Vagabonds of Gor

49 The Slave Girl

"I now know what it is to be whipped," she said, "and I will obey."

"Good," I said.

"I will be zealous to obey, I will be desperate to please!" she said.

"Your brand is pretty," I observed.

"I yield, I yield!" she whispered, clutching me.

"Apparently," I said.

"I can no longer live without this!" she said. "I need this, I need this!"

"They will soon be coming for you," I said.

"Hold me!" she begged. "Hold me!"

It was the afternoon of the same day we had visited the slave camp. We were now in our own camp, among the other small camps nearby. Marcus was not in the camp, as he had hastened to the vicinity of the Cosian camp, to deal with the sutler, Ephialtes, for the slim, dark-haired beauty I had arranged, somewhat maliciously, to be sure, to be presented before him.

"Do it more, please!" wept Ina.

"You squirm and thrash as a slave," I informed her.

"I am a slave!" she gasped.

Her fingernails were in my back, but I think she could not control herself.

"What you are doing to me!" she wept. I then held her at the brink.

"Perhaps you are prepared to submit, as a slave?" I inquired.

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

"Perhaps you beg to be permitted to submit?" I asked, keeping her where she was.

"Yes!" she said. "I beg to submit!"

"You may then do so," I said.

"Master?" she asked.

I touched her once, gently.

"Aiiii!" she cried out. "I submit! I submit!"

Then she held me, closely. "I belong to men," she wept. "I belong to them!"

"Yes," I said.

"Is she ready?" inquired Mincon, now arrived at my small camp. Two other fellows were behind him.

"Yes," I said.

Ina quickly got to her knees and put her head down, low, to the dirt. I tied her hands behind her back.

"This is the traitress?" asked Mincon.

"Yes," I said.

He crouched beside her, and tied a rope about her neck.

"We are not fond of traitresses," he said to her.

"Yes, Master," she whispered, not raising her head.

"You understand the problems connected with her?" I asked Mincon.

"Yes," he said. "She will be disposed of, as one slave among others."

"Ina," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said, looking up.

"You understand the danger in which you might stand, if your former identity were ascertained?"

"Yes, Master," she said.

"I would thus take care, in so far as it was possible," I said, "to conceal it."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"In any event, that identity is now gone."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"What are you now?" I asked.

"A slave," she said.

"And anything else?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said. "I am a slave, and only a slave."

"Do not forget it," I said.

"No, Master," she said.

"She was a traitress to Ar," I said to Mincon, "and served Cos. It is perhaps then appropriate that she might be disposed of among Cosians."

"An excellent suggestion," said Mincon.

As she had served Cosians, it seemed appropriate that her beauty and service now, abjectly, and in the dimensions of the mere female slave, should be totally at their disposal. This would also, I hoped, keep her far from those of Ar. To be sure, the trends of events might take various turns in Ar, and she might not, after a time, not only not be sought by those of Ar, if, indeed, she was sought by them now, but she might not even be of interest to them. And, too, after being in the collar for a time, in virtue of its attendant transformations in beauty, attitude and behavior, she might not, now as a lovely, obedient slave, even be recognizable to those who knew her in Ar. They might note, casually, and perhaps with some interest, the resemblance of the enslaved beauty to a formerly known free woman. That would be all.

"On your feet, slave," said Mincon. Quickly Ina stood.

"You will be taken from the camp naked," I told Ina. "In this way you will be more anonymous than if you were wearing a garment of a given sort."

"Yes, Master," she said, her small, lovely, hands bound behind her back, Mincon's rope on her neck, its coils in his hand.

We had, after her discipline in the slave camp, incidentally, retrieved her garment, from where she had discarded it, thrusting it between slave cages. There was a particular reason I wished to retrieve the garment. It also gave me an opportunity to bring her back to our camp with the garment about her neck, a touch which I thought would be helpful in accommodating her to her new reality. Sometimes masters, as a discipline for their beauties, have them go naked in public, but with their tunic, or ta-teera, or whatever, about their neck or wrist. This helps the girl feel even more naked. Something similar occurs when a bound, stripped free woman is forced to hold a portion of her garments, perhaps a lovely, sliplike undergarment, between her teeth. This, as she is forbidden to drop it, acts as a de facto gag. It also, of course, helps her to understand that the nature of her new reality, the reality in which she how finds herself, may be other than that with which she was formerly familiar.

