Magicians of Gor

14 In the Vicinity of the Public Boards

Before the boards, rather in a circle before them, there was a crowd. Whereas, there may have been unwelcome information on the boards, the immediate attention of the crowd was not at this moment upon them.

"Here is the insolent slut!" cried a fellow.

We pushed in, toward the center of the circle.

"Make way," I said. "Guardsmen! Guardsmen!"

Men cried out with anger, but drew back.

Marcus and I had our armbands, those of auxiliary guardsman, a band of red beneath one of blue, Ar under the supervision of Cos.

"Cosian sleen," I heard. But the fellow did not make himself prominent.

"One side!" I said.

I glimpsed the face of a girl, white and frightened, in the center of the crowd. She was standing, being held by two fellows, on wrist in the care of each. To one side, quite close, there knelt four other girls, three in tunics of the wool of the bounding hurt, one in silk.

"Guardsmen!" I repeated, angrily, and forced myself forward.

The face of the standing, captive girl manifested sudden relief.

"Would you not know?" said one of the men, disgustedly.

One of the kneeling girls, too, cried out with joy.

"We are saved!" said another.

"What is going on here?" I demanded, not pleasantly.

"First the curfew," grumbled a fellow to another.

"Now this!" exclaimed another.

I resolved I must learn more of what was on the boards. Marcus could read them much more rapidly than I.

"Release me," said the standing girl, angrily. The two fellows who had seized her wrists let them go, and she rubbed her wrists, as though to push away even the memory of their grip.

"Greetings and welcome, noble guardsmen of Cos!" said she, delightedly. "I think you have arrived in time!"

The other four girls made as though to rise, righteously, but a glance from Marcus put them back instantly on their knees. This, I think, was not noticed by the girl who was standing, who was, I take it, a sort of leader amongst them. "What is the difficulty?" I asked.

"We caught her drinking from the top bowl of the fountain," said one, pointing to a nearby fountain.

"You are not kneeling," I said to the girl in the center.

"I am a woman," she said, "why should I kneel?"

This seemed to me a strange response. I would have supposed it an excellent reason to kneel, being in the presence of men, if one were a woman. If she were a free woman, of course, fitting or not, there would be no legal proprieties involved. A free woman, as long as she remains free, can stand to the fullness of her short, graceful height before men.

"What is your status?" I asked.

"Slave," she said, tossing her lovely head, her hair swirling.

To be sure, my question was somewhat rhetorical, as her neck was appropriately banded.

I considered her.

She met my eyes for a moment, and then, angrily, looked away.

She was rather modestly garbed, I thought, her tunic coming to her knees. Too, it was not belted. This was presumably to conceal her figure. On the other hand, I conjectured that beneath that garment, woven of the wool of the bounding hurt, her figure might not be without interest. She wore no makeup. She had been given sandals. I considered her mien. I did not doubt but what she had a weak master. "As you are slave," I asked, "how is it that you are not kneeling?"

"A strange question," she said, "coming from a guardsman of Cos."

"Yes," said a man, angrily.

"Tell me of your master," I said.

"He is liberated," she said, "and of the times! He knows my worth!"

"You would not be insolent in Cos, or Anango, or Venna!" said a man.

"I am in Ar!" she laughed. "Cos' Ar!"

"Hold!" I said angrily to the men, holding them back.

"Let her be punished," said a fellow.

"No!" she laughed. "You do not dare touch me now! There are guardsmen of Cos present! I am safe!"

Inwardly I smiled, wondering what her attitude might be, had she found herself anywhere but where she was, and in the presence of the power of Cos, in the form of Marcus and myself. What if she had found herself, for example, tied with wire in an alcove in Brundisium, almost concealed in ropes on a submission mat in the Tahari, wearing a body cage in Tyros, bound to the wheel in the land of the Wagon Peoples, shackled on a sales platform in Victoria, fearing the auctioneer's whip, or prone and chained on one of the swift ships of the black slavers of Schendi?

"Is it true that you have drunk from the higher bowl of the fountain?" I asked. "Yes!" she said.

"How is it that you have done such a thing?" I asked. Slaves, of course, like other animals, are expected to drink from the lower level of a fountain, and, generally, on all fours.

"My master permits such things!" she said. "He is noble and kind!"

"A weakling and a fool," said a man. "I know him."

"And he celebrates them! He grabs me modestly! He accords me sandals! He respects me!"

There was laughter.

"He accords me an allowance, and my own hours, and my own room!" she said. "And does he require your permission before he puts you to use?" I asked. "Of course," she said.

There was a reaction of amazement from the men present.

"And does he receive this permission when he wishes it?" I asked.

"Sometimes," she laughed.

"I can well imagine his anxiety," I said, "as to whether or not it will be granted."

She laughed. "Glory to Cos!" she said.

But neither Marcus nor myself, nor any other there, echoed this sentiment. "You are not always in the mood," I said.

"Of course not," she said.

"Sometimes you are weary," I conjectured, "or are afflicted with a headache?"

"Yes," she laughed. "But I do not need an excuse!"

"I see," I said.

