Vagabonds of Gor

19 Ina

I had never been so close to such a thing before. I had not realized they were so large.

It was five days since I had freed myself of the manacles. I had been moving northward, across the sluggish current, for three days.

It opened its wings, suddenly. Their span must have been twenty-five to thirty feet Gorean.

I had left the raft a few yards back, on another bar. The rence craft I had taken from the men of Ar was rotted and treacherous. It had sunk into the water even before I had left the rence in which I had originally taken cover. Its paddle I had retained but it was not of much use, given the weight of the raft. I had, the day before yesterday, however, found an abandoned pole which proved useful in propelling it. The pole's gilding had been muchly burned away. It, itself, however, was serviceable.

I had seen the creature hovering about, then alighting, dropping out of sight, among the rence. Curious I had moved the raft toward the place.

It was then that I had heard a woman's scream, long, terrified and piteous.

I had not hurried toward the source of the sound as circumspection seemed to me appropriate. It was not that I doubted the authenticity of the woman's terror. I did not think that a lure girl, for example, could have managed that particular note of terror in the scream. It might, on the other hand, I supposed, be managed quite easily by a bait girl, tethered, bound, to a stake like a verr, by rencer hunters to attract dangerous prey, usually tharlarion. They do not use their own women for this, of course, but other women, usually slaves. To be sure, there had been in the scream not only unmitigated terror, but a kind of special. pleading helplessness as well. That sound suggested to me that the woman was not merely calling herself to the attention of hunters, desperately alerting them to the presence of the quarry, but that there might be no hunters about, or no one of whom she knew. It suggested that she might be alone. There is quite a difference, you see, between a bait girl who knows that hunters are about, usually concealed in a blind, whose skill will presumably protect her, and a girl with no knowledge of nearby succor. To be sure, it is possible for a hunter to miss, and that is why the rencers do not use their own women, or their own free women, as bait. That she not be put out as tethered tharlarion bait is an additional inducement for the female slaves of rencers to prove particularly pleasing to their masters. Such slaves are abjectly dutiful. But then this is common among all Gorean female slaves. They may be slain if they are not.

I scouted the area. I detected no blind, no evidence of recent occupancy by men, at least within the last several Ahn. The marsh beetle crawls upon the sand at night and its tiny passage can be marked in the sand. Of the footprints I saw several were traversed, like valleys, by the path of the marsh beetle. Accordingly the prints had been made before the preceding night. The crumbling at their edges, too, suggested a passage of several Ahn, perhaps that they had been made as long ago as yesterday morning, or the day before yesterday.

I had then heard a repetition of that piteous, lengthy scream. I had also seen then, as I had come closer, the small head of the creature, small considering the size of its body, and the span of its wings, lift up, above the rence, with its long narrow, toothed jaws, like a long snout or bill, with that long, narrow extension of skin and bone in the back, balancing the weight of the long, narrow jaws, contributing, too, given the creature's weight and general ungainliness in structure, to stability in flight, particularly in soaring.

I had emerged from the rence.

The creature had turned to regard me.

It had opened its wings, suddenly. Their span must have been twenty-five to thirty foot Gorean. Then it closed them, folding them back, against its body.

I was quite impressed with it. Never had I been so close to such a thing before.

It uttered a hissing, grunting sound, expelling air from its lungs. It had a long, snakelike tail, terminating with a Hat, spadelike structure. This tail lashed, the spadelike structure dashing sand about. This tail, with its termination, too, I think, had its role to play in flight, primarily one of increasing stability.

Erected in the sand, there was a stout pole, upright, about four inches in diameter. This pole was about seven feet in height. Toward the bottom of the pole, about a yard from the sand, there was a rounded crosspiece, about a foot in length. This was inserted through, and fastened within, a hole in the pole. Above this crosspiece, something like three and a half feet Gorean above it, also inserted through, and fastened within a hole in the pole, there was another crosspiece, a longer one, about a yard in length. These crosspieces were both about two inches in diameter. Had they been intended for the keeping of a man they would have been thicker, the accommodating pole then being proportionally larger. As it was they were more than sufficient. She was blond. Her feet were on the lower crosspiece, thongs fastening them well in place. Her arms had been hooked over the upper crosspiece and then kept in place by thongs fastening her wrists together, before her body.

She threw her head back wildly, her hair falling back over the top of the pole, about at the base of her neck, looked up at the sky, and again screamed.

This sound attracted the attention of the creature again. It had alighted a few yards before the pole.

She had not seen me.

Wildly she struggled, surging, squirming, against the bonds. The sight of a woman struggling against bonds, as the sight of one in bonds, even in so simple a device as slave bracelets, is sexually stimulatory, of course.

We, the girl, the creature and I, were not alone on the bar. A long-necked, paddle-finned tharlarion was a few yards away, half up on the sand. More dangerous, at least immediately, were two short-legged, long-bodied tharlarion twisting about in the sand near the foot of the pole.

Again the girl struggled. Then, again, she was held as helplessly as ever.

Yes, I thought, she was pretty.

I knew her, of course.

She had been put out for tharlarion. The hatred of the rencers, it seemed, had been such that in spite of her comeliness, the usually most successful defense, and salvation, of the female, they had not sold her off, nor accepted her themselves, as a slave.

I wondered if they had been right.

It was acceptable, of course, what was being done to her, as she was a free person. And had she been a slave, such, of course, might have been done to her at no more than the whim of a master. To be sure, there are much better things to do with a female slave.

Again she screamed and struggled.

Yes, I thought, many better things.

I wondered how she would look in a collar. Well, I thought. Yet I reminded myself, she was a free woman. That made her quite special in a way, an inconvenient way.

The long-jawed creature turned toward the long-necked tharlarion and hissed menacingly. Slowly the long-necked tharlarion, pushing back with its paddlelike appendages, slipped back into the marsh. It turned and withdrew, half submerged.

"Go away! Go away!" screamed the girl to the large creature at the edge of the beach.

Such exclamations, of course, are understandable. They are very natural, I suppose. On the other hand, unless they are being uttered knowingly as mere noise, they do, upon reflection, seem a bit odd. For example, surely one does not expect such a beast to understand Gorean. Too, did she not understand that she had been put out for tharlarion and, considering her elevation from the sand, perhaps for just such a creature? Too, if she were not taken from the perch, so to speak, would she not, in time, perish there of thirst, hunger or exposure? Should she not eagerly welcome the jaws?

"Go away!" she screamed.

Apparently not.

I suppose a certain amount of hysteria, or temporary irrationality, is to be allowed to a woman in such a situation. Had I been in a similar plight I might have behaved similarly. It is easier for one in my position to be critical, I supposed, than for one in hers. Also, who knows, perhaps the creature is a pet, or might respond to certain words in Gorean, or, if one is desperate enough, clutching at whatever straws might present themselves, English, or Italian, or Finnish.

The creature stalked forward four or five yards. It was now a few feet from her. Its head was some twelve feet from the ground.

"Go away!" she wept. "Go away!"

Again it opened its wings. These are of skin and stretch from the jointed, hind legs, clawed, of the creature to an extremely long, fourth digit on its clawed hand. It hissed at the tharlarion near the pole. One moved away. The other stood its ground, opening its own jaws, hissing.

The creature then snapped its wings, again and again. I had not realized the blast that might be created from that, and was thrown back, stumbling, into the rence. I fought my way forward, again, then, against the gusts, as though through a storm in the Tahari. I held my arm before my face. I heard the short-legged tharlarion make a strange noise and saw it lifted from the sand and shaken. I heard its back snap. With a beating of the giant wings the creature ascended, struggling with the weight of the tharlarion, and then, after a moment, perhaps from a height of a hundred feet or so, dropped it into the marsh. I did not see it hit the water, for the rence, but I saw, two or three hundred feet away, the splash. Its shadow was then over the water, rapidly approaching, and, in a moment, its clawed feet striking down into the sand, it alit on the beach, much where it had been before. The whole thing had taken no more than a few Ihn. I had not realized the power of the creature, or that it could lift that much weight. The weight of a man, then, or a woman, would have been nothing to it. There is little wonder, I thought, that many take the predatory ul, the winged tharlarion, to be the monarch of the delta.

It now, again, stalked toward the girl.

She threw her head back, her hair back over the top of the pole, screaming.

She struggled, wildly.

Again she could not escape, of course. She had been excellently tied.

She had been put there for tharlarion, I thought. That is what it is all about. Why should I interfere?

She began to sob.

The ul, the winged tharlarion, was now before her. She was within its reach.

She struggled. Yes, she was pretty. Unfortunately she was a free woman. Yet, I supposed, that such an absurdity, such an oversight of law, and civilization, was not irremediable.

I saw the jaws of the ul, the winged tharlarion, open.

Why should I interfere, I asked myself.

I had little doubt, from what I had seen, that it could pull the girl from the pole, or even, by means of the girl and her bonds, the pole from the sand.

I saw her press back against the pole, even more tightly against it than she was held by her unslippable bonds.

Why should I interfere, I asked myself.

She threw her head to the side, crying out with misery.

The ul stretched forth its neck to remove her from the pole.

"Ho!" I cried. "Ho!"

The beast turned to regard me. The female made some startled, helpless, wild hysterical noise.

I picked up a large rock and threw it against that huge body, striking it on wingskin stretched between its leg and arm, on the left.

She twisted about, wildly, trying to see me. "Save me! Save me! Save me!" she cried.

The ul, unfortunately, in my opinion, did not seem much bothered about the stone I had thrown. To be sure, it could have brained a man.

I picked up another stone and let it fly. This struck it on the chest.

"Away!" I cried. "Away!" I did not stop to consider until later that it was not likely the ul could understand Gorean. After all, I was now dealing with my own case. As everyone knows, one's own case is always different, in many ways, from that of others. Besides, what did one expect one to say, say, "Come over here, old chap. Shall we have tea?" or something along those lines. Certainly not. Besides, by means of such cries one may at least express oneself, ventilate emotion, and such. And I understood them, if not the creature. Surely that was sufficient.

"Help!" she cried.

Better, I thought, that she might have said, "Flee, save yourself!" That would have been advice well worth considering.

The ul took a step in my direction. Unfortunately, it did not fear men. I had hoped it would take wing at my cries, or, surely, from the stones. It had not, however, done so. I took a step back, into the rence. It took a step forward. I unsheathed my blade. If it were its intention to smite me with the wind from the beating of those mighty wings I thought it best to withdraw into the rence. If I lost my footing I could lie on my back and defend myself, as I could, with the blade. From what I had seen it would presumably try to pick me up in its jaws. I suspected I could probably defend myself from that approach. If I knew little of uls, it, too, I supposed, would know little of men, and steel. But the ul did not beat its wings. Rather it stalked to me and suddenly darted its jaws forward, its head turned. I slashed at the jaws with the blade, and slivers of bone, and teeth, sprayed from my attack. The ul pulled back its head. I do not think it felt much discomfort. Then it suddenly smote its wings and ascended two or three yards into the air, hovering, reaching for me with its clawed feet. I crouched down, half blinded by the particles, sand and rence, smiting against me, and slashed up, cutting at the feet. I felt contact with the blade and had blood on it. The ul then rose higher out of my reach, hovering, then backed, in flight, onto the beach, and alit. Blood was in the sand about its left, clawed foot. It lifted its foot from the sand, sand clinging to it in the blood, and licked it, with its long tongue. It then looked at me, again. It snapped its wings. The uniform of Ar was torn back in the blast. It seemed angry. Surely it would now take its departure. It did not, however, seem inclined to do so. Had I not defeated it? Had I not, at least, discouraged it? Should it not now, in all propriety, take wing and seek the assuagements of its hunger elsewhere, in the rich feasts offered by the delta.