"I now," I said, "remove your name. Your name is removed."

She looked at me, frightened, a nameless slave.

"Your new masters," I said, "if they wish, will give you a name."

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

I then lifted up a sack I had retrieved from the concourse, on our return earlier from the slave camp.

She regarded it, terrified.

"I wish you well," I said.

"I wish you well, Master," she said.

I then kissed her and put the sack over her head, and, with its strings, tied it closed, about her neck. It was the same sack in which Octantius had apparently intended to bring her head to Saphronicus. On the other hand, it was also a nondescript sack, not different from hundreds of others. Perhaps that would have been part of Octantius' joke, bringing her head to Saphronicus in such a sack, not even in one of gold, set with jewels.

"Come, slave," said Mincon, and drew on the rope. I watched her being led from our camp, a stripped, bound, hooded, nameless slave, on her rope.

I then glanced to one side, a few yards from our small camp, to a set of stakes. There, attached to one of these stakes by an ankle chain, there was another slave. She was kneeling, and her head was tied down, to her crossed ankles, and her hands were tied behind her back, as were those of the slave who had just been conducted from the camp. The slave at the stake, moreover, was covered with a sheet. It had been put over her head, tied about her neck, that it might thus serve as a slave hood, and then draped over her. I had arranged yesterday, before Octantius had come to the camp, for her to be delivered this afternoon. I had found her here when I had returned with Ina from the camp.

Then I turned about, in time to see a distraught Marcus hove into view. I was quite pleased to note that he was a picture of dejection and misery.

I watched him approach the camp.

"She is not there," he said.

"Oh?" I said. I had become, incidentally, a master actor while with the troupe of Boots Tarsk-Bit. To be sure, he had never permitted me upon the stage, and, after observing my audition, so to speak, had utilized me primarily for other tasks, such as, as I have mentioned, assembling the stage and freeing the wheels of mired wagons. He was perhaps jealous of his own stardom with the troupe.

"She is gone," he said.

"That is often the case with folks who are not there," I said.

But I noted he was in no mood to relish this deft dash of wit.

"I cannot live without h amp;," he said.

"You managed quite well until yesterday morning," I said, "and doubtless, with effort, can do so again."

"No," he said, "not that I have now seen her."

"Just forget her," I said. "Put her out of your mind, like a good fellow."

"No," he said.

"Why are you unsheathing your sword?" I asked, somewhat apprehensively.

"Would you hold it for me, please?" he asked.

"What for?" I asked.

"I intend to throw myself upon it," he said.

"That is one way to avoid having to clean it after use," I said.

"Please," he said, bracing its hilt in the dirt.

"What if you fall sideways?" I asked. "I might get cut."

"Please, Tarl," he said.

"Ina is not here," I said. "Have you not noticed?"

"No," he said, glumly.

"I gave her to the mercenary," I said. "His man, with two others, came to pick her up."

"That is nice," said Marcus.

"It is my hope," I said, "that she will be safe."

"I share your hope," he said, attempting to get the sword adjusted to a suitable angle.

"Could you use some help there?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "Thank you."

"You will try to throw yourself straight on this, won't you?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "I will."

As he was poised to leap on the sword, I leaned it to the side.

"Are you sure you wish to go through with this?" I asked.

"Quite sure," he said.

"Would you not rather go to a paga enclosure?" I asked.

"Not at the moment," he said.

"Perhaps later?" I asked.

"Please, Tarl," he said.

I again leaned the blade to the side. "It is difficult to look well while leaping on a sword," I said.

"Perhaps," he said, irritably.

"I never realized that before," I said.

"Please hold the blade still," he said. I leaned it to the side again.

"Tarl!" he said, in exasperation.

