Kajira of Gor

16 I Am on the Viktel Aria, in the Vicinity of Venna

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It shook me, gently. I could also feel the warm sun on my back. There was grass under my belly. I had been awakened on an incline. There was muddy water about my feet.

I had been three days the unsuspected guest of the tarnsman from the camp of Miles of Argentum. On the first two nights he had camped in the open. On the first night I had crept forth and, from his pack, after he was asleep, stole some meat and Sa-tarna bread. I also took a drink from his canteen. I partook sparingly in these things for fear of being discovered. If he detected any tiny shortages in his supplies perhaps he put them to the accounts of straying vagrants. On the second day I noticed, to my uneasiness, more dwellings below us. Too, I noted more tended fields. On the second night I stole fruit from an orchard and drank from a pool. I decided to risk a third day in the basket, to put even more hundreds of pasangs between me and Argentum and Corcyrus. On this third day, however, to my dismay, I could see roads below, and many dwellings and fields. We passed over, even, two towns. On the third night, frightening me, he landed within the palisade of a fortified inn. The tarn basket was left within the palings of a special enclosure within this general palisade. Now it was time, I knew, to take my leave. Surely I was not interested in being delivered to Ar, the very ally of Argentum, where, presumably, it would be impossible to escape detection. I could not, however, to my consternation, climb the palings of the enclosure or find a space between them to squeeze through. I hid among the tarn baskets, of which there were several there. When a new basket, that of a late arrival, unhitched from its tarn, was being dragged within the palings from the landing area outside, within the larger palisade, while it was being put in its numbered space, I slipped out. I hid among garbage boxes behind the inn. No sleen patrolled the inner yard, probably because of the danger to guests. I fed from the garbage, ravenously. It had rained recently and there was water in various discarded containers and lids. I drank greedily. Muchly did I envy the people in the inn, with their viands and beverages, their clean rooms, their clothing and warm beds. I envied even the slaves that might be within. They, at least, were secure and well fed. What had they to worry about, other than being pleasing to their masters? I cried out, suddenly, softly, as the fur of a scurrying urt brushed my leg. I crawled about the inn, keeping to the brush at its side.

I moved leaves out of the way with my hand. Leaves brushed my back.

Then I could see the main gate of the palisade. A wagon, drawn by a tharlarion, was entering. It tipped to the left, its wheels sinking into the ruts, on the left almost to the hubs, in the soft ground, from the rains.

The driver cracked the whip and called out to the tharlarion. "Do not make so much noise," he was cautioned by the porter. "People are sleeping." The porter then went to the tharlarion and pushing at it and striking it, urged it forward. The great beast grunted and threw itself forward, against the harness. The wagon was drawn through the gate, water from the ruts dripping from its wheels. To my dismay I then saw the porter close the gates and thrust the great beam across, through its brackets, behind them. This he secured in place with a lock and key. He then accompanied the teamster to the stables. I hurried forward and ran to the gate. I felt under the palings of the gate. I began to dig there in the softness of the ground, and in the muddy water pooled -n the ruts. I tried to thrust my body down, under the gate. There was not enough room. I heard the creaking of another wagon, this one coming about the inn. I hid back in bushes to the side. In moments the porter had returned to the gate.

I was in misery. I could not slip under the gate, or dig out under it, if the porter was there. He was a man and would simply stop me, and capture me. I did not know when, or if, another wagon would arrive before daylight, one that might take the porter again from his post, giving me time to dig out under the gate. Risking much I slipped back to the enclosure where the tarn baskets were. Xs I feared, it was now once more locked. I hurried back about the inn. The porter was engaged in a discussion, and not a particularly amiable one, with the driver. The driver had apparently criticized the porter for not being at the gate, and the porter, in response, was being officiously careful about checking the driver's ostrakon of payment. "I am not sure that is the mark of Leucippus," said the porter. "It does not look much like his mark."