But its attentions seemed much fastened upon me. One might have thought it a sleen, a creature famed for its tenacity. Let it meet then, I thought, one of man's most dangerous allies, the mystery of flame.

It was my intention to gather some dry rence and light it with the fire-maker, a simple device, little more than a wheel and flint, from my pouch. However, it began to advance, quickly, its jaws open. I withdrew, stumbling, back, into the rence. It began to pursue me, sometimes hovering, its wings beating over the rence, flattening the stalks, forcing them to the water, agitating the water itself, producing waves fleeing before that force. I struck up at it but could do little damage. Once I fell but took refuge beneath a tree trunk in the marsh, washed down from the Vosk. I did have its blood on me.

Twice I managed to hack at the jaw. Then it swept up, and circled, whether in temporary withdrawal because of pain or because it had lost contact with me, I do not know. I feared it might return to the vicinity of the girl. "Ho!" I cried, waving upward toward it. I sheathed my sword. I began to gather rence frenziedly. The creature began to turn in the air. I struck sparks into the dry sheaves I held. The creature was now descending again, soaring toward me, its legs down, its claws open. I evaded its strike. It pulled up again. The rence was now lit. I set fire to the dry tops of the rence as I waded among them. In a moment, though it would be only for an Ehn or so, the rence about me burst into flame. Smoke, too, billowed upward. Into this fiery welcome the ul descended but, in a moment, hissing in pain, drew away, and disappeared over the rence. I discarded the rence I had used as a torch. It was burned down almost to my hand. Some of it hissed in the water; a little, still aflame, floated beside me for a moment, then went out. I stood among smoking, blackened rence stalks. I saw no more of the ul. I then waded back to the land. I was shaking. I wanted nothing more to do with uls, or their kind.

"Is it gone?" asked the female, trembling.

"I think so," I said.

If I had had a spear, I do not think the ul would have been as troublesome. It had not seemed to fear men, and it had approached openly, frontally. But I had not had a spear. Perhaps I should have tried to find one on the island before I had made my escape, clays ago. But then, as I recalled, I had been in somewhat of a hurry, and, what with the flies and all, there had not been much point in lingering.

"Release me," she said.

"Are you not grateful for your rescue?" I asked.

"It is the business of men to protect women," she said.

"Oh," I said.

"Free me," she said.

"But you have been put out for tharlarion," I said.

She struggled, briefly. "But surely you are going to free me," she said.

I said nothing.

"Free me!" she said.

I again did not respond to her.

"Please," she said.

"You are pretty," I said.

I regarded her. Her small feet were on the lower, rounded crosspiece. Her toenails were not painted, of course. Such is almost unheard of among Gorean free women and is rare even among slaves. The usual Gorean position on the matter is that toenails and fingernails are not, say, red by nature and thus should not be made to appear as if they were. They also tend to frown on the dyeing of hair. On the other hand, the ornamentation, and adornment, of slaves by means such as jewelry, cosmetics, for example, lipstick and eye shadow, perfume, and such, is common, particularly in the evening. Also, to be sure, her fingernails and toenails might be painted. As she is a domestic animal, she may be adorned in any way one pleases. The reservations about hair coloring are particularly acute in commercial situations. One would not wish to buy a girl thinking she was auburn, a rare and muchly prized hair color on Gor, for example, and then discover later that she was, say, blond. Against such fraud, needless to say, the law provides redress. Slavers will take pains in checking out new catches, or acquisitions, to ascertain the natural color of their hair, one of the items one expects to find, along with fingerprints and measurements, and such, on carefully prepared slave papers. Her ankles were very nice. They were muchly encircled with thongs, by means of which they were then fastened to the pole and crosspiece. Her calves and thighs were lovely, and her lower belly, with its beauties, and her swelling love cradle, nestled between flaring hips, these marvels ascending and narrowing then, in the luscious cubic content of her, to her very graspable waist. Three thongs were at her waist, crossing it. There were deep marks in her belly, marking places where she had shifted the thongs from time to time. In their present location they were held well back in her belly, her flesh pushed out about them. Her wrists, triple thonged, were at her sides. She could not bring them forward because of the barrier of the upper crosspiece, over which her arms were hooked, nor could she draw them backwards, for their linkage by the belly thongs. From the narrowness of her waist, even more compressed by the thongs, her body with predictable but luscious subtlety flared upward to the maddening delights, the exquisite excitements, of her upper body, the softness and vulnerability of her bosom, the softness of her shoulders and throat. I considered her short, rounded forearms and upper arms. I considered her face, and her hair.

"Very pretty," I said.

She blushed, totally, from the roots of her hair to her toes.

"Please do not look at me so!" she said.

I continued to regard her, feeling much pleasure.

"Please!" she said.

She was quite pretty. She was pretty enough even to be a slave.

Indeed, she had excellent slave curves. I wondered if she knew that.

"Please!" she wept.

Indeed, if she had been branded and collared, I did not think that anyone would have thought twice about seeing her under a sun trellis in an open market, on a warm day, chained by the ankle to a ring, displayed in a booth, or being herded upward, with a whip, to the surface of a sales block.

"I am helpless!" she protested.

I continued to regard her, in the Gorean fashion. She looked well, bound as she was. Considering her bonds, and such, she might have been an exhibited slave, and not a free woman put out for tharlarion.

I continued to regard her.

"I appeal to your honor," she said, "as a soldier of Ar."

I was wearing a tunic of Ar.

"Are you of Ar?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "I am Ina, Lady of Ar!

"I am not of Ar," I said. She apparently did not recognize me, in the tunic, and such. To be sure, she had seen me only briefly, and in poor light, on one of the small islands of sand in the delta, days ago. Doubtless she had never expected to see me again. Perhaps she was afraid, in some way, on some level, to recognize me.

"You are a rencer," she asked, "in a tunic of Ar?"

"Perhaps," I said.

"I am not a lady of Ar," she said. "What are you, then?" I asked.

"I am a simple rence girl," she said. "I think you are a slave," I said.

"No!" she said. "You can see that I am not branded!"

I looked at her.

"Do not look at me!" she wept.

"How then shall I see that you are not branded?" I asked.

"Look then," she moaned.

She blushed, again scrutinized, again with exquisite care. I even lifted up her feet a little, as if to see if she might be branded on the instep.

"You see?" she said.

"Some fellows do not brand their slaves," I said.

"That is stupid!" she said.

"It is also contrary to the laws of most cities," I said, "and to merchant law, as well."

"Of course," she said.

Gorean, she approved heartily of the branding of slaves. Most female slaves on Gor, indeed, the vast majority, almost all, needless to say, are branded. Aside from questions of legality, compliance with the law, and such, I think it will be clear upon a moment's reflection that various practical considerations also commend slave branding to the attention of the owner, in particular, the identification of the article as property, this tending to secure it, protecting against its loss, facilitating its recovery, and so on. The main legal purpose of the brand, incidentally, is doubtless this identification of slaves. To be sure, most Goreans feel the brand also serves psychological and aesthetic purposes, for example, helping the girl to understand that she is now a slave and enhancing her beauty.

"As I am not branded then," said she, "it is clear I am not a slave!"

"Had it not been for the absence of a brand," I said, "I might have conjectured you a slave."

She cried out with rage, though I saw she was muchly pleased.

"But you are a simple rence girl?" I said.

"Yes!" she said.

"Where is your village?" I asked.

"Over there," she said, vaguely, with a movement of that lovely head. Her hair came down the post behind her, to the small of her back.

"I shall take you back to your village," I said.

"No!" she cried.

"No?" I asked.

"I have left the village!" she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Fleeing an undesired match," she said, woefully.

"How came you on your little perch?" I asked.

"I was robbed," she said, "and put here by brigands!"

"Why did they not sell you at the delta's edge?" I asked.

"They recognized," she said, proudly, loftily, "that I would never make a slave."

"It seems to me that you might make a slave," I said, "and perhaps a rather nice one."

"Never!" she cried.

"Perhaps even a delicious one," I said.

"Never, never!" she cried.

"To be sure," I said, "you, might need a little training, perhaps a taste of the whip, perhaps some understanding that you must now be good for something, that all details of your life, including your clothing, if you are permitted any, are now in the control of another."

"I am a free woman!" she cried.

"So, too," said I, "once were most slaves."

She struggled.

"Do you fear no longer being pampered," I asked, "but having to obey and serve, immediately, unquestioningly?"

Again she struggled.

"Surely you understand that you are exciting when you move like that," I said.

She made a noise of frustration.

"Slave girls are sometimes ordered to writhe in their bonds and attempt to free themselves," I said. "But they know, of course, that they cannot do so."

She tried to remain absolutely still. Her exertions, however, had caused her to breathe heavily, and her gasping, the lifting and lowering of her breasts was also lovely.

"And when they finish their writhing, their futile attempts to free themselves," I said, "they have reconfirmed perfectly their original comprehension of their total helplessness."

She looked at me, in fury.

"As you have now," I said.

"Free me," she said.

"I shall return you to your village," I said. "There may be a reward for your return."

"I do not want to go back," she said.

"No matter," I said. "Where is it?"

"If I am taken back to be forcibly mated," she said, "my companion may keep me in shackles."

"I think your ankles would look well in shackles," I said.

"Do I know you?" she asked, suddenly, frightened.

"More likely you would be beaten with rence stalks," I said.

"I do not know where the village is," she said.

"We can inquire at several of the local villages," I said.

"No!" she said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Brigands did not put me here," she said.

"True," I said, "if brigands had taken you, they would have bound you hand and foot and taken you to the edge of the delta, there to sell you off as a slave."

She looked down at me.

"You have been caught in a lie," I said.

She pulled back, against the post.

"It is fortunate that you are not a slave," I said.

"I am not a rence girl," she said.

"I am not surprised," I said, "as few of them, I suspect, speak in the accents of Ar."

"I cannot place your accent," she said.

I was silent. My Gorean doubtless bore traces of various regional dialects. Too, although this was really not so clear to me, I suppose I spoke Gorean with an English accent. More than one slave, women brought here from Earth to serve Gorean masters, had intimated that to me. I did not beat them.

"What are your sympathies?" she asked.

"What are yours?" I asked.

"I do not think you are a rencer," she said.

"That is true," I said. "I am not a rencer."

"But you said you were not of Ar," she said, suddenly, eagerly.

"True," I said.

"And your accent is not of Ar!"

"No," I said.

"Then free me!" she said, elatedly.

"Why?" I asked.

"We are allies!" she said.

"How is that?" I asked.

"I am a spy for Cos!" she exclaimed.

"How came you here?" I asked.

"A rencer village was burned," she said, "burned to the water. Later, rencers, in force, attacked a column of Ar, that on the right flank of her advance into the delta. Afterwards, in a small, related action, my barge was ambushed. My guards fled into the marsh, abandoning me. I was seized, and, though I was a free woman, stripped and bound! The barge was burned. I was taken to a rencer village, and kept prisoner, naked, in a closed, stifling hut. For a time, days, it seemed terrible flies were everywhere. I was protected in the hut. After they had gone I was still kept in the hut, though now bound hand and foot. Then yesterday morning I was brought here."

I found these things easy to believe, given her present situation. Also the very pole I was using for the raft had been gilded, though the gilding, when I retrieved it from the marsh, had been muchly burned away.

