Renegades of Gor

8 I Take my Leave of the Crooked Tarn

I strode to the tarncot.

I did not think I would have much time to waste. I now wore the blue of Cos, the uniform of one of the company of Artemidorus, and carried the blue helmet, these things having been removed from the peg in the outer room of the baths. I smote on the gate of the tarncot.

My pack was on my back.

There was only one tarn in the cot, obviously a warrior's mount.

An attendant emerged from a shed to the side.

A wagon moved by, to the left. The tharlarion stables were in that direction. Folks were up, and stirring. I glanced up, to my right, at the high shedlike structure which would shelter the tarn beacon. It was not lit now, of course. The inn's tarn gate, as I stood, within the inn's grounds, was to its right. In this way, as one would approach the inn on tarnback, from outside the grounds, the gate would be on its left.

"Ready the bird," I ordered.

It seemed he might hesitate a moment, but he took in my appearance, the blue of Cos, the insignia of the mercenaries of Artemidorus, the helmet, my weapons, indeed, two swords.

"Now," I said.

He scurried back into the shed, where, doubtless, the burly fellow's gear was stored, the saddle, tarn harness, and such. I think he did not wish to delay one of the company of Artemidorus. Perhaps he had done so before, to his sorrow.

I looked back, towards the main building. I could see only normal signs of activity.

The great sign, on its chains, hanging from the supported, horizontal beam on the huge pole was quiet now. Some wagons were leaving. The world about smelled fresh and clean from the rain. There were puddles here and there on the stone flooring of the inn yard, itself leveled from the living rock of the plateau. The attendant now came forth from the shed. He had the saddle, the cloth and other gear over his shoulder.

"I trust the tarn gate is open," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"Good," I said.

"Obviously I was in a hurry. He was doubtless accustomed to impatient guests. On the other hand he would presumably not suspect in how great a hurry I actually was.

He then entered the cot, to ready the bird.

I went about the shed and cot, and crossed the yard, moving between buildings. I wanted to make certain that the gate was indeed open. It was. It had not been opened to facilitate my departure, of course, but, as a matter of course, during the day, for the convenience of new arrivals. The two parts, or leaves, of the gate, within their supporting framework, of course, opened inward. They were now fastened back. In opening, they swung back across the landing platform, which was a foot or two above the level of the height of the palisade. An extension of this platform, retractable when the gate was closed, and probably braced with hinged, diagonal drop supports, would extend beyond the palisade. There was a ramp leading up to the platform on the inside, on the right. The leaves of the gate were very large, each being some thirty feet in height and some twenty-five feet in width. They were light, however, for their size, as they consist mostly of frames supporting wire. Whereas these dimensions permit ordinary saddle tarns, war tarns, and such, an entry in flight, the landing platform is generally used. It is always used, of course, by draft tarns carrying tarn baskets. The draft tarn makes a hovering landing. As soon as it senses the basket touch the ground it alights to one side. The sloping ramp, of course, makes it easy to take the tarn basket, on its leather runners, no longer harnessed to the tarn, down to the yard. It is also convenient for discharging passengers, handling baggage, and such.

Not all tarn gates have this particular construction. In another common construction the two parts, or leaves, of the gate, within their supporting framework, lean back, at an angle of some twenty degrees. They are then slid back, in a frame, on rollers, each to its own side. This gives the effect of a door, opening to the sky. The structure supporting the gate, in such a case, with its beams, platforms, catwalks and mastlike timbers, is very sturdy. Narrow ladders, too, ascend it here and there, leading to its catwalks and platforms. Such a construction, of course, requires the more time-consuming, hovering landing of all birds, not simply draft tarns, carrying tarn baskets. It does, however, make the landing platform unnecessary. The construction of the Crooked Tarn, incidentally, was more typical of a military installation, in that it permitted the more rapid development and return of tarnsmen, coupled with the capacity to open and close the tarn gate in a matter of Ihn. The tarn gate's construction here suggested that the Crooked Tarn might not always have served as an inn. Probably at one time or another, before the founding of Ar's Station, it had served to garrison troops, perhaps concerned to monitor the more northern reaches of the Vosk Road. This was suggested, too, by its distance from the Vosk, which was approximately one hundred pasangs. The ordinary one-day march of the Gorean infantryman on a military road is thirty-five pasangs. The Crooked tarn, then, was almost exactly three days march from the river.

I loosened my blade in my scabbard and returned to the vicinity of the tarncot. The tarn was ready.

It was within the cot, tearing at a piece of meat, a haunch of tarsk, hung from a rope. The rope was some two inches thick. The suspension of the meat reminded me of the way peasant women sometimes cook roasts, tying them in a cord and dangling them before the fire, then spinning the meat from time to time. In this way, given the twisting and untwisting of the cord, the meat will cook rather evenly, for the most part untended, and without spit turning. The rope then, drawn tightly as it was, so tautly, so fiercely, toward the tarn, suddenly, a foot or so above the meat, snapped. The tarn then had the meat and the lower portion of the rope on the ground, the meat grasped in his talons, tearing it away from the bone.

I spun suddenly about, the sword half drawn.

The girl stopped, extremely frightened.

She put her hand before her mouth, the back of her hand toward her face. She stepped back, faltering, frightened.

She was slim, and extremely dark-haired, and very white-skinned. Her hair was drawn back behind her head and tied there with a yellow cord. Her breasts were bared. A black cord was knotted about her waist. Tucked over this cord in front was a long strip, some seven inches wide, of heavy, opaque, yellow cloth. It then passed under her body and was pulled up, snugly, and thrust over the cord in the back. The front and back ends of this cloth hung evenly, and fell about midway between her knees and ankles. the effect was much like that of the curla and charka, a portion of the garmenture, or livery, in which the wagon peoples of the south place most of their female slaves, save that the curla, the cord, was black and not red, and the chatka, the strip, was of cloth and yellow, not of black leather. She had nothing corresponding, of course, to the kalmak, or southern slave's brief, open vest of black leather, and the cord binding her hair was quite different from the koora, the red band of cloth commonly used to confine the hair of the southern slave. In all then, since she wore cloth and not leather, and less than the southern slave, her appearance, if anything, was even more slavelike than hers.

