Magicians of Gor

26 A Free Woman; A Female Slave

"You may assist me with my wrap," she informed the handsome slave. "Your hand trembles," she smiled.

In the back room I tracked these matters by means of one of the observation portals. One of the two magistrates, he who was senior, Tolmar, of the second Octavii, an important gens but one independent of the well-known Octavii, sometimes spoken of simply as the Octavii, or sometimes as the first Octavii, deputy commissioner in the records office, much of which had been destroyed in a recent fire, was at the other portal. His colleague, Venlisius, a bright young man who was now, by adoption, a scion of the Toratti, was with him. Venlisius was in the same office. He was records officer, or archon of records, for the Metallan district, in which we were located. Both magistrates wore their robes, and fillets, of office. They also carried their wands of office, which, I suspect, from the look of them, and despite the weapons laws of Cos, contained concealed blades. I was pleased to hope that these fellows were such as to put the laws of Ar before the ordinances of Cos. I had requested that they dismiss their attendant guardsmen, which they had done. I did not anticipate that they would be needed. Whatever force, if any, might be required could be supplied by Marcus and myself. Similarly it seemed that Marcus and I could handle any other matters of the sort in which they might customarily have been utilized. Too, certain matters might prove sensitive, and I saw fit to limit the number and nature of witnesses.

"Must I remove my own wrap?" she inquired.

"No, no, Mistress!" said the male slave.

"Mistress?" she said. "It seems you have learned deference."

"Yes, Mistress," he said. He knelt quickly, trembling, his head down.

"It is not like you," she said.

"Forgive me, Mistress," he said.

"But I find it charming," she said. "And you look well, my dear Milo, on your knees."

"Thank you, Mistress," he said.

"But I do not understand this new deference," she said.

"What but deference," said he, "could be in order, before one such as you?"

"I think we shall get along very well," she said.

He was silent, kneeling before her, bent at the waist. He kept his head down. He trembled. I did not really blame him.

"It is as though, suddenly, it had been recalled to you, that you are a slave," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," he said.

I was pleased that his back had not been opened by the staff of Appanius. It would not have done, at all, if stripes of blood had appeared on the back of his tunic, soaked through.

"Interesting," she said.

"Before you," he said, "what man could not be a slave?"

"Flatterer!" she chided.

I smiled to myself. He had a nimble, flattering tongue. He was able in his work. Doubtless he had been of great value to Appanius, in many ways. Then I smiled grimly to myself. How susceptible was the chit to his blandishments. How little she understood of herself. Before what man, I wondered, should she not be a slave? Indeed, before any man, she, and other women, should be slaves."

"My wrap!" she said, irritably.

He leaped to his feet and delicately, courteously, removed her outer cloak, with its hood. She had been well covered in it, from head to toe. He put this on a peg to one side.

"Your guards are without?" he asked.

"I have come alone," she said. "Surely you do not think me a fool?"

"No," he said.

She brushed back the light inner hood and unhooked the collar of her robe. "You will never believe the difficulty I had in escaping from the Central Cylinder!" she said. "It is almost as though I were a prisoner there. Seremides is so careful! His spies are everywhere. Who knows who they are, or which of them is watching you at any given time? Whom can I trust? It is hard to leave without an escort of a company of guardsmen. What do they fear, I wonder. The people love me."

"You are too glorious and marvelous to risk," said Milo.

"Alas," she said, "sometimes I myself grow weary of the preciousness and dignity of my person. It seems it has always been thus. Long ago when I was a girl it was the same, and then, in my time of troubles, after the misunderstanding with my dear father, Marlenus, I was sequestered, and then, later, now that the war has been concluded to the mutual benefit of Ar and Cos, with victory for us both, thanks to the mercies of Cos, and the noble Lurius of Jad, and we have become allies with our former enemies, now our dearest of friends, the Cosians, it seems the same again."

"Mistress is Ubara," said he. "Simply order them to desist from their attentions."

"Of course," she smiled.

The handsome slave regarded her, puzzled.

"But I eluded the guards," she said. "It was not really too difficult. They are men, and stupid."

"How did Mistress outwit them?" asked the slave.