"I gather that you find the girl of interest," I said.

"I am preparing to kill myself because of her," he said.

"I thought so," I said. "She has taken your fancy."

"Why do you not just drive the blade into my heart?" he asked.

"I suppose I could do that," I said:.

"I am ready," he said, straightening up.

"Yes, you certainly seem to be ready, all right," I said. He had an unusually grim expression on his face, grim even for Marcus, who was a very serious young man.

"Are you sure you can go through with this?" asked Marcus, skeptically.

"I think so," I said. "Certainly it would seem easier, at least on the whole, for me than for you."

"Please, Tarl," he said.

"After all, what are friends for?"

"Strike!" he said.

I lowered the blade.

"What are we going to do for female companionship," I asked, "with Ina gone?"

"That would seem to be your concern, rather than mine," he said. "Strike!"

I lowered the blade again.

"But I have considered that contingency," I said.

"Excellent," said Marcus.

I feared he might become surly.

"I have arranged for a replacement female," I said.

"Excellent," he said.

"I thought you would be pleased," I said.

"Perhaps I have some poison in my pack," he said.

"Would you care to see her?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"You are not in the mood?" I said.

"Not now," he said. "I am trying to end my life."

"I have a better idea," I said.

"A better idea?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "I really think so."

"What is it?" he asked.

"Surely you recall the smoking ruins of Ar's Station? Surely you recall the vengeances which you have howled against those of Cos?"

A transformation, though a rather unsettling one, a quite menacing one, suddenly came over Marcus.

I handed him back his sword.

He thrust it angrily into his sheath.

"My thanks," said he, "Warrior. I have been weak. I am ashamed. I am grateful that you have recalled me to my senses."

"That is quite all right," I said.

"I do have something to live for," he said, grimly. "I can live for vengeance, deep and profound, terrible, vengeance against Cos and all things Cosian!"

"Certainly," I said. I was actually a bit apprehensive that Marcus, who was something of a man of action, might rush over to the Cosian camp, slashing away at fellows doing their washing, and so on.

"My thanks!" said Marcus.

"It is nothing," I said, uneasily.

"Where now is the replacement female?" he said. He now seemed strong, and angry. Something like the heat of the hunt seemed on him now. He was now ready to cuff a female, hurl her to his feet and throw apart her legs.

"Around somewhere," I said. This was, I was suddenly sure, not the very best time to introduce him to the girl, and for a very good reason.

"Come now," said he, "where is she?"

"Over here," I said.

I led him over to the stake, a few yards away, among other stakes, to which the female, tied kneeling, head down, covered with a sheet, was chained by an ankle.

"Unsheet her," he said.

I bent down and untied the cord which, about her neck, held the center of the sheet, hoodlike, over her head. I put the cord in my pouch. I then, perhaps somewhat dramatically, suddenly drew the sheet away from the bound girl. She moved, wildly, but could not lift her head up, as it was tied down, fastened to her crossed ankles.

"It is she!" cried Marcus, startled, with joy!

The girl, as she could, turning her head in the rope, looked wildly, joyfully, at Marcus.

He fell to his knees beside her, fumbling with the ropes, almost beside himself.

"How! How!" he asked.

I put my fingers over my mouth, to warn the girl not to speak.

She was sobbing with joy.

"How is it possible!" cried Marcus, tearing at the ropes at her ankles.

"She was my captive, and full servant, from long ago," I said, "from the Crooked Tarn."

" 'Full servant'!" said Marcus.

I saw that he would not be too pleased to share this special female. I think he wanted every bit of her to himself. To be sure, I could presumably find a woman here and there on the road, or even, as we passed various markets, buy one and sell her, and then buy another and sell her, and so on, as we traveled.

"Ephialtes was holding her for me," I said.

"She is now a slave!" he announced.