"Why are you not kneeling, I asked her, "and with your knees spread?" she was, after all, in the presence of a free man. Too, clad as she was, I assumed she must be a pleasure slave. Such kneel before men in the open-kneed position. She sank to her knees on the stone, and hastily spread them. The cloth looked well, fallen between her thighs, on the damp stone.

I looked upon her.

She was now in a position of subservience and respect, suitable for a woman before a man. I replaced the blade in the sheath.

She looked up at me, frightened.

I regarded her.

She had a beautiful face, exquisitely and sensitively feminine.

She lowered her eyes before my gaze.

She was slimly beautiful.

I regarded her garbing. It did afford her a nether closure, but it was, at least, a precarious one. In compensation it well bared her thighs.

"Are you frightened?" I asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

It seemed to me, interestingly enough, if I did not misread the matter, that she was extremely sensitive to, and timid concerning, the revealing nature of her garbing. I had the feeling, based on certain expressions and tiny movements, that she more than once resisted the impulse to huddle before me, her head down, covering herself with her hands. But she remained much as she was. Indeed, she even straightened herself, and lifted her body before me, timidly, as if for my consideration.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

It seemed she wanted to speak, but lacked the courage to do so.

"What is that in your hand?" I asked. She had something clutched in her right hand.

She opened her hand, holding it out a little, that I might see what she held. There, in the palm of her right hand, was a small sack, bulging, seemingly weighty for its size, from the look of it, a sack of coins. It was leather. It had strings.

"Move your hand," I said.

She did so.

"I see now why you were so frightened," I said. "You have stolen a sack of coins."

"No, no!" she said.

"Many masters," I said, "do not permit a slave to so much as touch money. To be sure, they might let her carry coins in an errand capsule, or an errand sack, tied about her neck, instructions to a vendor perhaps also contained within it, her hands braceleted behind her."

She looked up, frightened.

"And few masters, indeed, I assure you," I said, "even if so lenient as to let her venture to a market with a coin or two in her mouth, on a specific errand, would permit her to scamper about with a trove such as that which now seems to be in your keeping."

"You do not understand, she said.

"Kneel more straightly," I said.

She complied. I viewed her. I wondered what her master had paid for her. Probably a goodly price. She was worth such.

"How did you expect to escape the palisade?" I asked.

She looked at me, agonized.

"Were you approaching me, intentionally? I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"It was your intention, I gather," I said, "to attempt to bribe me, that I might abet your escape."

Tears sprang into her eyes.

"But do you think I would do other then to carry you into my own chains?" She trembled. She clutched the tiny sack.

"You have been caught," I said. "You are a caught slave. I will now turn you over to an attendant, for binding and holding, pending what punishments your master might see fit to visit upon you."

"You do not understand," she whispered.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The coins are mine," she said.

"Surely you are an inn girl," I said, "though your collar is now off. "I do not have a collar, she said.

"That is surely an incredible oversight on the part of your master," I said. "I do not have a master, she whispered.

I looked at her, puzzled, such a woman.

"Am I truly pretty enough to be an inn girl? she said.

"Of course," I said, "and a superb one."

She looked up at me, elatedly, gratefully.

"Who is your master?" I asked.

"I do not have a master," she repeated.

"Do you seek to compound your crime with deceit," I said. "I am not a slave," she whispered. "I am a free woman. Oh!" I had seized her, half lifted her, and turned her from side to side, examining her slim, attractive thighs for the tiny brand which would confirm the matter. The most common brand sites, that on the left thigh, the favorite, and that on the right thigh, lacked slave marks. This determination, given the nature of her garmenture, could be instantly made. I then put her on her feet. "Oh! she said. She was not branded on the lower left abdomen. That is perhaps the third most favored brand site. I then checked several other brand sites, such as the insides of the forearms, the left side of the neck, behind and below the left ear, the backs of her legs, and her buttocks. I even examined the insteps of her left and right feet. Her body was not branded.

"I am a free woman," she said, so rudely handled.

"It seems you have not yet been branded," I said.

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

This did not seem to me possible, of course, clad as she was, in this place. "Do you not recognize me?" she asked.

"On your knees," I said.

Swiftly, she knelt.

"Don't you recognize me?" she asked.

I looked at her, puzzled. To be sure, something about her seemed familiar. "Crouch before me," she said.

I did so.

She put her hands before her face, the strings of the sack looped twice now about her left wrist. As she held her hands before her, rather to the bridge of the nose, they concealed the lower portions of her face, much as would a veil. "Ah!" I said. It was not so much at first, however, that I recalled her upper facial features, as hey would have appeared over the veil, if only because it had been very dark in the upper level when I had sought my space last night, as I recalled immediately, vividly, the appearance and positioning of her small hands. The small palms of them, with their delicate, extremely sensitive, exposed openness, faced outwards. It was in this way that I first realized who she was. During the night she had perhaps realized what she had done. Perhaps, then, she had sobbed with shame. Yet now, in the morning, presumably by now fully aware of what she was doing, she dared to again so hold her hands before a man. Even last night, once she must have realized how her hands were positioned, I recalled she had not quickly, shamed, turned them about, presenting their backs to me. One expects a Gorean woman, attempting to conceal her features from a man, to place her hands, cuplike, over her nose and mouth. As I have indicated, the lips and mouth of a female are commonly regarded as extremely sensuous features to a Gorean, hence the concern of many free women, particularly of high caste, in the high cities, to conceal them. A simple way to uncup the woman's hands is to take the small finger of her left hand in your right hand and pull that hand to the side, and then take the small finger of the right hand in your left hand, and pull that, too, to the side. This opens the barrier and reveals the mouth and lips of the woman to you. In this case, however, as she held her hands, with the palms facing me, I simply took her wrists and, gently, drew them apart. This exposed her lips and mouth to me. Her lips were slightly parted. She was breathing quickly.

"I remember," I said. Last night I had face-stripped her, before gagging her with her own veil. It had been very dark on the level last night, with only the tiny lamps far to the side and back, but I could see now, upon close examination, that it was indeed the same woman.

"You gagged me," she said. "You made it so that your will was imposed upon mine. I could not cry out or speak. You did not choose to permit it."

I nodded.

"And you tied me!" she said.