"As you will note," she said, "I wore a common street cloak and hood, secured for the occasion. A departure was arranged for a putative maid, supposedly one of my retinue, on personal business, and it was as such a one that I was passed through the guards."

"Mistress is to be praised for her discretion and cleverness," he said.

"Who will remove the veil of a free woman?" she laughed.

"Who, indeed?" inquired the slave, awed.

"And few," she laughed, "are even aware of the features of the Ubara!"

"True, wonderous Mistress," he said.

She laughed.

"How grateful and humbled I am," said he, "that I, only a slave, at three suppers, was permitted to look upon them."

"You dared to look upon me?" she asked.

"Forgive me, Mistress," he cried. "I had thought that perhaps it was for that reason that Mistress had lowered her veil."

"It was warm, those evenings," she said.

"Of course, Mistress!" he said.

"But, to be sure," she said, "I did fear that looking upon me, you might fall under my spell."

She then, gracefully, reached to the pins at the left side of the veil and unpinned it. A moment later she had lowered it, gracefully.

"Aii!" said he, softly. "What man could not fall under the spell of such a beauty?"

"Think you so?" she laughed, delighted.

"Yes!" he said. "Surely Mistress is the most beautiful woman on all Gor!" I glanced down at Lavinia. She was kneeling on the floor, to my left. I thought her lip trembled, and a tear formed in her eye.

"I feel like a slave girl," said the free woman, "running about, sneaking here and there, to keep a rendezvous."

Milo gasped. I conjecture he had just considered how exciting the female might be, if she were truly a slave, slave clad, slave collared, and such.

The Ubara looked at herself, in the mirror at the far end of the room.

"Sometimes I envy the meaningless property tarts," she said, "running about much as they please, here and there, in all their freedom, in their short skirts and collars. Sometimes I think that they have more freedom than I, that I, a free woman, indeed, one who is Ubara of Ar, am more slave than slave."

"Do not even think so!" said Milo.

"It is true," she said, dismally.

The male slave was silent.

The Ubara continued to regard herself in the mirror. I wondered how she saw herself, really, in that reflection. Did she see herself in the mirror as she now seemed, moody, and attired as befitted a woman of high caste, or did she see herself there otherwise, perhaps in a ta-teera or tunic, as men might choose to keep her.

"If I were a slave," she said, "and I were here, what do you think would be done with me?"

"Mistress is not a slave!" cried Milo, aghast.

"But, if I were?" she asked.

"And you were caught?" he asked.

"Of course," she said.

"Mistress would be severely punished," he said.

"Even though I am so beautiful?" she asked, skeptically.

"Especially so!" said he.

"Oh?" she said.

"Yes, Mistress," he assured her.

"Interesting," she said.

"But Mistress is not a slave!" he said.

"Lashed?" she asked.

"The least that might be done to Mistress," he said, "would surely be that she would be stripped, and tied, and lashed. Too, she might be bound, and subjected to the bastinado."

The free woman shuddered.

"And I do not think that Mistress would err in such a fashion again," he said. "Perhaps not," she said.

I glanced over at Tolnar, at the other observation portal. He looked over at me, and I returned my attention to the portal.

The Ubara, moving very little, was still regarding herself in the mirror. She seemed moody.

"Mistress?" asked the male slave.

"You do find me attractive, do you not?" she asked.

"Of course, Mistress!" he said.

"And do you not think other men might do so likewise?" she asked.

"Certainly, Mistress!" he said.

"Some think me the most beautiful woman in all Ar," she said.

"You are surely," said he, "the most beautiful woman on all Gor!"

Near me Lavinia put down her head. A tear fell to the floor.

"And I am Ubara!" said the free woman.

"Yes, Mistress," said the slave.

"A Ubara, too," she said, "is a woman, and I have a woman's needs."

"Yes, Mistress," said the slave.