"Why have they put me here?" she asked, "Do they not know the danger from tharlarion?"

"You have been put here for tharlarion," I said. "Surely you must have suspected that."

"But why?" she asked.

"A village was burned," I said.

"I told them of my Cosian sympathies," she said.

"You probably told them many things," I said.

"Of course," she said.

"In the accents of Ar," I said.

"Of course," she said.

"And threatened them?"

"Of course," she said.

"And lied muchly to them?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "but as it turned out, it didn't matter, for the rencers do not even speak Gorean."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"They never spoke to me," she said.

"They speak Gorean perfectly," I said, "though, to be sure, with accents much more like those of the western Vosk basin, than those of the courts, the baths and colonnades of Ar."

She turned white.

"But at least," I said, "they have honored you as a free woman, puffing you here for the tharlarion."

"Why would they not have kept me-even if-even if-"

"As a slave?" I asked, helping her.

"Yes!" she said.

"There are probably various reasons," I said.

"But what?" she asked.

"The burning of the village, vengeance, their hatred for those of Ar," I suggested.

"But I am a woman!" she protested.

"Perhaps," I said. "You would seem at least to have a female's body."

"I am a woman!" she said. "Wholly a woman!"

"How can that be," I asked, "as you are not yet a slave?"

She moved angrily in the leather.

It interested me that she would now, in her present plight, naturally, unthinkingly, and unquestioningly fall back upon, acknowledge, and call attention to, the uniqueness and specialness of her sex, its difference from that of men, and its entitlement to its particular considerations.

"Why would they put me here?" she asked. "Why would they not spare me-if only to make me a slave?"

"I wondered about that," I said.

"Well?" she asked.

"From what you have told me, I now think the answer is clear," I said.

"What?" she said.

"I suspect it has to do with their assessment of your character," I said.

"I do not understand," she said.

"I suspect they did not regard you as being worthy of being a slave," I said.

"What!" she cried.

"Yes," I said, "I suspect they did not think you were worthy of being a slave."

"But a free woman is a thousand times more valuable than a slave!" she said.

"Many," said I, "regard a slave as a thousand times more valuable than a free woman."

She cried out, angrily.

It interested me that she had put a specific value on a free woman.

"But then," I said, "many also believe that the free woman and the slave are the same, except for a legal technicality."

"Surely you do not mean that slaves are actually free women," she said.

"No," I said. "I do not mean that."

"Sleen! Sleen!" she said.

"Free women are only slaves, not yet collared," I said.

"Sleen!" she wept.

"I must be on my way," I said.

"No, no!" she said. "You must take me with you! I know your sympathies are with Cos! So, too, are mine! I may be of Ar, but I am an agent of Cos. Thus we are allies!"

"You admit that you are a Cosian spy?" I said.

"Yes," she said, hesitantly.

"Truly?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Speak loudly and clearly," I said. "I am a Cosian spy," she said.

"More clearly, more loudly," I said. "I am a Cosian spy," she said. "Excellent," I said.

"Release me now," she said.

"But my sympathies are not with Cos," I said. "But you are not of Ar!" she said.

"My sympathies are with neither Ar nor Cos," I said. "What is your Home Stone?" she asked, suddenly, fearfully. "That of Port Kar," I said.

She moaned. It is said that the chains of a slave girl are heaviest in Port Kar.

I made as though to leave.

"Wait!" she cried.

I turned, again, to face her.

"Free me!" she said. "I will give you riches!"

"The only riches you have to bestow," I said, "and they are not inconsiderable, are now in the keeping of rencer thongs."

"I will give them to you!" she said.

"They are mine for the taking," I pointed out to her.

"Then take them," she urged.

"I must be on my way," I said.

"You cannot leave me here for tharlarion!" she wept.

"Rencers have seen fit to put you here," I said. "Who am I, a fellow of Port Kar, a stranger in the delta, to dispute their choice?"

"They are barbarians!" she said. "Perhaps less so than I," I said. "Free me," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"I will make it worth your while," she said.

"In what way?" I asked. "As a female," she said.

"Speak more clearly," I said.

"As a female, with my favors!" "Interesting," I said.

" 'Interesting'?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, "you bargain with your beauty."

"Of course," she said.

"But then it seems you have little more to bargain with."

She blushed, again, even to her toes.

A free woman may bargain with her own beauty, of course, and it is often done. This is quite different from the case of the female slave. Her beauty, like herself, is owned by the master. It may, of course, like herself, figure in his bargains.

I looked up at her.

"I will submit to you, if you wish," she said. "I will be your slave."

"Beware of your language," I said, "lest you inadvertently speak words of self-enslavement."

Such words, of course, are irrevocable by the slave because, once spoken, she is a slave.

"Nonetheless, if you wish," she said, "I will speak them!"

"And be a slave?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said.

"Do you not recognize me?" I asked.

"Should I?" she asked.

"Do you recall a camp in the marsh, some days ago," I asked, "to the southeast, an evening, a prisoner?"

She looked down, frightened.

"And did you not," I asked, "boldly, to torture me, I helpless before you, show me your ankles?"

"Oh!" she said.

"Yes," I said, touching her ankles, "they would look well in shackles."

"You!" she wept.

"Yes," I said.

She put back her head, moaning.

We heard a tharlarion bellowing in the marsh.

She lifted her head, bearing the sound. Her eyes were wide with fear..

"I am a woman," she said, suddenly, piteously.

I saw that it was true. Through everything, beneath everything, in spite of everything, deeply, essentially, she was a woman.

"I wish you well," I said.

"Do not go!" she cried..

"Perhaps you can free yourself," I said.

"My ankles are muchly thonged!" she said.

"Yes," I said, "they do seem to be well held, fastened excellently to the pole and crossbar. I doubt that you can free them."

"And my arms!" she said.

"Yes," I said, "they would seem well fastened, also, simply and effectively."

"Please," she said. "Have mercy!"

"I wonder if you realize how clever the rencers have been," I said.

She looked down at me.

"You cannot even try to rub the thongs, the three of them, against the wood," I said. "The interiors of your arms are against the wood, and the thongs themselves are about your wrists, and across your belly. Yes, they are clever. The wood and the leather, both, you see, are far stronger than your flesh."

"You know that I cannot free myself," she said. "I am absolutely helpless!"

"You are right," I said.

The tharlarion again bellowed in the marsh, this time more closely.

"You risked your life to save me!" she said.

"Believe me," I said, "I did not realize at the time that I was risking it. I thought the beast would move off."

"But it did not," she said.

"True," I said. "Unfortunately."

"You defended me!" she said.

"As it turned out," I said.

"You even called yourself to its attention in the marsh, when you understood how tenacious, how dangerous, it was!" she said, triumphantly.

"So?" I asked.

"So you found me of interest!" she said. "So you wanted me!"

"Put back your shoulders," I said, "thrust out your breasts, lift your chin."

She obeyed immediately, beautifully.

"Yes," I said, "I can see how a man might find you of interest." I was also interested to note how well she had obeyed.

"You want me," she said. "Free me!"

"To be sure," I said, "it is a long time since I have had a woman."

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

"You are not even a slave," I said.

She threw her head back, angrily.

"Are you a virgin?" I asked.

"No," She said. "I am not a virgin. I have permitted men to make love to me twice. I assure you I can stand it."

I smiled.

"Would you prefer that I was a virgin?" she asked. "No," I said. Virgins presented special problems, particularly of a psychological nature. Also, their sexual responses usually required lengthening, deepening and honing. On the whole, I, like most Goreans, preferred opened women. And, of course, most women are opened. Virgins, for example, are almost never available in the slave markets.

She looked down at me.

"I assure you, I said, "there would have been little point in lying about the matter."

"I suppose not," she said.

"On the other hand," I said, "you would seem to be, for most practical purposes, having to do with the furs, a virgin."

"No," she said, "twice I permitted men to make love to me."

"They were lucky fellows," I said.

"I never permitted either of them to do so again," she said.

"Doubtless they have spent years in repining."

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

"You are sure you can stand it?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "I can stand it."

She shrank back a little but I, carefully, with the tip of my knife, inserting it between her ankles and the thongs, freed her legs.

"Ah," she said, relievedly. One could still see the several deep imprints of the thongs in her ankles. These marks, in an Ahn or two, or a few Ahn, would disappear. The thongs had not cut into her, nor burned her deeply.

I looked up at her.

"My arms," she said. "I am still helpless!"

"Perhaps I shall leave you now," I said.

"No, no!" she said.

"Do you beg to be freed?" I asked.

"Yes, yes!" she sobbed.

"Speak, then," I said.

"Please free me," she said. "I beg it! I beg it!"

I then, the knife in my teeth, climbed to the lower crossbar, on which I put my foot.

"Why have you sheathed your knife?" she asked.

"One can see over the rence from here," I observed. I steadied myself with my left hand on the pole.

"Free me," she begged. "Oh!"

She looked at me, wildly. Then she looked away, swiftly. "Please!" she protested. "Please!"

"Look at me," I told her.

She turned her head to face me. Her eyes were very wide. Then she turned her head away again, desperately. "I am a free woman!" she wept.

"It is only my hand," I said.

"But it is on me in such a way!" she said.

"Can you stand it?" I asked.

"I do not know!" she said.

I withdrew my hand. Her body shuddered. She looked at me, in protest, almost piteously, but also, interestingly, questioningly, and, in a manner, in consternation and amazement. I gathered her feelings were profoundly ambiguous. Among them seemed to be at least resentment, surprise, and curiosity. Too, I think there was fear. I gathered that she might be trying to understand, and cope with, unusual things which had occurred in her body, perhaps for the first time, things which, even in their incipience, even in the first and most inchoate forms, had profoundly stirred her, things which had perhaps hinted at profound latencies of scarcely suspected feelings, and had, perhaps to her dismay or terror, suggested to her what might be done to her, what she could, if a man wished, be made to feel. To be sure, she had probably never been in a man's power before, at least in this way. Her slave reflexes, I noted, were not far below the surface. I did not think it would do to tell her this, of course. She was, at least as of now, and in a way, a free woman.

"What is that called," she asked, "what you did to me?"

"It is one of the ways," I said, "in which one may put one's hand on a woman-in the manner of the master."

" 'In the manner of the master'!" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"No one ever touched me in that way before!" she said.

"I would suppose not," I said.

"Surely that is a touch commonly reserved for slaves!" she said.

"True," I said.

"Owned sluts, mere chattels, to whom anything may be done!"

"Yes," I said.

"But I am a free woman!" she said.

"True," I said. "It was highly inappropriate that I touch you in that fashion. I apologize, profoundly."

"Very well," she said, uncertainly.

"You accept my apology?" I asked.

"And if I do not?" she asked.

"Then I will leave you here," I said.

"I accept your apology," she said.

"Sincerely, eagerly?" I asked.

"Yes," she sobbed. "Yes!"

"And you forgive me?" I inquired.

"Yes," she said.

"Profoundly, sincerely, and with no hard feelings?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Yes! Yes!"

"Perhaps I will then free you," I said.

" 'Perhaps'?" she asked, in dismay.

"Yes, perhaps," I said. I then took the knife from the sheath and, carefully, put it between her belly and the three thongs which, dark, half buried in her flesh, in collusion with the crossbar, held her wrists in place at her sides. With one motion the straps flew apart.