"Sometimes," she said, "I deny him, to win my way, to punish him, to teach him a lesson." She laughed, and threw a meaningful look at the other girls kneeling near her. One or two of them looked up at her, smiling.

"I understand," I said. "Does your master trouble you often in this regard."

"Not so much now," she said, angrily.

"You are aware that he can sell you," I said.

"He would not dare to do so," she said.

"But you know he has this legal power?"

"In a sense," she said.

"In the fullest of senses," I said.

"Yes," she said, drawing back a little.

"And you know that he can do with you as he pleases?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Interesting," I said.

"Do you forget the proposed laws of respect!" she said.

"They were never enacted," I said.

"They should have been!" she said.

There was an angry mutter in the crowd.

"My master," she said, "is a kind, liberated, noble, enlightened master! He accepts such laws, or laws much like them, as much as if they had been proclaimed by the councils and promulgated by the Ubara herself!"

"The actual words of the Ubara," I said, "or at least as reported on the boards, where to the effect that slave girls should be obedient and try to please their masters."

"It is well," said a man," or Ar would have gone up in flames."

"I do not know of such things," she said.

"Are you pleased with your master? I asked.

"He is noble, and kind, and liberated and enlightened," she said.

"You seem deprived, and unfulfilled."

"I?"

"Yes," I said. "Are you content and happy?"

"Of course!" she said, angrily.

"How long have you been a slave?" I asked.

"Two months," she said.

"How came it about?" I asked.

"I was taken in the suburbs," she said, "by mercenaries, collected with others. The levy was unannounced."

I nodded. There had been many such, the soldiers appearing with their ropes, often late at night, bursting into houses, bringing their catches forth, in various states of undress and night wear, to the waiting wagons.

"You have had only one master?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "He was one who had sought my hand in the free companionship but whose renewed suits I had consistently scorned."

"And now you are his slave?" I said.

"Yes," she said.

"Or he is yours," laughed a fellow.

"If you say so," she said.

Again anger coursed about the circle.

"What is your name?" I asked.

"Lady Filomela," she said, "of Ar."

"You are a slave," I said.

"Filomela, then," she said, "of Ar."

"Of Ar?" I asked.

"Simply Filomela then," she said, angrily.

"And you may be given any name your master pleases," I said.

"Yes!" she said, angrily.

"Why are you not happy?" I asked.

"I am happy!" she cried.

"I see," I said.

"I am going now," she said.

"Really?" I said.

She turned about, to leave, but the men did not move to let her pass. Then she turned about, again, to face me.

"May I go now?" she asked.

"Come here," I said.

She regarded me.

"Now," I said.

She did not move.

I snapped my fingers.

She hurried angrily to stand before me. She was now close to me, and I had good feelings, feelings of energy, possessiveness and manhood, good feelings, powerful feelings, at her closeness, and she, on her part, looked up at me, and then, looking quickly away, trembled a little. Then she blushed. There was some laughter.

"You sense in yourself slave feelings?" I asked.

"No!" she said.

"Turn about, and keep your hands at your sides," I said.

With two hands I brushed her hair forward, putting it before her shoulders. I then checked her collar. It was a standard collar, of a sort familiar in the north, flat, narrow, light, sturdy, close-fitting. I did not bother reading the engraving on the collar, as it would be of no interest, her master being a weakling. The collar was closed at the back of her neck with a small, heavy lock. This is common. It was attractive on her, as such things are on any woman.

"You are collared like a slave," I said.

"I am a slave," she said.

"Clasp your hands on the top of your head," I said.

She trembled.

"Common kajira brand," said a fellow.

"Yes," I said.

"Please," she said.

"You are branded like a slave," I said.

"I am a slave!" she said, angrily.

I permitted the hem of her rather-too-long tunic to fall again into place. She was left-thigh-branded, high on the thigh, a bit below the hip, like most girls. I glanced to the four other girls kneeling to the side. They were apprehensive, frightened.

"Are you the leader of these others?" I asked her.

"We are friends," she said, evasively.

This was surely not impossible. Slaves girls have much in common, such as their brands and collars, their typical garmentures, their entire condition and status, the sorts of labors they must perform, and the problems of pleasing masters. It is natural then, given such commonalties, and abused and despised by free women, that they should often seek out one another's company. It is not unusual to see them together, for example, laundering at the stream side or long basins, or sitting about a circle, mending and sewing, or polishing silver. Sometimes they arrange their errands so that they may accompany one another. Sometimes, too, in the abundance of free time enjoyed by most urban slaves, they simply wander about, seeing the city, chatting, exchanging gossip, and such. To be sure, it would be remiss not to remark also that, as one would expect, some of the pettiest of jealousies, the most absurd of resentments, the vilest of acrimonies and the most inveterate of hatreds can obtain among these beautiful, vain, vital creatures, within the same house, where contests often rage, sometimes subtly and sometimes not, for the favor of the master, on which contests, needless to say, considerable shiftings in rank and hierarchy may hinge. And there can be intense competitions, it might be mentioned, not only for such treasures as the master's attentions and affections but for articles as ordinary as combs and brushes and prizes which, whatever may be their symbolic value, are often as small in themselves as a sweet or pastry. In this case, however, I suspected this was no typical grouping of slaves, of the normal sort, but a tiny covey of girls either with a natural enough suspicion in an Ar where the men of the city, betrayed and defeated, helpless and confused, were for most practical purposes, at least until recently, prostrate before the might of Cos. If one is in effect a slave oneself it is hard to be a strong master to one's female. It is much easier to rationalize one's weaknesses and struggle to view them as virtues.