The Ubara then, bit by bit, piece by piece, looking at herself from time to time in the mirror, the slave standing back, removed her outer garments. When she had stepped forth from her slippers, she stood before the mirror, barefoot, in a one-piece white, silken wraparound sliplike garment. It came slightly above her knees. She then unpinned the dark wealth of her hair, and shook her head, and then, with both hands, lifted it, and then swept it back, behind her shoulders. She regarded herself in the mirror. It was all I could do not to rush forth into the other room and seize her. About her neck, on a leather thong, there was a small, capped leather cylinder. I was confident I knew what it contained. Milo, on the other hand, would not. Milo had not had with him, I had determined, the note which had putatively come to him from the Ubara, that which had been written by Lavinia. I supposed he had destroyed it, as it might prove dangerously compromising. Neither the Ubara nor Milo, of course, knew of the notes which they themselves had supposedly written. All communications between then other than these had been effected by Lavinia, to the Ubara in the guise of a slave of the house of Appanius, to Milo in the guise of a state slave, with the exception of their rendezvous this morning. With Lavinia as go-between, under my instructions, matters had proceeded expeditiously, culminating apace, save for some delays on the part of the Ubara, presumably, to increase the anxieties of, and torment, the poor slave, in the arrangements for this assignation.

"I wonder if I am truly the most beautiful woman on all Gor," said the Ubara, looking into the mirror.

"Certainly," said Milo.

Near me, Lavinia had her head down, and in her hands.

"How could one doubt it?" asked Milo.

Near me Lavinia wept, silently. Tears had trickled down her wrists, and to the floor. I noted that her knees were in proper position, spread, given the sort of slave she was.

"And you, Milo," said the Ubara, "are a handsome brute."

"I am pleased if Mistress should find me not displeasing," he said.

"And surely," she said, "you are the most handsome man in all Ar."

"Mistress," he said, softly, coming close to her.

"Serve me wine!" she snapped.

"Mistress?" he asked.

"It that not wine, and assorted dainties," she asked, "on the table by the couch, that which I see behind me, in the mirror?"

"Yes, Mistress," he said.

"And certainly female slaves humbly and beautifully serve their masters in such a way," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," he said.

"Must a command be repeated?" she inquired.

"I am a male slave," he said. "I am not a female slave."

Surely you are aware that male silk slaves are trained in such things as the serving of wine to their mistresses," she said.

"I am not a silk slave," he said.

"I see that a command must be repeated," she said.

"No, Mistress!" he said. He hurried to the small table and put a tiny bit of wine into one of the small glasses. He then returned, and knelt before her. He then, holding the tiny glass in both hands, his head down between his extended arms, proffered her the beverage. But she did not receive it as yet at his hands. "Look up," she said. He did so. She fingered the small, capped cylinder at her neck. "Surely you know what is contained in this capsule," she said. He did not respond.

She uncapped it, and moved the tiny rolled paper a hort from the capsule, that he might see it. Then she thrust it back in, triumphantly, and recapped the cylinder.

"You are a better actor than I gave you credit for," she said.

He had remained impassive.

"You will obey me in all things, and not merely because you are a slave," she said, "but because of this." She tapped the tiny cylinder twice. "I now hold all power over you, my dear Milo, even though I do not own you. It is given to me by this note. Should it come to the attention of Seremides, or Myron, or the high council, or an archon of slaves, or perhaps even a guardsmen, you may well conjecture what might be your fate."

He looked up at her.

"How foolish you were, to write such a note," she laughed. "But then you are a man, and men are stupid."

He put down his head, and again, lifted the wine to her.

He would not recognize the note, of course, but he could immediately realize it must have had some role in my business, in which he was now so deeply involved. Too, almost simultaneously, he would doubtless suspect that the note which he himself had originally received might very well not have come from the Ubara herself. Surely it would now seem to him unlikely that she, so obviously aware of the danger of such notes, would have sent one herself. Surely it would have been at the least politically compromising, if it fell into the wrong hands. He did not glance toward the back room. I myself, incidentally, did not think it impossible that the Ubara herself, in certain circumstances, might be so indiscreet as to write such notes. She was, after all, a woman with feelings, desires and needs. She was quite capable, I was sure, in their cause, of throwing caution to the winds. On the other hand, in this case there had been no need for her to do so.

She let him hold the wine for a time, and then, reaching out, she took the glass.

He kept his head down, and put his hands, palms down, on his thighs.

She lifted the glass to her lips. She took no more, it seemed, then the tiniest of sips.