"Of course," I said. I had done so with her stockings, hand and foot. She looked at me, with awe in her eyes. Perhaps she had never been tied before. I considered her beauty. It seemed made for rope, and steel and leather. "Did you manage to free yourself?" I asked. I was curious to hear what she would respond.

"No," she said. "I was absolutely helpless. I could not begin to free myself. I was freed by an itinerant metal worker."

"I see," I said. "You knew I could not free myself!" she said, suddenly, reproachfully. "Yes, I said.

She shuddered. "Are slaves sometimes bound like that?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I said.

"You cut apart my clothing, and removed the hooks and fastenings from it," she said. "Yet you did not strip me. You left it lying upon me in such a way that my modesty might be protected. You even covered my head and face with my hoot, that I might not lie there face-stripped. Thank you."

I nodded.

"To be sure," she said, "the hood in such a placement functioned almost like a slave hood."

"True," I said.

"If I did not move I could not see," she said, "and if I did move I might well face-strip myself."

"The choice was yours," I said.

"And if I had as much as squirmed," she said, "I would have stripped myself." "Again," I said, "the choice was yours."

"As I am a free woman," she asked.

"Of course," I said.

"Had I been a slave girl," she said, "I gather I would not have had such choices."

"Probably not," I said. "The slave girl, normally, stays simply as men put her, for example, in such a case, presumably naked and bound."

"After you disarmed me, and made me helpless, what did you do with my dagger?" she asked.

"I destroyed it," I said, "and threw it out."

She nodded.

"Do you object?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"It could have gotten you killed," I said.

"I realize that now," she said. "It was terribly foolish to carry it." "True," I said.

"Beyond such matters," she said, "I should not have had such a thing. It was pretentious and wrong of me to have had it." "Perhaps you will avoid such mistakes in the future," I said. "I will," she said.

A woman's defenses are not steel, but such things as her helplessness and vulnerability, and her capacity to give astounding pleasure.

I stood up.

I glanced into the tarncot. The bird was finishing the meat, that which had earlier been suspended on the rope.

The attendant was near it, his hand on the harness.

I glanced back at the woman.

"I left you an amplitude of garments," I said, "though they would have to be redone, or resewn. They could, at least, have been clutched about you. How is it then, that you are dressed as you are?"

"It is appropriate for me," she said, "that I should have this to wear, or such things, or less, or perhaps nothing."

I did not respond.

She lowered her eyes. She seemed terribly embarrassed. Doubtless she was extremely sensitive about her degree of exposure. Yet she had herself arranged it so. She was extremely white-skinned. Doubtless this was in major part because she was very lightly complexioned genetically, but it was, too, in part, doubtless, because she would have commonly worn the ornate, heavy, stiff, cumbersome robes of concealment affected by most well-to-do Gorean women. The contrast between the robes of concealment and her present revelatory vestiture, more suitable for a property girl, must be particularly, and shockingly, dramatic to her, who knew her own antecedents and station. She must now be experiencing a wealth of new sensations, for example, kneeling on damp stone, and feeling the air upon her body.

I looked into the tarncot. The tarn was finished feeding now, and was being watered. The bone which had been within the meat lay to one side, with a tatter of rope, amidst straw. It was deeply scratched and furrowed. The bird thrust its beak into a tall, narrow vessel. It would draw water into that dreadful recess. It would then put its head back. Then, shaking its head, it would hasten the water down its throat.

"Ah," I said, suddenly bethinking myself of properties, "though you are a free woman I have you on your knees before me, as though you might be a slave. How rude! How boorish of me! I am sorry. Forgive me, Lady." I hastened to lift her to her feet.

"No," she said, quickly, again, frightened, kneeling.

I stepped back, puzzled.

"It is here that I belong," she said, "on my knees, before a man such as you." "I do not understand," I said.

"You disarmed me," she said. "You gagged me. You made me helpless, putting me in a trussing suitable for a slave. You pulled my hood down about my face. You made it so I could not see without risking my own face-stripping. You made my garments such that they were mere covers, strips and pieces, such that I dared not move, lest I be lying naked in a public place, such, too, that they might be lifted from me at a man's pleasure."

"I had not found you pleasing," I explained to her.

"It is my hope that in the future," she said, "I may be found more pleasing." "The tarn is ready," said the attendant. He led it from the cot, it stalking beside him, its head moving about, its eyes round, bright and sharp.

The woman, at the sight of the bird, shrank back, frightened.

"Farewell, free woman," I said.

"No," she said. "Please!"

"Take it to the tarn gate," I said. It was there that I should mount. "Please!" said the free woman.

The attendant led the bird about the cot and shed, toward the tarn gate. I followed him. There he led the bird up the ramp to the landing platform. Again I followed him. From this height I could see the countryside for pasangs about. The air was exhilarating. The tarn was excited. It opened its wings. The beams of the platform were very sturdy. The attendant untied the mounting ladder at the saddle.

I think it must have taken the girl great courage to follow me up the ramp, onto the landing platform, in the vicinity of that winged monster.

When I turned about, to regard her, she knelt swiftly, spreading her knees. It was in this fashion that I had had her kneel earlier, in the inn yard, before me, when I had assumed she was slave.

"Farewell," I said.

"No," she said. "Take me with you!"

"What?" I said.

"I have sold my things," she said. " I have now no more than what you see upon me, two slender black cords, and a strip of yellow cloth, and these coins!" She held them out.

"The purse is heavy," I said. "Buy what you need with it."

"I will give you them all," she said. "Take me with you!"

"I do not understand," I said.

"You have conquered me," she said. "You have taught me that I am a female!" I regarded her. She did look well on her knees.

"Oh, this did not just happen," she said. "I have known this about myself for years. I fought it for years. And now I surrender!"

"Completely, and without reservation?" I inquired.

"Yes!" she said. "Yes!"

"I see," I said.

"I am tired of living a lie," she said. "I am feminine, truly." "I see," I said.

"I belong to men such as you," she said.

That did not seem to me unlikely.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I am Phoebe, Lady of Telnus," she said.

I smiled inwardly. Cosian beauties make excellent slaves. They are not unusual in Port Kar.

"That is a pretty name," I said.

"Take me with you!" she said. "I will pay!"