"Is she your leader?" I asked one of the girls kneeling to the side, one of those in a tunic of the wool of the bounding hurt.

"Yes," she said.

"No!" swiftly said another, one also in a tunic of the wool of the bounding hurt. "Our masters are our leaders!"

"Leaders?" I asked.

"Owners!" she swiftly said.

"What are you?" I asked the first kneel girl, sternly.

"Properties!" she said. And she added quickly, seeing my eyes still upon her. "And animals!"

"Yes!" said the girl beside her, she who had spoken second earlier.

"And what are you?" I asked the slave, Filomela.

"A slave," she said, not turning around, standing facing away from me, her hands clasped on her head.

"Turn about," I said.

She obeyed.

"And?" I asked.

She was standing quite close to me, in the posture I had dictated.

"A property, and animal!" she said.

I looked upon her, savoring her. She looked away. I also observed, carefully, her tension, the tonicity of her body.

"Straighten your body," I said.

She did so.

The line of her breasts was lovely under her simple garment.

"You seem uneasy," I said.

She did not respond.

One of the kneeling girls gasped.

It was not difficult to detect her discomfort, her uneasiness, attendant on the proximity of a male. I looked over her, letting this closeness work upon her. Others, too, now had moved in more closely about her.

"You are a slave?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said, tensely.

"Perhaps now you sense in yourself slave feelings?" I said.

She cast a frightened, pathetic, shamed glance at the other girls, those kneeling to one side.

"No!" she said. "No!"

"Spread your legs," I said.

"Please!" she said.

"Keep your hands as they are," I said.

"Ah," I said, "you are a lying slave girl."

She cried out in misery.

I stepped back from her.

"You may stand straight again," I informed her.

Quickly she stood straight. She kept her hands on her head.

"And what of you others?" I asked, looking to the other four. "Perhaps you sense in yourself slave feelings?

They did not meet my eyes but clenched their knees closely together, as though by this means to suppress and control their sensations. They hunched down, they made themselves small. I did not think that there was one there who, in proper hands, would not squirm well, yielding herself up in grateful joy to a master. "You may put your hands down," I informed Filomela, their leader.

"May I go now?" she said.

"You are charged," I said, "with drinking from one of the higher levels of a fountain."

"That fountain there," said a fellow, pointing back.

"Is it true?" I asked her.

She was silent.

"It is true," said a fellow.

"Yes," said another.

Assent to this was added, also, by others.

"Do you deny this?" I asked her.

She was silent.

"She is a slave," said a man.

"Let her testimony be taken under torture," said another.

The testimony of slaves is commonly taken under torture in Gorean law courts. "Let us find a rack," said another.

The girl turned white. Perhaps when she was a free woman she had seen girls on the rack, though, of course, they would have been mere slaves.

"I drank from the high bowl," she said.

"Although you are a slave?" I said.

"Yes," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"I was thirsty," she said.

"Speak truthfully," I said.

"I was thirsty!" she said.

"Thirst may be quenched at the lower bowl as well," I said.

She looked at me, angrily.

"Perhaps you forgot?" I said. "You were, after all, recently a free woman." She did not answer.

I did not seriously consider the possibility, of course, that she might have forgotten the matter. Too, slaves are not permitted to forget such things. It is up to them to remember them. Too, obviously one could claim to have forgotten the most elementary duties, tokens of respect, and such. Accordingly, forgetfulness does not excuse the commission of such acts. A slave seldom forgets them more than once. The whip is an excellent mnemonic device. I did, of course, wish to accord her the recourse of pretending to forgetfulness, if she cared to take advantage of it. It might serve to mitigate the wrath of the men about, at least somewhat. After all, she did not seem to realize that her life was in danger.

She threw a look at the other girls.

"You did not forget then," I said. "And you must have known that free men were about. Your act then was intended as some sort of provocation, or insult, or insolency or challenge?"

"She knew herself observed," said a fellow, "and then with intent, and deliberation, drank from the third level."

"My master would permit it!" she cried.

"That is probably true," laughed a fellow, contemptuously.

"Kneel, errant slave," I said.

She knelt, in terror.

I looked down at her, and pointed the first two fingers of my right hand to the ground, and then opened them. "You do not know the meaning of that sign?" I asked.

"No," she said, trembling.

"Her master is indeed weak," said a fellow.

I supposed her master must be a low-drive male.

"Spread your knees, widely," said another.

Frightened, the girl complied.

"Take her in hand," I said.

A fellow on either side of her then held her, each by a lifted wrist.

I looked at the other girls.

They, too, at my glance, knelt with their knees spread, widely.