"Replace the glass," she said. "Then return and kneel as you are now.

She was standing before the couch.

She watched him, in the mirror, replace the glass on the tiny table.

In a moment then he had returned to kneel before her.

"You are the idol of thousands of women of Ar," she said, "but it is my beauty which has conquered you."

He was silent.

Lavinia looked up at me, red-eyed.

"It is my beauty to which you have succumbed," she said.

He was silent.

"It is I before whom you kneel," said the Ubara.

He did not respond.

"You look well there," she said, "on your knees, before me."

He was silent.

"That is where men belong," she said, "on their knees, before women."

He kept his head down, and did not respond.

"You may look up," she said.

She turned about then and went to the couch. She stood there for a moment, beside it, regarding him.

Then, with a graceful movement, she removed the white, silken, sliplike garment, letting it fall about her ankles.

"Ai!" said the male slave, softly.

She then, swiftly, with a smooth, silken movement, ascended the couch and lay curled upon it, near its foot, watching him.

"Mistress!" he said.

"Do not dare to rise to your feet without permission, slave," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," he said.

She laughed, softly.

He looked away.

"Do you have the needs of a male?" she asked.

"Yes!" he said.

"Sometimes female slaves," she said, "after their slave fires have been ignited, after hey have become sexually helpless, are deprived of sexual experience," she said. "Did you know that?"

"I have heard so," he said. "Perhaps as a cruelty, to teach them the master's power or that they are slaves, or as a punishment, or to ready them for a successful performance on the block, such things."

"Are such things done with male slaves?" she asked.

"Perhaps," he said.

She laughed.

He did not look at her.

"Look at me," she commanded.

"At least upon occasion," he said.

She laughed again, merrily.

This was true, incidentally. Tauntings, it might be mentioned, are usually involved in such denials. On the other hand, male slaves have much the better of it, in my opinion, in these matters. Sexual gratification is seldom denied to them for long periods. They, like male sleen, tend to become not only restless and aggressive, but dangerous. Accordingly, it is common to see that they are permitted to periodically access a female, almost invariably a slave. No such provision, on the other hand, is prescribed for the female slave. She, as her needfulness increases within her, as she becomes more lonely and miserable, more desperate, is left much on her own, to wheedle and beg, and such. To be sure, most female slaves enjoy an enormous amount of sexual experience. This is largely because they are beautiful and exciting, and slaves.

"You may rise, handsome slave," said she, amused.

"Yes, Mistress," he said.

She lay on her side, watching him. "You are indeed a handsome brute," she said. "Thank you, Mistress," he said.

She then lay on her back, toward the foot of the couch, and stretched, luxuriantly, indolently, before him, savoring the feeling of the fur, the delight of her own movement. She looked upward, lazily. She did not detect the net, of course, as she was not looking for it, and it was recessed in the structure of the ceiling, the ceiling having been designed for its concealment. She had the palms of her hands facing upward, at her sides. Her left knee was lifted.

I thought she would look well in a collar.

She moaned, softly.

She turned her head to the side, toward him. "Sometimes I feel," she said, "as I think a slave must feel."

The net, concealed, was above her.

"Do not approach!" she warned him.

He stood still.

She laughed, and rose, facing him, to her hands and knees, on the couch. She then backed away from him, toward the center of the couch. In this way, unwittingly, she positioned herself under the center of the net. To be sure, it had been designed to cover the entire couch.

"You may approach," she said. "No nearer!" she said.

He then stood near the foot of the couch.

"It seems, Mistress, has come to this room to torture a poor slave," he said. She then slipped to her left side, propping herself up with her left elbow, and, her knees drawn up, regarded him.

"Poor Milo," she said, sympathetically.

He was silent.

"There are slave rings on the couch," she said. "Perhaps I shall chain you to one of them."

"As Mistress pleases," he said.

"What woman of Ar would not desire you as her conquest," she mused.

He was silent.

"And you are mine," she said. "Conquered by my beauty."

He was silent.

"You have told me," she said, "that you have the needs of a male."

"Yes, Mistress," he said.

"It is true?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," he said.

"I am Ubara," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," he said.