"Steady," I said to her. I resheathed the knife. She moaned as I slowly, and carefully, lifted her left wrist back and over the bar. I then, similarly, steadying her, freed her right arm of the bar. I then held her, that she not fall forward; she was doubtless in pain. "Hold to the bar," I said. She grasped it. I then dropped to the sand. I took her then about the upper legs and lowered her to the sand. She sank to her knees, and crawled away a few feet in the sand. Her wrists were still encircled by thongs, of course, with the free ends of thongs dangling from each. She rose unsteadily to her feet, and faced me. It was hard to read her eyes. I did not doubt, of course, that she would bolt. I decided I would give her the opportunity to do so. "It would not do for rencers," I said, "to find this pole empty. I do not wish to spend the next several days, or weeks, attempting to elude their pursuit. Accordingly, I think it best that they infer that its absence is due to changes in the currents or, perhaps, that it was pulled from the sand by tharlarion, attempting to acquire its fair occupant. I shall, accordingly, draw it up from the sand."

"It is too heavy," she said.

"One may put one's shoulder under the lower crossbar," I said. "I do not think it will be difficult."

I then turned away from her, addressing myself to the pole. I got my shoulder under it and, as I had expected, it was not difficult to lift from the soft sand. When I had it on the sand I looked up, and saw that she was gone. I could see her footprints in the sand, and where they entered the marsh. In the marsh, of course, she might have gone any way. I surmised the route I supposed she would take, at least for the time, but I did not pursue it. I then dragged the pole to the marsh and, floating it, waded out a way, and thrust it into the center of what seemed a deep, promising channel. I then returned to the island, and from the island, back into the rence, to locate the raft, and my things.

I had barely reached the raft when I heard, once more, a scream.

I turned about.

It came from the direction from which I had come, from the direction of the island.

I again heard the scream.

Then I saw, about a hundred yards away, to the right, the head of the ul, stalking, bobbing, over the rence.

Tenacious, indeed, I thought.

I heard screams, splashing.

Then the ul struck its huge wings against the air, lifting itself above the rence, hovering.

The screams stopped.

The ul then began to climb, then turn, and circle, scanning. Its quarry, I supposed, must be hiding in the rence. It had lost contact with it. Then I saw the total alteration in the attitude of the monster, and it turned, and began to glide downward, silently, toward the marsh. When it struck the marsh water splashed up, furrowing, twenty or thirty feet in the air. I heard more screaming. I caught sight of the Lady Ina plunging through the marsh, her hands extended, her hair wild behind her. Following her, over the rence I now again saw the small head of the ul, bobbing, inquisitive, birdlike.

I drew my blade and began to hasten toward the island, intending to intersect the path of the Lady Ina's flight. Once I caught a glimpse of her again, small, white, blond, terrified, crashing through rence. There was no difficulty, of course, in keeping track of the ul, whose head overtopped the rence. Once I saw its entire body, moving with great speed, impelled by a snap of those huge skin wings. Then again, only its head. In a sense, of course, though I seldom saw her, it was also easy to surmise the position of the Lady Ina The purposefulness of the ul located her for me. She was before him, fleeing. It was on her trail he trod. Then I again saw her plunging through the marsh, pushing her way through rence, approaching the edge of the island. She was wading, falling, getting up, wading again. Then she emerged onto the island, the sand to her ankles. She looked wildly about. Then the ul burst through the rence behind her. She looked back and screamed. She tried to turn then, to run, but stumbled and fell into the sand, and in that instant the ul was upon her, pinning her to the sand with one giant, clawed foot. She squirmed wildly in the sand, half covered, and the ul, then, locked its foot about her. It then put its other foot on her, as well, and also closed it about her body. She was as helpless as though she were clutched in the talons of a tarn. She lifted her head inches from the sand and screamed. The ul had reached its head down, its jaws gaping, when it saw me approaching, some yards away. It then lifted its head, closing its jaws. It watched me approaching. It then, for what reason I am not sure, perhaps because of its memory of fire, perhaps because of the injuries I had caused it, perhaps because of a mere desire to safeguard its prey, smote its great wings, and, blasting sand about, bending nearby rence almost to the water, began to rise into the air. My eyes half closed, crouching, fighting my way through the sand and wind, I lunged toward it. I did not attack its feet for fear of striking the girl. I, then, was under it, running. It, hovering, backed over the marsh. I leapt upward with the sword and the blade met the beating wing on its forward strike and the blade and my arm, too, given the force, penetrated it like paper, and the thing rose up uttering a wild, hissing noise, clutching the girl, I hanging in the rent wing. Its flight was erratic and it climbed, and spun, and circled against me, the injured wing, air passing through it, burdened, too, with my weight, muchly ineffective. I swung in the wing, dangling. I saw the marsh dizzily spinning beneath me. The noise of the creature now was a wild deafening squeal. The monster's quarry, its creamy flesh in its grasp, its blond hair spread in the wind, made gasping, sobbing, choking noises. I think it could hardly breathe, for the movements, the ascents and descents, the turning in the air. My arm slipped down through the skin. I feared I might rip free and fall to the marsh below, sometimes a hundred feet below, sometimes as little as thirty or forty feet. The creature tried, to bite at me, to pull me from its wing, and I kicked at it, and thrust at its jaws, pushing them up, away. Once my hand slipped inside the lower jaw and I managed to withdraw it only an instant before the upper jaw, like the lid of a box, snapped shut against the lower. Then the ul was spinning erratically again, and we were turning head over heels. I then managed, hanging there, swinging, when it again achieved some stability, to transfer the sword to my left hand, under the wing. With my left hand I thrust the blade again and again into its left side. I could get little leverage for these thrusts, but they were repeated, again and again, and blood told of counts tallied. Then the jaws opened widely, perhaps four or five feet in width, and reached for me. I tried to swing back but could move very little. I thrust the blade out, between the jaws. The jaws snapped downward and the point of the sword emerged through the upper jaw and the lower jaw was tight under the hilt of the sword. The tongue, moving about, from one side to the other, cutting itself, bleeding, pushed against my hand. The creature, turning and spinning, hissing, tried to close its jaws. This put the blade higher through the upper jaw. Closer and closer to my hand came the relentless upper jaw, until it was stopped, held by the guard. The tongue pushed against my hand and the hilt. It then, spinning about, climbing, tried to open its jaws. I tried to turn the blade, to keep the jaws pinned shut. Its left eye was balefully upon me. Its left side bled in a dozen places. Then it began to fall, erratically, turning in the air, and then, somehow, again, it regained some stability. I saw what I took to be the island below, to the left. We were perhaps fifty or seventy feet then from the rence. It put back its head, lifting it, twisting it, and given the power of its body, the sword, fixed still in its jaw, was torn from my grasp. I heard the girl scream, released. I saw her falling toward the marsh below. Unburdened then to that extent the creature tried again to climb, it could manage only a few feet. The great wings no longer beat frenziedly. Then it tried to reach me with its legs. Its left leg, given my position, could not do so. Reaching across its body it tried to reach me, too, with its right leg. I tried to pull back. Claws tore at me, raking my leg. Then it tried to reach me with the claws of its right forelimb, the wing claws, at the arch of the wing. These claws, I think, are largely vestigial, given the modification of the forelimb to support the wing. They may, however, together with those of the feet, enable the creature, in suitable environments, to cling, batlike, to surfaces, such as rock faces and trees. They may also be used in intraspecific aggression. I pushed them away. In trying to reach me with these claws, of course, it lost aerial stability, and began to fall, twisting downward. It recovered in a moment and then, with the wing itself, began to beat, and thrust, at me. In attempting this, however, it again lost aerial stability, and began once more to plummet, spinning toward the marsh. It opened its wings to try to climb again, perhaps some fifty feet or so, above the marsh, and did climb, yard by yard, as though it would ascend to the clouds, but then it fell slowly, its wings beating, toward the marsh. It was suddenly in the water and I freed myself of the wing and backed away. I saw the claws of the forelimb, and the wing itself, push against where I bad been. I stood back. It was lying there then, half submerged, its wing twisted and torn. The head turned to regard me. I waited for a time. The body went lower in the water. I then, carefully, freed my sword from its jaws. I then thrust once, deeply, cleanly, into its left side. It was then dead. The ul, I thought, is not the monarch of the delta. Man, small man, puny man, with his weapons, is the monarch of the delta. There was much blood in the water and I waded back toward the island. Two short-legged tharlarion passed me, like ships, moving toward the dead ul.

I climbed onto the sand. I would cross the island, and return, again, to the raft.

I had not sheathed the sword.

"Wait!" I heard, a tremulous voice, small, pleading. I did not turn about I had thought she had been killed. I continued toward the other side of the island.

"Wait, please!" I heard.

I then turned about.

I saw her a few yards behind. I could also see her footprints in the sand, where they had followed mine. She approached to within a few feet of me, but no nearer. She stood there, frightened, shuddering. She was filthy.

"I thought you had been killed," she said.

"I thought you had been killed," I said.

"I fell in the water," she said.

"Apparently in a channel," I said.

"I nearly drowned in the mud," she said.

"You look disgusting," I said.

"Is it dead?" she asked, frightened.

"Yes," I said.

I thought her knees might give way, that she might fall to the sand.

"It is dead," I said.

"You are injured," she said. My left leg was covered with blood.

"It is nothing," I said.

"There may be others," she said.

"Probably not in this vicinity," I said. The larger uls, as opposed to the several smaller varieties, some as small as jards, tend to be isolated and territorial.

"But there are many dangers in the delta," she said.

"Some, perhaps," I said.

Suddenly she hurried forward and dropped to her knees in the sand before me. She was sobbing and shuddering, uncontrollably. She put her head tremblingly down to the sand. The palms of her hands were in the sand, the sand coming over her fingers. She kept this position for several Ihn. Then she looked up at me, piteously, pleadingly, from all fours. "Please," she said. "Please!"

She had performed obeisance before me.

"Please!" she wept.

I regarded her, impassively.

She crawled to my knees and clasped them, kneeling before me, looking up at me, tears in her eyes. She held her arms about my legs, closely. I could feel her move and tremble, and shudder. Her face was running with tears. Then she put her cheek down, against my bloody leg. I could feel her tears on my leg. "Please," she \whispered piteously, "Please! Please!"

"Lick the blood from my leg," I said.

"Yes, yes!" she said, eagerly.

I looked down to see that small, lovely pink tongue addressing itself dutifully, eagerly, assiduously, to its task. How in contrast its softness, its color, and its attentive delicacy seemed to the bedraggled, filthy figure, with its matted hair, at my feet. To be sure, the figure was curvaceous.

When she had finished her task, cleaning the blood and dirt from my leg, she looked up at me, hopefully, her hands still on my legs.

"Back away," I said. "Stay on your knees."

She backed away, about two yards, on her knees.

I raised the blade of the sword a little. "Lift your chin," I said.

She complied.

"You are filthy," I said.

"Let me come with you!" she said.

"It is difficult to assess you in your present condition," I said.

She looked at me, startled.

"Go make yourself presentable," I said. Surely she would remember that the men of Ar were to make me presentable before I appeared before her, during our little interview, that which had occurred on another island, several days ago, that in which I had learned she was a Cosian spy, that in which I had first noted that that her ankles would look well in shackles.

Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Make yourself sparkle," I said.