"See!" said the one in silk. "My master has silked me!" He has put me in silk, as the slave I am! Do not hurt me! I am only a silked slave! That is all I have been given to wear. He is a man, a man!" The first girl in line, one of the three clad in the wool of the bounding hurt, did not dare to meet my eyes but drew the hem of her tunic up and back, higher on her legs, that more of her beauty might be bared. She, too, did not wish to face the wrath of masters. The other two in the wool of the bounding hurt quickly followed her example. They then all adjusted their tunics further in one way or another, one pulling down a bit on the «V» at her neck, the others pushing up the sleeves of their tunics to reveal more of their gracefully curved upper arms.

"Slaves!" chided the girl before me. She saw herself losing her grip upon them. "And what are you? I inquired.

"A slave!" she said.

I regarded her.

"a€”Master," she added.

"It is a serious thing you are charged with," I said.

She looked at me, angrily.

"You have drunk," I said, "from the wrong level of a fountain."

"What difference does it make," she asked, "what bowl of a fountain I drank from? It is a small thing!"

Anger coursed through the men present.

"It is not a small thing," I said. "Such things are symbols of rank and hierarchy, of difference and distance. They like at the foundation of a natural society, one in accord with the aristocracy of nature, a society in which there are places for both heroes and slaves. They speak of ordered arrangements. All are not the same. All are not leveled, nor must they pretend to be. Such a flat, crushed world, without difference and meaning, lies to the ruled and makes liars of the rulers. It imposes fraud upon one and hypocrisy upon the other. In an unnatural world, the same, as all cannot be the best, there is no alternative, if all are to be the same, then to reduce the best to the level of the worst, at least in pretense. Do you not think the intelligent, the strong, the aggressive, even the evil, will rule, under whatever forms are convenient? The larl, as a larl, must survey verr, or sleen will tend them, pretending to be themselves verr."

She looked up at me.

"You did not truly think it a small thing," I said, "otherwise you would not have done it."

She struggled a little, but could not, of course, free herself from the grip of the men. then, under my stern gaze, she again spread her knees, so that they were again in the position, precisely, in which I had instructed her to have them.

"You challenged the men of Ar," I said. "But you did not expect the challenge to be accepted. You expected them to yield to their defeat, perhaps pretending not to notice it."

She struggled again a bit, and was then again as she was before.

"But it has been noticed," I said.

"I saw girls drinking from the high bowls last month!" she said.

"That was last month," I said.

"You cannot punish me!" she cried. "You are not my masters!"

"Any free person can punish an errant slave girl," I said. "Surely you do not think that her behavior fails to be subject to supervision and correction as soon as she is out of her master's sight?"

"Take me to my master!" she begged. "Let him punish me, if he wishes to do so!"

"We will attend to the matter," I said.

"No!" she wept.

I looked at the others. "And you, too," I suggested, "are errant slaves."

"No, Master!" they wept. "No, Master!"

"You cannot seriously intend to punish me!" said Filomela. "I was a free woman!"

"That is where most slaves come from," I said. I turned to the other slaves. "Were you not all once free women?" I asked.

"Yes, Master!" they said.

"But I was of high caste!" said Filomela.

"What was your caste?" I asked.

"The Builders!" she said.

"But you are not now of the Builders, or of any other caste, are you?" I asked. "No," she said.

"What are you?"

"A slave," she said.

"Accordingly," I said, "you may be punished as what you are, a slave."

Suddenly she laughed, in hysterical relief.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"It is a joke!" she said. "It is a game you are playing, to turn about and trick these fools, to humiliate these defeated, bedraggled beasts!"

"I do not understand," I said.

"You, and your fellow, are of Cos," she said. "I see it on your armbands! It is your business to pacify the men of Ar, to keep them down, to suppress them, to keep them helpless, futile, confused, domesticated, tamed, subdued! Surely you have your orders to that effect. You can succeed in this, Ar is defeated. She is helpless. She is crushed. The entire might of Cos backs your authority! Grind down the men of Ar, as you should. Continue to keep them, as they have been kept, intimidated herds of prisoners incarcerated in their own city, encouraged to view the wretchedness of their lot as the evidence of some new triumph. And it is your intention to use me to help you in this, by permitting me to insult them, by permitting me to mock their manhood, to reduce their virility. Of course! I now understand! So now disband this rabble and release me!"

She made as though to rise.

"Remain on your knees, slave girl," I said.

"You must let me go, you must order my release, you must take me from these brutes, you must scold them, speak to them of laws and such, or something, anything!" she cried. "Defend me, us! I demand it! Release me! You must! I beg it! The men of Ar have been defeated! No longer are they men! No longer are they mighty and masters! They are now nothing, they are all weaklings! You are of Cos! You must keep them that way! It is important to you to keep them that way! Arrest them if they dare think again of pride and manhood, tangle them in rulings, trip them with laws, lie to them, confuse them, put them in prison, do not let them understand themselves, or become themselves, if necessary, put them to the sword! Burn Ar! Destroy it! Salt its ashes! Do you not understand how dangerous might probe to be manhood in Ar? You must not permit it! And you can use women like us to help you in your schemes, protecting us, and using us to diminish men! Let us be your allies in the conquest and subjugation of Ar! Surely you understand me? You are of Cos! You are of Cos!"

"But I am not of Cos," I said.

