The man’s hand was strong on her arm. “Here is a nameless slave!” he cried. “What am I bid for her?” “Fourteen copper pieces!” cried a man.
“Sixteen!” cried another.
I spied, in the crowd, two men from my ship. I gestured that they should join us, Rim, Thurnock and myself. They worked their way through the crowd. “Twenty copper pieces!” cried a leather worker.
The judges, I noted, had left. The musicians, those who had played the drums and flutes, escorting the judges and the prisoner, had also left.
The slave girls who had drawn the wagon, stood about, watching the crowd. “Twenty-two copper pieces,” called a metal worker.
The girl, stripped, stood on the platform, her arm in the grip of the man. Her hair, was sill over her face. But her tears were now only stains on her body. Her mouth was slightly parted. She seemed numb. It was as thought she scarcely understood that it was she, who was being bid upon. Her thigh, sill, much have burned with searing pain. Yes, of all her body, it was only her eyes, dull, glazed with pain, that acknowledged that she had been branded within the Ehn. She did not seem, otherwise, fully aware of what was happening to her. Then suddenly she threw back her head and screamed, and tried to twist away from the man. He threw her to her knees on the boards and she knelt there, bent over, her head in her hands, fully and wildly weeping. She understood now, fully, that she was being sold.
“Twenty-five copper pieces,” called a pastry vendor.
“Twenty-seven!” screamed a seaman.
I looked about. I could now see there were more than two hundred men about, and women and children, as well. I saw some four or five more of my crew. And many others, of other crews.
“Let us see her!” called a merchant.
The man reached down and seized her by the hair and pulled her again to her feet, now bending her body back, exposing her the bow of her beauty to the crowd. “Let the men see you, little slave,” he laughed.
She was indeed beautiful.
“One silver tarsk,” I called.
There was a silence in the crowd.
It was not a bad price for such a girl.
Rim and Thurnock looked at me, puzzled.
I waited.
This girl, I knew, was skillful. She had deft hands. Perhaps, I thought, I might find some use for such, a wench. Besides, I knew that she had drugged and robbed Arn, the outlaw. I supposed he might be pleased to have her. He might be of use, should matters turn out that way, in my pursuit of Talena.
“I am bid one silver tarsk,” called the man. “One silver tarsk! Am I bid more? Am I bid more?” I asked myself why I might want her. I told myself I might find use for her skills. I might use her to bargain with Arn for his aid.
“Am I bid more?” cried the man.
Also, of course, she had stolen from me. This did not please me.
“Am I bid more?” called the man again. He still held her, bent cruelly backwards, his hand in her hair.
She was a vital, beautiful, sensuous little wench. She struggled in pain. She tried to reach his hand in her hair.
“Sold to the captain!” called the man.
I owned her.
“Thurnock,” said I, “give him the silver tarsk.”
“Yes, Captain,” he said.
The crowd began to melt away, “Stay,” said to two of my men.
As Thurnock, by her arm, led the girl down the stairs of the wagon, the other slave girls, who had moved the wagon, struck at her, spitting and jeering. “Slave!” they cried. “Slave!” Thurnock led the girl before me. She looked at me, with glazed eyes. I turned to one of the seaman with me. “Take her and chain her in the first hold,” I said.
“Yes, Captain,” he said.
He began to lead her away, by the arm. Suddenly, she stopped, and looked back over her shoulder. “You?” she said. “This morning.” “Yes,” I said. I was pleased that she remembered.
Her head fell forward on her breast, her hair, too, forward. Then she was led away to her chains on the Tesephone.
I thought I would enjoy owning her.
“Now,” said I to Rim and Thurnock. “Shall we return to the tavern and enjoy our paga.
I was much pleased.
Rim lifted his key. It bore the number six.
“Tendite will be waiting for me,” mentioned,” mentioned Rim.
“I”, said Thurnock, “ wonder about that dancer. She is a juicy, fat little tabuk is she not?” “Indeed,” granted Rim.
“What do you think they would charge for her pelt for an hour?”
“Perhaps tow copper pieces,” I suggested. The other girls, the common slaves, like Tendite, went with the price of a cup of paga.
“let us go to the tavern,” said Thurnock, licking his lips.
Together, we went to the tavern. It was not long past noon, and there would be time, later, to begin the purchase of supplies.
I did not wish to deny Rim his lovely Tendite, nor Thurnock his Ahn with the luscious wench, chained, who had writhed before us on the sand.
I myself expected, at that time, to be content with a cup of paga.
But I found more in the tavern, which I did not expect to find.
4 An Acquaintance is Briefly Renewed
Rim went to Tendite, whom he had left in the paga tavern.
She looked at him, in her yellow silk, kneeling in the darkness by the low wall, her hands braceleted above and behind her head.
“Thank you for waiting, my little talender,” he said.
He unfastened her, and she preceded him across the floor, between the tables. As Rim passed the proprietor, in his apron behind the paga-stained counter, he tossed him the key. The girl climbed the narrow, iron ladder to the sixth alcove. Rim followed her.
Thurnock then began to negotiate with the proprietor. I had had Thurnock give me some coins, which I had placed in my tunic. I did not wish to be embarrassed by not having the price of a cup of paga. The coins were from the profit taken on Tana and Ela. The proprietor slopped out from behind the counter, and Thurnock, impatiently, stamped about. In a few moments, I saw the luscious, short-bodied dancer, in pleasure silk, hurry from the kitchen and climb to the eighth alcove. In a moment, Thurnock had leaped to the ladder, following her. I saw him draw tight the curtains of the alcove behind him.
I expect she would have more than she bargained for with great Thurnock, of the Peasants.
I looked about myself.
There were the men at the tables, the girls, in slave bells, and yellow silks, serving them.
The proprietor had now returned behind his counter, and was polishing paga goblets.
I smiled.
To one side, the Player and the fellow from Torvaldsland, with the ax, were still engaged in their game. Neither had left the board to investigate the commotion which had, shortly before, taken place outside. They, perhaps, had been oblivious of it.
I was served a cup of paga, and I drank it slowly, waiting for Rim and Thurnock. They would not hurry. Gorean men do not.
I looked down into the paga cup, and swirled the liquid slowly, and again drank. In the next few days, in Lydius, we would lay in supplies. We would then make our way upriver to Laura.
I was content. Things were going well.
It was then I saw her.
She came through the kitchen door, in the tiny slip of diaphanous yellow silk allotted to paga slaves, bells locked on her left ankle. She was doubtless returning to the floor after her rest, to freshen her for further service. I had not seen her before. She carried a vessel of paga. She was barefoot on the tiles.
She saw me, and gasped. Her hand fled before her mouth. She turned, and ran back into the kitchen.
I smiled.
I snapped my fingers for the proprietor to come to my table. He did so. “One of your slaves,’ I said, “just stepped from the kitchen, and then returned to it.” He looked at me.
“Send that slave to me,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” he said.