Smugglers of Gor

Chapter Fifty-Three



“It is my hope,” I said, “that Master’s slave has pleased him.”

“In two days,” he said, “we should reach the Laurius. We will avoid Laura, for I fear partisans may linger there. We will cross the Laurius by ferry, inconspicuously with others, at one point or other, and continue south, eventually to reach the Vosk, following which we will seek Victoria.”

I was on my master’s blanket. My left ankle was shackled, and a light chain ran from the shackle ring to a small tree, about which it was locked. I was naked, as my master commonly kept me.

“Is Victoria not a market town,” I said, “a major market for slaves, wholesale and retail? Are not many slaves disposed of there? Do not buyers come there, even from far beyond the Vosk basin?”

“It is the major slave market on the Vosk,” he said.

“A slave is uneasy,” I said.

“As well she might be,” he said.

“I have tried to be pleasing to my master,” I said.

“Of course,” he said, “you are a slave.”

“I gather,” I said, “you are in need of funds, and have little to sell.”

“I have you, of course,” he said.

“A slave is well aware of that,” I said.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked.

He had drawn a yellow disk from his wallet, which was as large as his palm.

“It is like a coin,” I said, “but it is too large.”

He held it toward me.

“May I touch it?” I asked, warily.

“Take it,” he said.

“It is heavy,” I said.

“It is a coin,” he said. “It is gold, a double tarn, from the mint of the state of Ar.”

He held out his hand, and I hastily, with relief, returned the coin. “It must be valuable,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “Many laborers might not earn its equivalent in years. There are merchants who have never had their hands on such a coin. Certainly it is the first I have seen. It was given to me by Tyrtaios to hint at the riches which might accrue to one enleagued with him.”

“My master is not destitute,” I said.

“No,” he said.

“He could buy many slaves such as Laura,” I said.

“Dozens,” he said.

“It is my hope that he will not do so,” I said.

“Please me,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

***

I lay beside my master, my head at his thigh, on his blanket. My ankle was still clasped in its close-fitting shackle, the shackle chain running to the small tree, about which it was fastened.

“By the river,” I said, “Master spoke strangely, spoke of holding a live ost in his hand.”

“Do you know what an ost is?” he asked.

“It is a tiny, brightly colored serpent, commonly orange,” I said, “which is venomous.”

“It is the smallest, and deadliest, snake on Gor,” he said. “It moves quickly, and can hide almost anywhere. Its bite is lethal, unless the limb can be cut off within a few Ihn. It is an unpleasant death. It ensues within a few Ehn. The victim commonly cries out with joy, to die, rejoicing that the pain will end.”

“I fear Master is in danger,” I said.

“I bore the burden of knowledge,” he said, “of knowing fearful and important things, though I did not fully understand them. To protect this knowledge, and prevent its revelation, men would kill. Few are permitted to bear this knowledge, and, I fear, few for long. Even now I suspect several who had, of necessity, some sense of these things, having been utilized in certain actions, deliveries, and concealments, have been done away with, even creatures other than ourselves. That is what is meant, that knowing such things is dangerous, as dangerous as might be the carrying of a live ost in one’s palm.”

“It has to do,” I said, “with the contents of two large boxes, heavy, which it required several men to lift and carry.”

He looked at me, sharply.

“Two such boxes, concerning which the contents were obscure,” I said, “were disembarked from the galley which brought me and others north. They were carried overland, through the forest, at least as far as Tarncamp.”

“Beyond,” he said, “to Shipcamp, thence to be secretly stored on the south side of the river. They are now on the great ship, disguised as common goods.”

“The ship is departed,” I said, “and, I fear, from what I have heard, even should it reach Thassa, it will never reach the World’s End.”

“The danger to the world, or worlds,” he said, “is that it might reach the World’s End.”

“You have done your work,” I said, “for well, or ill. The ship has departed. You could now cry out your knowledge to all the world, with impunity.”

“Those who bear the knife in these matters,” he said, “are few, and those few are now, doubtless, on the ship.”

“The ship is departed,” I said. “It cannot be recalled. The game has begun. The tarn is aflight. Your knowledge makes no difference now.”

“I should have spoken,” he said.

“To whom?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, thoughtfully, “to whom?”

I went to my knees, and took up his right hand, gently, opened the fingers, and kissed the palm of his hand. “See, Master,” I said, “I kiss the ost from your hand.”