"Aiii!" cried several of the men about.

"You have drunk from a high bowl," I said, "and more than once you have spoken untruthfully, for example, in denying you sensed slave feelings in yourself."

"Forgive me, Masters!" she cried.

"Too," I said, "you have demeaned the men of Ar."

"Forgive me, Masters!" she wept. "You are men! You are men! A slave begs forgiveness!" Her concern was certainly not out of place. The demeaning of men, whereas it is permitted to, and not unknown among, free women, is not permitted to female slaves. Such, on their part, can be a capital offense. "More importantly," I said, "you have not been pleasing."

She looked at me, wildly.

"Remove her tunic," I said.

She was then amongst us, on her knees, a stripped slave. She was comely. I then turned away from her. "What is new on the public boards?" I asked a fellow.

"Master! Master!" cried the girl, behind me.

"What of the slave?" asked a man.

"You are men," I said. "Doubtless you will know what to do with her."

One of the fellows looked at me.

"For example," I said, "she was thirsty. Perhaps you can see, then, that her thirst is quenched."

"That we will," said a fellow, taking charge of the matter.

"What of these others?" asked another man.

"Read their collars," I said. "And then instruct them to return to their masters and give them such a night of slave pleasure as they would not have conceived possible. Then be certain to follow up the matter the next day, to make certain they complied fully."

"We shall," said a fellow.

"What of the next day, and the next?" asked a man.

"I would expect," I said, "that the masters, seeing what their slaves are truly capable of, and what may be obtained of them, will not be shortchanged in the future. On the other hand, if they are not strong enough to obtain the best and finest from their properties I am sure the girls themselves, they then needing true masters, will in one way or another soon obtain a new disposition. Perhaps the weak masters, unable to satisfy them, will weary of seeing the bondage knot in their hair, will weary of their importunities, their moans and whinings in the night, their beggings for use, and either give them, or sell them, to another. Or perhaps the weak masters, whether unable to satisfy them, or merely unwilling to do so, will simply yield to their entreaties to be given away or sold, that they may receive an opportunity for their love, service and beauty to be put at the mercy of someone who can appreciate it and knows what to do with it."

"You heard?" inquired a fellow of the kneeling slaves.

"Yes, Master!" said one of them. "We will give our masters such a night of slave pleasure as they never knew could exist."

"Read the collars," said another fellow.

Names were read, and domiciles. Men were assigned to follow up on each slave, the next morning and report back to a certain metal-worker's shop. "Speed off!" said a fellow.

Quickly, released, the four girls leaped up and hurried away.

Tonight, I thought, there would be at least four astonished fellows in Ar, and four slaves who, by morning, if only by teaching themselves, by their own actions, would have a much better conception of the profoundities, and sensations involved, and significances, of their condition.

"What is new on the boards?" I asked Marcus. I did not really wish to make it clear to the men about that I did not read Gorean as well as I might.

Men crowded happily about me.

"There is to be curfew," said Marcus. "It begins tonight. The streets are to be kept clear between the eighteenth and the fourth Ahn."

"What is the reason for that?" I asked a fellow.

"To limit the movements of the Delta Brigade," he whispered.

"Is there such a thing?" I asked.

"Seremides thinks so," said a man.

"I heard a barracks was burned last night," said a fellow.

"I heard that, too," said Marcus.

"Is it on the boards," I asked.

"No," said a man.

"No," said Marcus. "I do not think so."

"Then it must not have happened," said a fellow, grimly.

"Of course," said another.

I heard the slave, some yards off, at the fountain, crying out. She had been taken to the lower bowl of the fountain. There she was sputtering and gasping, and crying out for mercy. Again and again was her head, held by the hair, forced down, held under the water and then jerked up again. "Please, Masters! Mercy, Masters!" she wept.

"The delka has been forbidden!" said Marcus. "It says so, here!"

"Interesting," I said.

"That is the first public recognition of the Delta Brigade," said a fellow. I now heard the sound of a lash. The girl had her head down, her wet hair forward. She was held on her knees by the fountain, a wrist in the hands of each of two fellows. She shook under each blow. Then, when they had finished, she was on her hands and knees, head down. Her entire body was trembling. She slipped to the pavement. Her hair was about. She lay there. It seemed she could hardly believe what had been done to her. I supposed this was the first time she had been lashed. It is something no slave forgets. A fellow then drew her up again, by the hair, to all fours and, looming over her, pointed to the fountain. She now, slowly, painfully, crawled to the fountain, between the men, and then, putting her head down, and as was fitting for her, and as she should have done earlier in the afternoon, drank from the lower bowl. She was then pulled back and put prone on the pavement. Her hands were pulled behind her and fastened there, with a short thong.

"Is there more on the boards?" I asked Marcus.

"I think those are the main items of interest," he said.

I saw the girl placed on her belly over the stone lip of the lower bowl of the fountain. She cried out. Her small hands twisted in the thongs, behind her back. Men crowded about her.

"Glory to the Delta Brigade," said a man.

"Who are of the Delta Brigade?" asked a man.

"Who knows?" said another.

"They must be veterans of the delta campaign," said a man.

"Perhaps others, too," said a fellow.