"In the direction I ride," I said, "there lies danger."

"I accept the risks," she said.

"Even as you are?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "yes!"

To be sure, the risks were doubtless less for women than for men, for the dangers would threaten primarily from men, and men would know what to do with women. Perhaps the worst that might happen to her would be that she would find herself in the chains of a slave, and laboring, under whips, as a female beast of burden. To be sure, she did face danger, as she was free. Free women, being persons, are far more likely to be killed then slaves, who are animals. Sackers, for example, particularly when the blood lust has passed from them, would not be likely to slay slaves, assuming they are docile and desperately concerned to be totally pleasing, any more than kaiila. They would simply appropriate them for their own.

"I do not need a slave at present," I said. Such did not accord with the first portion of my plan for entering Ar's Station.

"Take me as your servant," she begged.

"My servant?" I asked, looking upon the slim, kneeling, half-naked beauty. "Yes!" she said.

"The tarn is ready," said the attendant.

"I beg female fulfillment!" she said.

"You will not receive full female fulfillment as a mere servant," I said. Such is not totally owned.

"Take me then as a slave!" she said.

"I do not need a slave at present," I said.

"Take me then as a servant," she said. She held out the coins. "I will pay you to do so."

I considered her, her needs, her beauty, her desperation.

"And if I server well," she said, "perhaps later I will prove worthy of the collar.

She lifted the coins higher, pleadingly.

"What sort of servant is it which you wish to be?" I asked.

"Whatever sort of servant you desire," she said.

"A service without restriction, or reservation?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "such a servant!"

"A full servant?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "a full servant!"

"It is only as such a servant that I would consider taking you," I said. "Take me as a full servant," she said.

"In whose name do you ask this?" I asked.

"In the name of all women such as I, and all men such as you," she said. "You are but a hair's breadth from slavery," I said.

"It is my hope that you will eventually permit me to traverse that hair's breath," she said.

The tarn opened and closed its wings, and she lowered her head, turning it to the side, and shrank down, frightened, cringing, so low that her head was but inches from the ground. She was terrified of the bird.

I considered the mounting ladder.

"Take me with you," she begged, lifting her head.

I saw the desperation in her.

"I want to be myself," she said, "what I really am!"

"Do you know what you are asking?" I asked.

She shuddered.

"Where I am going," I said, "men do not compromise with females." She looked up at me, trembling.

"And clad as you are," I said, "I assure you men will see you as a female." "It is what I am," she said.

"Do you understand the nature of such men?" I asked.

"I do not desire a relationship with any other sort of man, she said. "Such men prefer slaves," I said.

"I will serve them as such!" she said.

The tarn moved again, shifting about, and she cried out, frightened, again shrinking small.

How terrified she was of the tarn!

She was very beautiful, so slim and piteous, kneeling on the heavy beams of the platform.

"No slave need I now," I said.

"Take me then now only as your servant, she said.

"My full servant?" I smiled.

"Yes," she said. "Then afterwards do with me what you will."

"You tempt me," I said. "You are a beautiful female, one worthy to be sold from a slave block."

"Let me buy my servitude," she said.

"I hesitate to carry a free woman into danger," I said.

"You would surely hesitate less," she said, "if I were a captive, or servant." "True," I said. "Them," said she, lifting the coins, "let me buy my captivity, and servitude."

I took the coins from her, and out them in my pouch. "Stand," I said. "Put your head back. Open your mouth, widely."

I determined in a moment or two that she was not concealing any small coins or tiny jewels in her nostrils, her ears, her hair or mouth. I then conducted her by the arm to the side of the threshold of the tarn gate and stood her there, her feet well back, her arms extended, the palms of her hands leaning against the wood. There was nothing concealed beneath her arms, as was easy to determine, she in this position. I lifted her feet one at a time, checking the insteps and between the toes for any taped materials. I then examined the rest of her body. "Oh!" she said. "Oh!" I then pulled the cloth up again, snugly, as it had been. I then pulled her back from the side of the gate, standing her again on her feet.

She looked up at me, reproachfully.

"it would appear that you are coinless," I said.

"I am," she said.

"Put out your hands," I said.

She did so, and cried out, suddenly, startled, as slave bracelets danced upon her wrists.

She lifted her wrists before her, as if not understanding how they could be so suddenly clasped in steel.

"You are now my captive," I told her, "and I am going to keep you, for a time, though for perhaps no more than a few Ehn, as merely my servant, though a full servant. At the end of that time, however long I choose for it to be, I will do with you as I wish, perhaps making you a slave, perhaps giving you to another, perhaps selling you into slavery, whatever I please."

She looked at me, frightened.

"Do you understand?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

I then thrust her, not gently, toward the tarn, until she stood near the foot of the mounting ladder, it dangling from the saddle.

There, in the proximity of the winged giant, she trembled.

"Hold still," I said. I then, with a piece of scarflike cloth taken from my pouch, a wind veil, sometimes bound across the mouth and nostrils of a tarnsman, usually at high altitudes, blindfolded her. A great many women, particularly the most sensitive and intelligent among them, fear tarns greatly. It is not unusual for them to become hysterical in their vicinity. It is not uncommon then for the tarnsman to hood or blindfold them. This aids in their control and management. Too, of course, if the woman is a captive, or slave, one may not wish her to understand where she is, or be able to retrace her route, or know where she is being taken. It is enough for her to know, when the blindfold or hood is removed, that she is in perfect custody. Sometimes a woman does not learn for weeks, sometimes until, say, the very night of her sale, where she is, in what city she finds herself.

"I can't see!" she said.

"That is the purpose of a blindfold," I said.

"You could punish me, couldn't you?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"And you would, wouldn't you?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

I then put her on my shoulder, her head to the rear, as a slave is carried, and mounted the ladder. I put her before me on the saddle. She grasped the pommel desperately. At the sides of the saddle there are various rings, and straps, which may be used in fastening things to it, or across it. Needless to say, such may be used to fasten females in place. Lady Phoebe of Telnus was, of course, a free woman, and though she was a capture, in a sense, she had a special status with me. I did not, thus, throw her across the saddle, on her belly, or back, fastening her there in utter helplessness as I might have a common capture. I did, however, loop a left strap about her right wrist, and tie it back to its ring, and loop a right strap on her right wrist, tying it back to its ring. In this way, as she wore slave bracelets, although she might slip, she could not fall, and her hands would be kept in the vicinity of the pommel. I then put the safety strap about myself, and buckled it shut.

