Fighting Slave of Gor

13 THE LADY FLORENCE:I ENCOUNTER A SLAVE GIRL,WHOM I LEARN IS OWNED BY ONEANDER OF AR

"How pretty he is at your stirrup, Lady Florence," said the veiled woman, reclining in the palanquin, its draft slaves now halted.

"A lengthening of his hair, a white ribbon binding it back, a silken tunic make quite a difference, Lady Melpomene," responded the Lady Florence.

"I see you no longer have him chained there," said the Lady Melpomene.

"It was not necessary, as I soon discovered," said the Lady Florence. I kept my head down.

"I envy you such a sweet slave," said the Lady Melpomene.

"It is kind of you not to be bitter," said the Lady Florence, acidly. I held the reins of her tharlarion. It was not large. Its stirrup was at my right shoulder.

"Have you had him branded yet?" asked the Lady Melpomene.

"No," said the Lady Florence. "I keep my male slaves smooth-thighed."

"Interesting," said the Lady Melpomene.

The Lady Florence shrugged.

"Is he any good on the couch?" asked the Lady Melpomene.

"I use him when it pleases me," said the Lady Florence.

"Of course," said the Lady Melpomene.

"It is unfortunate that your resources, in the recent markets, have become so limited, or you might have outbidden me," said the Lady Florence.

"My resources are quite ample," said the Lady Melpomene.

"Rumor has it," said the Lady Florence, "that your fortunes lie near ruin."

"Such rumors," snapped the Lady Melpomene, "are malicious and false."

"I thought so," said the Lady Florence, pleasantly. "It is unfortunate that they are so rampant."

"I was insufficiently interested in the slave to bid sixteen tarsks," said the Lady Melpomene.

"Of course," said the Lady Florence.

"Have you been long shopping in Ar?" asked the Lady Melpomene.

"Some four days," said the Lady Florence. "We left our house in Vonda a month ago, for my villa." The villa of the Lady Florence of Vonda lay some forty pasangs south and west of Vonda. Vonda was one of the four cities of the Salerian Confederation. The other cities of this confederation were Ti, Port Olni and Lara. All four of these cities lie on the Olni River, which is a tributary to the Vosk. Ti is farthest from the confluence of the Olni and Vosk; downriver from Ti is Port Olni; these were the first two cities to form a league, originally intended for the control of river pirates and the protection of inland shipping; later, downriver from Port Olni, Vonda, and Lara, lying at the junction of the Olni and Vosk, joined the league. The Olni, for practical purposes, has been freed of river pirates. The oaths of the league, and the primitive articles pertaining to its first governance, were sworn, and signed, in the meadow of Salerius, which lies on the northern bank of the Olni between Port Olni and Vonda. It is from that fact that the confederation is known as the Salerian Confederation. The principal city, because the largest and most populous, of the confederation is Ti. The governance of the confederation is centralized in Ti. The high administrator of the confederation is a man called Ebullius Gaius Cassius, of the Warriors. Ebullius Gaius Cassius was also, as might be expected, the administrator of the city, or state, of Ti itself. The Salerian Confederation, incidentally, is also sometimes known as the Four Cities of Saleria. The expression `Saleria', doubtless owing its origin to the meadow of Salerius, is used broadly, incidentally, to refer to the fertile basin territories both north and south of the Olni, the lands over which the confederation professes to maintain a hegemony. The meadow of Salerius, thus, lies on the northern bank of the Olni, between Port Olni and Vonda; the area called Saleria, on the other hand, is, in effect, the lands controlled by the confederation. Ti, Port Olni and Vonda lie on the northern bank of the Olni; Lara lies between the Olni and the Vosk, at their confluence. It is regarded as being of great strategic importance. It could, if it wished, prevent Olni shipping from reaching the markets of the Vosk towns, and, similarly, if it wished, prevent shipping from these same towns from reaching the Olni markets. Overland shipping in this area, as is generally the case on Gor, is time consuming and costly; also, it is often dangerous. It is interesting to note that the control of piracy on the Olni was largely a function of the incorporation of Lara in the confederation. This made it difficult for the pirate fleets, following their raids, to descend the Olni and escape into the Vosk. It may also be of interest to note that what began as a defensive league instituted primarily to protect shipping on a river gradually, but expectedly, began to evolve into a considerable political force in eastern known Gor. Jealousies and strifes, rivalries, even armed conflicts, tend often to separate Gorean cities. Seldom do they band together. In this milieu, then, of suspicion, pride, autonomy and honor, the four cities of Saleria represented a startling and momentous anomaly in the politics of Gor. The league to protect shipping on the Olni, inadvertently but naturally founded in the common interest of four cities, had formed the basis for what later became the formidable Salerian Confederation. Many cities of Gor, it was rumored, looked now with uneasiness on the four giants of the Olni. The Salerian Confederation, it was rumored, had now come to the attention even of the city of Ar.

"We proceeded from my villa to my house in Venna," continued the Lady Florence, speaking lightly with the Lady Melpomene.

"I, too, have a house in Venna," she said.

"I did not know, with the state of your finances, that you had managed to retain it," said the Lady Florence. Venna is a small, exclusive resort city, some two hundred pasangs north of Ar. It is noted for its baths and its tharlarion races.

"Do you come often to shop in Ar?" asked the Lady Melpomene.

"Twice yearly," said the Lady Florence.

"I come four times yearly," said the Lady Melpomene.

"I see," said the Lady Florence, sweetly.

"I can afford to," said the Lady Melpomene.

"Do not permit me to detain you from your shopping," said the Lady Florence.

"I would not stay too long in Ar," said the Lady Melpomene.

"I do not think there will be trouble," said the Lady Florence.

"There was talk in the baths at Vonda," said the Lady Melpomene. "It is feared there will be an attack by Ar. Already troops have skirmished south of the Olni."

"Men are barbarians," said the Lady Florence. "They are always fighting."

"If hostilities should break out," said the Lady Melpomene, "it might not be well to be a woman of Vonda caught in this city"

"I do not think there will be trouble," said the Lady Florence.

"You may risk a steel collar if you wish," said the Lady Melpomene. "I am leaving Ar tonight."

"We are leaving in the morning," said the Lady Florence.

"Excellent," said the Lady Melpomene. "Perhaps I shall see you in Venna"

"Perhaps," said the Lady Florence.