"Awaken him, then," said the driver "and certify that it is so." "I do not care to awaken him at this Ahn." "I am to be on the road by dawn." "You will have to wait." "I do not have time to wait!" In the end the porter opened the gate-and let the man proceed. By that time I was in the back of the wagon. An Ahn or so later, when it was nearly dawn, I eased myself silently from the back of the wagon and crouched down on the road. It continued on its way. I then left the road and ran across the fields.

"Are you awake?" asked a voice.

The hand on my shoulder shook me again, again gently.

My body stiffened. "Yes," I whispered.

I lay on the slope of a ditch, as it ascended to a road.

There was a trickle of water at my feet. The grass was very green here, because of the water.

When I had left the wagon, by means of which I bad accomplished my escape from the inn, I had fled across the fields. I had run and walked until perhaps noon, and bad then, fearful of discovery, hidden near a small pool in a brake of ferns until nightfall. I had washed in the pool and drunk from it. I had set out again in the moonlight. I had eaten almost nothing and I was terribly hungry. I had been a field for only an Ahn or so when the winds had risen and clouds had obscured the moons. Rain had begun to fall, as it apparently had the night before. I stumbled on through the darkness, my legs lashed to the thighs by the knives of the wind-whipped grass. I soon grew weak and exhausted. I sought a dwelling, or a road, which I might follow to a dwelling, that I might there, like an urt, skulk about and, as at the inn, piteously seek some sustenance from their refuse. Twice I fainted, probably from hunger. The second time I recovered consciousness the storm had worsened and the sky was bursting with lightning and thunder. As I crouched in the grass I saw, in a valley below me, in a flash of lightning, like a wet stone ribbon, a road. I crawled toward it. At its edge there was a deep ditch. Had I not been crawling, I might, in the darkness, between flashes of lightning, have come on the ditch unawares and fallen into it. As it was I lowered myself down its slope with the intention of then climbing the other side and attaining the surface of the road. In the bottom of the ditch there was, at that time, a flow of water some six inches deep, from the storm. I knelt in this, the cold fluid rushing about my legs, and, cupping my hands, drank from it. I then started to climb toward the road. I was suddenly frightened. The incline was steeper than I had anticipated. I slipped back, into the water. I tried again, inching myself upward. Grass pulled out of the slope, clutched in my hands. I slipped back. I was weak and miserable. I waded at the bottom of the ditch and, in two or three places, again tried to climb out of it. I was not successful. The storm, meanwhile, had subsided. I could now see the moons. In the moonlight I found an ascent which I, though with difficulty, could manage. Gasping, holding at the grass, inching my way upward, I drew my body from the grass to the road. I looked at the road, from my belly. I felt out with my hands. It seemed constructed of large, square stones. It was not an ordinary road, I thought. Like most Gorean roads, however, a single pair of ruts marked its center. Gorean vehicles, commonly slow moving, tend to keep to the center of a road, except in passing.

In the distance I heard the sound of bells, harness bells. It might be a wagon, or a set of wagons, which had pulled to the side of the road during the storm and now, with the passing of the storm, had resumed its journey. It must be near morning, I thought, that they are on the road. Gorean roads are seldom traveled at night. The bells were coming closer. I moaned and slid back from the road, again into the ditch. I slipped back a yard or so down the grassy slope, and then, clinging to grass, held my position. I could not see the surface of the road. I would wait here until the wagons had passed. They would not, I was sure, at night, in the moonlight and shadows, detect my presence. I clung there until the first wagon had passed. I could hear others approaching, too. I let myself slip down further in the ditch. I must not be discovered. I put my cheek against the wet grass. I was very tired.

It was a good hiding place, the ditch. In the darkness, in the moonlight and shadows, I would not be detected. I was safe.

I dreaded the climb again to the surface of the "road. The ditch was so steep. I did not understand the need for such a ditch at the side of the road. But I was safe now. There were other wagons, too, coming. There must be many wagons. I must wait. I would rest, just a little bit. It would not hurt to close my eyes, only for a moment. I was so hungry. I was so tired. I was so miserable. I would rest, just for a little bit. I would close my eyes, only for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" asked a voice.

