"Turn about," I said.
With the knife I cut the cord binding back her hair.
"Excellent," I said.
Her flesh was very light; her hair, long, reaching below the small of her back, thick and lovely, was marvelously black. It contrasted vividly with the remarkable paleness of her arms, her shoulders and back. I wondered if she realized that women of her paleness and beauty had, in effect, like certain other types, been sexually selected, over generations, even on her native world, a world which seldom consciously thought of itself as a world breeding slaves. Many strains and types of beautiful women, of course, had been developed on Earth. The Lady Rosa was an excellent specimen of one such type. Earth women have been bred for love and beauty; it is unfortunate that they are educated for frustration.
I found a comb on a nearby vanity. Sheathing my knife and holding her by the back of the neck with my left hand I swiftly, but with some care, combed out her hair.
She sobbed in anger when the tiny, cloth-enfolded needle, tipped with kanda, fell from her hair, caught, and drawn out, by the teeth of the comb of kailiauk tusk.
I turned her about, roughly.
I looked down at her.
She looked up at me, her eyes flashing. "I am now defenseless," she said.
"Yes," I said.
With my knife I cut the thin shoulder straps of the sheath-like garment of greenish silk. With the back of the knife to her skin I moved the garment down and away from her, until it was at her ankles. She shuddered when the coldness of the knife blade moved against her flesh. She looked down at the knife, apprehensively. "What do you want me for?" she said. "Are you going to rape me?"
She looked at the large, round bed, soft and deep, eovered with green silk. Well could she conceive of herself upon it, at my mercy, rightless, abused for my pleasure.
"You would have to earn your right to serve upon such a bed," I told her. "A wench such as you would have to first learn your lessons in the dirt or on straw, or on a fur thrown over cement at the foot of a master's couch, under the slave ring."
I took her by the hair and pulled her to the side of the room, near some chests.
There, from a chest, I took two sandal strings. With one of these I tied her hands behind her back. A sandal string is more than sufficient to hold a female. The other sandal string I tied snugly about her belly. I then took forth a long, linear face veil; it was red; it was an intimacy veil; any given layer of this veil is quite diaphanous; its opacity is a function of the number of times it is wrapped about the face; a free woman, entertaining an anxious lover, might detain him for days, each night permitting him a less obscure glimpse of her features, until the shattering moment when she perhaps permits him to gaze upon her unclothed face. Such nonsense, of course, is not tolerated from a slave girl. She is simply ordered to the slave ring. The intimacy veil, I detected, had never been worn by the Lady Rosa. Its presence in her wardrobe was doubtless merely a function of the desire of her employers to assure its completeness and her adequate familiarity with Gorean customs, a familiarity she might have to develop in order to prosecute certain missions which might be expected of her on Gor.
I looped the intimacy veil about the back of her neck and crossed it above her breasts and drew it to the sides, over her breasts, and then took both lengths around her body and behind her back, again crossing them, then looping them about the sandal string tight on her waist; I then took the two loose ends and passed them between her legs, drawing them up snugly and passing them behind and over the sandal string at her belly. I straightened the two layers of loose cloth in front; they were about six inches in width and fell beautifully below her knees.
She looked at me with horror.
"It will do for slave silk," I said.
I pulled her by the arm before a large mirror in the room.
She moaned, regarding herself.
"Note the slip knot on the sandal string," I said. "The string may be removed by a simple tug."
"Beast!" she wept.
I observed her slim, lovely thigh. I thought it would look well incised with the standard Kajira mark of Gor; it is the first letter, in cursive script, of the word 'Kajira', the most common word for a female slave in the Gorean lexicon; it is a simple, rather floral mark, simple, befitting a slave, lovely, befitting a woman.
She struggled before the mirror, but I held her in place by her left arm.
Yes, the mark would look well on her thigh.
"I have put you in red silk," I said. "Is it appropriate?"
"It certainly is not!" she said.
"Perhaps it soon will be," I said.
She struggled fiercely, futilely. Then she stopped struggling. "I will give you gold, much gold, to free me," she said.
"I do not want your gold," I said.
She looked at me, startled, frightened.
I dragged her to the threshold of her apartment. It was there that the chain dangled from its overhead track, within the door.
"What do you want of me?" she begged. "The tiles are cold on my feet," she said. "Untie me," she said. "No!" she cried.
I had lifted the chain and was looping it about her neck. I did so, four times. She would feel its weight. The loops would conceal to some extent that she wore no collar. The chain was color coded with two red bands. I thrust the heavy tongue of the stout padlock through two links of the chain, I then snapped it shut. It, too, was color coded with two, tiny red bands. I looked at her. She was now a component in the chain-and-track system of the complex.
"I am the Lady Graciela Consuelo Rosa Rivera-Sanchez," she said.
"Be quiet, Pepita," I said.
She gasped. Then she said, "No! Do not force me outside the apartment clothed like this!"
I thrust her through the door, out into the corridor. She looked at me with misery, the chain dangling behind her. She realized that she would be marched anywhere, if and as I pleased.
I looked at her. I carried the dart-firing, rifielike con-trivance with me.
I now had my guide.
The red silk would diminish suspicion. A red-silked girl in a Gorean fortress is a not uncommon sight. Suspicion, if any, would be most likely generated by the fact that she was not, under the security alert, in close chains, in a holding area. Her modesty had made it unlikely that many in the complex would recognize her body or features, which had, I gathered, been generally kept from view by the multitudinous robes and veils of concealment common to the Gorean free women of the high cities.
She sank to her knees in misery.
I expected that Kurii would be manning the lensed monitors in the hall. I did not think they would notice, with the resolution available to normal scanning, that she lacked the small brand on the thigh. They would have been more suspicious had her thighs been covered. Similarly I did not expect them to note, under the loops of chain, with the standard lens resolutions they would use, similar to those in Half-Ear's compartment, I supposed, that she lacked the slender steel collar of the Gorean slave girl.
"On your feet," I said.
She struggled to her feet, and stood, regarding me, "On the red-collar system," I said, "which is the most extensive in the track, is there any termination more remote than any of the others."
"Yes," she said.
This surprised me.
"Take me to it," I said.
She drew herself up, proudly. "No," she said. She winced, the barrel of the riflelike contrivance thrust into her belly. I forced her back until she was pinned against the wall. "You would not," she said.
"You are only a woman," I told her.
"I will take you!" she said. "But it will do you no good, for humans are not allowed beyond that point!"
"Which way?" I asked.
Her eyes indicated the direction.
I thrust her, roughly, stumbling, with the side of the rifle-like contrivance, in that direction.