"And perhaps you will let me enjoy your slave," said the Lady Melpomene.

"Perhaps - for a fee," said the Lady Florence, coldly.

"A fee?" asked the Lady Melpomene.

"Sixteen tarsks," said the Lady Florence. "The pitiful price which you could not afford to pay for him."

Sixteen tarsks was actually a high price to pay for a male silk slave. Most would go from four to six tarsks.

"I wish you well," said the Lady Melpomene.

"I wish you well," said the Lady Florence.

The Lady Melpomene then clapped her hands. "Proceed!" she called to the draft slaves, those bearing upon their shoulders the poles of her palanquin.

In a moment or two they had proceeded down the street.

"What a hateful woman," said the Lady Florence. "What a pretender she is! How I despise her! Her fortunes are mined. She is almost penniless. If she does retain a house in Venna she is sure to lose it soon. How bold she is, even to dare to speak with me. She is probably in Ar trying to negotiate a loan, or sell the house in Venna, if indeed she still owns it. Even the palanquin and slaves are rented! She does not fool me! How I hate her! I hate her! Did you see how sweetly she spoke to me? But she hates me, too. Our families have been enemies for generations."

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"She even bid against me for you," said the Lady Florence. "Would a friend have done that?"

"I do not know, Mistress," I said.

"No," said the Lady Florence.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"And she had the nerve to ask for your use," said the Lady Florence. "I will share you only with those women who please me."

"Yes, Mistress," I said. It is a common Gorean hospitality to offer the use of one's slaves to guests, if they should find them attractive. The Lady Florence of Vonda, she to whom I belonged, could give or assign me, as any slave she owned, to whomsoever she pleased. She had, however, at least thus far, kept me for herself. Sometimes when there were guests at her villa southwest of Vonda I was kept locked in my kennel.

"This way, Jason," she said. "I wish to purchase veil pins at the shop of Publius. Then I wish to proceed to the avenue of the Central Cylinder, to examine the silks in the shop of Philebus."

"Yes, Mistress," I said. I proceeded down the street in the direction indicated, leading the tharlarion by its reins. Small saddle tharlarion are generally managed by snout reins. The huge war tharlarion are commonly guided by voice signals and the blows of spears on the face and neck. Draft tharlarion are harnessed, and can be managed either by men, or usually boys, who walk beside them, or by reins and whips, controlled by drivers, men mounted in drawn wagons.

We passed a woman in the street, a woman of Ar, followed by a silk slave. He looked at me. I suppose he was wondering what I had cost.

A slave girl passed, a short-legged beauty, clad in a gray rag, chewing on a larma fruit. She spit against the wall as I passed.

"Do not mind her, Jason," said the Lady Florence.

"No, Mistress," I said. But I wished I could have gotten my hands on her.

"Such girls are unrefined," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said. But the girl had had good ankles.

"Stop here, Jason," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"You will tether the tharlarion, Jason," said the Lady Florence.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"When you have finished with that," she said, "you will return here, and wait for me."

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

The sun was high now, and it was past noon. We were stopped now before the shop of Philebus, which specializes in Turian silk. This shop is located on the great avenue of the Central Cylinder, which is more than four hundred feet wide, an avenue used in triumphs, dominated by the Central Cylinder of Ar itself, which stood at one end of it. There are many trees planted at the sides of this avenue, and there are frequent fountains. It is a very beautiful, and impressive, avenue. I was pleased to look upon it. Shops on this avenue, of course, if only because of the rents, are extremely expensive.

She glanced to the looped chain at the side of her saddle.

"Does Mistress wish to chain Jason, her slave?" I asked. If she wished this I would fetch her the chain, when I had tethered the tharlarion. There were slave rings, a foot or so from the sidewalk, in the front wall of the shop of Philebus. Such rings are common in public places on Gor. A slave girl, sitting, her hands bound before her body with cord, by a shortened neck-leash, was chained at one of these rings. At another, also sitting, fastened there by a two-loop fitting, running to a collar ring, was a silk slave.

"No, Jason," she said. "You may drink from the spillings of the fountain while I am inside"

"Yes, Mistress," I said. "Thank you, Mistress"

The fountain had two levels, a great bowl and, lower, near the walk level, a shallow bowl. From this shallow bowl slaves might drink.

The Lady Florence looked up at me. I could not read her expression. "Perhaps you will like what I will buy," she said.

"I am certain that I will, Mistress," I said. I was not lying. She had, I had learned, exquisite taste.

She swiftly turned and went into the shadowed, cool recesses of the shop.

"She did not chain you," said the male silk slave to me.

"No," I said.

"What did you cost?" he asked.

"Sixteen tarsks," I said.

"That is not much," he said, puzzled.

"Of silver," I said.

"Liar," he said.

I shrugged.

I led the tharlarion into a small, sanded, sunny area near the shop of Philebus, looping its reins twice about a tharlarion ring there. As I tethered it, it could reach water, from a run from the nearby fountain. These tharlarion rings are quite similar to slave rings. Indeed, the only real difference between them is their function, the one being used to tether tharlarion and the other slaves. They have this in common, of course, that they are both animal rings.

I looked at the tharlarion.

It stood there, placidly. It slid a transparent membrane upward, covering its eye, as a broad-winged insect crawled on its lid. The insect fluttered away. The Lady Florence owned many tharlarion. Her stables were among the most extensive and finest of any owned by a citizen of Vonda.

I returned to the area before the shop of Philebus.

I glanced again at the male silk slave sitting on the walk, fastened at the ring.

"Liar," he said. I think he was angry that he, and not I, had been chained. I looked awav from him. The broad avenue was beautiful, with its width, its paving and fountains, the buildings, the trees, the central cvlinder in the distance. It was in that cylinder, as I understood it, that were housed many of the bureaus and agencies of Ar, many of the departments important to the functioning of the state; in it, too, met various councils; in it, too, were the private compartments of the Ubar of Ar, a man called Marlenus.

I leaned against the wall of the shun of Philebus. Most Gorean shops do not have windows. Many are open to the street, or have counters which are oven to the street. These shops are usually shuttered or barred at night. Certain of the shops, usually those containing more precious goods. Inch as that of Philebus, are entered through a narrow door. Not unoften, inside, there is an open court, with awnings at the sides, under which goods are displayed. There was, in the shop of Philebus, such a court at the back, whence goods might be taken to be viewed in natural light, should the customer wish.