"I am a free woman," I said.

I lay on the incline, the grass under my belly. It was warm now. The sun felt hot on my back. Muddy water was about my feet. A man was behind me. At least one other, I could hear him moving about, was above and in front of me, up on the surface of the road.

"I was attacked by bandits," I said. "They took my clothes."

"Hold still," said the voice behind me. a I heard the clink of a chain.

My body stiffened, my fingers clutched at the grass.

A chain was looped twice about my neck and padlocked shut.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

"Hold still," said the voice.

The chain was then taken under my body and down to my ankles. My ankles were crossed and the chain was looped thrice about them, holding them closely together. Another padlock then, its tongue passing through links of the chain, was snapped shut. My ankles were now chained tightly together. I could not even uncross them. It is common to run a neck chain to the ankles in front of a woman's body, rather than behind it. In this fashion any stress on the chain is borne by the back of her neck rather than her throat. It is also reguarded as a more aesthetic chaining arrangement than its opposite, the neck chain, for example, with its linearity, and its sturdy, inflexible links, affording a striking contrast with the softnesses, the beauties, of her lovely bosom. This arrangement is also favored for its psychological effect on the woman. As she feels the chain more often on her body in this arrangement, brushing her, for example, or lying upon her, she is less likely to forget that she is wearing it. It helps her to keep clearly in mind that she is chained. It reminds her, rainatically and frequently, of that fact.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "I am a free woman!"

"How is it, did you say," asked the man behind me, "that on are unclothed?" "Bandits took my clothes!" I said.

"And left you?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"If it had been up to me," said the fellow behind me, "I think I would have taken you along and left the clothes."

I was silent.

"I suppose," he said, pleasantly enough, "they might have had poor of eyesight, or perhaps it was just very dark."

I did not speak.

"What is your Home Stone?" he asked.

I thought quickly. I did not want to identify myself with Corcyrus, of course, or any cities or towns in that area, even Argentum. Too, I knew we had flown northwest. I then took, most out of the air, a city far to the north, one I had heard of but one, unfortunately, that I knew little about. The name had been mentioned, I did recall, on the tarn platform, in the imp of Miles of Argentum. Perhaps that is what suggested it My mind.

"That of Lydius," I said.

"What is the location of Lydius?" he asked.

"North," I said. "North."

"And where in the north?" he asked.

I was silent.

"On what lake does Lydius lie?" he asked.' "I do not know," I said.

"It does not lie on a lake," he said.

"Of course not," I said.

"On what river does it lie?" he asked.

"It doesn't lie on a river," I said.

"It is on the Laurius," he said.

I was silent.

"What is the first major town east of Lydius?" he asked.

"I don't remember," I said.

"Vonda," he said.

"Yes," I said.

"No," he said. "Vonda is on the Olvi. It is Laura."

"Yes," I said, sick and hungry, chained.

"You are certain that you are a free woman?" asked the man.

"Yes," I said.

"Where is your escort, your guards?" be asked.

"I was traveling alone," I said.

"That is unusual for a free woman," he said.

I was silent.

"What were you doing on this road?" he asked.

"Traveling," I said. "Visiting."

"And where did you think you were going?" asked the man.

"I don't know," I sobbed. I did not even know what towns lay along this road. I did not even know where I was.

"Look here," said the fellow. He turned me about. I saw he was a brawny, blond youth. He did not seem angry or cruel. He crouched down and, with one finger, near the bottom of the ditch, made a precise marking, or drawing, in the mud. "What letter is that?" he asked.

"I do not know," I said.

"Al-ka," he said.

"I cannot read," I said.

"Most free women can read," he said.

"I was not taught," I said.

"You have a luscious body," he said.

"Please unchain me," I said.

"It has delicious slave curves," he said.

"Unchain me, please," I begged.

"Your body does not suggest that it is the body of a free woman," he said. "It suggests, rather, that it is the body of a natural slave."

"I beg to be unchained," I said. "You can see that I am a free woman. My body is unbranded. I do not wear a collarl" f "Some masters," said he, "are so foolish as not to brand and collar their women."