"But I am also a female," she said, "and I have female's needs."

"Mistress?" he asked.

"Yes, Milo," she said. "It is true."

He looked down.

"Happily, of course, they are not those of a female slave," she said. "That, fortunately, has never been done to me."

"Yes, Mistress," he said.

In her last words her voice had almost broken. In them was betrayed a seething half-suspected emotional sea. In the Ubara, it seemed, might be latent depths on the shores of which she stood frightened, and in awe. In her, it seemed, might be revelations, discoveries, and enforcements that in her state of inert freedom could scarcely be conjectured. And well might she have feared such things. How helpless she might be, if she found herself in their chains. The slave girl is the helpless prisoner of her sexuality.

"Surely you understand the purport of my words," she said, angrily.

"Surely I dare not explicitly conjecture," he said.

"Why do you think I have come here?" she asked.

"To torture a poor slave, it seems," she said.

"That I could do in the Central Cylinder," she said.

"What more could there be?" he asked.

"Can you not guess?" she said.

"Mistress is free, and Ubara," he said.

"Look upon me," she commanded. "What do you see?" she asked.

"The Ubara of Ar," he said.

"And a female?"

"Yes, Mistress," he said.

"You are a man," she said. "When you arranged this meeting, surely you must have had hopes."

He put his head down.

"And you, shameful, arrogant slave, have presumed far above your station. I should have you boiled in oil!"

He kept his head down.

"But I am prepared to be merciful," she said.

"Mistress?" he asked, looking up.

"I am prepared to extend to you the extraordinary and inestimable privilege," she said, "of entering upon the same couch with me."

He looked at her.

"Yes," she said.

"I am unworthy!" he said.

"Are the sluts, thrown by the hair of their masters' couches any the more worthy?" she asked.

"No, Mistress," he said.

"Do not concern yourself then with such matters," she said.

"But so much honor!" he said.

"Do not consider it," she said.

"But I am only a slave," he said.

"That is know to me," she said.

"I have a master!" he said.

"Of course," she said.

"And mistress does this of her own free will?" he said.

"Yes," she said.

He was silent.

She gestured to the furs beside her. "I invite you to share my couch," she said. He hesitated.

"I am lying here before you," she said, " 'slave naked', as you vulgar men might say. Do you dally, handsome Milo?"

"Mistress invites me to share her couch?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Mistress is then preparing to couch with me?"

"I am not only preparing to couch with you," she said. "I am prepared to couch with you." She then knelt on the couch, and back on her heels.

I glanced to Tolnar, the magistrate. He nodded.

"You may approach me," she said. She extended her arms, opened to him, as she knelt. "Come, handsome slave," said she. "Come, couch with me!"

I threw the lever, releasing the net.

It fell over her beautifully.

She screamed in surprise and fear, as its toils dropped about her. She tried to spring to her feet on the couch, clawing at it, but fell. Milo, doubtless practiced in the matter, expertly brought it together and whipped it about her and, in an instant, on her belly on the couch, she was helpless in its folds. Almost instantly, too, Marcus entered the front room, followed by Tolnar and Venlisius. I had remained for a moment or two at the observation portal. Then I, too, followed by Lavinia, entered the room. Although she may have been aware of my movement, that of another man entering the room, she did not, in her consternation, and in her attention to Marcus and the magistrates, before her, really look upon me, or recognize me. I was then in back of her, with the bracelets and linked shackles. Milo, his work done, stood now to one side. "What is the meaning of this!" she cried, on her belly, turning her head to the right, lifting it from the furs, squirming in the toils of the net.

I, behind her, gathered the net more closely about her, jerking her legs more closely together, wrapping the net more closely about them. A naked woman, on furs, netted, helpless, is quite lovely.

"Sleen! Sleen!" she wept. She lifted her head, as she could, from the furs, looking at the magistrates who, in their robes, with their fillets, with their wands of office, regarded her. "Sleen!" she screamed at them. They did not strike her. She did not seem to realize that she had now become a slave. "Release me!" she demanded. "Release me!"

"What was your name?" inquired Tolnar. "We shall wish it for the records."