I looked, idly, at the people on the avenue. It was not excessively crowded on this day of the week, nor at this hour; yet -there were ample numbers of shoppers and passers-by. Here and there there were borne palanquins, as richer individuals were carried about their business. Some light, twowheeled carriages passed, drawn by tharlarion. I saw, too, more than one bosk wagon, drawn by gigantic, shaggy, wickedly horned bosk. Their hoofs were polished; their horns were hung with beads. One of these wagons had a cover of blue and yellow canvas, buckled shut with broad straps. From within I heard the laughter of slave girls. A man followed the wagon, walking behind it, with a whip. In such a wagon the girls are commonly chained by the ankles to a metal bar which runs down the center of the wagon bed. I saw a girl lifting up the canvas a bit, and peeping out. I wondered if she were pretty. She belonged to someone. Then the canvas was pulled down, quickly. All the girls might be whipped, I supposed, for such a transgression. They were slaves.

I glanced to the slave girl who was, by the shortened neckleash, chained at one of the rings in front of the shop of Philebus. Her small wrists were secured before her body with cord, fastened with cunning knots. The cord, I supposed, had been woven about a core of wire. The knots were under the left wrist, to make it more difficult to reach them with the teeth.

She looked at me.

She wore a light, gray tunic, brief. I considered the lines of her thighs and calves.

"I am for free men," she said, angrily. "I am not for the likes of you, Slave."

"Do you yield well in their arms, Slave?" I asked her.

She looked away, biting her lip.

I examined her body. It was exciting and attractive. I would not have minded owning her.

"I expect you yield well indeed, Slave," I said to her.

She flushed crimson, from head to toe, at the ring. I saw that my speculation had been correct. I smiled to myself. Her shoulders shook with a sob.

I went to the fountain, which was only a few yards away, and, getting down on my hands and knees, putting my head down, from the lower bowl, from which slaves and animals might drink, satisfied my thirst.

I then returned to the shop of Philebus, to continue to wait for my mistress.

I looked up, hearing taro drums in the sky. A squadron of Ar's tarn cavalry, the stroke of their wings synchronized with the beat of the drum, passed by, overhead. There must have been some forty birds and riders. The formation seemed large to be a patrol.

I watched the robes of free women, passing in the street, the wagons, the now increasing throngs, the palanquins of rich men, some with lovely, briefly tunicked slaves chained behind them, attached to the palanquins, an affectation of display.

My mistress was long in the shop. I assumed I would have many packages to bear.

I then saw a kaiila pass. It was lofty, stately, fanged and silken. I had heard of such beasts, but this was the first one I had seen. It was yellow, with flowing hair. Its rider was mounted in a high, purple saddle, with knives in saddle sheaths. He bore a long, willowy black lance. A net of linked chain, unhooked; dangled beside his helmet. His eyes bore the epicanthic fold. He was, I gathered, of one of the Wagon Peoples, most likely the Tuchuks. His face, colorfully scarred, was marked in the rude heraldry of those distant, savage riders.

"Slave," said a woman's voice.

Immediately I knelt, head down. I saw the sandals and robes of a free woman before me.

"Where is the shop of Tabron, who is the worker of silver?" she asked.

"I do not know, Mistress," I said. "I am not of this city. Forgive me, Mistress."

"Ignorant beast," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said. Then, with a turn of her robes, she had gone on.

I got again to my feet, and leaned against the wall of the shop of Philebus. I felt the collar at my throat, of sturdy steel. It was enameled white. In it, incised, in tiny, dark cursive letters, in a feminine-type script, was a message in Gorean. It read, I had been told, `I am the property of the Lady Florence of Vonda.' The lock on the back of the collar had a double bolt, the double bolt, however, responding to a single key. I was barefoot. The tunic my mistress had given me was of white silk.

I stood straighter then, by the wall, for I now heard the counting of a cadence. Passing now in the street before me, in ranks of four, was a column of men. The four files, as I counted that nearest to me, were fifty deep. The men wore scarlet tunics. Behind their left shoulders were round shields. On their heads were scarlet caps, with yellow tassels. Behind their left shoulder, over the shields, there hung steel helmets. Sheathed swords, short, were slung at their left shoulders. On their right shoulders they bore spears, with long, bronze, tapering blades. Their feet wore heavy, thick-soled sandals, which, almost like boots, with swirling leather, rose high about their calves. The sound of these bootlike sandals on the atones of the street was clear and regular. Behind the right shoulder, slung on the shaft of the spears, were light packs. I gathered the men were leaving the city. The Gorean infantryman usually marches light. Military supply posts, walled, 0ccur at intervals on major roads. Indeed, one of the apparent anomalies of Gor is the quality and linearity of certain roads, which are carefully kept in repair, roads which often, seemingly paradoxically, pass through sparsely populated territo• ries. The nature of these roads and their quality seems peculiar until one examines maps on which they occur. It then becomes clear that most of them lead toward borders and frontiers. They are then, in effect, military highways. This becomes clearer, too, when it is recognized that most of the supply posts occur at forty pasang intervals. Forty pasangs is an average day's march for a Gorean infantryman. I wondered why the troops were leaving the city. Too, such troops, as I understood it, usually departed from a city in the early morning, primarily, I supposed, that a normal day's march might be completed. I watched the troops disappearing down the street. They had been led by two officers, also afoot. The column had been flanked, too, by two other officers, presumably of lesser rank. The column's tread had been even. The unison bad been unpretentious but, in its way, stirring and dramatic. One felt that what was passing was not at that moment simply a collection of men, an aggregate of diverse individuals, but a unit. This, I take it, was a tribute to the training of such men. At the head of the column, behind the officers, but a pace or two before the rightermost man in the first rank, there marched a fellow who bore a standard on which was mounted an image of a silver taro. Many such standards are over a century old. The Gorean soldier is commonly a professional soldier, usually of the caste of Warriors. In a sense, given the cruel selections undergone by his forebears, he has been bred to his work. In his blood there is the spear and war.