"That would be stupid," I said.

"I think so," he said.

"So you can see, then," I said, "that I, uncollared, unbranded, must be free." "Not necessarily," he smiled.

"Unchain me," I begged.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Lita," I said. I remembered this name from the time that Drusus Rencius had taken me to the house of Kliomenes in Corcyrus. It was the name he had chosen for me there, Lady Lita, of Corcyrus. It had sprung into my mind probably because of that trip. Too, I recalled that both Publius and Drusus Rencius had thought that it would be a good name for me.

Both of the men then laughed, he standing now before me as I sat on the bank, and he, who was apparently alone, on the surface of the road.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"That is a slave name," he said.

"Nol" I said.

"It is a common slave name," he said. "Indeed, it is one of the names popular with the masters for unusually juicy and helpless slaves."

"It is also the name of some free women," I said.

"It is possible, I suppose," said the man.

"Please unchain me," I begged.

"Lita," said the man.

"Lady Lita," I said.

"Lita," said he.

I looked at him in misery.

"It seems clear you are a slave, Lita," he said. "You are naked. You apparently have no Home Stone. You do not know where you are. You cannot even read. Your name is even that of a slave."

"Nol" I said.

"But it is," he said. "Therefore, since it seems clear that you are a runaway slave, you will henceforth address us as "Master."' "Please, no," I said.

"If you are actually a free woman, as you claim," he said, no great harm will be done.

"You spoke to me," she said.

"Yes," I said. "Forgive me, kind lady. No one has read me the legend posted over my head. I beg you to do so."

She lifted her robes and climbed to the cement platform.

She was about two inches taller than I. She stood then before me.

"You spoke to me," she said. "Yes, kind lady," I said.

"Where you come from," she said, "do slaves not address free women as "Mistress'?"

"I am a free woman, too," I said. "I am not a slave."

"Naked, lying slave!" hissed the woman.

I beg you for kindness," I said. "Even if I were a slave, which I am not, we share the same sex. We are both women."

"I am a woman," she said. "You are an animal."

"Take pity on me," I said. "We have in common at least that we are females." "Do not dare to see me in terms of such a denominator," she said. "It is not my fault that I share a sex with she-sleen and she-tarsks, and, lower than either, with she-slaves."

"I am not a slave," I said. "I am free. I am not collared. I am not branded!" "If I owned you," she snapped, "you would soon be collared and branded, and then you would be sent to the stables or scullery, where you belongl"

Forgive me," I said.

"Forgive you, what?" she said. in fury.

"Mistress!" I said.

"I know your type," she said, in fury. "You are the sort for whom my companion forsakes me! You are the sort he runs panting after in the taverns, the sort whose bodies their masters sell for the price of a drinkl"

"No," I said. "Nol"

"You are the sort of woman who likes men, aren't you?" she said.

"No, Mistress," I cried. "No! No!"

"Why aren't you kneeling, Slut?" she asked.

"I'm chained," I cried. "I can't!"

"Kneel," ordered the free woman, coldly.

"I can't, Mistress!" I wept. I let myself hang from the shackles, my knees bent, piteously.

"You should not have accosted a free woman," she said. She then removed her gloves and, with them, struck me across the face. Tears sprang to my eyes. "You must also address her as "Mistress,'" she said. I was then struck again. "You have denied your slavery," she said. "You have dared to compare yourself with me, insulting me by calling to my attention that we are both females. You have denied that you arc of the category of the sensuous slut! You have denied, lyingly, that you are eager to serve menl" She then struck me four times. "Do you think I cannot see what you are?" she asked. "Do you think it is unclear to anyone who looks upon you? Do you think I am stupid? Anyone could see that you are a slavel It is obviousl" Then she lashed me across the face and mouth with her gloves, several times. It did not really hurt so much, but it did sting, and, of course, it was terribly humiliating. I began to cry. "And you did not kneel!" she cried. She struck me twice again. I hung in the shackles, sobbing. I was most afraid that she might call the Archon's man. He might, if requested, I feared, use a whip on me. She then, angrily, withdrew from the platform and resumed her journey down the street.