"A fellow was asking me where he could join the Delta Brigade," said a man. "Perhaps a spy," conjectured a fellow.

That seemed to me likely.

"I heard that they tried to take in a veteran for questioning," said a man. "What happened?" I asked a fellow.

"He drew a sword from beneath his cloak," said a man.

"Swords are forbidden," said a fellow.

"Doubtless there are some about," said a man.

"What happened?" I asked.

"He slew two Cosians and disappeared," said the man.

"It may be dangerous to try to take in the veterans of the delta," said a man. "Probably they will leave the city," I said.

"Why?" asked a man.

"They will be suspect," I said.

"There are warriors and guardsmen in the city," said a man, "who are not veterans of the delta."

"That is true," I said. Also, of course, it was not only in the delta that blood had been shed.

"Ah," said Marcus, glancing over toward the fountain, "here comes the insolent little slut now."

"She does not look so insolent now," said a fellow.

The girl, her hands still bound behind her, her head down, her hair about her face, shuddering, scarcely able to walk, her upper left arm in the grip of a fellow, by means of which grip she was being muchly supported, was being conducted into our presence.

Freed of his grip she immediately knelt, and in proper position.

"You may untie her," I said.

He jerked loose the thong from her wrists. Whereas it had confined her with perfection, she had not been able, of course, to reach either of the ends by means of which the knot could be expeditiously undone.

"To all fours," said her keeper.

Immediately she went to all fours.

"Describe a circle, of some five paces in diameter, on all fours, as you are now," said her keeper, "and return to this place."

I watched her.

In this way was she well displayed, and in the attitude of the she-quadruped. She was then again before us, on all fours, head down.

"On all fours," remarked a fellow.

"In such a posture she does not seem as insolent," said another.

"She is not," said another.

"No," said another.

"A fitting posture for the little she-sleen," said a man.

"Yes," said a man.

"Look up," I said to the girl.

She looked up, through her hair.

"Have you learned to drink from the lower bowl?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"You may lower your head," I said.

She put her head down, gratefully.

"You are not a little she-sleen, are you?" I said.

"No, Master," she said.

"You are more of a little vulo, aren't you?" I said.

"Yes, Master, now, Master," she said.

"What do you want to do, more than anything?" I asked.

"To please men," she said.

"What man?" I asked.

"Any man, Master," she said.

"I think she may be permitted to live," I said.

"I think so," said a fellow.

"Yes," said another.

She began to tremble. I did not think her arms and legs would support her. "You may break position," I informed her.

Immediately she went to her belly before me, and reached to my ankle, and put her lips over my left sandal, pressing her lips to it.

"Do you think you will see your friends again?" I asked.

"I hope so, Master," she said.

"And how do you think they will find you?" I asked.

"They will find me a slave," she said.

"And how do you think you will find them?" I asked.

"I do not know, Master," she said.

"I think you will also find them slaves," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Do you think that it might be well for the men of Ar to be put to the sword?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said. "It is rather that women such as I should be put to the sword of their manhood."

"Even if it should make them proud and powerful, and great?" I asked.

"It is hard for this humble slave to believe that her use, and the use of such as she, the use of meaningless chattels, should have so great a consequence, but, if it be so, then surely that would be an additional joy to me, and to my sisters in bondage."

"Even should it inevitably plunge you deeper and more irrevocably into your servitude, ensuring that it will become even more uncompromising and absolute?"

"Yes, Master," she said. "I now wish to live for the chain, the whip, and love." I looked down at her.

"I beg you to buy me!" she suddenly wept.

"You beg to be purchased?" I said.

"Yes, Master," she said. "I beg it!"

"Interesting," I said.

"Surely it is permissible for me to so beg. Indeed, it is fitting for me, as I am a slave."

"And it is just today, I gather," I said, "that you have learned this, that you are a slave."

"No, Master," she said. "I have known it for years, in my most secret heart. It is only that it is today, on this day, that I first admitted it to myself. It is only today that I ceased to lie to myself, that I ceased to be at war with myself. It is only today, today, that I ceased to pretend to be something which I knew I was not. It is only today that I have admitted to myself, honestly and openly, what I am."

"Bring her tunic," I said to a fellow.

He picked up what was left of it.

She looked up from my feet, frightened. "Surely you will keep me, or buy me!" she said.

"No," I said.

"But it is to you, or to one such as you that I must belong!" she wept.

I did not speak.

"It is for such as you that women such as I exist!" she wept.

I did not speak.

"Without one such as you," she wept, "I cannot obtain my happiness, my completion, my fulfillment!"

I remained silent.

"I am at your feet!" she wept, "branded, collared, legally enslaved! I am helpless! Take pity on me! Surely you will not deny me the fulfillments of my condition!"

"Kneel," I said. "You will return to your master."

She screamed in misery. "Woe!" she wept. "This is my punishment, more grievous than the leather!"

"But he is kind, noble, liberated and enlightened," I reminded her.

"Woe!" she wept. "Woe!"

"Be the most abject and loving of slaves," I said. "Crawl at his feet. Weep for his mercy. Beg to serve him in the most intimate modalities of the slave girl."