He then seized me, and threw me under him, with a rattle of chain.

***

“Do you know my caste?” he asked.

“The Slavers,” I said. “Surely Master is of the caste of Slavers.”

“I am of the Merchants,” he said. “The Slavers is a subcaste of the Merchants. It is merely a question of the goods with which one deals. The Slavers deal with soft, living goods.”

“I would rather,” I said, “Master dealt with leather or iron, fruit or grain, copper or tin, verr or kaiila.”

“You can see,” he said, “why a fellow might prefer buying and selling women.”

“I suppose so,” I said.

“But I am now thinking,” he said, “of other goods, perhaps ka-la-na or silk.”

“I am pleased to think so,” I said.

“But I do not understand why that is so,” he said, thoughtfully.

“Long ago,” I said, “Master suggested that my return to Shipcamp was not inadvertent, or accidental, but was rather an expression of my desire to be recaptured, to return to a chain, that I needed, and wanted, the collar, so to speak.”

“I think that is clear,” he said.

“But I had no understanding of that,” I said.

“And rejected the very thought,” he laughed.

“I understood very little of myself,” I said.

“Few of us do,” he said.

“And you spoke of the Panther Women who prematurely relaxed their vigilance in the forest,” I said.

“Unhappy with themselves, without masters,” he said, “they became careless, and soon found themselves kneeling naked before men, with the collars for which they had hoped fastened on their necks.”

“And what of you, Master?” I asked.

“I do not understand,” he said.

“You may have labored in the tasks of the Slavers for the pleasantries of the merchandise, but I think there was more involved, for you seem now to be thinking of dealing with other goods. Indeed, I suspect I know why you followed the Slavers’ trade, a dangerous trade surely, with its alarming hazards, and even to another world.”

“Oh?” he said.

“You were looking for a particular slave, your slave,” I said.

“And you think I have now found her?” he said.

“It is my hope that you have done so,” I said.

“I have owned several women,” he said. “What of Asperiche?”

“She is a beauty,” I said.

“Far more so than you,” he snapped.

“Doubtless,” I said. “Why then did you let her go, and keep Laura?”

“She-tarsk,” he snarled.

“Asperiche is lovely,” I said. “But I think you would rather have Laura, not Asperiche, for whatever reason, if the choice were to be made, crawling naked through the leaves, begging for your touch.”

“You should be lashed,” he said, angrily.

“Master may do with me as he pleases,” I said. “I am his slave.”

“You are a worthless she-tarsk,” he said. “You are of no interest. You are nothing!”

“I have some finite value,” I said, “even in silver. And I find it hard to believe that I am of no interest to Master, who pursued me even from Brundisium, and risked much to follow me in the forest, even on the brink of the great ship’s departure.”

“You are nothing!” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said, “as I am a slave.”

“You are a homely she-tarsk!” he said.

“I am a beautiful slave, Master,” I said. “I know that now. And I know I have become more beautiful in the collar, as I have found myself as a woman, and slave. I have seen the eyes of men on me. Do you think a slave does not know when men ache to have her in their arms? I am nothing for you to be ashamed of. I know I am beautiful.”

“Yes, you slut,” he cried, leaping to his feet, “you are beautiful!”

“A slave is pleased,” I said, “if her master finds her pleasing.”

“You are the most exciting and beautiful woman I have ever seen!” he cried, enraged. “From the first moment I saw you I wanted you as you are now, naked, on my chain, possessed, mine, my property, my slave!”

“I waited years for you!” I wept.

“And I years for you!” he said, angrily.

“Do not be angry with your slave,” I said. “She is wholly at your mercy. She is yours.”

“I must hate you!” he cried.

“No!” I cried. “Love me!”

“Love?” he said. “For a slave!”

“Forgive me, Master,” I said.

He seemed beside himself with fury. He strode to his pack, tore it open, and drew forth the whip, shaking its blades free.

“I love you, Master!” I said. “Please do not beat me!”

He held the whip, two hands on the staff.

“May not even a she-sleen love her master?” I said.

He lowered the whip, and turned abruptly away. He replaced the whip in his pack, seized up his blankets and drew them to the side. He then drew them angrily about himself, and lay down. I tried to crawl to him, but the impediment on my ankle prevented this. I reached out, agonizingly, across the leaves, toward him, but could not reach him.

“Please forgive Laura, Master,” I wept. “Let his slave please him.”

“I will sell you in Victoria,” he said.