"What was that all about?" asked the Archon's man.

"I spoke to her, Master," I said. I called him "Master" for he, like the young men who had caught me at the edge of the Viktel Aria, had made it clear to me that I was to address, whether I was free or not, with a slave's respect. "But she is a free woman," he observed.

"Yes, Master," I said. With a rustle of chain I again got my feet under me. "It was foolish of you," he said.

"Yes, Master," I sobbed.

"Your face is red," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

Later in the afternoon, after I bad been fed and watered, landing in the shackles, I decided to once again essay the de.iplicrment of the legend on the post. This time, having earned my lesson, I would not trouble a free woman in the matter. I knew that I was pretty and I had little doubt, even bough I was tired and my arms were now sore-, that, chained ~s I was, displayed as I was, my attractions might be of interest to passing males. Men of Earth, I knew, would often strive to please even a scantily clad woman, for example, one wearing a sun suit or a bathing suit. I, for example, had had this experience on summer weekends and at the beach.

"Sir, Masterl" I called to a man. He seemed a friendly enough looking fellow. He approached me, climbing to the platform. "Yes?" he inquired.

"I am a free woman," I said, "but nonetheless I will call you "Master.'" "I hoped that this would flatter him.

"Whatever you wish," he said.

"And you are surely a very handsome Master," I said. He was, as a matter of fact, very handsome. On the other hand, I was out to get my way. Men, incidentally, will believe anything they are told.

"Why, thank you," he said.

"There is a legend over my head," I said.

"Yes, there is," he agreed.

"Can you read it?" I wheedled.

"Why, yes," he said. "I can."

"Please, please," I wheedled. "Please read it for little Lita." I referred to myself by this name. It was the name I had given to the two young men on the road, and also, if only to be consistent, to the Archon's man. On the other hand I did not mind the name. I rather liked it. It excited me.

"It says," said the man, "'Whip me, if I speak without permission.' I turned white He smiled.

"It does not really say that, does it?" I asked, frightened.

"No," he said.

"Please tell me what it says," I said.

"We shall assume, for purposes of this discussion, that you are a slave," he said.

"Very well, Master," I said, puzzled.

"Do you believe that slaves should serve free persons," he asked, "or that free persons should serve slaves."

"I believe it is the slaves who should serve the free persons," I said, hastily, "not the other way around." I certainly did not want to have the flesh whipped off my bones.

"And if I read that legend for you," he said, "I would be serving you, wouldn't IT' "Yes, Master," I said.

"And you would not want that, would you?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Then," he said, "you do not want me to read the legend for you." "No, Master," I said, miserably.

"Very well," He said and, Chuckling, left.

I shook the chains in frustration. He seemed to be a very kind man.

If I had not tried to be so clever, if I had not tried to trick him, he probably would have read the legend for me.

I watched him walking off.

He had not seemed eager, even desperate to please me, in spite of the fact that I was naked. I then realized, with a strange feeling deep within me, something akin to fear and excitement, that on this world it was the naked women, or scantily clad women, women who would be slaves, or would be presumed to be slaves, women such as I, who must serve and please the men. This was not Earth; it was Gor.

"Oh, Ladyl" I called. "Please, Lady!"

The slave, alone, in the brief, sleeveless red tunic, with sides split to the waist, turned, to see whom I might be addressing.

"Lady!" I called to her.

"I am not a lady," she said. "I am a slave."

"Please," I said. "Can you read the legend posted over my head?" "Cannot you read?" she asked.

"No," I said. I looked at her. She was nicely curved, with brown hair and eyes. She wore a close-fitting steel collar.

"I am sorry," she said. "I cannot either. I was never taught." She hen sped on her way.

"What is going on?" asked the Archon's man.

"Nothing, Master," I said.

"If you delay slaves in their errands, and they are late," he said, "they might be whipped."

"I am sorry, Master," I said.