"I am Talena!" she cried. "I am Talena, Ubara of Ar! Down on your knees before me! I am Talena, Talena! Ubara of Ar! I am your Ubara!"

"You may, of course, attempt to conceal your former identity," said Tolnar. "At this point it is immaterial."

"I am Talena!" she cried.

"Perhaps you might think to delude a poor slave," said Tolnar, "but we are free men."

"Fools!" she wept.

"What was your name?" he asked.

"My name is Talena!" she said. "I am Ubara of Ar!"

"You would have us believe that Talena of Ar is a sensuous tart in need of sexual relief, a mere chit who would condescend to keep a rendezvous so shameful as this?"

"I am Talena!" she cried, squirming in the net. "Release me! I shall scream!"

"That would be interesting, if you are Talena," said Tolnar. "You would then choose to publicize, it seems, your whereabouts. You would choose to be discovered naked and netted, before magistrates, in a room in the Metallan district, having been prepared to couch with a slave?"

She threw her head down, angrily, on the furs. "I am Talena," she said. "Release me!"

"What is more pertinent to our purposes," said Tolnar, "is your legal status, or, in this case, it seems, your former legal status."

"Release me, fools," she said.

"What was your legal status before you entered this room?" asked Tolnar. "I was, and am, a free woman!" she said.

"Of Ar?" he asked.

"Yes!" she cried, angrily.

"That is the crux of the matter," said Tolnar. He glanced to Venlisius, who nodded.

"Do you doubt that I am Talena?" she demanded of Tolnar.

"Surely you must permit me to be skeptical," he smiled.

"I am she!" she cried. Then she looked wildly at Milo. "You know me!" she wept. "You can attest to my identity! You have seen in the Central Cylinder! So, too, had that slut of a slave!"

"Stand," said Tolnar to Lavinia, who immediately complied.

"Please, Milo," begged the netted beauty, helplessly, pathetically, agonizingly, "do not lie! Tell the truth!"

He looked at her.

"Please Milo," she begged. "Tell them who I am!" How much she felt then dependent upon him, how much in his power! How different this was from her former mastery of him! How terrified she was that he might, for one reason or another, lie to the magistrates, putting her then before them as no more than a common, captured, compromised female.

"Who was she?" asked Tolnar of Milo.

"Talena, Ubara of Ar," said Milo.

"Ah!" she wept in relief.

Tolnar and Venlisius exchanged glances. They did not much relish this development.

"Release me, you sleen!" wept Talena, struggling futilely in the net.

"And you?" asked Tolnar of Lavinia, who was looking on the netted captive, indeed, a prisoner of the same cords which, months before, had held her with such similar perfection.

"Master?" asked Lavinia.

"Who was she?" said Tolnar.

"That, too, is my understanding," said Lavinia. "Talena, of Ar."

"Release me!" demanded the captive.

"What difference does it make," asked Marcus, "if, indeed, she is Talena of Ar?"

"Fool!" laughed the netted captive.

"From the legal point of view," said Tolnar, "it makes no difference, of course."

"Release me!" she said. "Do you think I am a common person? Do you think you can treat one of my importance in this fashion! I shall have Seremides have you boiled in oil!"

"I am of the second Octavii," said Tolnar. "My colleague is of the Toratti."

"Then you may be scourged and beheaded, or impaled!" she wept.

"You would have us neglect our duty?" inquired Tolnar. He was Gorean, of course. "In this case," she snapped, "you are well advised to do so."

"That is quite possibly true," said Tolnar.

"The principle here, I gather," said Marcus, "is that the Ubara is above the law."

"The law in question is a serious one," said Tolnar. "It was promulgated by Marlenus, Ubar of Ubars."

"Surely," said Venlisius to the netted woman, "you do not put yourself on a level with the great Marlenus."

"It does not matter who is greater," she said. "I am Ubara!"

"The Ubara is above the law?" inquired Marcus, who had an interest in such things.

"In a sense, yes," said Tolnar, "the sense in which she can change the law by decree."

"But she is subject to the law unless she chooses to change it?" asked Marcus. "Precisely," said Tolnar. "And that is the point here."

"Whatever law it is," cried the netted woman, "I change it! I herewith change it!"