"Yes," I said. I had had Ephialtes do this yesterday afternoon. He had taken her to a processing chain in the slave camp. On her neck there was a common iron collar, a strap collar, hammered shut, as there had been on the neck of she who, until a few Ehn ago, had had the name 'Ina'. Similarly, as she who had had the name 'Ina' this slave was now branded. She, too, as that slave, now wore the common Kajira brand, the tiny, delicate, lovely cursive Kef. This is a good brand for females, as it tells them that they are only common slaves.

"I must have her!" he cried. He tore the ropes from her neck.

She gasped, and uttered a joyous sound, but dared not speak. He seized her in his arms, she kneeling, her hands bound behind her, helpless, sobbing, laughing, and drew her toward him.

"The ankle!" I cried.

He had drawn her toward him and her left leg was now extended back, toward the stake, the chain taut.

"Free it! Free it!" cried Marcus, covering her with kisses. I got the key into the shackle and opened it, and he pulled her loose. I lifted my arm to the stake attendant. One pays two tarsk bits, one for the rental, one as a deposit against the key. Marcus and the slave were lost in the rapture of one another. In a moment I had turned in the key and received my tarsk bit back, that which had been held as a deposit. A tarsk bit may not be much but sometimes it can be very important, as, for example, when one does not have one. "You are not going to use her here are you?" inquired the attendant of Marcus. "It is hard enough," he said, indicating a nearby blonde and redhead, both back-braceleted, chained, too, by their left ankles to their respective stakes, "to keep these other slaves from whimpering and moaning."

The girl we had just freed from the stake laughed with pleasure in Marcus' arms.

"Carry her back to the camp," I advised him. "She is a slave!" I reminded him.

And then he threw her over his shoulder, her head to the rear, as is proper for a slave, and carried her the few yards to our camp.

"Touch me, Master! I beg it!" cried the blonde to the attendant.

"No, touch me! Please touch me!" wept the redhead.

"See?" asked the attendant of me. "Yes," I said.

"Master!" called the blonde.

"Master!" called the redhead. "Please, Master!"

"Be silent, sluts," he said.

I followed Marcus to our camp. He had put the girl down there, on her knees, and she was looking up at him, rapturously.

"I must have her!" he cried to me.

The girl looked at me wildly, hopefully.

"She is yours," I said. She cried out with joy. "A gift?" he cried.

"Yes," I said, "a mere gift."

"No!" he cried. "Here!" He then threw me the entire sack of gold which he had taken from Octantius earlier in the afternoon.

"Well, very well," I said, taking the gold. One hundred pieces of gold is nothing to be sneezed at, so to speak. Also, I suspected that there might prove to be a good reason for accepting it. I could always divide it with him later, if I wished.

"You have done this!" said Marcus to me, grandly. He clasped my hand warmly. "How can I ever thank you?"

"It is nothing," I said. Of course, I had just, as a matter of fact, received a hundred pieces of gold. Surely that should count for something.

"I own you!" he cried proudly, happily, to the girl.

She flung herself to her belly before him, covering his feet with kisses. In an instant he had knelt before her and drawn her up to her knees, holding her and kissing her. She had her head back.

He then pulled her half to her feet, she bent back, and then, he crouching over her, lowered her, gently, to her back. He then knelt there, beside her, joyously, almost unbelievingly, gazing on her. She was a beautiful slave, branded, bound there, before him, his. I knew this girl, and she was a slave to the bottom of her pretty little belly. She had waited long for her master.

"Perhaps you would like to know how much gold is in this sack," I said to the girl.

She looked at me, suddenly, extremely interested, extremely attentive. She was extremely female. She wanted to know what she had brought, in her sale.

"Would you like to know?" I inquired.

She nodded, desperately. I had warned her to silence earlier.

"But curiosity is not becoming in a Kajira," I said.

Her expression changed instantly. Tears sprang to her eyes.

"But it is a hundred pieces of gold," I said, "tarn disks of Ar, full weight." To be sure, I had not counted this, and I doubt that Marcus had either. On the other hand, it was the money which had been ready as a reward for she whose name earlier had been 'Ina' and I had no doubt that it had been carefully counted and weighed. If the amount had been short, in either number or weight, I would not have wished to be Octantius, dealing with his hirelings.