Once before, long ago, in the vicinity of the city of Ar, I had been lax in doing that. It had been fortunate that I had survived. It was a precaution which, if time permitted, I had seldom neglected thereafter. I thought of lithe, sinuous, olive-skinned Talena, the daughter of Marlenus of Ar until disowned, she having given evidence that she was a slave. After she had been returned to Ar by Samos, of Port Kar, into whose chains she had fallen, Marlenus, shamed, had had her sequestered, in the Central Cylinder. Now, in his absence, he having vanished in the Voltai Mountains, on a punitive raid against the tarnsmen of Treve, it seemed her fortunes were recovering. She had appeared at public functions. Her palanquin was now again seen abroad in the streets. Doubtless she was once again becoming proud and haughty. I had not seen the slave in her. On the other hand, Rask of Treve, and others, had. I, too, now, I suspected, might be more perceptive. Though she had been the daughter of a Ubar, and now, again, it seemed, stood high in Ar, she was, after all, only a female. I wondered what she might look like, naked and in chains, or writhing at my feet, trying to interest me.

"Oh!" said Lady Phoebe, softly.

"You are slim," I said, "but you are well curved."

"Thank you," she said.

"It is pleasant to caress you," I said.

She was silent.

"Do you object?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I am a full servant," she said.

Her body was unusually sensitive for that of a free woman. It was not slave, of course, but then she was not a slave. Such transformation in her, of course, might easily come with the collar, and discipline.

I again, briefly, considered the proud, haughty Talena, who had been the daughter of a Ubar, and who now, again, it seemed, stood high in Ar. Yes, she would, I thought, considering the matter carefully, look well in chains, or writhing at my feet, trying to interest me. Too, I recalled she had been contemptuous of me, and haughty and cruel to me, in Port Kar, scorning even the memory of my love, when I had been paralyzed, helpless to move from a chair, the victim of the poison of Sullius Maximus, once one of the five Ubars of Port Kar, before the Sovereignty of the Council of Captains. I wondered if she thought that I was still in Port Kar, perhaps huddled before a fire in that same chair, an invalid, its prisoner. But I had recovered, fully, receiving even the antidote for the poison of Torvaldsland. I suspected, however, she might have seen me from her palanquin in Ar. The following night an attempt had been made on my life in the Tunnels, one of the slave brothels of Ludmilla, from which the street called the Alley of the Slave Brothels of Ludmilla is named. Too, I had seen evidence near Brundisium that she was guilty of treason against Ar.

"Oh!" said Lady Phoebe.

"Ah, yes, Talena, I thought. Yes, I thought, now, upon reflection, that there had been a slave in her. Perhaps I had been a fool to let it get away. Yes, she might make an interesting slave, perhaps a low slave. Then I dismissed thoughts of her from my mind.

"Ohh!" gasped Lady Phoebe, crying out in the blindfold, squirming on the saddle before me. I heard the tiny sounds of the linkage of the slave bracelets. Her white thighs contrasted nicely with the smooth, dark, glossy leather. Sometimes they were flattened against the leather, as though gripping it for dear life, and, at other times, they rubbed, and squirmed, and moved helplessly, piteously, against it. I considered the glossiness of the saddle leather. I did not think she was the first woman who had been carried on it, or so handled. Her knees suddenly bent and she almost climbed up, about the pommel. I wondered if I should have fastened her ankles to rings, holding her thighs down and apart, on the saddle, forcing her to endure the sensations, for the most part relieflessly, within physical-restraint limits of my choosing.

"Oh, ohh," she Lady Phoebe.

"Be silent," I said to her.

"You have stopped!" she whispered.

"Be silent," I said. Had she been a slave, and not a free woman, this causing of the repetition of a command might have earned her a beating.

The attendant looked about. There was the sound of some commotion coming from the vicinity of the court.

"Here, my good fellow," I said to him.

"My thank, tarnsman!" he cried, not having expected a gratuity of such size. I was reasonably confident as to what the commotion might well be about, and so I thought I might as well take my leave of the Crooked Tarn. "You are generous, indeed, tarnsman," said the attendant, backing away now. It would scarcely do to be struck or swept from the platform to the moat some seventy or eighty feet below, particularly as one had just made an entire silver tarsk. Giving such a coin, of course, was, in its way, I suppose, a bit of braggadocio on my part, something of a gesture or flourish. On the other hand, I would not really miss it that much as I had extracted it from among the coins I had taken from the wallet of the fellow I had left in the tub, in the baths, the burly fellow who was of the company of Artemidorus.

I drew up the mounting ladder and secured it at the side of the saddle. The shouting, angry shouts, a tumult almost, was clearer now. Four or five fellows must have been involved. There were, too, if I am not mistaken, the sounds of blows, or, at least, sudden grunts and cries of pain.

I moved the harness, drawing the straps evenly, and the bird, anticipatory, alerted, stalked to the front edge of the landing platform, outside the portal of the tarn gate. From such a platform the bird, with a single snap of its wings, addressing itself to flight, is immediately airborne.

"Hold tightly," I told my servant.

She moaned. She clutched the pommel with all her strength.

"There is a fellow back there," said the attendant. "He is naked! He is fighting!"

"Oh?" I said.

"Yes!" he said.

"Interesting," I said.

"He has probably not paid his bills, and is trying to escape," speculated the attendant. To be sure, he did not seem eager to rush down and join the fray. "Disgusting," I said.

I myself had paid my bills properly before leaving the Crooked Tarn. It is the thing to do. Inns, after all, if no one paid their bills, would have a difficult time making a go of it. It is not really practical to hold every fellow for ransom, or, every lady for redemption. This is not to deny that some outlying Gorean inns, particularly where female travelers are concerned, function as little more than slave traps, an arrangement usually being in effect with a local slaver.

"He seems to be trying to come in this direction," said the attendant. "Interesting," I said.