The column had now disappeared. When departing from main roads such troops can be followed by bosk wagons or tharlarion wagons, bearing supplies: Too, by taro, they can be supplied from the air. It should also be mentioned that it is not unusual nor impractical for such troops, which are usually in fairly small numbers, to live off the game-rich Gorean countryside. Levies, too, within certain territories, can be imposed on villages for their provisioning. Mobility and surprise are often features of Gorean warfare. Much of it is more akin to the raid than to the siege or the open conflict of large bodies of men over large areas. It would be extremely unusual, for example, for a Gorean city to have more than five thousand men in the field in a given time.

Uneasily I touched the collar on my neck. It read, I had been told, `I am the property of the Lady Florence of Vonda.' I could not remove it, of course, for I was a slave and it had been locked on me. I looked down the avenue of the Central Cylinder, down which the troops had disappeared. I had heard, inadvertently from the Lady Melpomiene, as I had stood at the stirrup of my mistress, that an uneasy situation existed currently between Ar and the Salerian Confederation. The Lady Melpomene had said she was leaving Ar that night. The Lady Florence, of course, if I were identified as her slave, would by my collar presumably be recognized as a citizeness of Vonda, one of the cities of the confederation. I did not think it would go easily with her if hostilities should break out openly and she be seized in Ar. Indeed, we might be sold from the same platform. I wondered what she might look like in a collar. I knew, of course, what she looked like naked, for I was her silk slave. Free women think as little of concealing their bodies before their silk slaves as the women of Earth would before their pet dogs. Too, of course, it would not be well to be a woman of Ar in Vonda, should hostilities break out. Immediate reduction to total slavery would surely be the least of what would be inflicted on such a woman. I thought it would be desirable, from my mistress' point of view, to leave Ar in the near future, and make her way to her house in the resort town of Venna. I began to be uneasy. It seemed to me that the sooner we departed from the walls of Ar the better it might be. My alarm, of course, was not simply on behalf of my mistress, but on my own behalf as well. Gorean men, I had learned, are not patient with silk slaves. I did not wish to risk crawlng on my stomach, over stones, under whips, perhaps for pasangs, to the nearest slave market.

Some fifty yards away, in the street, another palanquin passed, borne by draft slaves, some lovely enslaved girls, in brief tunics, chained by the neck to a bar at its back. Their hands, too, were locked behind their backs in slave bracelets. Perhaps the display was a bit ostentatious, but I did not object. The girls were slim-thighed and sweetly breasted.

I looked down to the girl who, wrists bound, on the shortened neck-leash, sat at the slave ring in front of the shop of Philebus. It was later in the afternoon now, and it was hot. I was surprised to see, though I gave no sign of this, that she had been looking at me. She turned her head away. I continued to regard her. I think she was aware of this. She sat a bit more straightly against the wall, putting her head back. I thought again of the girls chained behind the palanquin I had just seen, and the girl before me now, at the ring, fastened there. How marvelous I thought to be on such a world, where such women might be owned. I was not displeased then to be on Gor. I regarded her ankles, her calves and thighs, the sweetness of her belly and breasts, her throat, her face, her hair.

"I am thirsty," she said.

"Kneel," I said.

"Never," she said.

I looked away.

"I am kneeling," she said.

I looked back at her. She was now kneeling.

"Slave!" said the male silk slave, fastened at the wall, at the next ring.

Somehow I had known the girl would kneel to me. It is difficult to say how I had known this. Indeed, perhaps I had not known it. Perhaps I had only expected it.

She was kneeling. She had obeyed.

I recalled our earlier exchange, in which she had told me that she was not for the likes of me, but for free men. "Do you yield well in their arms, Slave?" I had asked her. "I expect you yield well indeed, Slave," I had said to her. She had flushed crimson, and had sobbed. Our relationship was now quite different than it would have been, I sensed, had that exchange not taken place. In that exchange I had made it clear to her that she was a woman, and that, if she were to relate to me, she must do so as a woman. I would have it no other way. I had seen fit, by an act of my will, that of a male, to deny to her the convenient refuges of deceit, pretense and fraud. She now knelt at my feet. I had, by an imperious word, put her there.

She looked up at me. I saw that her eyes were angry. I saw, too, in her eyes that she knew she belonged at the feet of a man.

"I am very thirsty," she said.

"What of it?" I asked.

Her eyes flashed.

I looked away, out into the street.

"I am very thirsty," said the girl, after a time. "I am chained. Would you bring me water from the fountain, please?"

"You must pay me," I said.

The male silk slave at the next ring cried out with outrage.

"You must pay me," I said. "Do you understand?"

"Clearly," she said.

I went to the fountain and, from the lower bowl, scooped up a brimming, double handful of water which I carried, carefully, to the girl. I lifted it to her lips and she, kneeling, hands bound before her body, her neck on its chain leash fastened to the ring behind her, drank. My hands were in position, when she had drunk, to hold her head. She looked at me, frightened. "I know the feel of such hands," she said. "You are not a silk slave," she whispered.

"I," said the silk slave fastened at the next ring, "if I had been free, would have fetched you the water for nothing."

"I know your sort," said the girl. "You ask nothing, but you expect much." I thrust the girl back against the wall. I thrust my lips to her throat. "I prefer a man," gasped the girl, to the silk slave, "who takes command of a girl, and takes what he wants from her." Then she said to me, sucking in her breath, turning her head to the side, "And what do you_ want of me?" "Everything," I told her, "and more"

"I feared so," she laughed. I thrust up her bound hands, to get them out of my way. I then understood why Goreans commonly bind the hands of women behind their back. Then her bound wrists, crossed, were behind the back of my neck, and her lips began to meet mine, eagerly. "Take me," she whispered, "Master!"

"Stop!" cried the silk slave at the next ring. "Stop! I shall tell!"

"Take me, Master!" begged the girl. "Please take me!"

"Stop!" cried the silk slave. "Stop! I shall tell! I shall tell!"

I had been had numerous times on Gor by free women, usually chained or obedient to their commands, but I had not been permitted, myself, to take a woman, to hold her in my arms, owning her, and transform her into an obedient, squirming slave. Uncontrollable, wild, starved for the ownership of a woman, I thrust her back, brutally, against the wall. Then I dragged her, half lying, holding her helplessly, from the wall. Her head was up in the leash collar. "Oh," she cried, "oh!"