With a sob, she sprang up, and hurried across the sand, and out a little into the water, where she stood, the water to her knees. She then began to wash her limbs and body, and face, the water splashing and falling about her. I watched her. It was not unpleasant. A slave girl, I thought, however, would have done it much better, and, of course, in such a way that an observing master might be driven mad with passion. The Lady Ina, of course, was only a free woman. She did look back, anxiously, from time to time, but this, I think, was less to observe my interest and reaction than for the purpose of reassuring herself that I had not left. Then she knelt in the water, by the shore, and washed her hair. This she did do with a touch of sensuousness, perhaps because she was now reasonably confident I was not about to disappear into the rence. This sensuousness became pronounced when she began to comb her hair out with her fingers, and also when she began to dry it, shaking it lightly about, and lifting it, and moving it about, in her hands, to dry it. Then she threw her hair back over her shoulders and rose to her feet, and approached me, slowly, across the sand.

Now she stood again, before me, straightly, yet gracefully, her ankles in the sand, the sun on her. She was now very white, her ablutions performed, the mud washed from her, and her hair was lovely. She sparkled. She smiled. I think she knew she was beautiful, or thought she was beautiful. But as I continued to regard her, impassively, her mien became less confident, and more timid.

I pointed to the sand before me.

She immediately, frightened, dropped to her knees and again put her head down to the sand, the palms of her hands, too, on the sand.

It is pleasant to have a woman perform obeisance before one. It is also appropriate. In such a way, in such symbolisms, may the order of nature, and its profound truths, in a conventional and civilized manner, be expressed and acknowledged.

To be sure, this gesture had not been performed voluntarily by the woman at this time, in a typical reverence for the male, for nature, and for herself, and her meaning, but had been commanded by me. Also, I had not commanded this gesture merely for my own pleasure, to see the beauty before me, so marvelously, so rightly, but I had commanded it of her for her own good, that she might clearly understand the nature of our relationship, that she would understand herself, in the deepest part of her belly, as being submitted. Indeed, I had required it of her categorically, unquestioningly, as a master might require it of a slave.

"You may raise your head," I said.

She looked up at me, her lower lip trembling.

"Kneel back on your heels," I said. "Open your knees, widely. More widely. Good." I did not doubt but what she would recall that she had, back on the other island, days ago, when she had had power, the backing of numerous armed men, been the issuer of such instructions, not their recipient. "Place the palms of your hands on your thighs," I said. "Lift your head."

"This is a slave position, is it not?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I am not a slave!" she said.

"Do not break position," I said. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"You now wish to address a petition to me?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said.

"Do not break position," I warned her. She kept position.

"You may speak," I informed her.

"Take me with you!" she cried. "Guard me! Protect me! Defend me! I cannot protect myself! I cannot defend myself! I am a female. I need male protection! I am only a female! Without your protection I will die in the delta. Without your protection I can never get out of the delta alive. I am a woman, only a woman. I need you desperately!"

"Rencer women," I said, "live in the delta."

"I am not a rencer woman!" she wept.

To be sure, rencer women, as well as others, needed the protection of men. If nothing else, slavers could hunt them down and get them in their chains. All women need the protection of men, though sometimes this protection is so profound and so familiar as to escape notice. But let the barriers of civilization lapse, even for a day, and their need for men would become unmistakably apparent.

"What hope," asked she, "would I, naked, a woman of high birth and gentle upbringing, a woman of station, a lady of Ar, have of getting out of the delta alive?"

"I do not know," I said.

"And I might be taken by rencers," she said, "and put out again for tharlarion."

"That is quite possible," I said.

"Protect me!" she begged.

"Do not break position," I warned her.

She moaned.

I looked out, over the marsh. It was now late afternoon. "I think," I said, "I might myself, without great difficulty, one man, alone, escape from the delta. Taking a woman with me, however, and, in particular, one such as you, seems to impose, as you might well imagine, a handicap of a very serious nature."

"I will be no trouble!" she said, eagerly.

"It is not as though you were, say, a slave," I said, "a property which one would not wish to leave behind."

"I can be enslaved," she said, an odd note in her voice.

"Also," I said, "one may assure oneself, in virtue of the strictures of the mastership, that a slave will be little or no trouble."

"Enslave me then," she said.

"But you are a free woman," I said.

"That is true!" she said.

"And did you not suggest earlier," I said, "that you would never make a slave?"

"Yes," she said.

"Have you now reconsidered the matter?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

Her knees were half sunk in the sand.

"And what is the outcome of your reconsideration?" I inquired.

"Any woman can be made a slave," she said.

"A perceptive insight," I said.

"Take me with you," she begged.

"And if I take you with me as a free woman," I said, "what conditions would you impose?"

"Few," she said. "Only that I be treated with respect and dignity."

"Come back!" she cried. "Come back!"

I turned to look back at her, across the sand. She was wild in the sand. She had not, however, broken position.

"I impose no conditions!" she cried. "None whatsoever!"

I returned to stand before her.

"I am a woman of Ar!" she said. "You are of Port Kar. Both of our cities are at war with Cos! We are allies, then!"

"You are a spy of Cos," I said.

"I impose no conditions," she said.

"If I take you with me," I said, "I will take you with me utterly conditionlessly."

"Agreed," she said.

"As conditionlessly as a slave," I said.

"Agreed," she said.

"Moreover," I said, "I would take you with me as a captive, a full captive."

"I understand," she said.

"And do you understand what it is to be a full captive?" I asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

"You will be to me as though you might be a slave," I said.

"Yes," she said.

"You will be mine to do with as I please, completely," I said.

"I understand," she said.

"You may be given away, sold, rented, slain, anything."

"I understand," she said.

"And I may," I said, "enslave you, or have you enslaved."

"I understand," she said.

"And," I said, "I may, if I wish, abandon you in the delta."

"I shall endeavor to be such, earnestly," she said, "that you will not wish to do so."

"You understand these things?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"And this?" I asked, holding the wicked point, the dangerous steel, still sticky from the blood of the ul, of the unsheathed sword to her bosom.

"Yes," she said, looking up at me.

"Lie on your back," I said, "your arms at your sides, the palms of your hands up, your knees lifted, your heels back, up a bit, your toes pressed down into the sand, your legs closely together."

I looked upon her.

Her wrists, on each side of her, were still encircled with thongs, their dangling ends dark in the sand.

"Am I favorably assessed?" she asked.

I then wiped the blade clean, carefully, using the interior of her thighs, and belly. I used also sand, and, lastly, her hair.

"Am I again to clean myself?" she asked.

"No," I said. "The delta is not a place for the excessively fastidious."

"I see," she said, shuddering.

I sheathed the sword smartly, cracking it into the scabbard.

She reacted, shrinking down, frightened, in the sand. I saw that on some level or another she understood the sheathing of the sword.

"Position!" I snapped.

Swiftly she knelt again, as she had been commanded earlier.

"You obey with the alacrity of a slave girl," I observed.

"If I do not," she said, "I could be punished as one, could I not?"

"Yes," I said, "and would be."

I walked about her, examining her. She kept her back very straight, and her head up.

I was then again before her.

I noted that the palm of her hands, so soft, so vulnerable, had turned on her thighs, so that they faced up. Among slave girls this is a common way of signaling need, helplessness, a desire to please. As she probably did not know that I took it to be instinctive, or semi-instinctive, perhaps a subconscious, or only partially understood, utilization of the symbolic aspects of the palm of the female's hand. One reason for thinking this is a very natural behavior is that almost all female slaves, in certain situations, will use it, even before it has been explicitly called to their attention by, say, a whipmaster or trainer. Also, it is not uncommon, in certain situations, among captive free women, as witness the Lady Ina, in the repertoire of an experienced slave, of course, it is one of her nonverbal signals, one of those numerous signals, such as need knots, body touchings, and such, by means of which she may express herself, even if forbidden to speak. It may also be used as a begging, placatory behavior. The thongs on the Lady Ina's wrists, the ends over, and down, beside her thighs, were lovely.

"It is my hope," she said, "that your assessment is favorable."

"You are not unattractive," I said.

"I am pleased that I might be found pleasing," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

" 'Why'?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I suppose," said she, "that you might then be more inclined to permit me to accompany you."

"Is there any other reason?" I asked.

"Of course not!" she said, stammering.

I smiled. What a mendacious, vain thing she was She, like all females, hoped to be found pleasing by men. She wished, like all females, to be attractive, and desirable.

"Why are your palms facing up?" I asked.

"I do not know!" she said, startled. She quickly turned them down, on her thighs. "I did not notice, or hardly noticed," she said. "I am sorry. I did not mean to break position. Please forgive me. I do not wish to be beaten!"

"That is not normally regarded as a breaking of position," I said.

She leaned back, in relief.

"I shall call you 'Ina'," I said.

"Not 'Lady Ina'?" she said.

"No," I said.

"And what shall I call you?" she asked, frightened.

" 'Captor', or such," I said, "that sort of thing."

"Ah," she breathed, relievedly.

"You understand?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. I looked at her.

"— captor," she added.

"Get up," I said, "and walk in that direction."

She walked before me, across the small island, and then, first hesitating, then urged forward with a curt word of command, waded into the marsh. In a few moments we had come to the small bar, that tiny island, much smaller than the one on which she had been bound, on which I had drawn up the raft.

"A raft!" she said, pleased. I do not think she could have been more pleased if she had discovered her barge, intact. So simple a device as a raft might increase one's chances of survival in the delta a hundredfold. "Look," she said, "it is one of the poles from my barge! You can see the gilding there, where it is not burned away."

The raft was heavy. I did not think she could easily draw it, as I had, yoked and harnessed. I did not even think she could well use the pole, as it was a large, heavy one.

"We have a raft!" she said.

"I have a raft," I said.

"And there are supplies!" she said.

"Mine," I said.

"But perhaps you will give little Ina some," she wheedled, turning about, smiling.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.

"I am wondering of what possible value you could be," I said.

" 'Value'?" she asked.

"I do not think you will be of much help with the raft," I said.

"Of course not," she said. "I am a woman."

"Precisely," I said.

"But some men think women have value," she said.

"The value of slaves is clear," I said.

"Think of me, then," she said, "as a slave."

"That is less difficult than you may imagine," I said. She stiffened, angrily, standing in the water. Then, after a moment, she relaxed, and smiled. "I can demonstrate my value," she said, approaching me. She then stood quite close to me, and looked up at me. "You now sense that I have value, don't you?" she asked.

"We are going to camp here, on this bar," I said, "for a few Ahn."

She laughed, softly. I think she thought this decision had something to do with her.

"Then we will leave," I said.

"After dark?"

"Yes," I said.

"Why?" she asked.

"Security," I said. This was even more important now that there were two of us.

"How will you see?" she asked.

"By the moons, by the stars," I said.

"We will be here for some Ahn?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I think that will give me time to earn my passage," she smiled.

"You will follow, tied, on a strap," I said.

"My captor jests," she laughed.

"Go to the island," I said.

"I will do as you wish," she said.

I looked at her.

"I will do whatever you wish," she said, putting her finger on my shoulder, looking up at me.

Then she turned about and ascended the bar, that tiny island in the marsh.

In a few moments, after concealing the raft and supplies, I, too, ascended the bar. She was waiting for me, standing in a patch of soft, warm, sunlit sand.

"The captive awaits her captor," she said, lifting her arms to me.

"Is this how a captive awaits her captor?" I asked. "Shall I go, and then return?"

Quickly she knelt in the sand, as I had taught her, or nearly so.

"Your knees," I said, "they are to be more widely spread." She complied, her knees moving the sand to the sides, making small furrows.

"You may now say," said I, "what you said before."

"The captive awaits her captor," she said.

"You may now bow your head, submissively," I said.

She did so, frightened.

I then regarded her. She was lovely in this position of submission.