If the fellow was really trying to escape without paying his bills, and this was a peculiar direction for him to be coming if that was the case, then I could hardly blame him. The prices at the Crooked Tarn were indeed outrageous. My own bill, for example, all told, had come to nineteen copper tarsks, and a tarsk bit, the latter for the use of the Lady Temione last night. The itemization of that bill, frightful to contemplate, had been ten for lodging, two for the bath and supplies, two for blankets, five for bread, paga and porridge, and the tarsk bit for the use of the Lady Temione, the only particular on the bill which might have been argued as within reason. I had done without breakfast this morning primarily to save time, but it could also have been done, and I think legitimately, in protest over the prices of the Crooked Tarn. Fortunately I had some dried tarsk strips in my pack. I did not know if the Lady Phoebe would find these appealing or not but she would learn to eat them. Too, she would learn to take them in her mouth from my hand. This would help her to learn that she was now dependent on men for her food.

"How is our friend doing now?" I asked.

"He is down! They have him. No! He is up!" reported the attendant. "Hah! Now they have a chain on him!"

"I wish you well," I said to the attendant. I had thought I might wait on the platform in case the fellow managed to reach it, and then take flight, but it did not seem now that he would get this far, at least this morning.

"I wish you well!" called that attendant, clinging then to a stanchion of the tarn gate.

I drew back, decisively, on the one-strap, and the tarn screamed and smote the air with its wings, and, my servant crying out in terror and clutching the pommel, was aflight!

Those who are horsemen know the exhilaration of riding, the marvelous animal, its strength, its pacings, its speed, its responsiveness, how one seems augmented by its power, how one can feel it, and its breathing, the movements of its body, sensing even the blows of its hoofs in the turf. It is little wonder that peoples knowing not the horse fled in terror when they first encountered riders, taking the rider and his mount for one thing, something half animal, half human, an awesome, unbelievably swift, gigantic, armed chimera, something that could not be outrun, that seemed to fly upon the earth, that seemed tireless, something irresistible, merciless and relentless to which it seemed the world must rightfully belong.

To such initial glimpses, fraught with fear, might harken the stories of the centaur, half man, half horse. And the legendary nature of the centaur, its appetites, its rapacity and power, harken back, too, perhaps, in the canny ways in which half-forgotten historical fact colors the fancies of tamer times, to the first perceptions of the horseman, and his ways, among those afoot. And even later, when the separation of man and mount became clearly understood, the fear of the horseman, and his ways, would abide. Fortunate that they lingered largely on the fringes of civilization. And yet, how often, as with the Hyksos, in Egypt, did they ride in from the desert like a storm, their horses among the barley. The mystique of the rider lingered unquestioned for centuries. Alexander would turn cavalry into a decisive arm. Centuries later the stirrup and barbarian lancers would crush the world's most successful civilization. The very word for «Knight» in German is «Ritter», which, literally, means "Rider." The ascendancy of the cavalry would remain unchallenged until the achievement of revolutions in infantry tactics and missile power, such things as the coming of the massed pikes, and the flighted clothyard shafts of a dozen fields. Something of the same joy of the rider, and mystique of the rider, exists on Gor in connection with the tarn as existed on Earth in connection with the horse. For example, if you have thrilled to the movements and power of a fine steed, you have some conception of what it is to be aflight on tarnback. There is the wind, the sense of the beast, the speed, the movements, now in all dimensions, the climb, the dive, soaring, turning, all in the freedom of the sky! There is here, too, a oneness of man and beast. There is even the legend of the tarntauros, or creature half man, and half tarn, which in Gorean myth, plays a similar, one might even say, equivalent, role to that of the centaur in the myths of Earth. Too, the tarnsman retains something of the glamour which on Earth attached to the horseman, particularly so as the technology laws of the Priest-Kings, remote, mysterious masters of Gor, preclude the mechanization of transportation. The togetherness of organic life, as in the relationship of man and mount, a symbiotic harmony, remains in effect on Gor.

I was aflight!

For a time I muchly gave the bird its head, and then, some pasangs out, drew it about, to sweep the sky in a vast circle, this centering about the inn, far below.

"You will caress me again, will you not?" asked my servant.

"Perhaps," I said, "if you beg it."

"I beg it!" she said.

"Hold to the pommel, tightly," I said.

She did so.

I would have time for her later. This was not the moment.

When one first ascends a new mount, or, indeed, masters a new woman, it is well to put them through their paces, to see what they can do, to see what they are like. In this case of the tarn one's very life can depend on such things as understanding its speed, its rate of climb, the sharpness of its turns, and so on.

My lovely, half-naked, blindfolded servant cried out, flung back, her arms almost straight, her small hands, the wrists braceleted closely together, gripping the pommel.

The bird hovered well, arrested in flight.

The girl gasped and cried out again, in fear, her back almost horizontal as the tarn climbed. The ascent was steep and swift. The air grew cold. Such a maneuver is often useful. More than once it had carried me above adversaries, their attack speed prohibiting so swift an adjustment in their trajectory. The girl clung desperately to the pommel. She seemed very frightened, for some reason. Too, now, clad as she was, in what was, in effect, no more than a curla and chatka, fit garments for a slave, not a free woman, she must be very cold. Doubtless she was in extreme discomfort. In a few Ehn I had established the approximate ceiling of the bird. The earth seemed far below. I could see the surface of a lake, like a shimmering puddle, to my right. I had not even hitherto known it was there. On the left, far below, I could see the Vosk Road, like a bright thread in the sun. "Please, let us go down. Let us stop!" she wept.

"You are braceleted," I told her. "Such matters are no longer within your control."

"Let us go down!" she wept.

"Are you cold?" I asked.

"Yes!" she wept. "But I am frightened, too! We are high, are we not? "Yes," I said.

"Please, let us go down!" she begged.

"It was my mistake to let you ride in such honor," I told her. "It is more appropriate for a woman on tarnback to ride differently, to be tied across the saddle on her back or belly, or, say, if she is one of a brace, perhaps wrist-tied to one end of a shared rope thrown over the saddle, or, say, tied to a ring at the side, this, too, providing a balance with the other captive. "I am a free woman," she said. "Surely you would not dare to tie me so." "I would think little of it," I informed her.

She shuddered, though whether with the thought of this restraint which I might, if I wished, impose upon her, or of cold, I do not know.