"How can you change it?" asked Tolnar.

"I am Ubara!" she said.

"You were Ubara," he said.

She cried out in misery, in frustration, in the net.

"Interesting," said Marcus.

"Release me!" demanded the woman.

"Do you think we are fond of she who was once Talena," asked Tolnar, "of she who betrayed Ar, and collaborated with her enemies?"

"Release me, if you value your lives!" she cried. "Seremides will wish me free! So, too, will Myron! So, too, will Lurius of Had!"

"But we have taken an oath to uphold the laws of Ar," said Tolnar.

"Free me!" she said.

"You would have us compromise our honor?" said Tolnar.

"I order you to do so," she said.

Tolnar smiled.

"Why do you smile?" she asked.

"How can a slave order a free person to do anything?" he asked.

"A slave!" she cried. "How dare you!"

"You are taken into bondage," said Tolnar, "under the couching laws of Marlenus of Ar. Any free woman who couches with, or prepares to couch with, a male slave, becomes herself a slave, and the property of the male slave's master."

"I, property!" she cried.

"Yes," said Tolnar.

"Absurd!" she said.

"Not at all," he said. "It is, I assure you, all quite legal."

"Proceed then with your farce!" she cried. "I know Appanius well, and his position in this city is much dependent upon my support! Have I not freed him of numerous burdens? Have I not adjusted his taxes? Have I not spared his house, and those of other favorites, the exactions of the levies?"

"You acknowledge, then," said Tolnar, "that you are a slave?"

"Yes," she said, angrily. "I am a slave! Now, summon Appanius, immediately, that I may be promptly freed! Then you will see to what fates I shall consign you!"

"But what if Appanius wishes you as a slave?" asked Marcus.

She laughed. "I see you do not know our dear Appanius," she said. "The most he would want from a woman would be to have her do his cleaning and scrub his floors!"

"But what if that is precisely what he has in mind for you?" asked Tolnar. She turned white.

"Doubtless she would look well, performing lowly labors in chains," said Marcus. "Perhaps, unknown to you," said Tolnar, "Appanius is a patriot."

"Never!" she said. "Bring him here!"

"What if he would keep you in his house as a slave?" asked Marcus.

"Perhaps you think you could make your former identity known," said Tolnar. "That might be amusing."

"Amusing?" she asked.

"Who would believe you had been Talena, the Ubara of Ar?" asked Tolnar.

"More likely," said Venlisius, "you would be whipped, as a mad slave."

"While," said Tolnar, "another woman, suitably coached, and veiled, would take your place in the Central Cylinder. From the point of view of the public, things would be much the same."

"Bring Appanius here!" she cried. "I know him. I can speak with him. I can make him see, I assure you, that is to his advantage! This is, all some preposterous mistake. Free me! This is all some terrible misunderstanding! Bring Appanius here! I demand it!"

"But what has Appanius to do with this?" asked Tolnar.

"I do not understand," said the woman.

Tolnar regarded her.

"He has everything to do with it," she said. "He is Milo's master!"

"No," said Tolnar.

The prisoner turned her head about, not easily, in the net. "Appanius is your master!" she said to Milo.

"No," he said.

"Yes!" she cried. "He is your master. He is also the master of that short-haired slut!"

"No!" said Lavinia.

"You did not call me "Mistress'," Said the prisoner.

"Why should I" asked Lavinia.

"It is true that you belong to the master of Milo," said Tolnar, "But it is false that the master of Milo is Appanius."

"To whom, then, do I belong?" she asked, aghast.

"Let the papers be prepared, and the measurements, and prints, taken," said Tolnar.

"Yes, Tolnar," said Venlisius.

"Papers! Measurements! Prints!" she protested.

"I think you can understand," said Tolnar, "that in a case such as this, such documentation, guarantees and precautions are not out of order."

"No! No!" she cried.

Tolnar and Venlisius put their wands of office to the side and went to the back room, to obtain the necessary papers and materials.

"You!" cried the prisoner, looking at Marcus. "It is then you to whom I belong!" He merely regarded her.

"Who are you?" she cried.

"It does not matter," he said.

"I will buy my freedom!" she said. "I will give you a thousand pieces of gold! Two thousand! Ten thousand! Name your price!"