Slaves sometimes, when prepared for love, when ordered to the furs, perhaps from an instruction issued in the morning, or such, greet their masters rather in this fashion, kneeling, with some such formula. I think it likely she knew this, for her substitution of the word 'captive' for 'slave' and 'captor' for 'master' suggested it. Many free women know more of the behaviors of slaves, and details of the relationships between them and their masters, than many free men give them credit for knowing. Indeed, many free women, while expressing disinterest in such matters, or disgust at their very thought, tend to be fascinated by them, and inquire eagerly into them. Perhaps there is a practical motivation for such interests. Perhaps they wish to know such things in case they should one day find themselves being pulled from a branding rack, their own flesh marked. To be sure, no free woman knows really what it is to be a slave, for that is known truly only to the slave herself. Similarly, there is much in the relationship between a slave and her master that cannot be known to a free woman, much that she cannot even suspect. She is likely to learn these things, so precious, intimate and secret, so profound, wonderful and rewarding, so fulfilling, to her astonishment and revelation, only when,the collar is on her own throat. She will then understand why many slave girls would rather die than surrender their collars. In the collar they have found their joy and meaning. To be sure many slave girls are worked hard and live in fear of the whip. Many serve in the public kitchens and laundries. Many carry water in the quarries and on the great farms. Such, sooner or later, long for a private master.

"You may raise your head," I said.

She lifted her head.

I saw that she would attempt boldness.

"Is your little ritual finished?" she asked.

"Put your head down again," I said.

She did so, quickly, frightened.

"Ritual," I said, "is important. It is fulfilling, and meaningful. It is beautiful. It is symbolic, mnemonic and instructive. It establishes protocols. It expresses, defines and clarifies conditions. It is essential to, and ingredient within, civilization. Similarly, do not overlook the significance and value of symbolism. Even chains on a slave are often largely symbolic. Where is she to run to, slave-clad, collared and marked? She would be promptly returned to her master."

"Yet her chains are chains, and they are real, and they hold her helplessly, and perfectly," she said, head down.

"True," I said.

She shuddered.

"What are various slave rituals?" I asked.

"The kissing and licking of the master's feet, she said, "the bringing to him of his whip or sandals, in one's teeth, on all fours, kneeling, prostration before him, the performance of obeisances, such things."

"And you understand the appropriateness, the rightfulness, of enforcing such things on slaves?"

"Of course," she said.

"Perhaps you now understand the importance of rituals?" I said.

"Yes," she said.

"You may raise your head," I said.

This time she raised her head timidly.

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

"True," I said.

"Had I been a slave, would I have been punished?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"What would you have done to me?" she asked.

"I do not know," I said, "perhaps cuff you a bit, perhaps lash you with my belt."

She shuddered. "It is no wonder that slaves are obedient," she said.

"Yes," I said. "Slaves are obedient."

"I, too," she said, "can be obedient."

"Stand," I said.

She did. She was in the sand, to her ankles.

"Approach me," I said.

She did so, until she was quite close to me. I could reach out and take her in my arms. "You see," she said, "I can be quite obedient." I did not move. She then lifted her arms and put them about my neck. "I am now ready to earn my passage," she said.

"Your passage?" I asked. Surely she remembered what I had told her, that she would follow, tied, on a strap.

"My keep," she smiled.

"Doubtless it will be the first time that you, a free woman, ever earned your keep," I said.

"In a sense, yes!" she laughed.

"You are sure you can stand it?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "I am sure!"

She then lifted her head and rose up to her toes, to kiss me, but I drew back and removed her arms from about my neck. I then held her, by the arms, before me, facing me.

She looked up at me, puzzled.

"Turn about," I said, "and get on your belly in the sand."

"I do not understand," she said.

"Are you a disobedient captive?" I asked.

"No!" she said, and swiftly turned about and lay in the sand, prone.

I discarded my tunic and accouterments.

"Oh!" she cried, seized, held helplessly. "I am a free woman!" she cried, protestingly.

I cried out, exultantly.

"You cannot do this to a free woman!" she informed me. "Oh!"

Again I cried out. There were tears in my eyes. I tried not to make so much noise. I did not want rencers, or animals, to be attracted to the island.

She squirmed, and struggled. She reared up, on her elbows, in the sand.

Again I uttered the intensity of my relief, my pleasure, my satisfaction.

How long it had been since I had had a woman!

"I am a free woman," she sobbed. But she was held helplessly on her belly in the sand, as in a vise.

"Aiii," I said, softly.

"Let me go!" she screamed.

"Do not make so much noise," I said.

"I?" she said, in fury.

"Hold still," I said.

"I have little choice," she said, angrily.

"Do not forget you are a captive," I said.

"No," she said.

"No, what?" I asked.

"No, captor!" she said, in fury.

I suppose she had little pleasure in this, at least at the time, and perhaps I should have been a bit more concerned for her than I was, as she was a free woman, and not a mere slave, but, frankly, I was not much in a mood to concern myself with her feelings. Does a thirsting man in the Tahari concern himself with the feelings of the water with which he at last slakes his thirst? Does a starving man in Torvaldsland concern himself with the feelings of the viands on which he at last feasts?

I continued to hold her, tightly. I was gasping, trying to catch my breath.

It is interesting, I thought, how if one is starved for sex, and nothing better is about, one may have recourse even to a free woman. Perhaps, I thought, that is why many free women wish to keep men starved for sex, that they will then continue to be of interest to hum This is very different from the slave girl, incidentally, whose sexuality has been so liberated, triggered and honed, that she is now the helpless victim of her needs, so much so that she often begs her master for his attentions.

"Oh!" she said.

"Ah!" I said, softly.

Again I received pleasure from her.

Then I was again quiet, she helpless in my grasp. She sobbed.

"Can you stand it?" I inquired.

"It doesn't matter, does it?" she asked. "No," I said.

"Sleen!" she said. "Sleen!"

"It is not necessary to talk now," I said. "Release me," she said.

"No," I said.

"Please," she said, a strange note in her voice.

"Why?" I asked. "Are you afraid you may begin to feel?"

"No," she said. "Of course not!"

"But you are already beginning to feel," I said.

"No," she said. "No!"

I felt her body move a little, helplessly. This gave me pleasure.

I wished she were a slave.

Free women are so inferior to slaves.

One of the great pleasures of making love to a slave is the uncompromising exploitation of her marvelous sexual sensitivities, her helplessnesses, they putting her so much in your power, enabling you to do with her as you please and obtain from her what you want. She may be brought up and down, as you please, at your will, at your mercy, and played like an instrument. She may, if you wish, be held short of her ecstasy, cruelly, if you desire, or, in a moment, with a touch, granted it. There are few sights so exciting and beautiful as a helplessly orgasmic slave crying out her submission and love.

"You are moving," I said.

"It is hard to help it," she said.

"I do not object," I said.

"Monster!" she said.

"You are doing it again," I said.

"It is my body that is doing it!" she said. "Perhaps it is curious," I said, "hungry for sensation." She made an angry sound. Her head was down, and turned, her cheek in the sand. Her fists were at the sides of her head, clenched.

"Oh!" she said. I laughed.

Now her head was up. Her shoulders were lifted. Much of her weight was on her forearms, in the sand. Her fists were still clenched. Her body was tense. It was beautifully vital, and alive.

"I have not known men such as you," she said, "who do as they please with women."

"Were you a slave," I said, "you would have known many."

"Oh!" she said.

"Perhaps you should try not to move," I said.

"I will try not to move," she said, angrily. "You may rest assured of that!"

"You are doing it again," I said. She cried out, angrily.

"You must be careful," I said, "or you might arouse me."

"No, no!" she said. "Excellent," I said. "No!" she said. "Very good!" I said.

"No, please no!" she said. "Oh!" she said. "Oh!"

"Aii!" I said, suddenly, and, in the grip of my reflexes, in my spasmodic tumult, spun about, twisting, rolling in the sand, carrying her lightly, helplessly, with me, as though she might be a doll, and sand scattered about, and she, too, gasped, and then again we lay in the sand as we had before, she as helplessly as ever in my grasp, near, too, where we had before.

She was covered with sweat, and sand, as I. Her hair was about. Her hands were out, over her head, in the sand.

"You treat me as though I were a slave," she said. I did not respond to her.

She had, actually, very little idea as to how a slave might be treated.

"I am not a plaything," she said, sullenly.

"Women are many things," I said, "among them is a plaything."

"I am your plaything," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"When I was bound on the pole and you had touched me, as you put it, in the manner of the master, you apologized to me, and asked my forgiveness, do you recall?"

"Yes," I said.

"You were mocking me, weren't you?" she asked.

"Of course," I said.

"You are very strong," she said. I did not answer.

"I did not know such power, such lust, could exist," she said.

"But twice before," I said, "you have been known by men."

"I am not even sure, now," she said, "that they were men."

"I would suppose they were men," I said. "Perhaps, on the other hand, it was you who were not the woman."

"I do not understand," she said.

"Were you submissive to them, in the order of nature?" I asked.

"Of course not," she said. "I am a free woman!"

"Perhaps your experiences might have been rather different," I said, "if you had stood to them in a somewhat different relationship, in a relationship more natural to the female."

"I do not understand," she said.

"Consider what your experiences might have been," I said, "had you been their captive, or, ideally, their slave."

"I see," she said, shuddering.

"Submission is appropriate for the female," I said.

"No!" she said. "Yes," she said, softly sobbing.

"Yes," I said.

"But you do not know these men," she said. "How could one submit to them? They were weaklings!"

"Perhaps they were weaklings, perhaps they were not," I said.

"They were!" she said.

"Then why did you admit them to your couch?" I asked.

She was silent.

"Perhaps you wanted males you could dominate, or did not need to fear?"

"I don't know," she said.

"But even to the weakling," I said, "it is appropriate to submit yourself, and fully."

She sobbed.

"In submitting yourself to him you submit yourself to the principle of masculinity, embodied in him. In this submission you recognize the rights of masculinity and fulfill yourself by submitting your femininity to it."

She shuddered in the sand, sobbing.

"To be sure," I said, "it is doubtless easier to do this, and to understand it much more quickly, if the master is strong, if he throws you to his feet, and stands over you with a whip, and you know that your least recalcitrance will not be tolerated."

"It is only to a true master that I could submit," she said, "not to a weakling."

"If you submit yourself, clearly and explicitly," I said, "you may discover that he whom you thought to be a weakling may not in actuality be such at all. Few men, once they have caught the scent of the mastery, and surely once they have tasted of its deliciousness, will even consider its surrender."

"I spoke too quickly," she said. "I myself could never submit to any man. I am a free woman! I could never make a slave!"

"But then," I said, "you have never felt the brand, the whip, the collar."

She was silent. But I felt her tremble, even contemplating such things.

"Slaves are institutionally submitted," I said.

"But they deserve to be such," said she, quickly. "They are only slaves."

"But yet you are in my grip, much as might be a slave," I said.

"I cannot help that," she said.

I tightened my grip a little on her.

"Are slaves often whipped?" she asked, as though nonchalantly.

"Why do you ask?" I asked.

"I was only curious," she said.

"They are whipped when the master pleases," I said.

"Of course," she said.

"Perhaps the answer does not satisfy you?" I said.

"I am a free woman," she said.

"Slaves are often whipped," I said, "-when they are not pleasing."

"But are they often whipped?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Because they are pleasing?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I would never make a slave," she said. "But if I were to be a slave, I think I would try very hard to be pleasing."

"I am sure you would," I said.

"Beast," she said. I tightened my grip on her.

She squirmed a little, in the sand.