"Please, let us go down," she said.

"What does your will mean?" I asked.

"Apparently it means nothing," she said.

"Hold tightly, woman," I said.

"'Woman'?" she said. Then she screamed, a long, wild, wailing scream, as the tarn, responding to the four-strap, began a sudden, precipitous descent. With one hand I kept her on the saddle. Her hair flew above us, trailing like a flag. The tarn dove well. The swiftness of that descent is incredible. Its force, even arrested at the last moment, can break the back of a full-grown tabuk. I let the bird come within fifty yards of the earth before I reined back, and it swooped, low, leveling, over the grass.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" she begged. "What are we doing! Where are we?" "We are within a man's height of the ground," I said. In such flight one can use the screening of a forest or of low hills, even buildings, to make an approach to an objective. Too, of course, lower flight, in general, reduces the possibilities of sightings.

"We are going too swiftly!" she said. "Please, stop!"

"It is better that you are blindfolded," I said.

"What are you going to do?" she cried.

"One must try out a tarn," I said.

"Monster!" she wept.

"Hold tightly," I said.

She moaned. She hunched over the pommel, clinging to it, sobbing.

She screamed, suddenly, flung to the left, as I drew the two-strap and three-strap at the same time, the tarn veering to the right. It was responsive. I then tested it in a dozen ways, to speeds, to flights, to turns. The girl was beside herself with fear. She sobbed, moaned, gasped, cried out, whimpered, and screamed, in turn, in the darkness of the blindfold, clutching the pommel, as the bird, obedient to the obligations of the harness, bent itself to his maneuvers. I was well satisfied. It was a warrior's mount, indeed.

"Please, please," wept the girl.

I had now returned the tarn to the vicinity of the Crooked Tarn.

I then made three passes near the Crooked Tarn, two over the palisade, over the tarn wire, and a third near its bridge and gate.

In the first pass I hovered the bird for a time, some fifty yards over a portion of the court on the top of the palisaded plateau, one rather behind and to the left of the main inn buildings, as one would face them, entering. There, sitting, heavily chained to a sleen ring, its plate bolted into the stone, wrists and ankles, fastened quite closely to it, was a large, naked, bearded man, the burly fellow. I gathered he had not had the means wherewith to pay his bill. Seeing me, he seemed somehow agitated, even extremely so. He could do little more, however, than crouch, struggling, and pulling, at the ring, his head back, his face upward. He was howling something, but I could not well hear what he said. It is perhaps just as well. I did wave the pouch on its strap to him, cheerily, before proceeding onward, to make the second pass. He did not seem pleased with matters. I supposed I could not, in fairness, blame him. In my second pass I hovered near the front of the inn building on the left, as one would enter. It was there that several sets of chains had enjoyed the possession of fair occupants, whose names, as I had learned in the paga room, all from the Lady Temione, were Rimice, Klio and Liomache, all from Cos, Elene, from Tyros, and Amina, a citizeness of Venna. These chains were now empty. I had taken the liberty early this morning, acting through my agent, a sutler, a splendid, if somewhat put-upon and long-suffering chap, whose name was Ephialtes, to redeem them all, my expenses in the matter, 182 C.T. for the five of them, being considerably defrayed by means of the loot I had acquired from the gang of Andron the evening before.

Doubtless they were initially delighted to find that they had been redeemed. Perhaps they had laughed and clapped their hands with joy. Their delight, however, had doubtless been tempered somewhat by finding their necks were being put in iron collars, collars on a chain. As I briefly hovered there, over the court, I could see, too, partly to my irritation, and partly to my amusement, to one side, some additional evidence of the business acumen of the keeper. He had not simply permitted the women to be redeemed. He had gotten something of value from them, perhaps as a penalty fee, or as something in the way of compensation for the inconvenience they had caused him, over and above the amount of their unpaid bills. There, to one side, on a rack, long and lovely, hung pelts of female hair. Such, as I have mentioned, particularly in time of siege, though there is always a market for it on Gor, is highly prized for the making of catapult ropes. I had little doubt that the fellow, given my suppositions as to his probably thoroughness in such matters, would not even have had the graciousness to shear the heads of the ladies. In shearing, you see, one might lose a fifth of a hort or so of hair. doubtless he had had their heads shaved. Many girls will strive hard to please, for example, to be permitted to keep their hair, or to be permitted to let it grow out again. There were six pelts on the rack. The sixth was a lengthy and lovely auburn. I had also, by means of Ephialtes, redeemed Lady Temione. Her redemption had cost me a silver tarsk, five. This was expensive, but she would look well on her knees, collared. All told then, at the exchange rate of 10 °C.T. per silver tarsk, the women had cost me two silver tarsk, 87 C.T. These women were now, if all had gone well, on their way to Ar's Station, probably chained behind, and attached to, the wagon of Ephialtes. The shaving of their heads would doubtless lower their value, but I did not object, because I was not particularly concerned with whether I made a profit on them or not. That was not their essential role in my plans. Indeed, if their heads were shaved, that might be just as well. That might suggest that they had come into the keeping of an exploitable fellow, one in desperate need of funds.

On the third flight in the vicinity of the inn I examined, hovering briefly, the area near the foot of the plateau, by the bridge. There were still some wagons there. I was particularly interested in one. At the side of it now, a stocky blond woman was kneeling. She was naked. A heavy chain was on her neck. It went back, under the wagon, where it was fastened. A fellow stood before her, holding a whip. I saw her put down her head, frightened, and kiss his feet. She was not the slender, dark-haired slave beauty who had been under the wagon last night, huddling in the tarpaulin, in the storm.

That one Ephialtes, if all had gone well, had purchased this morning. She would be made first girl over the coffle of "free women," the Lady Temione, and the others, that she might teach them something of discipline and the basic arts of giving pleasure to men, lessons which might soon make a serious difference not only with respect to the quality of their lives, but to the very existence of those lives, as well.