She looked at me, startled. Such an amount, one might expect to have been brought by the preferred pleasure slave of a Ubar.

"Had I thousand times more," exclaimed Marcus, "I would have given it all to you!"

She looked at him, frightened. It is one thing to go for a silver tarsk, or such, and quite another for a hundred pieces of gold. She knew, of course, something of the worth of women in the markets. She knew that she was not, for example, a trained slave, a high slave, a politically sensitive slave, the shackled daughter of a Ubar being publicly sold in the city of her father's conquerors, or such. Indeed, she was only a new slave. She probably did not even know the hundred kisses.

Marcus then put his hands on her ankles, preparing to separate them. "Prepare to be used, beautiful slave," he said.

"What are you going to name her?" I asked.

"What was her name when she was a free woman?" asked Marcus. " 'Tullia', 'Publia'?"

"No," I said.

" 'Fulvia'?"

"No," I said. " 'Phoebe'."

Suddenly Marcus closed the slave's ankles. He held them so tightly that she whispered.

"I do not like that name," he said.

"It is an exquisite name," I said.

"I do not like it," he said. His voice was cold and hard.

The girl was frightened. She, of course, did not understand this change in him.

"Surely you have known women in Ar," I said, "whose name was 'Phoebe'?"

"It is a Cosian name," he snarled.

"But surely you knew, or knew of, women with that name?"

"Yes," he said.

"And is it not a pretty name?" I asked.

"I suppose, as a name, it is lovely," he said.

"Yes," I said. "It is a beautiful name."

"Can she speak?" he asked.

"I am surprised you care," I said.

"Where are you from, slave?" he asked. "Are you from Teletus, Asperiche, Tabor?"

"No, Master," she said. "I am not from Teletus, or Asperiche, or Tabor.

"Where are you from?" he snarled. She whimpered, his grip was so tight on her.

"Cos," she said. "From Telnus."

"Impossible!" he said. "We obtained you here, near Brundisium! Brundisium is an ally of Cos. Cosian women would not be sold here!"

"She is from Cos," I assured him.

"No!" he cried out in rage, springing to his feet. "No! No!" he howled. "No! No! No!"

He had, I assumed, surmised the likelihood of this possibility as soon as she had opened her mouth. Her accent was clearly Cosian.

"She came into my keeping at the Crooked Tam, on the Viktel Aria," I said, "and was in the vicinity of Ar's Station at the time of its fall. She was with Ephialtes, and others, moving westward along the river, with the Cosian expeditionary force. Eventually, in the keeping of Ephialtes, she came here, into the vicinity of Brundisium. As for Cosian women, do not be naive. There are doubtless many here in bondage. They change hands as easily as others."

"How could you do this to me?" he cried. "Is this some mad, cruel joke?"

"Do not be angry," I said.

"She is Cosian!" he cried. "Cosian!"

"A moment ago," I said, "you seemed much pleased with her."

He suddenly kicked her and she recoiled, whimpering, pulling up her legs, making herself small. She was now terrified, looking up at him whose property she was, he who owned her.

"Cosian!" he cried. She whimpered.

He then spun and faced me. "I hate Cos," he cried, "and all things Cosian!

"Do not be angry," I said.

He suddenly drew his sword and stood over the girl, who, on her side, her hands bound behind her, looked up at him, fearfully. He raised the sword and she put down her head, her eyes closed, her teeth gritted. I did not think that he would strike her. He did not. He then spun to face me. "Sleen!" he cried. I did not think he would strike me. He did not. Angrily, he thrust the blade into the sheath. Then, oddly, he wept, bitterly.

The girl struggled to her knees. She regarded him, her body partly bent over, looking up at him.

"I should kill her," said Marcus.

"Why?" I asked.

"She is an enemy," he said.

"No," I said, "she is only an animal, a slave."

"May I speak, Master?" asked the girl.

"Yes," I said, as Marcus would not respond to her. This permission may be given by any free person and is effective, unless it is overruled by the true master.

"I will try to serve well, and be pleasing to my master," she said.