"But he would lift me from my knees and chide me for my needs," she said. "He wants me to act like a man! I think he may want to relate a man, truly, but is afraid to do so. So he wants me to pretend to be one, or be like one. I do not know. I think he is afraid of a true woman, and what she is like. Perhaps he fears he is not man enough to satisfy here in the full spectrum of her needs, in her subtlety, depth and complexity. I do not know! Perhaps he is only weak, perhaps he is one of only infrequently active and diminutive drives. Perhaps he is emotionally shallow, unready to sound the depths of oceans, to measure the heights of a hundred skies. Perhaps it is all very simple. Perhaps he only lacks health, or virility, through no fault of his own. I do not know! Whatever it is, please do not send me back to him!"

"You will relate to him differently than you ever have before," I said. "Utterly differently. You will now be to him a true and perfect slave girl. You will be docile, dutiful and hardworking. You will serve, and be eager to serve, in all things. You will present yourself before him as a female slave, and crawl to him, the whip in your teeth. Surely he will understand this. You will petition to serve his pleasure, you will beg to squirm for him, and as the insignificant and meaningless slut, a mere slave, you now are."

She looked at me, clutching the remains of her tunic before her.

"I shall do as you say, Master," she said.

"And you may discover he is not the weakling you think," I said. "And you may find he will take the whip from your teeth and perhaps stand over you and howl with pleasure, sensing the joy of the mastery. You may even be struck with it, as he takes control of you, for the first time. Yes, you may even be put under the lash, that he punish you for what you have denied him before, and that he confirm upon you, and you be instructed in, and fully, the new relationship in which you stand to him."

"But what if he is weak?" she begged.

"Continue to serve him, in the fullness of your slavery, begging him for the least of his kisses, the most casual of his caresses."

"Yes, Master," she said, tears in her eyes.

"Even such small attentions, as you will discover, now that you have become sensitized to your slavery, will be precious to you."

"Yes, Master," she said.

I did not doubt but what she would soon be feeling the fullness of her needs, now that they were in the process of being liberated. In the pens it is not unusual for girls to bleed at the fingernails, from scratching at the walls of their kennels, or to bruise their lovely bodies against the bars of their cages, trying to reach out to a guard, it only to touch his sleeve. Sometimes a girl is deprived of attention for two or three days before her sale, that she will show well on the block, her body, and person, and aspect a helpless, piteous plea of need.

"If he continues to be inert," I said, "if he cannot be awakened or aroused, or fears to be, or does not wish to be perhaps because of hostility toward you, or toward women, generally, he will presumably grow uneasy with you in the house and give you away, or sell you. Perhaps he will even trade you for a less needful woman, or one more in accord with his needs, whatever they might be."

"But what if he is stupid?" she asked.

"Beg him then to sell you, or give you away," I said, "that you may, if only in being sold off the block, come into the collar of another, one capable of satisfying what you are, a slave."

"But what if he will not sell me, or give me away?" she said. "What if he insists on keeping me, as he is, and as I now am? What if he will keep me only according to his own rules, and lights, and keep me from myself, denying me to myself, frustrating my deepest and most profound need, as I am? "Then," said I, angrily, "that is how it will be, for it is you who wear the collar. He is the master. You are the slave."

"Yes, Master," she sobbed.

"But do not fear," I said. "I am certain, sooner or later, you will come into the possession of one who will not only accept your slavery, in its beauty, in its tenderness and needfulness, in its honesty and truth, but will celebrate it and relish it, and for whom you will be a treasure, an incredible and marvelous treasure, to be sure, one to be kept under the closest of disciplines."

"Yes, Master," she said, smiling through her tears.

"Rise up now, slave girl," I said, "and hurry to your master!"

"Yes, Master!" she said.

Clutching her tunic about her as best she could, she then rose up and hurried from the place of the public boards.

"I think she will make an excellent slave," said a man.

"Yes," said another.

I myself, too, thought that that was true. It is a beautiful moment when a woman come to learn, and love, what she is, when she comes to understand herself, and has the courage to accept this understanding, when in joy the ice breaks in the rivers, when the glaciers melt, the spring comes, when she loves and kneels. "It is a good thing you did here," said a man.

"For the girl?" I asked.

"She is only a slave," he said. "I mean for the men here."

"Oh," I said.

"You had an opportunity here to strike a blow for Cos, to humiliate the men of Ar, to further reduce and degrade them, to force them to submit even to the insolence and arrogance of slaves, to further subdue and crush them, to remind them of their sorry lot, their political and military weakness, of the loss of their goods, their city and pride, to injure them, to strike yet another blow at their staggering manhood, yet you did not do so. Rather you encouraged it, you permitted it to grow, if only a little. Word of this will be in all the taverns by nightfall!"

"Cos will not be pleased," warned a man.

"It is dangerous in these times to remind men of their past glories."

"What if we should be tempted to reclaim them?" asked another.

"Surely you understand how dangerous is the thing you do?" said another. "How is it that you are in the fee of Cos?" asked another, indicating the armbands of Marcus and myself.

"Men may be in the fee of Cos," I said.

"True," said a fellow.

"Surely you are of Ar," said a man.