"Disgusting!" I heard from a free woman passing in the street.

"Animal!" I heard another woman say.

But these passers-by, and others, did not order us apart. We were slaves. Such scenes are not unknown on Gorean streets. They would attract little more attention than would the writhings of pet sleen. It is for such reasons that slave girls are sometimes sent from their houses locked in the iron belt. To be sure the slave girl is more likely to be attacked by young ruffians than male slaves, who are often closely supervisor.

"Oh," moaned the girl in my arms. "Oh, Master."

"Please take me home, Publius, and touch me," I heard a woman, in robes of concealment, say to he who walked with her upon that street.

They hurried away.

I cried out with the glory of having her.

"Master!" she wept.

I withdrew from the girl, lifting her arms from about my neck, shuddering, gasping.

"You are ruthless. Master," she said. Then she reached out to me with her mouth, and kissed me, again and again, on the left forearm.

I stood up, and left her at my feet. I was breathing heavily.

"Wait until your Mistress comes," said the silk slave at the ring. "I shall tell her."

The girl, half sitting, half kneeling, her neck in the leash collar, her hands still bound before her, put her head against the wall. She was covered with sweat, and the smell of her pleasure. Her body was covered with deep crimson blotches. Demurely she smoothed down the hem of her tunic.

I turned about to look at the street. Some twenty yards away two palanquins, heading in opposite directions, were stopped. The men in them, facing one another, were talking, presumably greeting one another and passing the time of day with genial converse. The pace of life in a Gorean city, even a large city such as Ar, does not tend to be swift. Sometimes when there is an especially beautiful sky many people will close their shops and men will flock to the high bridges to watch.

"I shall tell," said the silk slave at the ring.

Behind the palanquins, as behind several of the others I had seen this day, were several chained girls, briefly tunicked and ribboned.

"Yes, I shall tell," said the silk slave.

One of the girls was looking at me. She was small, slender-legged and exquisite. She was collared. The short, loose silk she wore was hitched high, at her left hip. She was chained by the neck, in one of two eleven-girl coffies, between two other girls, each coffle chained separately to a bar at the back of the palanquin. Her hands, like those of the other girls, were fastened behind her back.

I shook with emotion. I had never realized she could be so beautiful.

She was looking at me.

Slowly, trembling, heart pounding, I moved toward her.

"Come back," called the silk slave. "Stay at the wall! I will tell! I will tell!"

I approached the girl. The masters did not notice, for they were in converse. Some servants, too, were speaking together, near the palanquins. Neither did they notice.

Then I stood before her. Her eyes were regarding me with horror. She stepped back, in the chain.

"I did not think I would ever see you again," I said.

She did not speak.

I looked at her fair, white throat; it was lovely and delicate; it wore, snugly, locked on it, the circlet of bondage.

"That girl," she said. "You raped her."

I stepped back from the girl, to look upon her. I could scarcely believe my eyes.

"Please," she said.

Objectively, I suppose, she was no more beautiful than thousands of other girls, but to me she was the most exciting woman I had ever seen.

"Please," she said.

I examined, with wonder and pleasure, the girl who stood before me, her small feet, bare, and trim ankles, her calves and thighs, the delicious curves of her body in the loose, scant silk, the loveliness of her slender throat, locked in its collar, the delicacy and beauty of her features, the loveliness of her eyes, sensitive and vulnerable, and the marvels of her dark bair, grown longer now, tied back with a silk ribbon.

"Please," she said, "do not look at me like that."

"Are you branded?" I asked.

She turned her left side from me. She pulled at the bracelets which fastened her hands behind her back.

"Oh, how beautiful it is," I said, having stepped to her left. There, her tunic had been hitched up to her hip, presumably the better to expose her beauty and the mark which identified it as merely that of an item of merchandise.

"You raped that girl," she said.

It was hard for me to take my eyes off the beautv. Her thigh, I had noted, bore the common Kajira mark of Gor. She, I understood, in spite of her beauty to me, was only a common Kajira.

"Are you not pleased to see me?" I asked. It seemed to me Incredible that she should not be pleased to see me.

"You raped that girl," she said, angrily.

"Not really," I said. "She was paying for a drink of water which I had brought to her."

"Beast," she said.

I said nothing for a moment

I looked at her. She was in the nearest coffle of eleven girls, one of two coffles fastened to the bar at the back of the palanquin. She was the tenth girl in her coffle. The coffle chain had its own collars, rounded and rather loose, which lay below the common collars of the girls; they could not, of course, be slipped. They were similar to what I have learned are called Turian collars.

"You are very beautiful," I said. I stood more closely to her.

She tossed her head. "Doubtless did you have me at a similar disadvantage," she said, "I would have been subjected to the same treatment."

I put my hands on her tunic. It had parted somewhat, apparently, in her walking, following the palanquin. Her hands fastened as they were, behind her, she could not draw the garment closed. Briefly I wanted to rip it down from her shoulders. She was woman enough to understand this. She shuddered. Then I drew it together more closely, that the loveliness of her small breasts might be the better concealed.

"You would strip and rape me on the street, if you could, wouldn't you?" she asked.

I wanted to take her in my arms. But I did not know, truly, she fastened as she was, how to do this. Secured as she was she could be taken in one's arms only as a captive or slave girl. That, of course, scarcely seemed proper in the context.

"Wouldn't you?" she asked.

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

"Oh," she said.

"You are not a Gorean girl," I said.

"That is true," she said.

I looked down at her. "You are looking quite well," I said. It was true. I had never seen her before looking so relaxed and beautiful. And yet she stood before me, helpless in chains. Slavery, of course, reduces tensions in a woman.

"You are looking well yourself," she said.

"I see that you are a display item," I said.

"Yes," she smiled.

"If I owned you, I would show you off, too," I said.

"Beast," she smiled.

"You are wearing a white ribbon," I said.

"So are you," she said.

"I am not white silk," I smiled.

"The ribbon is only to match my tunic," she said. "I am not truly white silk."

"Do you wish to speak in English?" I asked. "Would it be easier?"