He looked down at her, in hatred, and she lowered her head.

"I should kill you," he said. She was silent, trembling.

"At that rate," I said, "you would not be likely to rise rapidly in the ranks of the merchants."

He looked at me.

"You just paid one hundred pieces of gold for her," I reminded him. Indeed, it was primarily for this reason that I had so willingly accepted the gold. I did not think that Marcus, of course, would kill, or even really wish to kill, the girl. He might, however, knowing him, think that he should think about such things. Therefore, I had seen fit to give him an economic reason, as a sop to his rationality, for dismissing such thoughts. For example, to fling the object of so considerable an investment to sleen would be economically imprudent, to say the least.

"True," he said.

"Certainly it is true," I said.

"She is worthless," he said.

"Actually," I said, "she went for a hundred pieces of gold."

He laughed bitterly.

"If you want," I said, "I will return your gold to you. I will buy her back."

He looked at the girl thoughtfully.

"Well?" I said. "No," he said. I smiled.

The girl looked up.

He then stood over her, and I was then frightened for her, for I had never seen him like this.

"You are an animal," he told her, "and a slave."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"And you are also a Cosian," he said.

"I am an animal and slave," she said. "I no longer have citizenship."

"But you are from Cos," he said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"And in that sense you are Cosian," he said.

"As Master will have it," she said.

"And you are my enemy," he said.

"No, Master," she said.

"You are my enemy!" he said.

"I am a slave girl," she said. "I am not permitted to lie. I am not your enemy."

"You will be treated as my enemy," he said.

"As Master wishes," she said.

"I hate Cos," he said, "and all things Cosian."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"And in the sense that you are from Cos, you are Cosian," he said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"I hate you," he said.

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

"And accordingly," he said, coldly, "you will treated as an animal and a slave, and a Cosian, and as my enemy."

"It is fitting that I be treated as an animal and a slave, Master," she said, "for that is what I am, but is it fitting that I should be treated, too, now, as a Cosian, and as your enemy?"

"You will be so treated," he said.

"Yes, Master," she wept.

He then cuffed her savagely, in his hatred, and fury, striking her to her side in the dirt.

She looked up at him, wildly in fear, and he pounced on her, and, seizing her by the hair, pulled her up to her knees, facing away from him, and pushed her head down to the dirt. He then, ruthlessly, her small hands twisting in their bonds behind her back, put her to his pleasure.

"I am yours, Master!" she wept. "Do with me as you will!"

He cried out like a larl, in fury.

"Oh, yes, Master," she wept. "Oh, yes, Master!"

Exquisitely helpless, and in his power, I saw that she was his, fully.

In a moment he had done with her. She was gasping, and regarding him with awe. He spurned her to the side, with his foot, and turned to regard me.

"She is a pretty thing," I said.

"You may use her, of course," he said, "any time you wish."

"Thank you," I said. "It is rare that the use of a hundred-gold-piece girl is handed about so freely."

"You tricked me," he said. "You did not tell me she was a slut from Cos."

"You did not ask me," I said.

"You are a poor slave," he said to Phoebe.

"I will try to be more pleasing to my Master," she said.

"I should give you to a tharlarion keeper," he said.

"As Master pleases," she said.

"I should sell you for a tarsk bit!" he said.

"As Master pleases," she whispered.

"In neither of those ways," I said, "Will you make money."

"Oh, have no fear," he said, "I will keep her-at least for a time."

"In order to recoup your investment fully," I said, "I take it that that would be for at least a few Ahn."

He turned to face me.

"Sorry," I said.

"Is your sense of humor typical in Port Kar?" he asked.

"I have never really thought about it," I said. "Some of us, of course, are jolly fellows, at least upon occasion." To be sure the general reputation of Port Kar was that of a den of thieves, a lair of cutthroats and pirates. On the other hand, there was now a Home Stone in the city. Some folks might not even know that.

"If you want," I said, renewing my offer, "I will buy her back."

"No," he said.

I did not think, of course, that he would accept my offer. Had I thought he would have accepted it, I would not have made it.