"No," I said. "I am of Port Kar."

"It is a lair of pirates," said a fellow, "a den of cutthroats."

"There is now a Home Stone in Port Kar," I said.

"That is more than there is in Ar," said a man.

"If you are of Port Kar," said a man, "I say "Glory to Port Kar!»

"Glory to Port Kar!" whispered another.

"Your fellow is surely of Ar," said another.

"No, his fellow is not," said Marcus, angrily. "I am of Ar's Station! Glory to Ar's Station!"

"The city of traitors?" asked a man.

Marcus' hand flew to the hilt of his sword, but I placed my hand quickly over his.

"Ar's Station is no city of traitors!" said he. "Rather by those of Ar she was betrayed!"

"Enough of this," I said.

"If you are of Ar's Station," said the fellow who had spoken before, "I say, "Glory, too, to Ar's Station!»

Marcus relaxed. I removed my hand from his.

"Glory to Port Kar, and Ar's Station!" said a man.

"Yes!" said another.

"Glory, too, to Ar," I said.

"Yes!" whispered men, looking about themselves. "Glory to Ar!"

I heard the ripping down of a sheet from the public boards and saw a young fellow casting it aside. Then, with a knife, he scratched a delka, deeply, into the wood. He turned to face us and brandished the knife. "Glory to Ar!" he cried.

"Gently, lad," I said.

Who knew who might hear?

Spies could be anywhere.

"I would cry out!" he said.

"The knife is no less a knife," I said, "because it makes no sound."

"Glory to Ar!" grumbled the lad, and sheathed the knife, and stalked away. We regarded the delka.

"Glory to Ar!" whispered men. "Glory to Ar!"

I was pleased to see that not all the youth of Ar were in the keeping of Cos, that in the hearts of some at least there yet burned the fire called patriotism. Too, I recalled some would take the oath of citizenship only facing their Home Stone, now in far-off Cos. Others, in the streets and alleys, I speculated, could teach their elders courage.

"You spoke," I said to a man, "of a veteran who was to have been taken in for questioning, who drew forth a concealed weapon, who slew two Cosians, and disappeared."

"Yes," said a man.

"Know you his name?" I asked.

"Plenius," said a man.

I found that of interest, as I had known a Plenius in the delta. To be sure, there are many fellows with that name.

I looked again to the defiant delka cut into the boards.

"I do not think I would care to be found in the presence of this delka," I said, "so prominent on the public boards, so freshly cut."

"True," said more than one man.

The crowd dissipated.

Marcus regarded the delka.

"I fear reprisals," he said.

"Not yet," I said. "That is contrary to the fundamentals policy of the government. The whole pretense here is that Cos is a friend and ally, that she and Ar, in spite of the earlier errors of Ar's ways, so generously forgiven now, are as sisters. This posture is incompatible with reprisals. It is one thing to tax, expropriate and confiscate in the name of various rights and moral principles, all interestingly tending to the best interests of particular parties, and quite another to enact serious reprisals against a supposedly allied cititzenry."

"But sooner or later, surely, as you put it, Cos must unsheath her claws."

"I fear so," I said. "But by that time hopefully you will be free of the city with the Home Stone of Ar's Station."

"And when will you begin to work on this portion of your plan?" he asked. "We have already been doing so," I said.

"Ho!" I cried out, hailing a squad of Cosian regulars. "Here! Here!"

They hurried across the avenue to the boards.

"Behold!" I said.

"Another cursed delka!" snapped the officer.

"And on the boards," I said.

"Have you been here long?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Did you see who did this?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"The cowards are fled," he said, looking about.

"They are all urts," said the subaltern.

"It is only a delka," I said.

"There are too many about," said the officer.

"It is all they can do," laughed the subaltern.

The officer studied the delka.

"It was cut deeply, swiftly," he said, "with strength, probably in hatred."

"These signs are doubtless the works of only a few," said the subaltern. "But they may be seen by many," said the officer.

"There is nothing to fear," said the subaltern.

"I will have this board replaced," said the officer.

"Shall we continue our rounds?" I asked the officer.

"Yes," said the officer.

Marcus and I turned about then, and continued as we had been originally, south on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder.

"What will be the move of Cos?" asked Marcus.

"The city championships in the palestrae games will take place soon," I said. "So?" asked Marcus.

"That is her overt move, that things should proceed as though nothing had happened, as though nothing were afoot."

"I see," he said.

"And in the meantime, I expect," I said, "she will turn her attentions to matters of internal security."

"The officer was not pleased to see the delka," said Marcus.

"Do you think he was afraid?" I asked.

"No," he said. "I do not think so."

"Perhaps he would have been more afraid if it had been cut with more care, with more methodicality."

"Perhaps," said Marcus.

"It is one thing to deal with sporadic protest," I said. "It is another to deal with a determined, secret, organized enemy."

"Like the Cosian propagandists, infiltrators and spies during the war?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"But there is no such determined, secret, organized enemy to challenge Cos," he said.

"I do not know," I said.

"Certainly we are not such," he said.

"No," I said. "We are not such."

"I do not understand," he said.

"The matter may be no longer in our hands," I said.

"Interesting," he said.