She looked about, uneasily. The other girls were not paving us attention. "No," she said, continuing in Gorean. We had both spoken, naturally, in the language of,our masters. Masters do not care to hear slaves speak in tongues they do not understand. The slave learns the language of the owner, and learns it well. Her Gorean was quite good. Mine, I thought, was better. Surprisingly, perhaps, we had spoken together in Gorean without really considering the matter. I do not think this was simply because we feared to irritate or offend passing Goreans, who tend to view languages other than their own as barbarous, or because slaves are expected to use a speech intelligible to their masters, but because, for most practical purposes, Gorean had become our language. I am sure, however, we could have conversed readily in English, had we so chosen. After a brief period of readjustment we would have become again at ease in it.

"I was white silk on Earth," she said.

"I did not know that," I said.

"It is scarcely the sort of thing a girl publicly discusses on Earth," she said.

"I suppose not," I said. Such information, of course, would be publicly brandished to buyers in a slave market. "Who first took you?" I asked.

"I do not know," she said. "I was hooded and thrown naked to keepers. I was raped and handed about, passed from brute to brute. They did with me what they pleased."

"I understand," I said. Her ravishing would have been thorough, accomplished by Gorean men. I looked at her. She was beautiful. I envied the brutes who had enjoyed her.

"I was then," she said, "though a girl of Earth, ready to be trained as a slave."

"Of course," I said. I did not press her on the nature of her training.

"I was trained in the House of Andronicus," she said, "and sold in Vonda."

"I, too, was in the House of Andronicus," I said. "I was later purchased by Tima, a slaver, mistress of the House of Tima. I was sold from the market of Tima. That is also in Vonda." I looked at her. "Were you naked, and auctioned?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "And you?"

"I, too," I said.

She shrugged. "We are only slaves," she said. I looked at her. I realized she had been trained to give pleasure to men. She was beautiful. She would do it well. This pleased me. I envied the lazy brute in the palanquin who owned her. I wished that I owned her. But, of course, I reminded myself, she was not a Gorean girl. She was of Earth.

"You therel" I heard. "What are you doing there?"

I backed quickly away from the, girl. I turned. I saw one of the servants, near the side of the palanquin, with a whip, gesture me angrily away. Then he turned again to talk with his fellows.

"Who is your master?" I called to the girl.

She looked at me, frightened, and now stood very straight, facing the back of the palanquin.

"Fearful slave," I said, angrily. She was afraid to speak.

"To whom do you belong?" asked a blond girl, she who was last in the coffle line.

"My Mistress is the Lady Florence of Vonda," I said.

"You belong to a woman?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I do not believe it," she said.

"It is true," I said.

"You are a silk slave?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I was once free," she said. She shrugged her shoulders, moving her wrists in the bracelets.

"Now you serve men well," I said.

"Of course," she said.

"Who owns you?" I asked.

"Beware," she said. "Strabar is coming!"

"Stand where you are!" I heard.

I turned about. The servant, with his whip, approached me. He stopped some dozen feet or so from me. "Do not move," he said.

I stood still.

He turned to the girls. "Which of you wenches dared to speak to this slave?" he asked.

The girls were silent.

"It was this one, wasn't it?" he grinned, touching the small, exquisite, dark-haired girl witb whom I had been engaged in converse with his whip. She shuddered.

"It was she whom I accosted," I said. "If there is blame here. it is mine, not hers."

"Bold slave," he smiled.

"We are of the world called Earth," I said to him. "We knew one another there"

"It is not permitted for you to speak to her," he said.

"I did not know," I said. "I am sorry, Master."

He regarded me. Then he looked again at the girl. "She is a pretty one, isn't she?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Remain where you are," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said. I was puzzled that he had, originally, ordered me to stand, rather than kneel. The day was hot, of course. Perhaps he did not feel like beating me. Too, he did not seem too bad a fellow. I noted that I had now come to the attention of the two men in the palanquins. This made me somewhat uneasy. Then I saw the draft slaves turning about and both of the palanquins were borne near to me. Then, at a gesture from the masters, the palanquins were lowered to the ground. The draft slaves, who were not chained, then stood free. I found myself, thus, in the center of several individuals, the men in the palanquins, various servants, the slave girls, and the draft slaves. Too, some passers-by stopped to see what would occur.

"Who owns you?" asked one of the men in the palanquins, that behind which, with other girls, was chained the girl with whom I had been in converse.

I knelt. He was clearly a master. "The Lady Florence of Vonda is my mistress, Master," I said.

He gestured that I should rise. He took from a tiny box attached to the interior of the palanquin a circular glass mounted on a pearled wand. He then looked back at the girls chained behind his palanquin. He examined the girl with the glass, she to whom I had been talking. "Did you know that girl on your own world?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Was she free there?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"Look upon her now," he said.

I did so.

"She is now a slave," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

The girl shrank back, suddenly, in her chains, and gasped. She looked at me in fear. I licked my lips. Then I shook my head, to clear it of the way in which I had suddenly, for an instant, seen her. I had seen her, in that instant, not in wonder and pleasure, as I had before, but from the point of view of uncompromising manhood, in triumph and pleasure, as the most suitable and fit object possible for the exercise of masculine power and desire, as what she now was, and only was, a beautiful female slave.

The masters, and the servants, laughed. Even some of the draft slaves laughed. The girl was sobbing. Again I shook my head, to clear away the violent and exciting memory, that recollection of the instant in which I had seen the girl as what she now was, and only was, a slave. It struck me with incredible force that not only could she be owned, but that she was owned, literally. When I had looked at the girl several of the other girls had quickly sucked in their breath. The breasts of some were rising and falling with excitement. The bodies of others, in their brief tunics, had blushed crimson. I saw more than one girl looking at me. Doubtless they, too, from time to time, here and there, had been looked upon honestly, as slave females.

"Did you see that?" asked one of the men in the palanquins, he whom I took to be the girl's owner, to his friend.

"Yes," said the other.

I blushed in shame, that I had, though only for an instant, looked upon the girl as a slave. How shamed, and offended, she must have been! But, of course, she now was a slave, only a slave.

"Granus, Turus," said the man in the palanquin, that to which the gins coffle was chained.

I looked to the girl, but she would not meet my gaze. How sorry I was then that I had looked upon her as might have a Gorean male. She was not a Gorean girl. She was of Earth. Did I not know that? Yet she was surely beautiful, and a logally imbonded slave.