She looked up at him from where she now lay in the dirt, near our small fire.

I supposed I might use Phoebe once in a while, when my needs were much upon me, as she was a convenience, and a slave, but I suspected I should save her mostly for Marcus. He was glaring down at her, she helpless at his feet. I smiled to myself. I did not think, truly, he was eager to share her, however much he might profess to despise her.

"On your belly, slave," said Marcus. She rolled to her belly.

He considered her curves and the slave's vulnerability of her.

She trembled.

With his foot, then, he turned her again to her back, and she looked up at him.

"Yes," he said, musingly, "you are not unattractive." She was silent, frightened.

"It is not hard to see how a man might desire you," he said.

Her lower lip trembled. She was helpless.

"Yes," he said, "the collar is pretty on you, and the brand. You make a pretty slave, female of Cos.

She looked up at him, terrified.

"I think I shall keep you," he said.

"It is my hope that I will prove pleasing," she whispered.

"Oh, you will be pleasing," he assured her.

"Yes, Master," she whispered, frightened.

"Do you know, slave," asked he of the prostrate girl at his feet, "why I shall choose to keep you?"

"It is my hope," she said, "that you will keep me because you find me of interest."

"I find you of interest, yes," he said.

"Thank you, Master," she said.

"I hate you," he said.

"Master?" she asked.

"Do you think I keep you because of the gold?" he asked.

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

"No," he said. "I do not keep you because of the gold. I am of the scarlet caste. I am of the Warriors. I could cast the gold away, as a gesture."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"To me it is meaningless."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Why then should I keep you?" he asked.

"Perhaps for my utilities as a slave, Master?"

"You need not fear," said he, "that your utilities as a slave will be overlooked."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"But you must be aware," he said, "that such utilities, in a generic sense, may be purchased easily and cheaply, anywhere."

"Of course, Master," she said, tears springing to her eyes.

"Why then should I keep you?" he asked.

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

"You are from Cos," he said.

"Master?" she asked.

"That is why I shall keep you," he said. "You shall remind me of Cos. You shall stand for Cos. You will be proxy for Cos. if will be as though Cos herself, beautiful and helpless, were in my power, at my mercy. On her then, through you, who are Cosian, I may vent my hatred and fury."

The slave shuddered.

"Some small part of what Cos owes," he said, menacingly, "you will pay."

"As Master wishes," she whispered.

"Do you think your life with me will be easy?" he asked.

"No, Master!" she said.

"Have we a slave whip in the camp?" he asked me.

"No," I said.

He put aside his shoulder belt, with the sheath and blade, and removed his tunic belt, slipping the pouch and knife sheath from it.

"On your knees, slut of Cos," said he. She struggled to her knees.

He doubled the belt, and regarded the slave. "What are you going to call her?" I asked.

"What was her name, as a free woman?" he asked.

" 'Phoebe'," I said.

"That will do," he said. "It will amuse me that she will wear that name now as a slave name."

"Excellent," I said.

"You are Phoebe," he said to her. "Who are you?"

"Phoebe, Master," she said.

"Kiss the belt," he said.

She quickly kissed the belt. Too, then, as he held it there a moment, she kissed it again, more lingeringly, and then licked it, and then looked up at him.

He then went behind her and she bent over, her head to the dirt, fearing the belt.

He put the belt down, on a pack, and, crouching beside her, touched her at the waist.

"Ohh," she said softly.

I had seldom seen a female so responsive, at least initially, to the touch of a man. I had no doubt that Marcus was very special to this beautiful young slave, in a way over which she had little or no control. This response on her part seemed to infuriate him. "Sly slave," he snarled.

She sobbed.

Marcus seized the belt and stood behind her, angrily. The belt, doubled, swung menacingly, back and forth. She trembled, head down. Then, angrily, he returned to where he had discarded the pouch and knife sheath, replaced them on the belt, and replaced the belt about his waist. He then, angry still, slung his sword belt and sheath over his left shoulder.

"It is dark," he said.

