No," I said. "No! No!" I had recalled Teibar, who long ago, had brought me into bondage. I had never forgotten him.

"How piteous we are, so helpless, only slaves!" wept Tupita.

"Would you be other than you are?" I asked.

She looked at me, startled. "No," she said. "And you?"

"No," I said.

"It is getting dark," said Tupita, smiling through her tears. "We do not wish to miss our gruel."

But I stood quietly on the ridge, looking down into the trough. I was barefoot. There were shackles on my ankles. They were joined by chain, the chain half submerged in the sand. There were manacles on my wrists, hammered shut about them. These, too, were joined with chain. I wore a parted work tunic. I carried a metal cup on a string about my neck, and the water bag, on its strap, over my shoulder. It was half full. I could feel the water move in it, shifting, and shaping itself to my back. I looked up into the sky, and saw the three Gorean moons.

"You are a very beautiful, and desirable, slave, Tuka," said Tupita. I did not respond.

"Perhaps if you had been less beautiful, and desirable," she said, "you would not have been brought to this world."

"Perhaps," I said.

"Do you wish then," she said, "that you had been less beautiful, or desirable?" "No," I said.

"It is getting late," she said. "Let us return to the tank, and then to the pens."

"Yes," I said.

"Perhaps you should close your tunic," she said.

"No," I said. "Let the men see."

"You are a slave," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"Are all the women of your world slaves?" she asked.

"I do not know," I said.

She parted her own tunic.

"I see that you, too, are a slave," I said.

"Yes," she said.

"But you are Gorean," I said.

"I am a woman," she said.

"We are both women," I said.

"And slaves," said Tupita.

"Yes," I said, "we are both women, and slaves."