I heard a grunt near me. I spun about. A fist struck me in the side of the head. Then I was kicked, and punched in the side. I gasped, stumbling back. Two of the draft slaves were upon me, pounding and kicking. I rolled under one of them, and leaped to my feet, bloody.

"Granus struck him a goodly blow," said someone.

"I saw," said another.

"And he is again on his feet," observed another.

"Interesting," said someone.

"He is a strong fellow," said another.

I wiped blood from the side of my head. I stood, unsteadily.

The man in the palanquin gestured toward me with his glass, that on the pearled wand.

The first of the two draft slaves again approached me, his great fists balled into hammerlike weapons. "When I strike you again," he said, "do not get up. It will be enough for the masters."

I gasped for breath.

Then he lunged toward me. I tried to defend myself. His left fist struck into my stomach, doubling me over, and then his right fist struck me against the left side of the face. I sprawled sideways, losing my footing, slipping to the stones. I was half kneeling, half lying, on the stones.

The draft slave turned away from me.

"Look," called someone. "He is on his feet againl"

I stood, unsteadily.

The draft slave, he whom I took to be Granus, turned again, surprised, to face me. He and his fellow looked at one another.

"Run," said the servant, the fellow with the whip, who stood near to me. "Run."

I saw that none blocked my alley of retreat. "No," I said.

"It is a fight!" called someone, excitedly.

Again the fellow in the palanquin indicated me, bemused, with the glass on the pearled wand.

Again the large draft slave lunged toward me. Twice more, brutally, he struck me, as I stumbled backward, and then I had seized him, holding him, trying to clear my head, trying not to let him gain again the leverage to strike such telling blows. I heard him grunt. My arms were tightening on him. I began to bend him backwards. There was blood on his body then, mine, and on my tunic. "No," he grunted. Suddenly I saw he was frightened. Further I pressed him backward. Then, suddenly, terrified, I realized what I might do to him.

"Stop!" called the man with the whip.

I let the draft slave fall. His back had not been broken. I knew nothing of fighting, but I had discovered, it frightening me, that there was in me, somehow, strength which I had not understood. I recalled lifting the bench in the cell in the House of Andronicus. The exercises and the physical trainings to which I had been subjected there I had, not really thinking about it, kept up.

"Are you a fighting slave?" asked someone.

"No," I said

The man with the whip looked to the man in the palanquin. "Interesting," said the man in the palanquin.

"Is it enough?" asked the man with the whip.

"Yes," said the man in the palanquin. I suddenly realized that he did not wish to risk a slave.

The man in the palanquin lifted the glass on the pearled wand and, again, the draft slaves took their places. The man with the whip joined other servants beside the palanquin. In a moment the two palanquins, with their respective retinues, were taking their respective departures. I stood, bloody, unsteadily, in the street.

The crowd dissipated.

Suddenly, angrily, I ran after the departing palanquin, that behind which the exquisite, dark-haired girl, she to whom I had been earlier speaking, was one of the chained, displayed beauties. I slipped, unnoticed by the man in the palanquin and his servants, behind the blond-haired girl, she who had told me she had once been free, who was the last in the right-hand coffle, that lovely string of chained women.

My hand closed on the back of the blond girl's neck.

She gasped, startled.

"Who is your master?" I asked.

"We are not permitted to speak in coffle," she said. "Oh!" she said. My hand had tightened on her neck.

"Who is your master?" I asked, walking behind her.

"Oneander of Ar," she said, "of the merchants. He does business in Vonda."

I did not release her neck.

"You are not a silk slave," she said, in pain, held.

"Oneander of Ar?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Yes, what?" I asked. My grip tightened.

"Yes-Master!" she said. I released her, and she stumbled ahead, following in her place. She looked back, frightened. Then she again set her eyes ahead. She was not an Earth girl, of course. She was only a Gorean girl, and a slave, a woman fit to be done with as men please.

I walked to the side of the street, looking after the palanquin. with its attached coffles.

I knew I should return to the shop of Philebus. If my mistress emerged from the shop and I was not there, she would not be pleased. But, on an impulse. I followed, for a time, behind it and on its left, the double coffle.

Doubtless I attracted some attention, for I was bleeding and, as I discovered, the silk tunic I wore had been soiled from the street and torn at the left sleeve; too, it was stained with my blood; but no one said anything to me. Perhaps they were wary of one who looked as though he might be distraught, or dangerous.

I followed the double coffle on its left, for it was on the left side of her body that the exquisite, dark-haired girl's short, loose silk had been hitched up, baring her branded thigh to the hip. I observed her in the coffle, neck-chained, her small wrists, above the rounded flesh of her palms and below the sweet, rounded flesh of her small forearms, locked in the steel of slave bracelets. She was surely the most exciting, and desirable and beautiful woman I had ever seen. Earlier I had been almost stunned with the sight of her beauty.

I smiled to myself.

I now knew who owned her, Oneander of Ar, a merchant who apparently did business in Vonda. It would have been in Vonda, I supposed, that he had purchased her. It seemed a shame that he apparently kept her primarily as a display item. Perhaps, upon occasion, he used her, and the other girls, or had them thrown to his men. I wondered if she would make a good love slave. I supposed not, for she was of Earth. It was difficult to imagine her kneeling before a man, helplessly aroused, weeping, begging to be raped.

I drifted about, to the right side of the coffle lines, and stopped, watching the lines, chained behind the palanquin, making their way down the street.

I saw the blond-haired girl, the last one in the right-hand coffle line, turn about, in her chain and collar. She was curious, apparently, to see if I still followed. She smiled. I grinned at her. I had made her use the word `Master' to me. Then she looked ahead again. But her body moved, suddenly, as that of a slave girl. I smiled. She might once have been free but now, clearly, she was only a slave. She was aroused. When she returned to the house of her master I had little doubt but what she would kneel to the nearest keeper and beg to be used, perhaps to be given for an Ahn, hooded, to the male slave of his choice.

I stood on the stones of the avenue of the Central Cylinder. I looked after the palanquin, with its twin chains of enslaved beauties.

I considered, again, the small, exquisite, dark-haired girl. I had never expected to see her again. Then I had done so. What a transformation had been wrought in her. I had been almost overcome by her beauty. I could not drive it from my mind.

I reminded myself, interestingly, that Earth women were imported to Gor doubtless precisely to be love slaves. I wondered if Gorean men knew something interesting about the women of Earth that the men of Earth did not know.