"Yes," I said. I did not think we should daily in the camp. To be sure, I did not expect that Octantius or his men would be back quickly, and, in any event, it would take them time to reorganize and secure arms. Too, as the mercenaries might still be about or be thought to be about, and the gold was gone, I did not think that we would have much to fear, at least immediately, from that quarter. On the other hand, it would be well to move out with expedition.

Marcus went to the side, to secure some of his gear.

Our first treks would be at night, and we would, at least in this vicinity, avoid roads, paths, waterways, agricultural areas, villages, communities, and such. We would move with something of the stealth and secrecy which we utilized in the delta. Later, it would presumably be safe to frequent more civilized areas. Indeed, in time I expected we could travel with impunity, as vagabonds, toward Ar, presumably even on the Viktel Aria, during daylight hours. I did not think there would be much danger of being recognized. The girl with us, of course, would neither be she who had been Ina nor remind anyone of her. Also, even if we were recognized, I did not think that anyone would find us of particular interest in ourselves. Even torturers, I supposed, might be satisfied with the information that we had given the girl to a mercenary, Edgar of Tarnwald, and he, by that time, would presumably have slipped away, unnoticed, and presumably under new names. The slave which had been delivered to him, too, presumably would by then be in some locale unbeknownst to him, and might have changed hands several times.

Marcus left the camp to fill the water bag. Phoebe looked at me, frightened.

"You may speak," I said.

"I love him," she said. "I want to serve him. Why does he hate me?"

"He does not hate you," I said. She looked at me, startled.

In a few moments Marcus had returned. He had also brought with him a light slave yoke, presumably purchased somewhere, perhaps from the stake attendant.

He then, with great roughness, freeing her tightly bound wrists from behind her back, fastened Phoebe, she gasping, * wincing, in the yoke.

"You are yoked, slut of Cos," he said, examining his handiwork.

"Yes, Master!" she said, happily.

He then, in anger, fastened portions of our gear to her back, and to the yoke, thus transforming her into a lovely beast of burden. The yoke itself was not heavy, but its weight, together with the weight of the gear, and such, was not negligible for one such as Phoebe. She would carry weight and know it.

"Will it be necessary to put you on a leash?" he asked.

"No, my Master," she said.

I picked up the tiny garment which had been Ina's, retrieved from the slave camp, from where she had thrust it between slave cages, in her flight.

I shook it out, that Phoebe could see that it was a skimpy, one-piece slave tunic.

She looked at it eagerly, hopefully. It would be very precious to her, even such a small thing as it was. I had saved it, of course, for her.

"This," I said, "I shall place in one of the packs, in case of need." There was no question of permitting her to wear it now, of course, given Marcus' anger. He would want her to serve now, stripped. Too, he had already yoked her.

"No," said Marcus.

"No?" I asked.

"There will be no need for it," he said. "If I choose to clothe her I will do so in a way that befits her, in a way that will make clear that she is the lowest and most despicable of slaves, in such a way that she will know herself more naked than naked."

"This is not exactly the robes of concealment," I said. In it, of course, Phoebe would be charmingly displayed as what she was, a slave. Indeed, she would be quite exciting, and quite lovely, in such a garment, so brief and open. Marcus needed have no fear, in my opinion, that if she were in such a garment, that either she or anyone else would be in any doubt as to her status. Indeed, in it it would be quite clear that she was in an exact and profound bondage.

"Burn it," said Marcus.

I dropped it in the fire. We watched it burn.

Tears streamed down the face of the yoked slave. I had had Ephialtes deliver her stripped, of course. And, customarily, when a girl is delivered, the carrier usually retains the delivery garments, if any. After all, he is delivering the slave, not a wardrobe. In this fashion, too, the slave's complete dependence on her new master, even for such things as clothing, is made clear from the very beginning.

The garment was then gone.

"Will the leash now be necessary?" inquired Marcus.

"No, my Master," said the slave.

I then, with the side of my foot, kicked dirt over our fire, extinguishing it. We then, Marcus and I together, with the slave following, left the camp.