"Do you think to escape?" I asked.

"No," she said. She was muchly helpless as I held her. I relaxed my grip.

"No!" she said, suddenly. "Do not let me go!" "A strange request from a free woman," I said. "I am having strange feelings," she said. "I do not understand them. I am frightened of them. I have never felt anything like them before, not like this."

"What sort of feelings?" I asked.

"Never mind," she said. "Just hold me. Don't let me go!"

"Do you beg it?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Yes!"

I was curious as to what might be going on within her. It was apparently of some significance.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked.

"Though I am a free woman," she said, "I was thinking about what it might be to be a slave."

"And that is the occasion," I asked, "of these unusual feelings?"

"In part, I suppose," she said. "I do not know!"

"You're moving," I said.

"Oh!" she said, in frustration.

"And what was it, in particular, about being a slave?" I asked.

"I do not know," she said. "The wholeness of it, I think, its meaning, its categoricality, its helplessness, the being owned, the being subject to discipline, the having to obey! I do not know! I do not know!"

"Your whole body is becoming excited and vital," I said.

"Hold me," she said. "Hold me." I tightened my grip on her.

"I am to you much as would be a slave, am I not?" she gasped.

"Yes," I said.

"Am I subject to discipline, as would be a slave?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"But you have no whip!" she said.

"I could tie your hands and feet together and lash you with my belt," I said.

"I have never felt feelings like these!" she said. "They are overwhelming. They are all through me!"

"Do not fear them," I said.

"I feel so feminine," she said. "I have never felt so feminine!"

"Do not be afraid," I said.

"I want to please you!" she said, startled.

"Do not be afraid of your feelings," I said.

"I wish that I were a slave!" she cried out, in horror. "I wish I was free to be sexual, that it was commanded of me, that I would have no choice! That I would be forced to be what I am! That I would be truly in my place, where I belong, helplessly, even institutionally, under absolute male dominance!"

"But you are a free woman," I reminded her.

"I want to be subject to sale, to exchange, to commands!" she said. "I want to stand before men, beautiful and exciting, collared, an object of desire, a commodity, to hear their bids, to be subject to their claims, to be such that I may be led away in their chains. I want to love, and serve, wholely, selflessly, helplessly, irreservedly!"

"But you are a free woman," I said.

"Forget," she said, "that I am your enemy, that you hate me, that you hold me in contempt, that you despise me, that I have betrayed my Home Stone, that I am a spy of Cos! Think of me now only as a woman who has for the first time begun to feel her womanhood, and hold me! Hold me!"

"I do not hate you, or hold you in contempt, or despise you, such things," I said. "And, too, I have little concern personally with the wars of Ar and Cos. To be sure, I do have some reservations pertaining to your character, but I think most people would, apparently including the rencers, who chose not even to keep you as a slave. I think of you primarily as an arrogant and insolent free woman whom I have made my captive."

"I am not now arrogant and insolent!" she said.

"True," I said.

"Hold me!" she begged.

"And you have only begun to feel your womanhood," I said.

"Make me a slave!" she said.

"The rencers did not enslave you," I said.

"No!" she said.

"I suspect they did not regard you as being worthy of being a slave."

"Not even that," she said, "so little?"

"Still," I said, "they may have made a mistake in not enslaving you," I said, "particularly if their hesitancy in this matter had to do with reservations concerning your character."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because," I said, "it is easy to reform a woman's character once she is in a collar."

"Do not let me go!" she said. "I beg it!"

"Ah!" I said.

"Please!" she said.

"Do you think I would let you go, now?" I asked.

"Thank you," she whispered, "-my captor!"

"And what are you feeling now?" I asked.

"I do not know!" she said.

"Female need, perhaps?" I asked.

She cried out, with misery. "Please do not use such words to me. I am a free woman."

"Free women have no needs?" I asked.

"Surely not like this!" she wept.

"Do not be ashamed of what is natural, and grand," I said.

"What have you done to me!" she wept. "What are you turning me into?"

"Shall I release you?" I asked.

"No!" she cried.

"I would not blame me too grievously," I said. "The nature, you must realize, is yours, and the feelings."

"Oh," she said. "Oh!" I forced her hips lower, in the sand. "Ohhh," she said.

"Can you stand it?" I asked.

"I do not know!" she cried. "I do not know!" She clawed at the sand, gasping.

"You are squirming like a stuck tarsk," I said. She cried out, angrily.

"Ahh," I said.

"Oh!" she cried. Her small fingers tore at the sand. Her head moved from side to side. Her hair was about.

"Now," I said, "you are wriggling like an aroused slave." She pounded her small fists into the sand.

"Perhaps it is a matter of needs," I said.

" 'Needs'!" she cried. "That is so pale a word! It is like screaming in my body. It is like writhing, piteous, helpless beggings!"

"Interesting," I said.

" 'Interesting'!" she cried.

"Yes, interesting," I said.

"Are these the feelings of a slave?" she asked.

"In a sense, yes," I said. "All females are slaves, and you are a female."

"I am a free woman!" she insisted. "Certainly in a technical, legal sense," I said.

"Oh!" she cried.

"Steady," I said.

"Stop!" she said.

"Very well," I said.

"No!" she cried. "Do not stop! Do not stop!" "Can you stand it?" I asked.

"I do not care if I can stand it or not!" she wept. "Do it! Do it! Do it to me!"

But I eased her a little.

"What were you doing to me?" she asked. "Where were you taking me?"

I was silent.

"Take me there," she wept. "Take me there, as though in your arms, higher and higher, to dizzying heights of terror, to the clouds, the winds, the sun and beyond, I dependent on you!"

I was silent.

"Force me upward," she said. "Drive me there, as though by wings and whips. Show me no mercy!"

"No mercy?" I said.

"I want none!" she wept.

"You will then receive none," I said.

I then, as she wished, began again to carry her upward. "Captor!" she wept.

"There is no going back," I told her.

"This must be what it is to be a slave!" she cried. I was silent.

She was beautiful, sweating, alive, clawing, squirming, in the sand.

"Chains, flowers, fire, helplessness, love!" she wept. "Love! Love!"

Then she was sobbing, gratefully, and then was lying astonished, sober, in the sand.

"Surely that is what is to be a slave," she whispered.

"You are still only a free woman," I said to her. "Your experience was not conditioned by the categoricality of bondage, by the reality of it, and the slave's knowledge of that reality, by the full belonging of the slave to her master, so to speak, and her understanding, legal, and personal, and such, of that full belonging. Also, it takes time to develop, improve and hone slave reflexes, both specific and totalistic. Slaves grow and improve in such matters."

"Ohh," she said, softly.

"But perhaps you understand now," I said, "in virtue of this experience which you have had, as rudimentary, or merely indicative, as it may have been, That it may not be only the whip, and such, that explains the slave girl's desire to please."

"Yes!" she breathed.

"And what is the whip to it?" I asked. "Very little," she whispered.

"Yet the whip is real," I said. "Yes," she said.

"Do you doubt it?" I asked. "No," she said.

"Nonetheless," I said, "your responses, even as a free woman, suggest to me that if you were to become a slave, you would, in time, become a hot slave."

"A hot slave!" she said, in horror.

"That is the indication," I said.

"A hot slave!" she said, in fury.

"Yes," I said.

"But such a slave," she said, "is helpless in the arms of men, her responsiveness uncontrollable!"

"It would improve your price," I said.

She moaned.

"Perhaps you can imagine yourself naked on the slave block, in chains," I said, "this excellent feature of yours, considerably enhancing your value, being called to the attention of buyers, and you standing there, naked, in your chains, knowing it was true."

She shuddered and moaned, in the sand. "I see you can well imagine it," I said. We then lay together, quietly.

"If I were a slave," she said, softly, after a time, "I could be purchased by anyone."

"Yes," I said, "who could afford your price, and it would not be likely to be high at first, early in your slavery."

"And I would have to submit to whoever purchased me," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"Even if he were hideous," she said, "or a despicable weakling."

"The slave must submit, and with perfection, to any man,"

"Yes," she said, shuddering, "she must."

"And how do you feel now?" I asked.

"Feminine," she said. "Very very feminine."

"I think it is now time that we rested," I said. I then knelt across her thighs and pulled her hands together behind her back.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Tying you," I said.

The thongs were still about her wrists, with their dangling ends. I tied these dangling ends together, fastening her wrists, thusly, behind her back.

"What you did to me!" she said, suddenly, bitterly.

"Perhaps you learned something about yourself," I said.

"Do it to me again!" she begged.

"We must rest now," I said.

I crossed her ankles and encircled them tightly, fastening them together, with some binding fiber, taken from my nearby wallet, that on my belt.

"Oh!" she said, her ankles jerked upwards, and fastened to the thongs holding her wrists together.

I then lifted her by the arms to a kneeling position and put her a bit from me on the sand. I then reclined, on one elbow, some grass about, to rest. I regarded her. She struggled a little, then looked at me, angrily. "I am helpless," she said.

"We must rest now," I said.

"And where am I to rest?" she asked.

"Not in the open," I said.

"Where then!" she said.

"Over there!" I said, "in that grass."

"And have you not forgotten something?" she asked.

"Perhaps," I said. "What?"

"How am I to get there?" she asked, ironically.

"On your knees, inch by inch," I said.

"You are the sort of man who masters a woman, aren't you?" she said.

"Go rest now," I said. "We shall be leaving in a few Ahn."

I watched her make her way inch by inch to the destination I had set for her, and then, there in some grass, fall to her shoulder. I saw her, through the grass, lying tied in the sand, regarding me.

I then rested.

In a few Ahn I awakened.

Shortly thereafter I removed the raft from its hiding place, readied it, putting it half afloat, and made various preparations for departure. I then went to my fair captive and she awakened as I freed her ankles from her wrists. Aside from this, however, she was still bound hand and foot. I put her over my shoulder, her head to the rear, as a slave is commonly carried, and carried her to the raft. I sat her down on the rear of the raft, its forward end half afloat. I then picked up a short, buckled strap, cut from the harness I had worn in drawing the raft through the marsh. I wrapped this twice about her neck, closely, and buckled it shut. I then lifted up one end, the loose end, of a long strap, also part of the harness I had worn in drawing the raft through the marsh, and tied it about both of the turns of the strap on her neck. In this way the interior strap, given the pull of the lead strap, could not close on her throat. Similarly, the pressure of the lead strap, if it were transmitted to the turns of the neck strap, as in a slave leash on a girl front-led, would be at the back of her neck, not at the throat. The other end of this strap I had already fastened securely to the rear of the raft. All these things I had done earlier, as part of my preparations for departure.

From the pack I had taken from the island which had been occupied by the men of Ar, in the time of the flies, I took a dry, flat biscuit. I began to feed.

"I am hungry," she said.

I gave her part of the biscuit. I put this in her mouth, bit by bit. In this fashion is a slave sometimes fed. I would hunt and fish when the opportunity presented itself. The delta is rich in resources.

"I am thirsty," she said.

"At this point in the delta," I said, "the water is drinkable."

"The rencers gave me water," she said. "They brought it to me in a dipper."

"And where do you think they obtained it?" I asked.

"Oh," she said.

I looked at her, in the light of the moons, sitting on the rough raft, her ankles crossed and bound, her hands tied behind her, in her improvised collar, on its strap.

"I think I shall rest, if I may," she said.

She then lay down, on her side, on the raft. She moved her body in such a way that there was little doubt of her femaleness, the lovely, cunning she-sleen.