The palanquin, with its chained girls, had now disappeared down the street.

The dark-haired girl on Earth, of course, had been extremely beautiful, but her beauty then, considerable though it might have been, could not even have begun to bear comparison with what it now was. I stood upon the street, recollecting her with astonishment. I would never have dreamed she could have become so delicately and incredibly beautiful. It seemed almost incomprehensible to me. It was the first time, of course, I had seen Beverly Henderson, of Earth, as a slave girl.

Then I turned about, to hurry back to the shop of Philebus.

"Jason! Jason!" cried the Lady Florence, angrily. "Where have you been?"

I quickly knelt before her, head down.

"Down the street, Mistress," I said.

"Look at yourself!" she cried. "You have been fighting!"

I glanced quickly at the silk slave fastened by the neck to the slave ring on the other side of the girl at the nearer ring. He grinned at me. I realized he must have told Lady Florence all that had occurred.

"I cannot leave you alone for a moment!" said the Lady Florence. "You have kept me waiting! I cannot turn my back for an instant but you are in trouble. Do you not know I have been finished shopping for a quarter of an Ahn!"

"No, Mistress," I said.

"He ran away," said the male silk slave.

"No," I said. "I was just down the street."

"Did you rape this poor slave?" demanded the Lady Florence, angrily gesturing to the leashed girl at the ring.

"Forgive us, Mistress," begged the girl, who was kneeling and trembling. She put her head down as far as she could, given the leash and collar.

"I took her," I admitted.

"Took her!" cried the Lady Florence.

"She was thirsty," I said. "She wanted water. I made her pay for it with her use."

"Beast!" said the Lady Florence.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Your tunic is torn," she said. "You are bloody. Are you hurt?"

"No, Mistress," I said

She spun to face the girl at the ring, who trembled. "You sold your use for a drink of water?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.

"Slut!" cried the Lady Florence.

"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.

"Low, disgusting slaves!" said the Lady Florence. "How fit that you should be in collars!"

"He accosted a slave girl in a retinue, too," volunteered the silk slave at the ring on the other side of the girl. "It was there that he was fighting."

"I do not know what I am going to do with you, Jason," said the Lady Florence. "You did not wait for me here. You abused this poor girl. You accosted a strange slave. You have been fighting. Your tunic is soiled, and torn, and bloody. It is almost too much!"

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Do you think that you are a quarry slave, or a draft slave?" she asked.

"No, Mistress," I said.

"I am a lady," she said. "And you are a lady's silk slave!"

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Have no fear but what you will be well punished when we return to Venna," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"It will be close chains for two days for you," she said.

I would not look forward to that. Usually, in close chains, the wrists and ankles are chained closely together. Over a period of time this builds up, understandably, a considerable amount of body pain. Usually after only five Ahn in close chains a girl is ready to serve delightfully and willingly.

"Do you understand, Jason?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

I glanced at the male silk slave, who was sitting on the walk, coupled by his neck to the ring behind him, smiling. I wanted to break his face.

"Bring the tharlarion, Jason," said the Lady Florence.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

In a few moments I had freed and fetched the tharlarion.

I felt a chain leash snapped about my throat. The Lady Florence put it there. The other end was attached to her stirrup. "I am afraid this is necessary, Jason," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Help me into the saddle," she said. I lifted her sandaled foot upward, and she took her place in the leather seat at the side of the tharlarion's back. It has stirrups, into which I helped her place her feet, but it is not exactly a saddle as those of Earth would think of one, even of the sort usually designated as a sidesaddle. It is somewhat more in the nature of a stirruped seat. It is at the height of the beast's back, cushioned, held there by straps. She hooked herself into the seat, or, if one prefers, saddle. As I had lifted her into the seat I had seen her ankle. It was a good one, as I knew. I had never held her in my arms. When she used me, as she did frequently, I was chained on her couch.

"Philebus!" she called.

A man, accompanied by a servant, appeared at the door of the shop. He was balding, and benign. A servant, behind him, carried several packages. I lifted the reins of the tharlarion to the Lady Florence.

"Thank you, Jason," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

I looked at the eyes of Philebus. His eyes were troubled. The servant came out on the walk and handed me several packages. He looked at me, irritably. "Thank you, Master," I said to him.

"Good, Jason," said the Lady Florence.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"I wish you well, Lady Florence," said the shopkeeper.

"I, too, wish you well, Philebus," she said. Philebus was actually of Turia. He managed his shop, however, in Ar. He had lived in Ar for several years.

The Lady Florence guided her tharlarion out into the street. I accompanied her, carrying the packages, chained by the neck to that stirrup in which was placed her left foot. Her body was turned somewhat in the saddle, so that she might the more easily guide the beast she rode.

"You embarrassed me today, Jason," she said

"Forgive me, Mistress," I said.

"Did you truly use the slave girl at the ring?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Disgusting," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Did you use her," she asked, "-as a slave girl?"

I thought about the matter. "Yes," I said.

"Ah," she said. She looked down at me. It was not easy to read her eyes.

Then she looked away, again guiding the tharlarion. "What of the little slut in the retinue?" she asked.

"Mistress?" I asked.

"Was she pretty?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Was she in coffle?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"How is it then that you, a slave, dared to speak to a girl in coffle?" she asked.

"I did not know it might not be permitted," I said.

"It is fortunate that your tongue was not cut out," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Did you know her?" she asked.

"I had known her on Earth," I said. "We are now both slaves."

"Of course," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Jason," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"We are leaving Ar tonight, not tomorrow, as I had planned."

"Why, Mistress?" I asked.

"I spoke to Philebus," she said. "He advises me to leave the city soon. I fear there may be trouble between Ar and the Salerian Confederation."

I nodded. I had gathered that there might be trouble brewing. I myself had seen the movement of troops.

"You would not like to see me in a collar, would you, Jason?" she asked, a smile in her voice.

I did not respond.

"Jason?" she asked.

"I think you would be very beautiful in a collar, Mistress," I said.

I saw her hand reach for a quirt at the side of the saddle, but then she did not grasp it. She put back her head, and laughed, merrily. "You are a beast," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"We will leave the city within the Ahn," she said, "by the great gate."

"Yes, Mistress," I said.