The canvas covering of the wagon had been drawn back, probably to air the contents from the dampness of the storm. No one seemed to be within the wagon, or about it, other than the pair at the side of it. I had little doubt, accordingly, that the blond woman kneeling before the fellow with the whip was his free companion, or former free companion. The girl who had been beneath the wagon last night, had been formerly purchased, and primarily purchased, I had suspected, in an attempt, I thought, by the fellow to encourage his companion to take her relationship with him more seriously. She had apparently done so, at least to the extent of treating the slave with great cruelty. But now the slave was gone, and there was a chain on her neck. He had apparently now gone to the heart of the matter. If she were still his free companion, it seemed she would now be kept in the modality of bondage, but perhaps she was now only his former free companion, and had been reduced to actual bondage, now being subject to purchase by anyone. I recalled how she had bent in terror to kiss his feet. There was no doubt that she would now take her relationship to him seriously.

It is difficult not to do so when one is owned, and subject to the whip. The woman would now discover that her companion, or former companion, a fellow perhaps hitherto taken somewhat too lightly, one perhaps hitherto accorded insufficient attention and respect, one perhaps hitherto neglected and ignored, even despised and scorned, was indeed a man, and one who now would see to it that she served him well, one who would now own and command her, one who would summon forth the woman in her, and claim from her, and receive from her, the total entitlements of the master.

I then turned the tarn, and brought it to a suitable cruising altitude. Below me now lay the Vosk Road, and we flew north. It would take a regiment of Gorean infantry, in normal marches, given time for the fortification of a camp in the late afternoons, and so on, three days to reach Ar's Station from the Crooked Tarn. I supposed that the wagon of Ephialtes, particularly if he let the girls ride, as he probably would, later, would make the same time. The common marches of Gorean infantrymen, for example, are usually accompanied by wagons, those of their supply train, proper, and vehicles such as those of sutlers and masters of camp slaves.

I did not know what the name of the girl whom I had used under the wagon last night had been. It did not really matter, as she was a slave. I had not bothered to inquire. Now, however, if I were to own her, I should probably give her a name. It is better, I think, for a girl to have some name to answer to. It is more convenient, too, for the master, I think, to give her a name. It is thus, for example, easier to refer to her, and to summon her and command her. Too, that she has a name put on her by your power, and that she understands the meaning of this, has a good effect on her. "Who obeys?" "Tina obey!" I suppose, too, one has upon occasion seen a lovely woman and wished that she might have a certain name, for one might think that an excellent name for her. If she is a slave, of course, and one owns her, one can give her any name of one's choosing, indeed, perhaps that very name which is, at least in your opinion, ideal for her. Too, she might beg a name she has always wanted, and, if it is acceptable to the master, he might put it upon her. Names, too, of course, may be used to humble and punish a woman, and such names, humbling names, and punishing names, are as much real names as the most beautiful of names. That is, then, who she is. Perhaps in the future she will try much harder to be pleasing, that she might be given a better name. I considered the lovely girl whom I had enjoyed last night under the wagon, in the storm. I thought she looked rather like a "Liadne." That was a beautiful name. I thought I would give it to her. I decided upon it. She was now, although she did not yet know it, Liadne.

I looked down at the Vosk Road, below. There were fewer refugees on it now than last night. Perhaps many had passed through the area last night. Perhaps now, for most practical purposes, the route was cut off.

My attention was then drawn to the girl on the saddle before me. She was bent low, cowering over the pommel, sobbing, grasping it with both hands. She had had a very difficult time of it. There was no gainsaying that. I took her by the hair and straightened her, and, turning her head, twisting her body, looked upon her. The blindfold was still well in place. She moaned. Her cheeks, under the dampened blindfold, were run with tears. These, too, had run upon her body. I then turned her about again.

We flew northward, in silence.

She sobbed.

I considered feeling pity for her, and then dismissed the thought, for it was weakness. She was a woman. Her wrists, too, were in my bracelets.

We flew further, in silence.

She wept.

I saw that she, though slender, was well curved, and beautiful.

"You may beg," I informed her. "What?" she said.

"You may beg to be caressed," I said.

"You're mad," she said.

"Is it your intention to be difficult?" I asked.

"Do not beat me," she said.

"You may now beg to be caressed," I told her.

"Have I fallen into the hands of a monster?" she cried.

She was a legally free woman, but she was now before me, half naked, blindfolded and braceleted, my captive and servant. Indeed, she had even purchased her captivity and servitude. I wondered if she regretted what she had done. She now, at any rate, understood it more clearly.

"Beg," I said.

"I am not in the mood," she cried.

I laughed. How amusing are free woman! Slaves learn to be in the «mood» instantaneously, at so little as a glance or a snapping of the fingers, and a pointing to the floor.

"Please," she said. "please!"

"Beg," I said.

"I beg to be caressed," she said, weeping.

I then began to caress her, she before me, weeping, trying to resist, captive and servant, clinging to the pommel.

"Monster," she moaned. "Monster." Then she sobbed, suddenly, partly with surprise, partly with sensation.

I chuckled. Her legs looked well, split, squirming, over the glossy saddle. "Monster!" she wept, her head back.

Her hands jerked, the fingers moving. She could not reach me. I heard the small sounds of the links, jerking taut, then relaxing, then jerking taut again, joining the bracelets.

"Perhaps you are now more in the mood?" I asked.

"Do not stop!" she begged.

"And what shall you call me?" I wondered.

"Oh," she moaned. "Ohhh!"

"Surely you are curious to know what you should call me," I speculated. "Yes!" she cried. "Yes! Yes! What shall I call you? Oh! Oh!"

"You may call me "master, " I said. "Yes, Master!" she cried.

I then held her still, trying to calm her for a time.

"I called you Master!" she cried. "Am I yet legally free?"

"Yes," I said, "but I think it will be well for you to accustom yourself to calling free men Master."

"Yes!" she said.

I decided that I would not yet grant her the collar, ripe for it though she might be. She was a free woman. I would make her wait longer, in frustration, for it.

"Please touch me again," she begged.

"You liked it?" I asked.

"I have now felt it," she said. "I now desperately need it."

"Even to the surrender of all you are, and have been?" I asked.

"You have tried out your tarn," she said. "Now, try me out!"

I regarded her. I thought she would look well, naked, tied absolutely helplessly, on her back or belly, over the saddle of the tarn.

"Master?" she asked.

It was a fitting tie for such as she.

"Perhaps later," I said.

I then folded my cloak about her, to protect her from the wind.

We continued northward.