I then thrust the raft fully into the marsh. She observed me, facing me, lying on her side, as I did this, I in the marsh. I then climbed aboard the raft. I bent to her ankles, freeing them of the binding fiber. "Thank you," she said. She stretched her lovely legs. "What are you doing!" she said, suddenly. I lifted her up and dropped her into the marsh, behind the raft. She went under the surface but, in a moment, got her feet under her and came to the surface, wading, sputtering. "What is the meaning of this!" she cried, angrily.

"Why should I pole your extra weight?" I asked, picking up the pole.

"But I am a female!" she said.

She stood there in the water to her waist, the strap going up to her collar.

"I told you," I said, "that you would follow, bound, on a strap."

"No!" she said. "You can't be serious!"

I thrust the pole down into the mud and propelled the raft forward, and about.

"You can't be serious!" she said. "Oh!" I looked back and saw her following, on her strap. "No, please!" she said.

I did not respond to her.

"There are dangers in the marsh!" she said. "Keep a sharp lookout," I advised her. "I do not weigh very much!" she wept.

"True," I said. To a man she was little more than a handful of slave.

"Permit me to ride," she begged.

I did not respond to her.

"Please, please!" she said.

I continued to pole the raft, silently.

"You are strong," she said. "It can make little or no difference to you!

I did not respond to her.

"It is not because of my weight, is it!" she cried.

"No," I said.

"Why, then?" she cried. "What do you want? What must I do? What must I be?"

I did not respond to her.

"Why?" she wept. "Why?"

"You will learn to be humble and obedient," I said.

"I am humble and obedient," she assured me. "I am humble and obedient!"

"We shall see," I said. She began to cry. We continued on.

After a few Ehn she suddenly said, "Wait!" I stopped the raft.

"We are not going north, are we?" she asked.

"No," I said. "We are going south." I had wondered when she would notice that.

"I thought you were going north," she said.

"I changed my mind," I said.

"But Ar is to the south!" she said.

"So, too," said I, "is Brundisium, and Torcadino, and a hundred other cities."

"You are not going to turn me over to the men of Ar!" she cried.

"Perhaps," I said.

"No!" she cried.

"But you are of Ar," I said.

"I betrayed Ar!" she said.

"But surely that would not be known to them," I said.

"I was on the staff of Saphronicus," she said. "I have been an observer for Talena, of Ar. Those who have been in the delta will now have no doubt of the treachery to which they have been subjected."

"Probably not," I said.

"And they know me!" she wept.

"I would suppose so," I said.

"Do not turn me over to men of Ar!" she said.

"Do you not think they would like to have a Cosian spy in their power?"

"Do not turn me over to them!" she begged.

"I think you will learn to be humble and obedient," I said.

"Yes," she said. "I will! I will!"

"But perhaps the men of Ar would not recognize you," I said.

"Captor?" she asked.

"As you are naked, and in bonds," I said, "you might even have difficulty proving your identity, even if you wished to do so, that you are the Lady Ina."

"But then they might see me only as a woman naked and in bonds," she cried, "and treat me accordingly!"

"Yes," I said.

She uttered a profound moan.

"I could, of course, turn you over to Cosians," I said.

"You would not dare!" she cried.

"Come along," I said, poling the raft forward.

"Oh," she said, in misery, wading, hurrying after me.

"That might be interesting," I said, "considering your accent."

"No!" she wept.

"You could always explain to them, in chains at their feet, how you were actually a Cosian spy."

"They would never believe me!" she said. "They would think me a liar, one trying to improve her condition or obtain favorable treatment."

"I would think so," I said.

"And I might be severely punished, or slain!" she said.

"To be sure," I said, "it would be a protestation which I do not think you would care to make twice to the same master, or even twice to any master."

She moaned.

"Too," I said, "even if they believed you, I think you might learn that the average Cosian is no more fond of spies, of whatever side, than the average fellow of Ar."

"What would they do to me?" she asked.

"I do not know," I said, "but I do not think that I, if I were you, would care to wear my collar in their domicile.

"My only hope," she said, "would be to fall into the hands of those who know of me and my work."

"I would think that extremely unlikely," I said.

"But it is possible!" she said.

"Even so I would not entertain too sanguine a hope for deliverance from such a quarter," I said, "as your usefulness to Cos is presumably now at an end, their objective accomplished in the delta."

"They would not free me?" she said.

"I would not think so," I said.

"But what then would they do with me?" she asked.

"I do not know," I said. "Perhaps keep you, perhaps give you to someone, perhaps sell you."

"But I am privy to much information," she said. "I am the confidante of the Lady Talena of Ar!"

"Is she treasonous to Ar, as you?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said.

I turned about and looked at her.

"Archly treasonous," she said. "Why are you looking at me like that? Do not kill me!"

I then returned to the poling of the raft.

"You will be regarded as the suborned spy," I said. "Lady Talena will be above suspicion. By now she will have been dissociated from you."

"That may not be so easy," she said. "I am privy to much information."

"I see," I said. She laughed.

It interested me that she did not seem to understand that those who had been her paymasters might now regard her as a danger to their party.

"On the other hand," I said, "perhaps I should merely turn you over to anyone, say, fellows from Brundisium."

"But to them," she said, "I would be only a woman of Ar!"

"Yes," I said, "and merely another woman of Ar."

"What would be my fate?" she asked.

"You have a short, meaty, sexy little body," I said. "Perhaps you would become a dancer in a tavern in Brundisium."

"I do not know how to dance," she said. "Under the whip, women learn quickly," I said. I heard the water splash a bit as she struggled, futilely, with her bonds. Then she was again following.

"Why are you upset?" I asked. "You know you wish to dance naked, or scantily clad, in a collar and chains before men."

"Oh! Oh!" she said, angrily. But she did not deny my words.

"Perhaps you would prefer to be sold for sleen feed," I said.

"No!" she cried.

"Probably," I said, "like many women of Ar, and Ar's Station, you would be shipped overseas to Cos or Tyros, or another of the islands."

"And there?"

"Who knows?" I said. "Perhaps a scribe would buy you to clean his chamber and keep his papers in order."

"What?" she said.

"You can read, can't you?" I said.

"Yes!" she said.

"And to serve him in other ways," I said.

"Scribes," she said, in disappointment, "are weak."

"Not all of them," I said, "as you might discover under his whip."

She moaned, and gasped, stumbling in the water.

"Or," I said, "you might be purchased by a tradesman or artisan, to share his mat and kettle."

"I," she said, scornfully, "the Lady Ina!"

"No," I said, "only then Ina or Tula, or whatever your master might be pleased to call you, only a slave."

"Oh!" she said, angrily.

"And you might be pleased then to have so high a station," I said.

"Doubtless," she said.

"She followed behind, quietly, for an Ehn.

"And," said she, "could I dance even for such masters?"

"It would doubtless be required of you," I said. I heard her gasp, softly.

"But many fates could befall you," I said. "Perhaps yours would be a straw-filled pallet in a public kitchen or laundry, crawled to after a work day of fifteen Ahn."

"Surely I am too beautiful for that," she said.

"But are you amenable?" I asked.

"I can be very amenable," she said.

"And so, too," I said, "sooner or later, and usually sooner, become the other girls in the kitchens and laundries."

"I would prefer a more delicate, intimate and feminine service," she said.

"That is because you have the makings of a hot slave," I said.

"Please do not speak of me so!" she begged. "That you are sexually responsive, and could become significantly so," I said, "is no cause for dismay, or embarrassment or shame. Rather you should rejoice that your body is so marvelously healthy and alive."

"But it puts me so much at the mercy of men!" she said.

"True," I said.

"But what if I were cold?" she said.

"You would not long be permitted to be so in a collar," I said. "Slaves must become hot, and learn to beg."

"I suppose slaves are proud of their responsiveness," she said, angrily, but with a note of keen interest in her voice.

"Well," I said, "they are not free women." "But are they proud of their responsiveness?" she asked. "Yes," I said, "and attempt to improve it even further." "Disgusting!" she cried.

"They are not free women," I said.

"I suppose they have no choice," she said.

"It is part of what being a slave is," I said.

"Doubtless they have no choice," she said, seemingly as though distressed, but with an undercurrent of tenseness and excitement.

"They wish to improve themselves, and attempt zealously to do so," I said.

"But they have no choice!" she insisted, determinedly.

"True," I said. "They are given no choice, it is commanded of them. They must obey."

"They must become sexual?"

"Yes," I said, "whether they wish to or not. Indeed, they may be grievously punished, even slain, if they do not."

"Yes!" she said, eagerly.

"Surely you object, and feel grief for them, such piteous creatures, so abused, so forced, so helpless, so rightless, who must unquestioningly bend their collared necks, and wills, to the lust of imperious masters?" I asked.

"No," she said. "They are slaves. It serves them right, it is fitting for them. Anything may be done to slaves."

"But if you were a slave," I said, "such heat, such sexuality, too, could be commanded of you."

"I am not a slave," she said.

"But, if you were," I said.

"Well," she said, "yes, in such a case, I suppose I, too, would have to obey."

"And perform," I said.

"Yes," she said, "and perform."

I moved the raft south, through the rence, under the moons. I had decided to go in this direction after acquiring my fair captive. She reminded me, in a sense, of the war, and the things at stake. Too, it was in the south that my truer concerns of the moment lay, and I had determined to neglect them no further. It was in the south that Dietrich of Tarnburg stood at bay in Torcadino. And it was in Ar I had been betrayed. She reminded me, too, of a woman, a woman whose name was Talena, said once to have been the daughter of Marlenus of Ar.

"Captor," she called.

"Yes," I said.

"You were jesting, were you not," she asked, "about the possible fates that might befall me?"

"No," I said.

"I am a woman of Ar," she said. "What might I do in Cos?"

"Many things," I said. "You are pretty. Perhaps you could be chained to a ring in a Cosian brothel"

"That might do for a time," she said, "but I think I would prefer a private master."

"Perhaps you might meet one in the brothel," I said, "among the patrons, and attract him, perhaps influencing him in virtue of the excellence your services, to make an acceptable offer on you to the brothel master."

"Perhaps," she said.

"It would be interesting to see you desperately attempting to render yourself worthy of his considerations."

"Doubtless," she said.

"Perhaps you might even win him away from his patronage of such places," I said.

"How?" she asked.

"By making his own compartments, in virtue of the diligence, delicacy and imagination of your services, more exciting than any public brothel."

"By making his home his own brothel?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"His private brothel?"

"Yes," I said.

"I see," she said.

"There is also a thing called "love"," I said.

"Yes!" she said.

"But if this occurred, as is not infrequent, the slave being nothing, the master all," I said, "do you think you would no longer have to fear his whip?"

"Of course not," she said.

"You understand that you would still be held under perfect discipline?"

"Of course," she said. "I would be a slave."

"But then, on the other hand," I said, "aside from such possibilities, and still considering the question of a private master, you might find yourself under the tutelage of a whipmaster in a rich man's pleasure gardens."

"But I would be only one of many women there?" she said.

"Undoubtedly," I said. "Perhaps one of fifty, or a hundred."

"I think I would prefer to be the single slave of a single master," she said.

"Such things" I said, "would not be up to you."

"You are joking about these things, are you not?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"I am a free woman!" she said.

"I know," I said.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.

"First," I said, "I would like to get out of the delta."

"But if we are successful in that," she said, "what will you do with me?"

"We shall see," I said. "We shall see."

"Then I am totally at your mercy?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"And you will do with me as you please, won't you?"

"Yes," I said.

She moaned, and followed behind, on her strap.