"Why did you delay her?" he asked.

"I wanted her to read the sign posted over my head," I said.

"Why didn't you ask me?" he asked.

"I was afraid," I said. "You did not read it to me. I thought then perhaps you did not want me to know what it said."

"And, without determining whether that was true or not," he said, "you nonetheless sought, perhaps thereby circumventing my will, to determine its contents?"

"Yes, Master," I said. "Forgive me, Masterl"

"You should be whipped," he said. He unclipped the coiled slave whip from his belt.

"I am a free woman!" I told him.

"You have a slave's body," he said.

"Even so, I am a free woman," I said.

"Perhaps you are a free woman," he said. "It is hard to imagine a slave being so stupid."

"Do not whip me," I begged.

I saw him recoiling the blades of the whip. I viewed this action with unspeakable relief.

He then thrust it before my face. "Lick it, and kiss it," he said.

"Please," I begged.

"You will do so now," he said, "or after you have been beaten with it." I then reached my head forward and, delicately, licked and kissed the whip. He then replaced the stern, supple disciplinary device on his belt.

"Master," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"Why did you not tell me what the sign said?" I asked.

"I showed it to you," he said. "It did not occur to me that you could not read." "But I cannot," I said. "Please tell me what it says!"

"Not now, pretty Lita," he said. "Not now." He then walked away. I stomped with my right foot. I shook the chains, angrily. Tears came to my eyes. I was being frustrated, as though I might be a slave.

The afternoon wore on.

My body and arms began to ache miserably.

From time to time one man or another in the crowd would pause to gaze on me. I usually looked away from them but, even so, it seemed I could sometimes sense their eyes on me, roving me with impunity. I chained as I was, was exposed to their gaze as any stripped slave.

Sometimes they would come up to the platform, to examine me more closely. The Archon's man, however, would not permit them to touch my body or test my slave reflexes. Similarly, I was not required to respond to certain sorts of commands, for example, to make "slave lips," pursing my lips for kissing, or to writhe slowly before my viewers. It was still regarded as a theoretical possibility, I gathered, that I might be free. "She is not for sale," the Archon's man told one fellow. "Too bad," had said the fellow. "Not now," had added the Archon's man. "Perhaps later," said the fellow.

"Perhaps," had agreed the Archon's man.

It was late in the afternoon when, suddenly, my body stiffened in terror. I put my head down, swiftly, trembling. I wanted to hide but, Of Course, I was held perfectly where I was, exposed, helpless in the-shackles.

He must not have seen me! He must not have seen mel I turned away a little, in the chains, as though merely to change my position. My heart was pounding in terror.

He, of all people!

Surely he had not noticed me. Surely he had not seen me. He must not have seen me!

"Let the cbttrl be stripped," I had said, imperiously, "and a sign be put about his neck, proclaiming him a fraud. Then let him be marched naked, before the spears of guards, through the great gate of Corcyrus, not to be permitted to return before the second passage hand!"

But I could not run now. I, helpless, naked, chained in place, was being publicly displayed.

A Corcyran merchant had brought charges against him, a matter having to do with a bowl, purportedly silver, but only plated, and one bearing a forged mark, misrepresenting it as the work of the silversmiths of Ar.

Surely he must now have passed by.

Further inquiries had been made and it was found that he had among his goods a set of false weights.

He must now have gone. He mustl Too, it had been discovered that he had sold slave hair to the public, representing it as that of free women.

I was safe. He must have gone by now.

How pleased I was to have sentenced him to his humiliation, pronouncing the judgment of the Tatrix against himl How pleased I was to have seen him dragged by guards from my august presence.

How splendid, too, to have men serving one, obeying one, in this fashion! He had been an itinerant peddler, an obsequious, cringing, ugly, small, vile man with a twisted body. Surely he was one of the most detestable human beings I had ever seen.

I stiffened, again, in terror. Someone had joined me on the cement platform. I kept my head down. Then, as had happened two or three times before, I felt a thumb under my T., chin. My head was pushed up.