"But you have nothing," he said. "No more than a kaiila, or sleen."

"Contact Seremides!" she said. "Contact Myron, polemarkos of Temos! They will arrange my ransom."

"Ransom or price?" asked Marcus.

"Price!" she said, angrily.

"But you are not, as of this moment, for sale," he said.

"Sleen!" she wept. She struggled but I, behind her, kept her well in place. At this point Tolnar and Venlisius reentered the room and, in a few moments, were in the process of filling out the papers. These included an extremely complete description of the woman, exact even to details such as the structure of her ear lobes. Tolnar then, with a graduated tape, reaching in and about the net, and moving the woman as necessary, took a large number of measurements, these being recorded by Venlisius. Additional measurements were taken with other instruments, such as a caliper. With these were recorded such data as the width and length of fingers and toes, the width of her heels, the lovely tiny distance between her nostrils, and so on. The result of this examination, of course, was to produce a network of date which, to a statistical certainty, far beyond the requirements of law, would be unique to a given female. Then, one hand at a time, pulled a bit from the net, then reinserted in it, her fingerprints were taken. Following this, her toeprints were taken. Then, the woman shaken, tears on the furs, was again fully within the net, on her belly. Her fingers and toes were dark with ink, from the taking of the prints. I had taken care, behind her, holding her, and such, to see that she had not seen me.

"You will never get me out of the city!" she said, suddenly, to Marcus.

"Do you really think it would be difficult," he asked her, "gagged, hooded, perhaps in a slave sack?"

"Already the alarm may be out for me!" she said to him.

"I have not heard the alarm bars," he said.

"Do not be naA?ve," she said. "Even now, a secret alarm, a silent alarm, may be out. Even now guardsmen may be turning Ar upside down, looking for me."

"If you have planned your putative dalliance as well as you would have led us to believe," he said, "I doubt that you have even been missed. Indeed, perhaps you will not be missed until morning!"

She moaned.

"Thus, we would have plenty of time to get you out of the city, as merely another slave. If we have a tarn waiting, you could be a hundred pasangs from here by nightfall, in any direction, and by morning, with a new tarn, five hundred pasangs from there, in any direction, and in another day, who knows?" She lifted her head with difficulty in the net, to look at him. His face was stern. She put down her head, frightened, lying on her left cheek.

"But perhaps," said he, "we have no intention of taking you from the city."

"What?" she said, frightened, lifting her head again, with difficulty regarding him. Her eyes went to the dagger at his belt. His fingers were upon it. "No!" she said. "Surely you are not assassins!"

He merely looked at her, his hands on the hilt of the dagger.

"Surely you do not intend to kill me!" she cried.

He regarded her, not speaking.

"Do not kill me!" she wept. It was not irrational on her part, of course, to fear an assassination plot. Even if she believed herself generally popular within the city, perhaps even much loved within it, she would realize that these sentiments might not be universal. For example, the increasing resistance to Cosian rule in the city, the growing insurgency, the actions of the Delta Brigade, would surely have given her cause for apprehension, if not genuine alarm. "Surely," she said, "I have not become a slave, simply to be slain?" He did not speak.

"Do not kill me!" she begged. It must have been painful for her to hold her head up, as she was, on her belly, in the furs, in the net, to look at Marcus. He did not speak.

"Please do not kill me," she wept, "a€”Master!"

"I am not your master," he said.

She looked at him, wildly. "Who, then," she said, "is my master?"

"I am," I said.

I seized her by the upper arms, from behind, and half lifting her, pulled her up, and back, to her knees, tangled in the net. She turned wildly in the net, to see me over her right shoulder, and our eyes met, and she recognized me, and she gasped, and half cried out, and then I had to hold her on her knees, as she had fainted. I lowered her to the furs. I then threw the bracelets with the linked shackles on the furs to her left. I then removed her, carefully, from the net. Then, in a moment, she was in the bracelets, back-braceleted, with her ankles, shackled, pulled up, and back, attached by a short chain to the linkage of the bracelets.

"I shall sign the papers," I said to Tolnar.

"And I shall stamp, and certify them," he said.